#I like to keep my thoughts on the exact scenario vague because I like the surprise lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

weebsinstash · 1 year

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I saw one of post about Valentino and I was think that even though he has social media account but I think he would hate memes unless it hasvsomething sexual with it.

So seeing reader in lingerie, and forcing them to do that sad cat dancing meme with cat ear/tail and either post on his account or blackmail them not to post it.

I'm sorry your getting harrased by the kiddies and trying guilt trip you on someone else's actions,/consequences

Sometimes I think of kind of specific scenarios to write or at least share and I'm never sure what to post because I still kind of cringe at myself all the time lol

I've actually thought about social media stuff w Val like, quietly stalking all your photos or posts to see what you're up to when you're not around him, and I've also thought of the juicy possibility of like, what if this account was intended to be secret so you have a lot of personal stuff on there, ranging from you meeting up with friends to wearing cute outfits to hang out. It's such a deeper more candid and personal look into your life and things about you that he didn't know before and he's creepin for sure, maybe even creating another account to save and like all your posts in secret, or just screenshotting things

(Tbh an idea I keep having is, since he's a pimp that works in the adult film industry, he clearly isn't shy about watching others 'perform' and things like that, so imagine as a yandere he's of course one of those that saves tons of photos of you, and they don't even have to be sexual, although those are his favorites. Like imagine the Reader from the hidden camera room idea a while back just stumbling on to like Val's phone left open or a drawer of a desk in his office open when you go to drop off rent or he takes you to his house briefly to wait on him while he grabs sometjing he forgot and you stumble into like a closet with like a photo shrine on the wall, and this is how you find out 1) oh hes crazy and 2) there are cameras in your room)

Although that being said i constantly flip flop between "Valentino would happily watch other people wreck your holes for either punishment or his entertainment and or profit" versus "he's too possessive to stand sharing you either anyone else" and really, isn't both good. I've honestly been meaning to redo my fic Pet because I didn't like the end result and I like the idea of him using a leash. Because he's so tall he can't exactly pull you by the arm so a leash can pull you around and humiliate you, he probably has a fetish for that and seeing you all teary eyed and embarrassed 😩❤️

If he's openly following you he never likes or interacts with anything you post unless it's to mock or tease you in some way, like you'll post something about a thing you like and he'll just comment 'cringe' or something vaguely similar, kind of like how he speaks to Vox tbh. I also think of "what if Valentino forces you to spend time with him and it kind of backfires on him because you get along with Vox really well and makes him jealous" or it becomes some weird poly scenario where he is kind of excluded (at least by you, or maybe you hate both of them, friends with Vox initially but enemies after he turns on you and decides he wante you as more than a friend and is just as forceful as his boyfriend)

Like one idea I've had repeatedly is, Reader is doing her thing where she's kind of having to wait on the big boss hand and foot, and Vox is in a poor mood glued to his phone playing a phone game because there's a special event going on and it's gonna end soon and he wants all the loot, and at some point Val is taking a phonecall and Vox looks over and you're finally getting to sit down and, your phone makes a sudden sound effect and he KNOWS that sound, you're playing the exact same game. Valentino comes back and you're both just kind of shoulder to shoulder to show each other your phones and compare teams and equipment, i think its be neat if you both had some sort of unit or character or component the other was missing and thus have an incentive to okay together and just a cute coincidence, maybe you're even getting some tips from the self proclaimed master of media that you didn't know before.

I also still like the idea of "Val goes through your shit and sees your lingerie/walks in on you wearing lingerie" and he decides "oh thats some kid bullshit, let me show you some REAL hot girl shit" and suddenly you're being pressured/forced into wearing like, garters, crotchless panties, thin see through material that he can rip his long fingers through

Another idea is. Imagine Reader just being kind of the errand girl/personal assistant to him, and one day he's on a set and the main actress is late, and you know how he is with his money. He's got all these actors and camera crew paid for their time and they're missing the main lead? And then in walks you with Vals coffee or some benign shit he asked for and, a little voice in his head is like, hm, you're cute, you're around the same body type as the girl who was supposed to show up. Maybe they should just... switch genres a little, do some improv, amd work with what has been provided to them...

Also what if Val deliberately gave you like high end mascara that wasn't waterproof so that when he makes you cry or you cry while getting fucked you just have those big black tear stains. He's probably freaky like that, wanting lipstick rings on his dick n shit while taunting you and telling you you're a mess 😩❤️

#yandere stuff #sinprompts

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purplesigebert · 8 months

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Hello! This is your autumn exchange gifter! So, I've been thinking about your request and am very excited. I've never tried to think of a different meeting or how canon would change if Caroline hadn't been in Mystic Falls at all, so it's been a fun thought experiment.

First, do you have any other characters you especially love or hate? Do you have any hard pass themes or content I should stay away from? Any bits from the shows you'd especially like me to try to fold in or ignore completely?

Second, are you married to the exact scenario you laid out in your request? I do have a very vague alternate idea for Caroline as a vampire hunter, but it's a little weird and definitely in its infant stages. But I also have some thoughts about Bill (possibly with Steven and his daughter) being the one to stay in MF as sheriff and the reasons why Liz and Caroline would have had to go.

Third, if you had to choose a setting, would you prefer MF or New Orleans or Salem, MA or somewhere else entirely? New Orleans would end up including some of the same characters as The Originals, but I probably wouldn't write the baby plot in, unless you really want it there. Salem would end up being more spooky season themed and MF would probably be more of a family thing involving Bill's death.

Fourth, do you still want Caroline to be a vampire? I don't usually write her as a normal human, because I'm here for the supernatural stuff, but I can give it a shot if you're interested in that. There's the hunter thing, but do you have objections to her being a witch instead? Some other kind of supernatural creature? It's not what I'm leaning towards, but if that's something you would enjoy, I won't try to keep it strictly vampire Caroline if I think of something else.

Fifth, what level of Klaus do you like? S2 magnificent bastard Klaus or S3/4 slightly relaxed Klaus or TO unhinged mess Klaus?

This is a lot of questions. Please feel free to take your time and/or not answer all of them! Totally valid to not have strong feelings about any of this.

Omg hi! First off, thank you so much for writing this note to me! I'm speechless!! So, to answer in order:

First, I'm not a fan of Damon - if S1's events happened as canon. If not then I'm a fan. Stefan is great. I love love Katherine and Bonnie. Elena was great in her S1-S3 characterization. I don't have any problems with anyone else. Not a fan of the miracle babies storylines.

Second, I'm not completely fixed on my request. I've never considered a MF where Bill was Sherriff, how would that change canon? Damon and Bill already didn't get along and they were in the same room maybe two times? I don't see Bill changing his whole worldview the way that Liz did. If Liz and Caroline left MF, where would they end up?

Third, Oh this is tough one, Caroline coming back to MF for Bill's funeral is one of my fav stories to read! How old is she? Is it still canon time-line and have the S3 storylines been happening? I'll leave that up to you!

Fourth, I don't tend to read Caroline as any other creature (a few where she is a werewolf/hybrid but those are outliers), so Vampire!Caroline is good to go! I'm not too pick, if we see her turn in the story or not.

Fifth, S2/beginning of S3 is peak Klaus, he's just a little shit and he knows it lol.

Sixth, YOU ARE AWESOME! Seriously thank you so much for sending me this. You rock.

#this was amzing #thank you so much #klarolineautumnexchange #klaroline #the vampire diaries #gabby answers

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goodqueenaly · 1 year

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Would it have been possible for Jon to marry a bastard girl, either lowborn or "highborn" such as Mya Stone (for example) and be given a keep and lands? Either in the North or someplace else? Or would that have been impossible, as Catelyn and Hoster would protest, because they would fear that Jon being granted a keep, lands and allowed to establish a house, would possibly endanger the succession of House Stark/possibly created conditions for Jon's children or grandchildren, to usurp Winterfell and the North from Robb or Robb's descendants? Even though both Jon and his wife would be bastards.

Jon certainly imagines a scenario somewhat like this in ASOS:

His lord father had once talked about raising new lords and settling them in the abandoned holdfasts as a shield against wildlings. The plan would have required the Watch to yield back a large part of the Gift, but his uncle Benjen believed the Lord Commander could be won around, so long as the new lordlings paid taxes to Castle Black rather than Winterfell. "It is a dream for spring, though," Lord Eddard had said. "Even the promise of land will not lure men north with a winter coming on."

If winter had come and gone more quickly and spring had followed in its turn, I might have been chosen to hold one of these towers in my father's name. Lord Eddard was dead, however, his brother Benjen lost; the shield they dreamt together would never be forged.

Nor is it entirely without precedent for a bastard to marry - and not even necessarily marry only another bastard - and have a formal position within his birth House/region. After all, Ser Walder Rivers married a woman of a House sworn to the Freys of the Crossing and functions as another knightly and (pseudo) dynastic representative of House Frey: attempting to bring Chett to justice in Lord Walder's name, commanding soldiers both in Lothar Frey's escort and at the Red Wedding, and participating in Jaime's military council to manage in the post-Red Wedding Riverlands.

However, I think there are three major obstacles to this line of thinking. Number one, as I mentioned in my post about Jeyne Poole potentially marrying Jon in an alternate universe, by AGOT Jon had very much internalized the bastard prejudice prevalent in much of aristocratic Westerosi society. Indeed, while Jon in AGOT acknowledged that "Robb would someday inherit Winterfell, would command great armies as the Warden of the North" and "Bran and Rickon would be Robb's bannermen and rule holdfasts in his name", he then questioned "what place … a bastard [could] hope to earn". While we don't know the exact moment Jon decided on joining the Night's Watch, the fact that Jon acknowledges that "[h]e had thought on it long and hard" by the time he was discussing the possibly with Benjen certainly suggests that this was not a spur of the moment decision, but one born from years of ruminating over his place as (ostensibly) Ned Stark's bastard. Therefore, in order for Jon to have sufficient motivation to want to both marry and have a role within the Stark regime of the North, he would have had to be a very different Jon from the Jon we see in the novels, and either Jon himself and/or the environment around him would have had to change dramatically.

Number two, we have virtually no idea what Ned imagined for Jon's future. This becomes a more complicated question than it might seem on surface (certainly to the characters in-universe), given the obviously unspoken factor of Jon's true biological parentage. We have no idea whether Ned ever wanted Jon to marry and have children, especially given the then-dormant political bombshell of his, Jon's, true origins, nor do we have any idea how whatever promise Ned made to Lyanna would or would not affect such a future. At most, Ned voiced a vague and undefined hope related to the closeness of Jon and Robb, but what this hope might have represented in Ned's mind is totally unclear - as simple as a mere expression of their (non-biological) fraternal bond or as formal as the advisory relationship seen between, say, Torrhen Stark and Brandon Snow. Given Jon's youth in AGOT - still only 14, at an age when Ned himself had been still happily living in the Vale with no expectations of future responsibilities - it's probable that Ned believed he still had at least two to four more years before he needed to start thinking about what to do

Number three, and somewhat related to number two, Catelyn would be not at all happy to have Jon marrying, much less receiving lands and a keep along with a marriage. No matter that I doubt Ned would have been formally petitioning for Jon to be legitimated (which would have been an absolutely terrible idea from Ned's perspective), and no matter that Jon would have been technically establishing his own line separate from House Stark (a la Walder Rivers' descendants, who still bear the surname "Rivers" rather than "Frey") - any marriage for Jon would only deepen the insult Catelyn has nursed for the better part of two decades. By giving Jon a semi-dynastic marriage, and especially by giving Jon lands and a keep, Ned might have (at least in Catelyn's view) been suggesting that Jon was an equal member of the Stark dynasty - dangerous fodder, perhaps (and again, certainly in Catelyn's mind) for future struggle between her descendants and Jon's. Catelyn would of course not have had the power to prevent Jon from getting lands, a keep, or a marriage from Ned (although obviously any Riverlands holding for Jon would be out of the question), but she could certainly protest as much to Ned.

#asoiaf meta #jon snow #alternate universe

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meanderingstar · 1 year

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Hi, I was wondering what you thought of Priory of the Orange Tree and if you're planning on reading the upcoming prequel?

I gave it 2.5-rounded-to-3 stars

honestly, I think the book was very mediocre. It took me a while to acknowledge that to myself because I wanted to like it very badly and was caught up in my own anticipation and hype, but I was very dissatisfied during my reread months ago. Please keep in mind, though, that these are purely my opinions; if I criticize something and someone else is able to overlook/enjoy it, it's fine.

Ultimately, I think the crux of my issue with the book is that a collection of interesting (albeit staple) ideas and in-depth research does not automatically translate to good storytelling.

Its pacing was abysmal - it was too long, it started too slowly and ended too fast, and it's genuinely bizarre that in a book with multiple kingdoms and a looming draconic apocalypse, we spend more than half the story following a single nation's daily court life + political intrigues that ultimately has no literal or thematic connection to the overarching plot and felt very disjointed and aimless as a result. It also wastes too much time on incessant filler descriptions about irrelevant details + scenarios that don't matter. When the grand finale against the Nameless One finally arrives, it lasts for less than a chapter and is resolved with embarrassing ease; I recently saw an ask that compared it to the final battle of Blood of Olympus, and that's a hilariously apt comparison. The book could and should have been trimmed down, because it could have been easily concluded in just half the page length.

It had an incredibly uneven and unbalanced focus: The West is given immensely more attention and pagetime than the East, which results in the latter seeming reactive, unimportant and vague in comparison. Many people have commented that dragons, despite being used to hype up the book pre-release, were minimally present in the story. The Pri/ory of the Or/ange Tree, despite giving the book its name, also plays an extremely negligible role in the story and barely receives any pagetime; it's also extremely ridiculous that a society of magic-wielding women whose entire purpose resolves around the Nameless One doesn't even fight in the final battle against him. Ead (I'll get to her in a bit, I have a lot to say) is the only one who gets a role. This is explained from an in-universe perspective, yes, but from a writer's perspective, my question is: what's the point of glorifying the Priory, of emphasizing the truth of Cleolind's history, if her legacy doesn't even matter to the plot beyond the actions of one member? I don't know if this is a criticism or a skeptical observation; take your pick.

The book also felt very flat, which was the most irritating aspect to me personally because I'm drawn to books based on their sheerness and the emotions they invoke, and while the language of this story was descriptive, the tone was dry, lifeless and monotonous. It had no sense of stakes and failed to invoke plausible surprise, tension or dread - characters having arguments is written with the exact same intensity as a world-ending apocalyptic battle. The Nameless One is an utterly lackluster villain: despite being told that he is terrifying, we don't feel it because the pov character (Ead) has a negligible emotional reaction; and he's defeated in less than a chapter with barely any difficulty.

Everything also felt far too convenient. The plot is full of ridiculous coincidences where characters just happen to stumble upon objects they need to find or people they need to meet - and so there's no actual sense of anticipation or active engagement. To give you some examples: Loth has to infect himself with a life-threatening, lethal plague to escape? No worries, it's just temporary, there's an easy cure that a group of people have vigorously hidden for 1000 years but he's given explicit directions to find. This results in a global, terminal plague seeming like nothing more than an aesthetical backdrop with no direct relevance to the story. A legendary sword has been missing for centuries, has been hunted for several queens to no avail, and is crucial to defeating the big bad dragon? No matter, it's conveniently connected to two characters despite no prior indication of such a relation, its vague location is almost instantly predicted and its precise location is directly fed to another character via a riddle that took her about two seconds to crack. Multiple nations with rivalries, cold wars, and deadly feuds are meant to ally together for an apocalyptic threat with no concrete evidence except for a random letter written by a woman who is regarded as a myth in one continent and almost completely unknown in another? It hardly matters because all of nations - I kid you not, ALL OF THEM - agree to ally with barely any conflict and without the traditionally established (as per our world and their own) pact of marriage. It's fine if these things happen once or twice; coincidences can be fun. But the plot of Pri/ory is not just laden with them, it's dependent on them. It would crumble without them.

Oh, and hardly anyone dies. A lethal plague, feuding kingdoms, fire-breathing dragons, a (poorly written) grand battle on the sea, and hardly anyone dies except for a few negligible side characters. Lmao.

The characters are stiff and abstract with little to no emotional resonance, at least not for me, which is a symptom of her descriptive but dry, overly formal tone, but also because 1) the author relied too heavily on broader concepts, aesthetics and superficial personalities to define and differentiate them, and 2) wrote a book with an incredibly uneven chapter focus between her povs. Her characters also had very similar internal voices: the vocabulary used and the way scenes/scenarios are described, for instance, are exactly the same in all their povs except certain instances with Niclays, despite their vastly different backgrounds and backstories.

I was very bored/dissatisfied with the pov characters in particular. Loth and Niclays were barely relevant to the plot and could easily be scrapped with little to no change to the overall story. Tane had the most potential: the combination of relentless ambition and haunting fear, the brief moment of greatness before the inevitable fall, and the grieving climb back to the sky was fascinating as a concept, although the dryness of the book obstructed its resonance. But she's constantly given the short end of the stick: she's barely present in the middle of the book and her relationships with people from the East are barely explored (eg: Susa's death, despite its importance to Tane's story, was utterly unimpactful to me because we barely knew Susa at all beyond what we are told about her relation to Tane). Even worse, although she's supposed to be one of the two main characters as a wielder of a jewel, her connection to the overarching story feels purely coincidental and disjointed. She had no arc of discovering the threat on her own the way characters from the West were afforded; instead, it's only due to her link to them that she becomes involved in the main plot at all. Loth tells her about the Nameless One, she and her dragon are used to heal Ead, and Ead explains the full situation and decides their course of action during the final battle. It's a massively uneven balance of narrative attention and respect, especially considering she's our only Eastern pov. This is repeated in the final battle, where she loses the sword which is retrieved by Ead; where she's unable to bear the Nameless One's voice even though Ead somehow knows how to respond to him. Tane's only able to properly succeed with Ead by her side; she's allowed no discovery or victory on her own.

Ead is probably the most irritating to me because 1) blatant authorial favoritism drives me bonkers, and 2) despite dominating this book's pagetime and clearly intended to be its main protagonist, she has no concrete personality to show for it. I loved her chapters the most and her pov the least: she, more than anyone else, is primarily defined by an Aesthetic because her narrative voice is incredibly flat and her characterization is vague and all over the place. The events that occur in her chapters are interesting in theory (although the writing remains deeply dry and unengaging) and she's the only character who's given the chance to Do Things, but that is even more aggravating because 1) she's simply not resonant or characterized enough to stand on her own and is therefore subsumed by her own story, and 2) several other characters get sidelined and disregarded to enhance her importance. She also had an incredibly static arc, imo: while her situation has changed by the end of the story (she is Prioress, in love with Sabran, saved the world, etc), her individual character has changed very little. And that's because her motivations are entirely external rather than internal: she reacts to the plot, but she's never actually affected by it. She has no journey of discovery and risk like Truyde (who was framed very weirdly by the book), arc of acceptance like Loth, or story of ambition, downfall and reclamation like Tane. I'm not saying any of these were written well, but the concepts were there and they could work for Ead as well. But she was, ultimately, stagnant. There's very little introspection, internal conflict or overarching goal for her as an individual; it's always in relation to the current plot, which arranges itself to accommodate her (eg: the moment there's a spark of tension between her love for Sabran and loyalty to the Pri/ory, it's revealed that the current Prioress wants to send her to Ungulus and murdered her mother. There's no tension or actual choice: leaving the Pri/ory to aid Virtudom is her only option, and it's conveniently the only moral one with no room for complexity or ambiguity. The isolationist plotline was also very arbitrary - we do not see Ead actually contemplating this policy in Inys, so her disagreement with Mita falls entirely flat; we don't see her contemplating it after she leaves the Pri/ory either, and so her proposal that she'll be able to "shape the future of the Pri/ory" to "ensure the stability of the new world" feels utterly random. Similarly, Ead becoming the Prioress at the end had no satisfaction or catharsis because 1) the Pri/ory barely played a role in the story, and 2) we only learn that Ead has always wanted to become a Red Damsel 150+ pages into the book. Nor does she consider becoming the Prioress/conducting a coup against Kalyba to save the Pri/ory until the queen of Lasia explicitly tells her that she'll be offered the position after they win. Compare it to Tane's overarching goal of becoming a dragonrider that drives so much of her arc, despite how flatly it's written; Ead is extremely scattered and lacking in comparison). Since she has the most pagetime and is clearly meant to be the protagonist, my irritation with her is more than the others.

I liked Sabran, though! Rulers burdened by their weight of their crowns, legacies built on dust and lies, selfhood devoured and finally reclaimed. However, when her arc reaches its pinnacle and she has to confront the truth of her family and her name ... the book falls flat. It seems like Sabran is barely affected by the reveal beyond "it will take time for me to come to terms with this". She argues for a few lines, and that's it. We're told that she's grappling with it, but we're not actually shown anything and it seems like she just moves on. And at the end, her proposal regarding abdication and succession change came from literally nowhere - she surprises Ead by saying "I have something to tell you" and surprises the reader as well because the last I checked, she was still struggling to accept the lies of her ancestry, and she led her people into war as their queen. Abdicating and removing the monarchial structure altogether is a huge decision that requires a lot of internal conflict and development that we're simply not shown; instead, we're merely informed of it once she's already made up her mind. It also feels extremely uncomfortable that the overhaul of an entire political system is limited to Sabran's own personal experience rather than, yk, an external exploration of how it affects the people who are being ruled. I also think the book would have also benefitted from her pov, at least for some specific scenes/a few specific chapters. Ead's perspective and observation has its own merit, yes, but I think it does Sabran a disservice to view her from a purely outside perspective and it lessens the impact of her arc. God knows she's more relevant to the actual story than Loth and Niclays.

One of the most potentially interesting concepts of the book to me was the intersection of history and mythmaking. However, I personally think it was executed quite shabbily? There is no proper build up or gradual uncovering or startling revelation: we are matter-of-factly informed of the truth right alongside the myth within the first 50 pages of the story. From an in-universe perspective, as mentioned before, Sabran, the descendant of Galian who staunchly believed in this lie all her life, is barely affected by the reveal. Nor is this publicly revealed to the nation as a whole; all we have is Sabran's promise that she'll eventually do it once the story is finished, so there's no proper collective impact, either. And to be really honest, how does this origin myth actually matter? I don't dispute the injustice that was inflicted on Cleolind's legacy on a personal level (although her true story is remembered and revered in the South) but how does this traditional gender dichotomy actually shape and impact the Bereth/net dynasty and Inysh society? Because as far as I can tell, it does not. Inys is a matrilineal queendom with no concept of gendered roles or customs with Cleolind as the sole, inconsistent exception. And frankly, in a world where gender is largely irrelevant, where misogyny doesn't exist, how does Cleolind get cast into such a traditionally gendered role (a "swooping waif" as Ead calls her) in the first place? I think Sh/annon wanted to explore patriarchal reconstructions of myths but also wanted a patriarchy-free society, and imo, those two ideas are pretty contradictory. Or maybe they're not, and it simply wasn't executed very well here. Either way, it ultimately felt scattered and illogical.

Religion and its differences across cultures is another major theme in the story, but I found its portrayal very surface-level. I'm agnostic, so take this with a grain of salt, but again, it feels as though Sh/annon mainly relied on aesthetics rather than exploring how it shaped her characters? Two instances where this was prominent pertained to Ead and Sabran. Sabran, by all accounts, is an extremely devout follower of her Faith and a devoted believer in the myth of Galian and Cleolind. Yet, like I mentioned, when she's actually confronted with the haunting reality of the truth, that her entire religion was a lie ... apart from a few lines here and there, she accepts it and moves on with mind-boggling ease. Another instance was Ead and her feelings for Sabran. Because honestly ... Sabran isn't just a queen of Virtudom, she is Virtudom. She is the descendant and the embodiment of a lie which she subscribes to entirely and which is the direct antithesis of the Pri/ory. Ead had to convert to remain at her court, she has called Ead's people and her beloved mentor "heretics" to her face, she commanded Ead to stop recounting the southern version of the story in favor of the Inysh version instead. The fact that Ead, a passionate follower of the Mother who holds the Inysh myth in contempt, falls so quickly for Sabran is simply bizarre. I might be forgetting, but I don't remember any guilt or anguish or fear or crisis of faith. Her love for Sabran seems entirely disconnected from virtually everything she is and everything she believes in. It could be an interesting dynamic, but the book didn't really explore or emphasize that. Maybe it's a personal issue for me, though.

That being said, I'm definitely reading ADO/FN. Despite Pri/ory's many flaws and lack of engagement, it was readable with some interesting (if staple) ideas and some genuinely beautiful lines/paragraphs; and I'm aware that it was Sh/annon's first book in the series and the genre of high fantasy. I'm also very partial to prequels, and from what I've seen regarding the world and characters of this one, it seems a lot more interesting and fairly promising. At the very least, I enjoyed her worldbuilding posts. Let's see.

Ik you sent me this weeks ago, sorry for answering so late! I'm planning on starting ADO/FN soon (probably tomorrow), so I figured I should probably write down my thoughts before I begin. Again, these are just my personal opinions and nobody has to necessarily agree or disagree!

#ask #my post #When all's said and done though...I'm glad this book did so well. I'm sure it opened a lot of doors in the industry and that's #extremely commendable despite what i personally think about it lol #tpotot #samantha shanon #complicated books

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northerngoshawk · 1 year

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2, 11, 15 for the WIP ask game??

thanks for the ask hotwife!!

obviously i will be talking about my forbidden lovers au for kataang because that is the only thing i have in the works rn 🥲

2. Do you set mini-deadlines or goals for yourself along the way?

i cannot do deadlines, mostly because irl is apparently very keen on throwing all the assignments it can at me 🥲 so instead i rely on tiny goals to get from point a to point b.

the way i'm writing this fic right now is actually very unorthodox of me: i'm skipping around and writing down the sections i have the most idea for so i don't end up forgetting how it goes, and then moving from there. so when i usually take a weekend or so to sit down, my goal is usually to finish up the section im working on and, if possible, start a new section. as i'm writing this now, i'm planning on taking tonight to finish my current section--one of the rare moments of free time i have on a weekday 🥲

11. What is your favorite way to procrastinate?

scroll through tumblr and/or meander on around discord in the hopes i can see someone having a convo and jump in lol 🥲 but tbh, i really don't like procrastinating that much--it's like every fiber of my being is telling me to write write write, but when i do open the document, my mind goes blank, and suddenly i don't want to write anymore.

ugh, why can't i just have someone else transpose the exact scenes and phrasing onto the document 🥲

15. What has been the easiest thing about working on this WIP so far?

writing the scenes i already have in mind. i actually already have a pretty clear idea on how and why kataang gets separated, what brings them back together, and the ending. and even if i have something vague like this actual, realtime note in my document:

[something about their childhood or something]

if i sit down and really think about it, i can usually come up with a scenario to fill that space. but even when i can't write it down right away, i can write a heck of a more detailed note to guide me, like i did here:

this was the result of a one-liner note that i sat down and really thought about before coming up with the scene i want to write for this section. really, the easiest part of the fic is thinking of the scenes; the hard part is actually writing it out.

so with that out of the way, even tho you didn't ask for it, i shall give you a snippet because i love talking about this more than writing it 🥲 and also kataang is very soft in this fic 🥺

“So then what do the stars remind you of?”

Katara had to hide a smile as gray eyes filled with stars turned to her. “There’s this old friend of mine,” she began carefully, looking down at the hard ground carpeted with grass, “that I hadn’t seen for a long, long time. He used to take me star-gazing and point out all these constellations he had in his own culture. We would spend those nights comparing them with the constellations from the Southern Water Tribe.” She idly plucked at some of the green stalks peeking out between her fingers. “I missed him dearly.”

Even in the dim light of the moon, Katara could see a glimmer in Aang’s eyes. “What a shame,” he murmured. His impressively straight face was ruined only by the twitches at the corners of his mouth, very clearly trying to suppress a smile. “He seems like a really nice guy.”

“He is,” she agreed, her own smile threatening to overtake her face. She looked back up to the sky. “Unfortunately, he had to go off and fight in the war.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “It’s been… rough, only having his letters to know he’s still alive.”

Aang shifted next to her. “I’m sure it was just as hard on him,” he offered. She looked over to see him looking up to the constellations. “It was probably difficult to keep waking up without your smile there to greet him.” He glanced over at her, his expression soft. “He probably missed you just as much as you missed him.”

thanks again for the ask, and i can't wait to share this fic with the rest of the world!!

WIP ask game

#northern answers #flameohotwife #wip ask game answer #ask game answer

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chernayavidua · 2 years

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your rendition of nat is not as lit as you seem to think for how arrogant and elitist you’ve become. all this petty behavior to fit in with people that are more concerned about aesthetics than writing and friendships. do you feel cool now? the cool kids let you sit with them at lunch. please grow tf up and work on your writing, personality and priorities.

I was 100% going to delete this because I thought it was hate about my portrayal but then it when into stuff about ME... You have the wrong person, Anon. I don't have *friends on here which makes the rp experience very lonely and this is something people do not talk about. Friends are usually the ones that send anons about the person's muse and character development questions etc etc. Friends are the ones who like your posts and hype you up. If you don't have more than 3-4 people who do that, seeing other blogs with 10+ likes or that get memes all the time is hard. It is very discouraging and I've found myself comparing my blog and writing to theirs. But I keep telling myself that having 3-4 people who like my stuff is better than none. Writing with 3-4 only is better than having no one. I do talk to like 4 mutuals on disco but it is always about our character/hot celebs/stuff that is currently draining our muse/keeping us busy and never about other writers/rpers. Also ! Funny thing actually, I have a ranty post in my drafts about tumblr friendships and how I cannot understand them because one minute you're besties and then six months later you're on their DNI with vague posts being made about you all because the situation couldn't be handled in private like adults or things got lost in translation. This, along with a few other scenarios cause me major anxiety.

I don't know what "petty" behavior you're talking about as I keep to myself on here for this exact reason. You either have me confused with someone else or are simply lumping me in with a group that I am wholly unaware of simply because I write with one or two people of said group. I care more about writing than I do about aesthetics. I've made this post and this one along with a few others that I've since deleted where I address my feelings about my own experience on here. Overly saturated icons and heavily formatted replies are in my top 5 rp pet peeves. I'm outing myself here but last week I sent an anon to a mutual praising them for the minimal formatting they use. I love minimal formatting and I’d use the normal size font if it wasn’t so big and ugly. My writing always needs work but my personality and priorities are doing just fine, thank you.

All that aside, I’m sorry someone/a group of people hurt you and or you feel hurt or invalidated by these people. It really sucks. I understand how you feel / have felt very similar ways in my almost 10+ years of rping online, but I can assure you that I am not part of whatever group you are lumping me in. If people are saying I am they're lying. The only advice I can give you anon is block/blacklist and move on.

*the term friends is subjective && everyone has different definitions.

#this was a lot to unpack but hang in there anon! you'll find your people #anon hate /

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inlovewithgee · 5 months

Text

I’ve been thinking some more about my fic scenario

part 1 | part 3

warning: non-con

So, they find the picture Korse took. Party chained up, crying, covered in all the blood and semen. Korse wrote “what a pretty view” on the white space.

(it’s only relevant if I decide of an epilogue/if I would write that fic, I’d call it “pretty poison”. whatever.)

they’re all in shock and react in a different way: Jet buries it down, Kobra cries it out quietly, Ghoul is angry. And so much so that the other two decide they must keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. Kobra and Ghoul get in the Trans AM, Jet takes Party’s bike. They start to follow the trail the BLI van left but it’s complicated, wind messing it up and stuff.

Now, I got some worldbuilding I thought of after my first post; the killjoys communicate through the radio, we know that, so I think the Fab Four have their own frequency. They can access it with the Trans AM radio and portable ones they built into their own helmets and the Mousekat head.

Jet, Kobra and Ghoul tune into that frequency, hoping to hear something, anything that proves Party isn’t dead. And he isn’t.

(I need to look things up for this but basically I see it as He built a switch inside the mousekat head with three setting: off, talking, and listening. Right then he managed to discreetly turn the switch to the “talking” position.)

The sound is pretty low since the mic is only supposed to be picking up the voice of the people wearing the head, but the killjoys can here Korse talking. After a while they hear Party’s voice too and are relieved just a little. Now they have to do their best to listen and find out where exactly the van is, so they can intercept it.

Except things are about to happen that they don’t wanna be listening to.

This chapter is mostly in the three others’ point of view but I wanted to talk about party a little. When they’d been assaulted the night before, he had always been switching between panic, fear, and anger. Now they decided they will not show Korse how afraid they are of him. Korse’ provocations make him angry and they try their best not to reply, but fail. Korse calls him a brat who hasn’t learned his lesson and say he’s gonna teach them again.

Even with only the sound, the killjoys are horrified of this.

(For some time I was stuck at this part, so i distracted myself by making dialog.)

Korse says, “Open your mouth”. Party replies with, “Ghost yourself”.

“It would be more intimidating if you weren’t covered in blood and come. Now open your mouth, and don’t even think of biting. I’ll dislocate your jaw and do it anyway.”

Followed by a choking sound.

Followed by Kobra turning off the radio because he just can’t listen to this.

Ghoul asks Jet to listen for any clue to their position and as much as he says he does not want to hear that either, he says he’ll do it. It doesn’t take much time before he does pick up on something: music in the background getting a little louder then fading away. It’s the music from a band performing in a specific location, so they vaguely know where the van is. Kobra gets on Dr Death’s frequency and asks Show Pony to broadcast him; he makes an announcement to people at the Springfield Gang show, asking them to report sighting of a BLI company van, but not to go after them. Private matter. Party Poison was kidnapped.

(wonder if ppl can guess which band I’m thinking of)

They speed up to the show and run into killjoys friends who tell them the exact direction the van went, the Fab four (well three) ask of those friends that they stop other ’joys from interceding. Soon they can see the van.

Inside, Party is crying in silence as he’s forced to blow Korse. Said bitch lets him go for a second, asking if they want him to relieve them. Party replies by spitting on him. Korse does not like that. He grabs a shock baton and strikes him hard, again and again, the electricity making them yell and fall down. As their body touches the mousekat head when Korse strikes one more time, the electricity goes through them and into the head, messing up with the radio, switching the setting from ‘talking’ to ‘listening’

Kobra and Ghoul don’t understand why they can’t hear Party all a sudden. Then Korse, who figures out about the hidden radio, speaks up. “Eavesdropping is wrong.”

Party screams in pain as Korse breaks his ankle to punish him, and Kobra and Fun cut off communications. They’re 60 feet behind the van anyway.

#tw rape #tw noncon #oops i did it again #I wrote fucked up stuff #was tryna make angst #g/gm #f/g #killjoys #killjoys fic #danger days #fanfic #angst #ff: pretty poison

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devilfic · 2 years

Note

Oh right!!! I vaguely remember the zack thing being a meme or something like that. When i saw it i was like... okay?? Why is this suddenly becoming a thing?? But yeah it was pretty nice.

I have listened to stray kids, yeah. I think back door is a pretty cool song, and i've heard little bits of god's menu. I haven't listened to any of their other songs though, but i'll try and let you know.

I totally understand what you mean by being a bit too animated but if you don't like his gaming stuff, then i really have to recommend you his bigger projects! Like his latest "in space with markiplier" is pretty cool. It's basically a dating game with the choose-your-own-adventure kind of a deal, except it's not a dating game (unless we're talking about his other project called "a date with markiplier" in which the scenario really is a date). Personally, i think they are very fun. If you're not into it, that's fine tho!

Hmmm.... i think i've been drawing for like... 8 years now? It started with anime, as with many people. And i used to draw like, every day, but these days i don't draw that much. It's nice to see how much i've improved over the years though, i'm sure you know that feeling!!

Honestly, i don't feel okay. Have you ever just... made a decision out of kindness and over-confidence, then later regretting it? Even though you had good intentions?? Yeah, that's basically what happened. But i have to go through with this particular decision until october, and it's draining me. Hhhhhh sorry if i'm bothering you with my problems....

Anyway, WHAT. I cannot believe i accidentally gave you the idea to write those headcanons?? Oh my god. Okay. Uhhhhhh now i guess i'm gonna put my stranger things request ideas for another time. I'm still gonna send you a request of a different fandom in another ask. It's... well... i'm pretty sure it's something that'll make you go like "Yep.. i thought so..."

Ya know, i recently finished "our flag means death" which you probably have heard of, or even watched already. And it made me realize that maybe i have a type when it comes to fictional characters. A lot of characters i like (in a kinda romantic way) are long-haired men, sometimes with a dark colored aesthetic, as seen from stranger things's eddie, my hero academia's aizawa, and our flag means death's blackbeard. Now... i dont know what to do with this information haha.. but oh well, do you have a type for fictional people??

-cain

(also, i'm glad you don't mind long asks! i just find it nice, like writing a letter to someone, so yeah)

those were good times, I'm telling ya ^^

and please do, they've got some bangers I will say

actually you know what,,, I'd been intending to watch those big projects of his at some point because the amount of effort and quality it looks like he put into them is WILD. my friend was really pumped about in space with markiplier earlier this year because she's been a fan of his for years, and it looks really fun. should I start with the older ones and work my way up or does it not really matter (I'm thinking about easter eggs and such)?

oh wow that's impressive!! and drawing everyday, I bet you've got tons of your old stuff around to look at and reminisce over ^^ but I super get ya, I'm a big advocator for keeping ur old art no matter if you think it's cringe or not because one day you'll really want to look back on it. I've still got old fics from when I was younger that I look at to see how much I've improved

you're not bothering me at all! I asked cause I wanted to know, and yeah ;-; I've been in your place before. committing to something out of kindness is always a great idea until you realize,,, some days will be more difficult to show up for than others. I commend you for doing your best to try and see it through, and if it really gets too much, please don't force yourself to keep going. I dunno your exact situation but nothing is worth sacrificing your own physical/mental health over

no you don't have to!! honestly, request whatever you like. you just inspired me to do that one because I hadn't thought of doing group headcanons for them yet. but also I did see your request and think exactly that asjksjfsf I'm excited though. any reason to dig that story up is a good one

I GET WHAT YOU MEAN. the dark-haired brooders have taken several generations of simps by storm, I being one of them. my type isn't too different from you. I actually made a comprehensive list of characters I like (most I simp for, some I just admire) and most of them are either people with anger issues/murderous tendencies or sarcastic charmers. the odd sunshine is thrown in there every once in a while *cough cough* legoshi *cough cough* noe archiviste *cough cough* prompto. man, woman, whatever you are... ur not safe from me if u fall into one of these categories. according to my friends, I also just straight up have a thing for blonds. it's not intentional O.o

#cainsau #I've been meaning to watch our flag means death but I'm catching up on what we do in the shadows rn!#I have seen that scene where blackbeard goes 'oh no. I'm blackbeard' and then shushes the other guy and WHEW!#I AM PERCEIVING #mjanswers

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

Text

Okay, so you know “Justice League meets Batman’s kids, who they’d previously been unaware existed” AUs?

So picture that.....but this time, instead of them just having no knowledge of any of these other Gotham vigilantes at all....the Batkids all migrate to various cities as they get older and become known as their protectors - Dick in Bludhaven, Tim in San Francisco, Cass in Hong Kong, etc....

Meaning they’re all established figures, the Justice League are aware of them as solo local heroes who stick to their cities and so they just don’t interact with them much if at all, or else some are members of team lineups but are particularly vague about their histories or life outside of the team’s adventures....

So the big reveal isn’t that they become aware of all these other Gotham vigilantes all at once....its that some big conflict or whatever requires a huge team up of all available heroes, and in the aftermath, they figure out that like.....despite being known as solo heroes who work alone or loners outside of their team settings, 80% of these heroes all not only seem to already know each other, they seem to be related.

And so naturally they all turn to Batman, who has profiles on every known hero and they thus figure had researched these individuals too and just never mentioned this little detail, and they’re like, “Did you know about this?”

And then Nightwing turns to him too, arms crossed and is like, “Yeah Dad, did you know about this?”

And the infamous Red Hood is all: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have never met any of these people before in my life. Lives? Whatever.”

And then Red Robin moodily grates out “I have no siblings.” Since he’s nursing a grudge since Dick and Jason broke into his apartment the night before and replaced all his custom Red Robin gear with Darkwing Duck merchandise and his vengeance will be swift and also totally disproportionate because things escalate quickly in this family, that’s true in every universe.

Cass meanwhile has deftly skewered Jason’s lie by walking over to him and brazenly patting down the man with many many guns with no fear whatsoever. He squawks and futilely attempts to bat her hands away as she riffles through his many pockets, but he doesn’t seem shocked, just annoyed. Eventually, she pulls away and triumphantly reveals a box of Hello Kitty themed band-aids.

“So these are yours then? Just for you?” Black Bat asks smugly. Red Hood squints at the box.

“What the fuck? How long have those been in my jacket? Why are those in my jacket? Did you freaking plant them in my jacket just on the offchance you could at some point in the distant future use them at my expense?”

Black Bat frowns, puzzled. “Yes?”

“Oh come on, Dead Hood,” Spoiler says with an exaggerated toss of her head meant to convey she’s rolling her eyes beneath her own mask. She skips her way across the room to Black Bat and then drapes herself languidly all over the smaller woman. Who in turn doesn’t so much as twitch beneath the sudden added mass as Spoiler holds out her hand towards the box of band-aids.

“One please. I have a boo-boo,” she says with easy familiarity straight into the intimidating cowl of Black Bat. Only then does she deign to finish her train of thought with Red Hood.

“I mean seriously, are you saying you don’t have potential blackmail set-ups, pre-rigged releases of incriminating material, and a random assortment of traps, pratfalls and mortifying scenarios in place for the express purpose of being able to humiliate any and all of your siblings at any given moment, without any need for additional prep time?”

“Is this true, Little Wing?” Nightwing whirls on the larger Red Hood with a faux-scandalized gasp. The founder and leader of the Titans, formerly the Teen Titans, renowned for his stratagems and calm competence when directing squads of supers in the heat of battle while he keeps pace with nothing more than naturally acquired acrobatics and a utility belt that apparently uses the same technology as Wonder Woman’s invisible jet....now appears to be....staggering with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead, moaning about how he felt....faint?

What is happening right now, several dozen superheroes want to know. Is this a drill? Are they supposed to be checking for signs of a mental ambush from undetected psychic saboteurs? Did they all hit their heads at the exact same time and are now experiencing some kind of shared mass concussion?

Look, that wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to ever happen on the Watchtower.

“Have I failed you so utterly?” The veteran child hero bemoans with a dramatic twirl - that when contrasted with his stern demeanor of a mere ten minutes ago - makes the fears of telepathic infiltration seem less paranoia and more....concerningly probable. “Did you learn nothing from me? Did you learn nothing from B?”

He stops and jabs a finger up at the sky. “Quick, everyone! What is the very first rule of Living While Batty?”

As if by rote, over a half a dozen voices chime in from all over the room, causing various heroes to jump. Spooked by yet more and more vigilantes joining in some kind of mass recitation like they and they alone have some kind of clue what the hell is going on and everyone else just hadn’t been invited to the party. Which is just rude, honestly. Nobody likes feeling like they weren’t invited to the party. Not even superheroes.

“If you’re not going to bother preparing for every possible contingency and at least six impossible ones, you might as well just stay in bed.”

Even the Red Hood joins in the Illuminati chant or Cub Scout pledge or demonic ritual or whatever the fuck that just was, though his slumped and exasperated posture gives away every hint of sulkiness his headgear otherwise would have kept safely hidden. He’s surprisingly more...expressive, than most who’d only known of him by reputation had expected him to be. The day continues to yield surprises.

“Of fucking course I do,” he growls out, snatching the box from Black Bat. She doesn’t even fight to hold onto it, just lets it go with a knowing smirk. “I wasn’t surprised by the idea of it, I was just surprised she bothered with such a weak effort. Like yeah whatever, actually those could be mine. I use those all the time at home. So what?”

He aggressively yanks one of the band-aids out of the box, fumbles with the peel-off strips with one hand and he roughly rolls up the sleeve of his jacket with the other. Then just slaps it on his forearm and raises said appendage high, showing it off this way and that. “See?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Signal drawls from the other side of the room, nodding his head approvingly. “Totally convincing. Nice job walking that one back, you really showed them.”

Red Hood’s head snaps in his direction with ominous intent. “Watch it, Day-Glo.”

Signal just snorts.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna take constructive criticism on my name and costume from a dude who’s spent the last several years calling himself Red HOOD while running around in a freaking HELMET.”

“Its not meant to be literal, you fucking pedant.”

“So wait, its not literally a helmet? Huh, does it at least protect your head literally, or just like...symbolically? Like if Bane were to clock you across the head, would your concussion just be a metaphor? What’s the treatment protocol for a metaphorical concussion? Fluids, bedrest and a philosophical prescription of two chapters of Chicken Soup for the Soul as needed?”

“Laugh it up, KC and the Sunshine Band,” Red Hood bats back. “You just got yourself disinvited from Thursday night’s poker game.”

Signal just grins and folds his arms over his chest cockily. “Please. You’ve been looking for an excuse to ban me for weeks, cuz you know until you can prove I’m using my ghost vision to cheat, you can’t actually bring suit against me for it in Family Court.”

“That, and also Family Court isn’t a real thing, you toddler. Stop validating Wing-a-ding-ding’s obsession with Shitty TV Nostalgia and just call it that thing where Oracle traps us all in a room until we settle our latest fight without anyone getting stabbed.”

“Yeah, but like, say that five times fast,” Spoiler pipes up. “Its just not practical. Family Court’s way easier.”

“Says the one who’s not even in our fucking family.”

“And yet I grace you all with my sublime presence anyway,” she blows a kiss at him, beatifically unbothered. “You’re welcome.”

The Red Hood scoffs and rounds on his heel, zeroing in on Batwoman in the far corner.

“Hey Auntie B, my siblings are all dead to me and I just helped stop an alien invasion so I deserve nice things like a fun Saturday night. Can you get me into Dad’s fundraiser so I can crash it? He won’t put me back on the list until I promise not to bring any C-4 with me and I won’t promise not to bring any C-4 because he should just trust me that I won’t when I say I’m not gonna and he won’t trust me that I won’t until I admit I shouldn’t have brought any to that sting last month where three tiny little yachts blew up through barely any fault of my own, and I’m just not gonna do that ever because I have convictions and I feel I shouldn’t have to be punished for that. Y’know?”

Batwoman blinks at him. “Kid, I’m not gonna lie to you. You’re my nephew and I love you, but I stopped listening three seconds into all that.”

“Ugh, fine. Can you help me crash Dad’s event tonight so I can teach him a lesson about why he should just trust me not to make a scene so I don’t have to always make a scene to make a point.”

“Tempting as you make that sound,” she says wryly, “I have a strict policy for dealing with you lot and your......everything. I only worry about tolerating one of you at a time, and there’s seven of you, and seven days in the week. You each get your own. You know perfectly well its Robin’s day today. You get me on Tuesday, just like always.”

“Auntie B, we’re not like other families, are we?” Red Robin’s delivery is sarcastically childish and his question clearly rhetorical. Most of his attention is fixated on whatever it is he’s doing with his wrist-mounted computer.

“No sweetie, we’re all severely fucked in the head and a little bit too comfortable with that.”

“Just checking. Oh hey, Hood, I just emailed you a patch for the hole in your firewall I exploited when replacing all my shit using your accounts just now.”

“You did what?”

“Used your accounts to pay to replace all my stuff that you fucked with last night?” Red Robin says slowly. “Did you not realize that I’ve been sticking within ten feet of you for the past five minutes just so I could clone your devices and do all that while BB and Spoiler kept you distracted? I gotta say, bro, I feel like that’s on you then.”

Red Hood swivels his helmeted head in the direction of the aforementioned two. Black Bat waves. Spoiler shoots him an utterly unrepentant thumbs up.

“You’d side with your ex over me? That’s what its come to?”

“My only allegiance is to chaos,” Spoiler says brightly. Black Bat shrugs.

“Plus he bribes better.”

“Hateful,” Red Hood points at Black Bat, moving on to level the same finger at Spoiler, who curtsies in acknowledgment: “Hateful-er.”

Then the finger rounds the bases to aim judgmentally at Red Robin. “Hateful-est. And that was all Nightwing’s idea anyway, not mine.”

“Oh, I assumed as much,” he says casually. “Your idea of a prank tends to have more of a Carrie vibe. Or be a literal literary reenactment.”

“Its called an homage, 4chan.”

“Whatever, plagiarist. And anyway, I couldn’t go after ‘Wing for payback on this one. He used an Immunity card. If you didn’t want me getting back at you, you should have used one too."

Red Hood looms aggressively. Red Robin ignores willfully. Round and round they go. Superheroes who can survive excessive G-Forces are getting dizzy just watching them have a largely motionless stand-off. That shouldn’t be how that works, but whatever. All the most infamously reclusive and isolated heroes in all hero-dom are apparently part of the same one big reclusive and isolated family of fucked up weirdos and they’re all officially bonkers. Nothing makes sense anymore. Reality broke. Try another stall.

“Okay, but see, in order to have an Immunity card, I would have to participate in one of you losers’ stupid Immunity challenges,” the Red Hood drags out with exaggerated patience. “And I’m just not going to do that, on account of those all being fucking stupid. You see the problem there?”

Red Robin just shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you, bro. You can have principles or you can have an Immunity card. You can’t have both.”

Meanwhile, on another side of....the same room.....look, its like, an octagonal room, probably. It has a lot of sides. Robin fends off questions from an aggrieved looking Superboy.

“You never told me you had a bajillion brothers and sisters!”

“Yes but I never said I didn’t either.”

Superboy rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, so I should just assume everyone I meet has a bajillion secret brothers and sisters?”

“Well clearly it would have worked out in your favor in this instance if you had, now wouldn’t it?”

“Assuming of course that you can trust what has been said or implied here today and I am actually related to any of those numbskulls. Which I am not actually admitting to,” Robin tacks on hastily.

Superboy eyes him dubiously. “You joined in the same creepy chant all the others did and then got super self-conscious and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Which uh. I did.”

“First off, your interpretation of body language is abyssmal. I do not get self-conscious,” Robin says with a delivery that probably could have benefited from being a little less self-conscious. “And second....that proves nothing. I guessed what they were going to say.”

“Word for word,” Superboy says super-skeptically.

“I’m very good at guessing things. You know this.”

“Okay. Guess how much I believe you right now then.”

Robin glares and folds his arms grumpily across his chest.

“And what was that anyway? Was that like....you guys’ family motto or something like that?”

“Oh no,” Spoiler pipes up. “That’s much shorter.”

Superboy balks at that. “Wait, you guys actually have one of those for real?”

“Yup,” Steph says, counting out the words with her fingers. “He who laughs last....probably works for the Joker. So tranq him just to be safe. See? Only sixteen words. The first rule of Living While Batty is way longer, and what we said was just the abridged version. You should hear the original, before Black Bat put her foot down and refused to memorize it unless sizable edits were made.”

Superboy hovers between her and Robin now, both in mid-air and on the verge of taking Spoiler’s words as an invitation to hear just that. A low growl arises from Robin’s direction.

“Must you?” He asks the older vigilante, with a most put upon expression.

She looks at him pityingly. “Do you actually need me to answer that? Like, we’ve met, right? Hi, I’m Spoiler.”

“Wait, so Robin said that I just never specifically asked him if he had a bajillion brothers and sisters, and that’s why he didn’t tell me, so that means he wouldn’t have just lied and there’s not some code of secrecy that flat out forbids telling other people stuff, right?” Superboy realizes excitedly.

“Yes, excellent direction. Go on,” Spoiler says, steepling her fingers. Robin buries his face in the palm of one hand.

“Soooo, what other stuff could you tell me about Robin’s super top secret family that I wouldn’t think to ask about but that he would tell me about if I knew what questions to ask?”

She claps once, lightly but with emphasis. “Well done. You’ve passed the first barrier. Untold secrets await you behind just a few more.”

“I’ll get you for this,” Robin vows calmly. She waves a hand at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you do it before January 1st, remember? You’ve promised retribution like ten times already this year and those don’t roll over, y’know. Rules are rules.”

“Enough!” Thunders a voice then, from the front of the room. Well one of the fronts anyway. Like sides, it has a lot of them, but this is the one where Batman’s standing. All eyes snap to him. Which is kinda just what eyes do when Batman says stuff like that. Its like his superpower, except he doesn’t actually have superpowers, which is what makes it scary. But where the snapping of the eyes (directional) is usually followed by Batman saying something else besides just “hey look at me,” here he pauses in the wake of his own call to attention’s waning reverberations. Uncharacteristically silent.

Not that, y’know, he’s normally Mr. Talkity Talk, but usually his silences feel like he has the words to fill them, he’s just withholding them. This though, this feels more like he doesn’t have any words at all. And he’s as confused by it as any of them, and most everyone else is confused by Batman being confused, and its this whole trickle down economy of confusion and its wrecking havoc on the value of the golden silence standard.

Of course, not everyone present is rendered spellbound with confusion.

“C’mon B,” Nightwing cajoles, leaning forward and practically radiating delight. “I think you know what you have to do now. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Its not likely to come around again.”

Red Hood snickers beneath his helmet and chimes in. “Yeah Pops, go ahead. You do this and you’ll actually have my respect for a whole twenty four hours. No, wait. Sixteen. No! Eight. Yeah, eight. Still a good deal.”

“Carpe diem, B,” Red Robin grins, leaning back as if to enjoy the show.

“Hey! Infringe on my trademark one more time, dude,” Signal throws a faux-glare at the former. Red Robin just quirks an eyebrow.

“And what, you’ll start saying Yum every time you eat a burger? Oh no. I’m hoist by my own petard.”

Signal flips him off with a grin and then redirects his attention back to Batman. “Yeah seriously though B, you kinda gotta do it now. Because if you don’t do it, then you’ll forever be the guy who didn’t do it, and you don’t want to be that guy, do you?”

“Yeah you really don’t want to be that guy,” Spoiler shouts out. “Nobody likes that guy. He’s the worst.”

“Do it, do it,” Black Bat starts chanting beside her, steadily picking up speed and volume. Several others start joining in. Even Robin appears to be slightly anticipatory, albeit trying very hard to hide it.

Batman sighs, and somehow everyone manages to hear it. Stills. Waits for....something? Nobody but them seems to have any clue what, but the air is thick and heavy with portentiousness. Something is about to happen, and all most of the heroes present could say for sure is it was something they never would have in a million years seen coming.

Finally, Batman straightens with the resigned air of a man about to have oh so many regrets. He crosses his arms, shakes his head, and in an absolute deadpan monotone, says:

“You are awful children. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing your father.”

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mimzy-writing-online · 3 years

Note

You probably know this by now, I don't know if you keep up with Whumptober, but one of the prompts this year includes "blindness". I'm not blind but based on your posts about writing blind characters, and based on how I would feel if one of my disabilities were used as a whump prompt, I'm not super comfortable with it. I was wondering what your thoughts are on blindness being a Whumptober prompt.

(unironically and with feeling) thanks, I hate it.

Yes, I’m familiar with Whumptober, but I’ve never participated myself and I haven’t seen this year’s prompts.

Edit: I later did see the prompts and check out the blog. I think it's a good set of prompts and I look forward to all the promising content, especially since some of my favorite tropes are there. To be clear before you read this, I have no problem with Whumptober2021 or whump in general. This is not the first time blindness has been included for a list of whump prompts, and it won't be the last.

This post directed at the concept of "blindness" as a whump prompt and why I think it's a bad idea. The intended audience is individual writers thinking about future projects.

The timing of this is almost too perfect because I read a fanfic earlier this week that would meet that prompt exactly. Tags included whump, blindness, and angst with a happy ending. Now whump, hurt/comfort, and angst with a happy ending are tags I enjoy reading, but blindness as whump has a specific message to it.

To explain that message, I want to discuss what whump is. Many readers are already familiar with the genre, but I think taking the specific definitions and picking apart what it means and what expectations we carry when reading whump fanfiction

Urban Dictionary defines it as: taking a character and putting them through physical and/or mental torment and is typically followed by the same character being treated for their traumas. To indicate the characters place in the situation they’d typically be called a whumpee (the character being hurt/comforted), the whumper (the character that causes harm and trauma), and the caretaker (the character designated the helping/healing/comforting the whumpee).

Fanlore has a page for whump that explains it in depth, including where it started in fanfiction, examples of whump, and even a list of “popular targets” in different fandoms. (Warning: you might find yourself called out on the popular targets list)

“The term whump (or whumping) generally refers to a form of Hurt/Comfort that is heavy on the hurt and is often found in gen stories. The exact definition varies and has evolved over time. Essentially, whump involves taking a canon character, and placing them in physically painful or psychologically-damaging scenarios. Often this character is a fan favorite…”

To add to that, I think an important detail is the distinction Fanlore makes between hurt/comfort and whump:

“While some communities and fandoms may use whump as a synonym for hurt/comfort, there is still a recognition that whump refers to darker and more extreme scenarios. And there are still whump fics been written that have very little, or no comfort at the end of the story.”

The big appeal of hurt/comfort is getting to both explore the darker sides of pain and then experience the catharsis of being taken care of, of being supported by your loved ones as you recover from the trauma. The character is the proxy for experiencing those highs and lows while you yourself are safe at home.

I personally don’t read much/any whump without some h/c involved, but I’m happy there are stories out there for people who do enjoy it. I’m not here to judge what you like reading or what you do to your characters.

What I want is to express how blindness, my disability, used as a whump prompt personally makes me feel and what message it sends to me, to others, and how that message affects my daily life.

Whump undeniably involves watching a character suffer through something painful and traumatic.

My use of the word “suffer” is what I want you to focus on.

Vision loss can be painful and traumatic. I personally developed an anxiety disorder in response to vision loss. Others experience depression. For some it might result in relapsing into old, maladaptive coping mechanisms like drug use, self harm, or eating disorders.

A big part of my anxiety was how people reacted to my vision loss. It was a cause of their stress. They were worried because they genuinely believed I would never live a happy life without normal vision, and that my life would only be struggle and pain.

I recently saw an old friend who hadn’t heard about my vision loss. The conversation was awkward, but the worst part was how they reacted as though I had experienced an insurmountable tragedy. And even when I assured them I’m happy with my life, they clearly didn’t believe me. They acted like I was just lying or in denial.

I love that people want to empathize with my situation and ask themselves what they would do in my situation, but I hate when the conclusion they come to is something along the lines of “I could never do that, I’d be too miserable thinking about everything I lost, I’d never be able to do anything I enjoyed ever again.” But I did go blind. And I’m not miserable, I’m actually happy with the direction my life is going, and I still enjoy my hobbies, even if I engage with them differently.

I’m not suffering. My life didn’t end with vision loss. It’s not ruined, broken, or worthless.

I read a fanfic that was tagged with whump, blindness, and angst with a happy ending. A general synopsis of the plot: the whumpee had gone blind due to a curse. It was true love’s kiss that broke the curse. Even from the summary I knew it was going to end with whumpee being cured somehow and that I’d leave that fanfic vaguely dissatisfied no matter how good the rest of the fanfic was.

I can say this for the fanfic: the whumpee had already accepted that they would likely be blind for the rest of their life, but everyone around them was treating it as a tragedy that needed to be fixed, working tirelessly for a cure despite the whumpee’s protests that they didn’t have to.

It actually hit home to my personal experience.

I still left it dissatisfied with the ending. I might love curse fics in that fandom, and I love the “true love’s kiss” trope, but it wasn’t enough to distract me from the fact that: an actual person out in the world thought the best happy ending, maybe the only happy ending, would be if the character got their sight back.

(note: I clicked kudos and exited out of the story's page because no fanfic writer deserves unsolicited critique or hate, especially for content I consumed for free and at my own volition.)

Why read a story I knew would disappoint me?

Because blindness representation is so damn rare that I feel like I’m wandering in a desert, dying from thirst and desperate for that oasis. But sometimes that oasis is a mirage and the author is unintentionally telling you that your life is actually awful and you’ll never be fully happy like this. And that is a shit mentality to walk through life with.

I don’t appreciate blindness being a whump plot. I hate it. Hundreds (thousands?) of fanfictions featuring blind characters are about to enter the internet and the overall message is going to be “You poor thing! You must be in so much pain, you must be miserable! Who’s going to save you? Who’s going to comfort you? Wouldn’t it be terrible if there was no one in your life to take care of you? You poor helpless thing!”

And I feel objectified. I feel trivialized. The mirage in the desert is going to become a starch, empty room filled with dozens of water bottles, almost all of them poisoned. My representation is going to hurt me personally, and it’s going to reinforce that idea strangers have about how awful my life must be.

(I returned to school this past month, and every day I’m hesitant to tell someone I’m visually impaired because I don’t want to be treated differently. If I’ve managed to pass as sighted this whole time and then suddenly reveal “oh yeah, I’m visually impaired” I feel this instant silence, this pause of awkwardness as people suddenly question how they’re supposed to treat me. They treated me like a person, and now I’m something strange and unfamiliar.)

I’ve worked so hard to improve representation for blind people, to give internet strangers the exposure to a blind person they need to normalize blindness because I hope that if they’re ever so lucky as to meet a blind person, they’ll treat that person with respect. That hope that another person in the blind community will find a friend they feel comfortable and accepted with. I hope that I’ll meet people who accept my blindness as just another aspect of me (like being bisexual or gender fluid or a writer or a cat lover).

Please don’t turn me and my community into a caricature. Don’t erase everything I’ve worked for with this blog.

To be clear, this is not just me saying "I hate the cure trope" again. This is me saying "the purpose of whump is to painfully hurt your favorite character, and I hate that your idea of pain and suffering is my daily (wonderful) life."

#blindness #whumptober #fanfiction #whump #whumptober 2021 #blind character #disability #ableism #anon

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lizhly-writes · 2 years

Note

The age swap orv snippets are awesome. It was funny to see gilyoung and yuseoung sorta fight over dokja in that au too. I wonder how that would progress honestly. Plus in the Canon x ageswapbi wonder how young gilyoung reacts to older gilyoung.

thank you thank you! wow, i think that might have been one of the first few snippets i wrote up? yeah, the way i approach this au is ‘the more things change, the more things stay the same’. even though the situation is very different, there are still nice little parallels to canon. keeps the flavor the same. like lgy-and-sys’s bickership. i'm glad that turned out entertaining.

how will it progress? who knows! i rarely plan anything out - it is very hard for me to write anything in chronological order, and this au in particular is one that i really don’t have a ‘true’ plot in mind. i have ideas, but because of the previous point, it’s really hard for me to declare anything ‘canon’ for this au.

also: you have, inadvertently, prompted me. i've hit inspiration (or perhaps the other way around)! so -- here you are. ageswap x canon, both versions of lgy and kdj in the same place at the same time.

...

“Wow, you’re tiny,” the younger Lee Gilyoung says as he circles Kim Dokja, clearly fascinated with the child version of his own caretaker. He looks back, every few seconds, at the older version of Kim Dokja as if he’s trying to track the logical progression from one to the other. At least, that’s what Lee Gilyoung (the elder) assumes he’s doing. After all, Lee Gilyoung did the exact same thing when he saw the much older Kim Dokja; he doubts that the desire to catalogue the differences between two theoretically identical things is what changes between them through the years.

“Hey,” Kim Dokja says, indignant. “I’m a normal height for my age—”

“You’re short,” Lee Gilyoung (the younger) says confidently. He ignores Kim Dokja’s sputtering to beam in the adult Kim Dokja’s direction. “Look, Hyung, I’m taller than you!”

“Does that count?” Kim Dokja (the elder) says, his voice very dry. “You’re taller than him. You’re not taller than me.”

“I don’t think it matters,” Lee Gilyoung says, voice just as dry. “When he hits twenty-eight, he’s going to be taller than you.” He gestures at himself and the few centimeters he has over Kim Dokja (28 years old).

“Now that’s not—”

“Really?” the child version of Lee Gilyoung says, looking between Kim Dokja (28) and Lee Gilyoung. Well, Lee Gilyoung supposes the height difference isn’t obvious. Right now, he isn’t standing close enough to this Kim Dokja for it to be easily apparent, especially with the white fog of this scenario space around swirling around.

Lee Gilyoung walks forward agreeably, until he’s exactly next to the older version of Kim Dokja. Like this, it’s much easier to see his younger self’s face. He’d been standing far back enough that he only had a vague impression of it. Now, he’s close enough to see every detail.

Which means he’s close enough to see the child’s face completely shut down.

“… Dad?” says the younger version of himself, his voice very weak.

Lee Gilyoung flinches. So does the other Lee Gilyoung.

They both look like their father. If their histories line up correctly, that’s what they’ve both been told since they were very young. It’s definitely part of the reason why his mother’s side of the family never liked him much. Too much like that cheap, no-good asshole Sungmin, not enough their Youngmi. Every now and then, he’d hear shit about how they hoped his unfortunate face would look more like his mother when he got older, but he’d only looked progressively more and more like his father. On the few occasions where they’d crossed paths, Lee Gilyoung had flaunted it, just to watch their faces when he did.

Lee Gilyoung is now a full-grown adult. The resemblance should be especially strong now. Is especially strong now. He hadn’t thought about that in a very long time. Had been avoiding thinking about that, for a very long time.

#omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv #lee gilyoung #kim dokja #lgy #kdj #omniscient reader #ageswap au #ageswap x canon #my writing #everything #mine

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misterghostfrog · 4 years

Photo

[IMAGE ID; a digital drawing of Martin Blackwood carrying Jonathan Sims from The Magnus Archives. Martin is a fat freckled white man with curly ginger hair that is shaved close at the sides. He has a pair of round framed glasses in a bright red, under the glasses he is wearing eyeliner, and a navy eyeshadow. He has black lipstick, two black snakebite piercings under his lip, and a small black nostril piercing. His ear has a large black piercing that cuffs a chain to a small black piercing higher up his ear, and one final black piercing in the middle. He has a black choker, and then a looser chain necklace with an eye ornament on it. He has a studded lather jacket on that is covered in multiple patches and pins, mostly hidden by Jon: of the visible pins there is a trans flag patch on his chest, and on his shoulder is a large dark colored patch that has A-C-A-B on it in white. Under the Jacket is a black shirt that he has partly tucked into his pants, the shirt has a large anarchy symbol drawn on it in red. Under that he is wearing jeans that are significantly ripped as far as we can see. On his right hand he has several black rings, and his nails are painted black. Jon is a skinny Jordanian man with brown eyes and shoulder-length grey-streaked dark brown hair pulled back into a messy ponytail at the base of his neck. He has a beard beginning to grow that appears to be the product of forgetting to shave. He is covered in a series of small round scars that vary in exact size. He is wearing a pair of rectangle-framed glasses, a plain t-shirt, a pair of jeans that are ripped at the knee, and converse. Martin is carrying Jon bridal style in his arms, and is looking away, he is blushing, though his expression is concerned and appears to be speaking. Jon has his arms wrapped around Martins neck, his cheeks are darkened and he is staring at hte ground with an expression somewhere between fear and the face one makes when they’re having to retrace every step they’ve taken to get here. END ID]

Punk Martin but make it Jonmartin.

Also I wrote a lil thing to go along with this under the cut, its only barely edited because it was mostly for fun so be warned its a big ol mess! But its s2 jonmartin nonsense with Martin being very cool and attractive and Jon being seven layers deep in denial (Also I may have written Jon as a touch autistic because its projection hours tonight i’m too sleepy to mask and that goes for writing too babey)

(Mentions of worms, past injuries, and Jon dealing with some internalised ableism and general foolishness)

Jon forgot his cane.

It’s a relatively regular occurrence, for a multitude of reasons. For one thing it’s something of a recent addition to the list of things he needs to keep track of when he leaves the house. Another lovely parting gift from Prentiss, a worm in his left leg that went just quick enough to start burrowing into the bone before it was removed.

For another, he really has other things to worry about. And if it doesn’t hurt, it shouldn’t matter. Most days he can get by just fine without it- it hurts of course. But not so much he can’t support himself, and really, does he need it otherwise?

Martin and Tim don’t seem to agree, though Sasha has kept respectfully to herself on the whole business. Martin, of course, he trusts. Albeit only recently. But that doesn’t make him right, his priorities are warped. Naturally. He doesn’t see the bigger picture.

(or at least that’s what Jon tells himself)

Which is what leads to this moment, sitting on a bench outside the shop, single grocery bag by his feet. He’d only run out to get a few things, but somewhere between the his flat the the shop his barely visible limp had become more pronounced as his hip began to throb, then he was halfway through the frozens when he realized he wasn’t going to be able to finish the trip. After that he’d barely made it through checkout to the nearest seat before all but collapsing into it.

And now he’s sitting, stuck. An insurmountable walk from home, without his stupid cane. Which, he notes, he wouldn’t need if he’d brought in the first place. Funny how that works.

“Jon?” A familiar voice jolts him out of his thoughts. Jon jolts upright. Martin.

He knows Martin lives in the area, a side effect of his... investigations. Though he was unaware he used the same shop. He looks up, a greeting or perhaps a question on his lips that dies as soon as he actually lays eyes on Martin.

Martin is wearing a leather jacket. Not just a leather jacket of course, but that’s the first thing Jon can process. He’s wearing a studded leather jacket covered in various patches that advertise various opinions and identities that Jon doesn’t have time to think about. His jeans are about as much rip as they are Jean, and he’s got piercings- and eyeliner. he’s dressed like he should be riding a motorcycle, not the beat-up red bike he’s got beside him.

“Are you alright?” Martin says, and Jon realizes he’s been staring.

“Are you going to a costume party?” Jon blurts instead of answering. A costume party would make sense, of course. Martin doesn’t dress like this, he dresses like- like-

It occurs to him dimly that he’s never encountered Martin outside of work, at least never in a scenario that would allow him to change out of his work clothes. And some part of him has always assumed that sweaters and khakis were simply how he dressed. It suited him, really. Or Jon had assumed, but then again he assumed anything familiar is suiting.

“Wh- A- no?” Martin answers, looking vaguely offended. Jon flushes.

“I- sorry, I just- I’ve... I didn’t think you seemed the type to dress... like that...?” Jon fumbles, pathetically trying to salvage the conversation. Judging by Martins expression, he’s failing.

Martin opens his mouth to say something, and Jon realizes there’s likely no coming back from this particular mortification. He snatches the bag by his feet and moves to stand. Some excuse already tumbling out when the reason for his sit-down, which had dulled to a shockingly forgettable throb, decides to remind him of his place in the world.

He lets out a cry of pain, and crumples. Only stopped from hitting the ground by a pair of arms that wrap around his chest and under his shoulder.

“Oh my god, Jon. Are you alright- what- is it your leg? Where’s your cane-” Martin babbles, Gently replacing Jon on his bench as Jon breathes through gritted teeth.

“It’s fine- i’m fine Martin I-” he sighs, studiously avoiding Martins gaze. “My cane is at home.” He tries not to sound chastised as he says the last part- he shouldn’t have to after all. He’s still Martins boss. He shouldn’t be looking away like he’s been caught at something.

“Jon” Martin sounds exasperated, and Jon crosses his arms. Once again, nothing like someone being scolded. He’s not being scolded. He’s an adult. “How long have you been sitting here like this?”

“I...” Jon begins before trailing off, he’s not actually sure. The period between sitting on the bench and the pain dulling enough for him to think through the fog is something is a blur. He is pretty sure someone asked if he was alright at some point. His lack of answer seems to be enough for Martin though.

“Just give me a moment.” He says, stepping away from Jon over to his bike- which has fallen over onto the ground -pulling it upright and over to Jon on the bench. He pushes down the rusted kickstand with a hearty kick- and Jon briefly notes he’s wearing steel-toed boots -and sets the bike gently upright.

“Okay, so! If you sit on the bike I can push it, and you can get home and rest that leg without jostling it too much by trying to walk without your cane.” He says pointedly. Jon makes a face,

“This... this really isn’t necessary Martin- I’m perfectly capable-” He grumbles, waving a hand dismissively. But a glance at Martins expression shuts him up quick.

“Do you think you can stand?” He asks. Jon pauses, the memory of the white-hot flash of pain still fresh in his mind. He grimaces, shaking his head. Martin hums thoughtfully. “Alright, would you be alright if I picked you up? Just for a moment to get you on the bike” He asks carefully.

Jon hesitates, looking between Martin and the bike. And weighs his options. After several seconds he nods. Martin smiles, and Jon feels something in his chest flutter. Anxiety at his decision most likely. Or perhaps nerves in relation to sitting on a bike, he’s never ridden one- of course Martin will be doing all the work but surely there’s some sort of balance required isn’t there? Really he shouldn’t be riding a bike like this-

Those thoughts are all swept away at the feeling of large warm hands gently scooping him off the bench. He instinctively throws his arms around Martins neck for support as he’s lifted into the air.

He can feel Martins chest warm against his side as Martin holds him close, one hand on his shoulder and the other supporting his legs. He’s being cradled by his subordinate, carefully as so not to jostle his leg. And all he can think about is how warm Martin is. He’s large and soft despite all the sharper accessories and he smells a bit like leather and tea on top of whatever soap he uses. Probably something that Jon wouldn’t be able to name with a gun to his head. And Jon can see the freckles on Martins cheeks and neck close enough to count if he wanted to even as he looks away, saying something Jon can’t quite parse because he’s too busy reeling from the realization he’d be happy to sit in Martins arms like this for the rest of his life.

His face goes hot and he forces himself to look down at the ground. The pain is clearly messing with his head, or perhaps the sleep deprivation. Or perhaps he’s still riding the high from that moment of realization that Martin isn’t trying to kill him, that he can trust him.

Either way he’s not thinking straight, which is why he’s dissapointed instead of relieved when Martin gently places him on the bike with the exact amount of care he took in picking him up. Which shouldn’t make him feel so oddly jittery but it does.

The ride is quiet, aside from awkward instructions from Jon on where to turn as Martin guides them carefully along the sidewalk. They miss a turn once because Jons too preoccupied with the feeling of Martins arm bumping against his shoulder as he guides the bike.

And then they’re at Jons flat, and Jon once again feels that misplaced disappointment. He wonders if perhaps Martin will carry him up to his flat, and his face burns again as the silliness of the thought hits him.

Martin does very, very briefly lift him to help him off the bike when he stumbles. But his leg has recovered enough that he can make it up to his flat without assistance, or so he tells Martin. Who looks unconvinced.

“Let me at least walk with you, yea? That way I know for sure you got home safe.” He insists, and Jon forced himself to be displeased with the situation.

It ends up being a good thing Martin came along though, a partway up the steps the railing is no longer enough to support Jon, and he ends up half-carried the rest of the way. Martins arm under his shoulder, his own loops around Martins back, gripping the jacket for support. He can feel his head drifting at the contact- Martin is just so damned warm and safe and Martin it’s impossible not to get distacted.

He forces himself to think about something else, anything else. The jacket- he can feel the leather under his fingertips and it’s as good distraction as any.

It’s a nice jacket, really. Clearly well-worn. And it does suit Martin, in an odd sort-of way.

Jon winces internally, remembering the conversation from earlier. He hadn’t meant to come off so... well. It doesn’t matter. Except that it does, even though it doesn’t, but it does.

Once they reach Jons door, he pushes off of Martin to lean on the wall while he fumbles for his keys. Martin lingers as he does so, twiddling his thumbs awkwardly in the silence.

Jon finds his keys and sighs in relief as the door swings open.

He nearly wanders inside and shuts the door before remembering basic human etiquette. He pauses in the doorway, turning to Martin. Who smiles awkwardly.

“Thank you.” He says stiffly, still leaning heavily on the doorframe. “That was... very kind. Of you.” Martin shakes his head.

“It’s nothing, really. Couldn’t exactly just leave you there, could I?”

Jon shifts awkwardly, wincing at the brief weight on his leg. He’s right of course, morally at least. If not logically.

“I... I suppose not.” He says, hesitating before adding “I’m sorry.”

“Look, Jon. I already said it’s fine-”

“No-” Jon grimaces “not for that. I- I meant... for what I said. About your clothes. They don’t... I just- I didn’t expect it, and I may have come off as... rude.” He mutters

“Oh.” Martin says flatly, Jons sure he’d forgotten about that until just now, and he wishes he could have kept it that way.

“they do suit you, though.” He says, after an awkward pause. “Your clothes, I mean. It looks- you look nice.” he finishes as genuinely as he can- he does mean it. Of course, he just doesn’t know how to make it sound like he does.

“Oh” Martin says again, brightening slightly, his cheeks going blotchy red in a blush. “I- er- thank you...? I suppose?”

“Yes. Well. Your welcome, I suppose.” There’s another awkward pause, Martin isn’t quite smiling at Jon, but there’s something soft in his expression Jon can’t quite parse. “ Have a good day, Martin.” He says finally, after a long pause. Martins cheeks redden again.

“Oh- yeah, er. You too Jon- and take care of yourself. Alright?”

Jon nods, and Martin smiles. And Jon thinks he’d like to see Martin smile a bit more.

He waves as Martin heads down the stairs, he can hear Martin humming as he goes.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #jmart #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #punk martin #fic #art #fanfic #fanart #ghostly doodle #ghostly doodles #Jons a mess!#and Martin has cool fashions #ghostly scribbles

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skiitter · 3 years

Note

A prompt, my dear. Hermione and Draco + “who hurt you?”

Draco Malfoy was a lot of things, the majority of which were less than desirable to any sensible person, but one thing he was not was late. His punctuality was a point of pride, in a sea of arrogance no doubt, but Hermione had come to appreciate it over the course of their working relationship. It was something she could rely on, something immovable in an otherwise dangerously murky situation. He may needle her ceaselessly and leave her to do the lions share of the paperwork, but he was always there when he was expected, an effortless air of smugness clinging to him like bad cologne.

This Sunday, however; this unremarkable, overcast Sunday in late September he was late. It was the day after her 24th birthday as well as their final meeting. The report had been ostensibly completed, the field work essentially finished, and the conclusion inevitably drawn. After the better part of a year dedicating 1/3rd of every weekend to spending most of the day with Malfoy, Hermione's Sundays were about to become her own once more; a prospect she was not all that excited about.

Everytime the chirp of the bell above the door announced a new arrival, she would glance over, expecting to see a shock of platinum hair above a signature sneer and everytime, she was disappointed.

"Another tea, miss?" The waitress asked, her expression a perfect blend of professionalism and pity.

"No, no thank you." Hermione spared another look out the window, searching for him among the crowd. "Actually, I think I'm done here. Could I get the check?"

Bundled up against the autumn chill, Hermione paid and left the Cafe' and it's memories behind. It wasn't quite noon yet, and the streets were slowly filling with the townspeople emerging to go about their days. She smiled at a few passersby but was otherwise lost in her own thoughts as she made her way to the Apparition point.

Maybe Malfoy had just decided their final meeting wasn't all that important. To be fair it was more of a formality than anything else. His decision to not show would have no negative consequence on anything other than her feelings. Feelings, of course, that she was deliberately not thinking about.

As she rounded the corner, absorbed in her denial, she didn't see him until it was too late. With an audible "oof" she ran straight into Malfoy, colliding chest to chest. She immediately bounced off but he caught her arm before she could hit the sidewalk.

"What--Malfoy?"

"Graceful as always, Granger." He let her go and she stared, wide eyed and confused, at the state of his face.

"Merlin! Your face it's--"

"Your manners leave so very much to be desired." He looked cross but it was hard to tell beneath the bruising. An ugly, mottled patch of purple marred the left side of his face, stark and violent against his pale skin. It was fresh, the edges red with the recent impact, and it appeared to have just narrowly missed his eye.

"Malfoy," she reached her hand out, ghosting her fingertips over the bruise. "What happened?"

He sneered at her and jerked away. "Keep your obligatory Gryffindor concern to yourself, Granger."

"It's not an obligation!"

"Says the war hero."

"Will you--ugh!" She huffed and dragged him back around the corner, off of the sidewalk and into an alley. "What happened?" She repeated.

"Nothing."

"Malfoy."

He looked around, deliberately avoiding making eye contact with her. "I made a wrong turn at Diagon Alley, is all."

"A wrong turn?" The incredulity in her voice was palpable. "To where? A boxing ring?"

"Just drop it, Granger."

"I will not just drop it. Look--look at your face!" She closed the space between them. "Malfoy, please. What happened?"

He sighed and the rigidity of his shoulders softened. "I forgot, okay? I went to Flourish and Blotts to get you your bloody birthday gift and when I left, I ran into some adoring fans."

"What--"

"Our former school chums don't take kindly to my presence in Diagon Alley and, after our last little spat, I'd forgotten the warning they'd left me with." Malfoy's jaw tensed and he squinted up into the clouded sunlight. "They took it upon themselves to remind me."

Hermione balled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. "Who?"

"It doesn't matter, Granger."

"Who?" She took a steadying breath. "Who hurt you?"

"I don't know. I vaguely recognized them from Hogwarts. It's fine."

It wasn't fine. It was categorically not fine. Malfoy was hardly the first of their class that had been on the wrong side of the war to be attacked. Harry had spent a significant amount of time trying to dispel such violent grudges and, to the best of her knowledge, it had been handled. Clearly, she was mistaken.

"We need to report this to the Ministry. Harry needs--"

"Absolutely fucking not." Malfoy gave her an indignant look. "The last person that needs to hear about this is Saint Potter."

"Malfoy, Harry's job is dealing with--"

"No, Granger. I said no."

"So what? Those nasty little insects just get to get away with it? No. I refuse. We didn't go to bloody war--"

"I was on the wrong side of that war, remember? So, yeah, we did go to war for this exact scenario to exist." He could see the lack of effect his words were having written across her face. "Granger. Please. I don't want this to become another of your crusades."

She reeled as if she'd been slapped. "Crusades?! Malfoy, it's about the injustice of it! You don't deserve to be attacked in the streets for something you did nearly ten years ago!"

"The court of public opinion begs to differ."

"Oh they'll beg alright," she snapped. At her genuine anger, his features softened and Malfoy gave her an unreadable look before looking away.

"You're such a fucking Gryffindor." He said it with an air of affection, though, and it helped to ground her back in the now.

"Thank you." Once more she placed her hand upon his bruised cheek and, to her surprise, he leaned into the touch. Her breathe caught in her lungs and she swallowed. "We--we should take care of that."

"It's just a simple spell. I'll handle it."

"No," she insisted and stepped away from him. "I will. It's the least I can do."

"This is hardly your fault."

"You went to Diagon Alley for me, remember?" She looked him up and down. "Speaking of..."

"I've been attacked and you're worrying over your stupid gift?" His tone was lighter than it had been since she'd ran into him.

"Of course I am. It's not everyday the evil Draco Malfoy buys you a gift." Hermione nodded to the Apparition point behind them. "Let's go."

"What about the Cafe? You can't honestly expect me to deny our Waitress her weekly opportunity to oogle at me." He gestured to his outfit: an expensive and perfectly tailored muggle suit that Hermione had forced him to buy after he showed up to their first meeting in robes.

"I've already been. It'd been weird to go back now. Besides, I think the bruise will overshadow your fancy slacks."

"Women like a man with scars."

She snorted. "It's hardly a battle scar, you git." when he gave her a pleading look, she rolled her eyes and looked around, to make sure they were alone. Satisfied with the lack of muggles, Hermione drew her wand and tapped it gently to his cheek. The static heat of magic bloomed between them and the ugly purple faded away, leaving his pale cheek unblemished once more. "There."

In the process of her healing, Malfoy had stepped completely into her personal space and the look he was giving her was heavy, deliberate.

"This isn't over, Malfoy. I'll find out who did this, with or without your help. They don't get to just attack you and get away with it."

"I'm hardly a weakling, Granger. I fought back."

"Good. It'll make them easier to identify."

"You're not going to let this go." It was not a question.

"No. I'm not."

"Why?"

"Because." She gave him a defiant look and he tipped her chin up with his hand. "You're my--"

"What? I'm your what?"

"Friend?"

"Is that all?" He was dangerous, but in a completely different way to the bully he'd been in their youth.

"That depends."

"On?"

"On what you got me for my birthday." She grinned and he laughed, pressing his forehead to hers a moment before pulling away and offering her his arm. She looped hers around it and let him steer them back in the direction of the Cafe.

After a lunch of finger sandwiches and tea, Malfoy finally handed her a perfectly wrapped gift that she immediately tore into. It was the latest book in a series on beasts that Rolf Scamander had been releasing, and it wasn't supposed to be out for another week.

"How did you get this?"

Malfoy shrugged, as if it was the least important thing in the world. "Money is an exceptionally good incentive."

"I love it. Thank you." She beamed at him and he cleared his throat as if it would distract her from the flush creeping up his neck.

"It's no big deal, Granger."

"To you maybe. It is to me. You know how I feel about birthday gifts." They both thought back to the spectacle she'd made of his back in June.

"I did fight for my life while I was out getting it." He grinned but the smile faded at the sharp look she gave him. "I'm joking, of course. Just a little fisticuffs, nothing serious."

"I'm sorry, Malfoy. I really am. You didn't have to go all the way to Diagon Alley for this."

"Sure I did."

"Just submitting your half of the report would be gift enough."

"Lucky for you I've done both. Besides, I'm sick of using that bloody report as an excuse to be around you." Hermione blinked, unable to process the weight of what he'd said. At the shock on her face, he shrugged again. "Come on, Granger. You can't possibly think I care about work this much."

"I--you--what?"

He leaned forward and captured her chin in his hand. "My fierce, naive little lion. You're horribly dense." Malfoy gave her a soft kiss on the forehead and pulled away. "Let's go before the Waitress gets jealous."

"But. What."

"I've rendered the great Hermione Granger speechless. I am truly magnificent." His laugh brought her to her senses and she launched herself across the table to kiss him.

"Sod the waitress."

She did, in the end, figure out who hurt him and in true Hermione Granger fashion, made them rue the day they laid hands upon someone she loves.

#Dramione #Draco Malfoy #Hermione Granger #Skitterfics #Hmmmm I don't care for the way this ended but I am just rewriting it endlessly at this point

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demonlikejudgeoffire · 3 years

Text

I was thinking about my baker!YJH concept again tonight and then I realised I had never actually talked about that on here since it was born many moons before I ever made this tumblr lol so

Vague ORV epilogue spoilers under the cut. Further disclaimer that I thought about this some time after reading what you knead by AgentMalkere on AO3. The only intended similarity in this is the use of baking as an emotional outlet.

After the stress and chaotic mess that is the epilogue, kimcom kind of goes back to life as usual; the routines they had settled into before that final desperate attempt become the norm once more.

The thing is, though, that Yoo Joonghyuk didn't have much of a life before that. How does a man go from the hellscape of eternity to... everything that a life without the scenarios entails? We saw, in epilogue, that YJH didn't cope well with that transition. Rather, he didn't cope at all. (Yoo Joonghyuk, 33, --- well, you know what fills in the blank.) PTSD and YJH's depression are touched on at various point during the novel, but Kim Dokja isn't exactly the model of mental health either, so he's not exactly the best at spotting or dealing with trauma.

The Baker!AU was born from the vague idea of YJH learning how to live again, and it went something like this:

Post-epilogue, Yoo Joonghyuk finds himself somewhat at a loss. He still goes running a lot, he still drills and trains and works out, but it's more because he's just fallen back into it. The kids go back to school, Han Sooyoung starts lecturing again, Yoo Sangah and the rest are all gainfully employed, and Kim Dokja is still healing and Yoo Joonghyuk has too many hours in the day. He tries to pick up games again, but sometimes they remind him too much of his story, and it's hard to find enjoyment in the ones he used to like. So. He rattles around the house and the industrial complex and he trains and he runs and his shoes wear out long before he runs out of road and and and—

And one day, Mia asks if he can bake something for her. He does, of course, and it turns out horribly.

So he does it again. And once again, they're terrible. Too dry, too crumbly, too much of everything they're not supposed to be, and Mia takes one bite of it and scrunches her nose but she eats everything with only a little bit of ribbing. And when she's gone to bed and Yoo Joonghyuk goes back to the kitchen to clean up, he stands there and scrutinizes the recipe and he thinks.

The thing is, the thing about Yoo Joonghyuk is, he hates failure. But the thing about baking is that it's okay to mess up. Cookies can turn out too hard, muffins can refuse to rise, cakes can collapse in on themselves—and that's okay.

No one's dead.

It's fine if he makes a mistake.

It doesn't have to be perfect.

So he keeps baking.

He makes pies with crusts that go soggy at the bottom, then makes them again and again. His macaroons are too hard, then too sweet, then just right. The kids and Han Sooyoung eat his failures and then they start badgering for him to bake more. So he does.

The house always smells amazing. Yoo Joonghyuk spends hours in the kitchen every day. He gets things down to a science, and then he starts to experiment. Yoo Joonghyuk is methodical. He changes variables one by one, he sets controls, he makes the kids do blind taste tests, and he figures out what he needs to do to meet his own exacting standards. Soon he's baking things and trying new flavours he'd never even heard of not that long before.

And then one day, Lee Seolhwa drops by and he sets down a saucer with one of his latest confections in front of her and settles into a seat at the other side of the table, tea cup in hand. She takes one bite and sets her fork down.

"Joonghyuk-ssi," she says. "Have you ever thought about opening a bakery?"

(He hasn't.)

But he starts thinking about it. He thinks about it while taking out his third tray of mille feuilles. He thinks about it while he's scoring a design into bread dough. He thinks about it while glazing a batch of beignets. Then he looks down at the array of baked goods in front of him.

And he thinks he might like that.

#orv #omniscient reader #omniscient reader's viewpoint #yoo joonghyuk #my writing #you know those food science posts. the ones where OP shows like 10 different pics of a baked good and is like #HERE i changed the temperature from 350 to 375° F and in THIS one i substituted butter for margarine #i think yjh would be very happy doing that #he strikes me as a person who likes to methodically go through every possible option

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citrusdarling7 · 3 years

Text

Tophelia

summary- a smutty excerpt from my tom riddle x oc book, which you can find here (wattpad) or here (ao3)

warnings- smut, praise kink, tiny bit of degrading, fingering, swearing

🗡—————————————————————🗡

As soon as we found an un-inhabited guest room, I was backed against the wall as his hands tightly grasped my waist, his tongue pushing against my lower lip. After a few moments of rough kisses, he yanked back my hair to allow his mouth better access to my neck. I threw my head back in pleasure and anticipation, letting my body arch against his. A cold hand had started to snake under my dress and up my thigh.

“Wait- give me one moment.” I pushed his head away from my neck as I drew my wand. I quickly casted a few Silencing Spells, kicked off my shoes, then double-checked that the door was locked. The room was lit by various lamps that had been scattered about and I vaguely recognized it as where I might have set a tapestry on fire last summer. Once my wand was rested on a nearby table, Tom started to tug off my dress.

The beautiful fabric was no match for him. He didn’t bother with the zipper as he ripped the bodice apart and slid it down my legs. I was going to grieve the loss of such a pretty dress, but I was focusing on more important things at the moment. Riddle suddenly hoisted me up by my thighs, pushing me harder against the wall. My legs wrapped around his middle as I ran my lips across his jawline.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined us in this scenario,” he whispered against my ear. “You looked impossibly alluring in that dress tonight, and you look even more alluring without it.” A sharp pinch to my thigh forced a sudden moan from me.

“Stop talking and take off your clothes,” I groaned. My hands had started to unfasten his belt buckle, but he pushed them away.

“No, not yet. I’ve waited so long for this, and I plan to savour every minute of it.” Tom hooked two of his fingers in the waistband of my lace panties, allowing the pads of his fingers to brush against my skin. “Have you ever let a man touch you before?” I forced myself to meet his gaze before speaking.

“Just one,” I admitted. His jaw clenched as he glowered at me.

“Really? Who?” Tom’s other hand began to spread soft touches across my collarbones and neck.

“Conner McLaggen.” To my suprise, his eyebrows raised as he let out a cold and cruel laugh.

“The Gryffindor? I would’ve expected you to have a bit more dignity than that, Ophelia.” He spat his words at me, as if he wasn’t the one who brought up the subject. “Well, I suppose it’s only fair that I show you how it feels to be pleasured by a real man.”

Riddle’s cold fingers slipped under my panties and pressed against my folds. Two fingers entered my heat, causing me to gasp quite loudly.

“Salazar, you’re soaking wet. You’re quite the little whore, aren’t you?” Tom slid his fingers in and out of me at a slow pace, sending sparks of pleasure through my core. His other hand found its way to my throat and squeezed gently. “Such a pretty girl.” Tom decided to add his thumb, circling my clit slowly. I nearly cried out from the shock of the new sensation.

“Fuck, that feels good,” I sighed. Every time his fingers entered me my core tightened around them in anticipation. Conner had been a decent partner, but he never made me feel the way Tom did.

“Yeah? You like being fucked by my fingers, don’t you?” Unable to speak, I simply nodded my head and whimpered. I let my head fall against his shoulder as I bit down on my lip. Every push of his fingers sent pleasure coursing through my veins, and I never wanted it to stop.

“Tom-” I moaned into his shoulder, my hips involuntarily bucking against his hand. My entire face was flushed, likely due to the dirty things he kept whispering into my ear.

“Would you like to come, my darling?” His breath was hot against my skin, his curls tickling my neck. I had hooked one of my legs around his in an attempt to steady myself, longing to feel his body against mine.

“Yes.”

“Then look at me, Ophelia.” Tom suddenly took hold of my chin and thrusted it upwards. Our eyes met in a gaze of intensity that I had never seen in him before. He loved having this sort of power over me; loved having complete control. “I want to watch when you fall apart for me.”

And with a few more quick movements from his fingers, I was sent tumbling over the abyss. I felt my body ripple with waves of intense pressure as I desperately tried to soften the volume of my moans. I clenched around his fingers, my thighs shaking from the immense pleasure. I cried out his name repeatedly as I came.

“You made quite a mess. Open your mouth,” Riddle demanded. I let my lips part, and he immediately pushed his fingers past them, making me taste myself. I began to suck, which was met with a low groan from him. “We can stop now, if that’s what you want. I do not wish for you to regret anything that we do.” Once his fingers were withdrawn, I tilted my head upwards and let my mouth wander his neck.

“I regret nearly every decision I make, so it does not matter. I want to keep going,” I told him. I had started to undo his tie while he gently rubbed his thumb in circles against my hip. “I want you, Tom.”

Did I want him? I was not so sure. His physical body was similar to that of a Greek god, and his lips left beautiful marks every time they met my skin. Riddle was the boy that I had fought so hard to stay away from, but right now I wanted the two of us to be as close as possible.

I was once again lifted by his arms, although this time I was thrown onto the bed. I watched with anticipation as he started to undress himself. I was practically pulsating in between my thighs, still overwhelmed from what he had been doing to me mere minutes before.

“I take the potion, so it’s alright if you don’t use a condom,” I suddenly blurted out. Tom’s brow raised a bit as he allowed himself to smile. His hand softly caressed my cheek.

“You have done this before, correct?” I nodded as I felt his other hand reach around to the nape of my neck, tangling itself in my hair. “I’m still going to be somewhat gentle with you. At least for this time.” His hands gripped my hips to keep them steady as he finally lined himself up with my entrance. The tip of his cock brushed against my clit, causing me to let out a sigh of frustration.

“Stop teasing me.” His fingers tightened around my hips, digging into my skin in a fashion that was sure to leave me with bruises. He slammed into me suddenly, causing me to yelp. The pace he set was torturously slow, his length stretching out my walls with every thrust. My head fell back against one of the soft pillows as my hands gripped the duvet.

“You feel wonderful, my darling. So tight and warm,” Tom groaned. A hand left my hip and tangled itself in my hair, directing my face off of the pillow and back towards him. “Kiss me,” he demanded. It was a struggle to raise my upper body enough so that our lips could meet, but I loved the feeling of his mouth on mine. Riddle nibbled on my lower lip as his tongue explored the inside of my cheeks.

“More,” I whimpered. My hips thrust upwards, desperate for more friction. Tom’s hand flew around my throat as he laughed coldly.

“What do you want? You want me to go faster? Fuck you harder?” His words were enough to make my spine tingle. The hand squeezing my neck would have made it very difficult to speak, so I settled for a nod. “I want to hear you beg for it.” His grip loosened a bit, allowing me to groan in frustration.

“Please, Tom. Please, I need you.” Tom’s lips curled upwards in quite possibly the biggest grin I’ve ever seen from him.

“I’ll give you what you want, but first I want this off.” His hands slid to my back, reaching for the hooks that held my bra together. He quickly unfastened the garment and tossed it behind us. Soft fingertips gently tugged at my nipple while he sucked on my neck fervently. I was certain that there would be marks left behind.

He began to pound into me at a relentless pace, causing a series of moans and curses to tumble from my lips. My hands tightly grasped his broad shoulders, and after a particularly deep thrust, I couldn’t help but dig my nails into his skin. Out of instinct, my hips tilted slightly in an attempt to push him away.

“You begged me for this, so keep still and take it like a good girl,” he growled. Wanting more control over my body, he threw one of my legs over his shoulder, his other hand pressing down on my lower abdomen. This new position allowed him to thrust even deeper inside of me. I cried out his name as clung onto his curls. I must have been pulling his hair very hard, but Tom didn’t seem to mind. My thighs began to quiver as my breaths became more shallow.

“My darling Ophelia, who would have thought you would be so desperate for me? Are you going to come again?” I was unable to even answer his question, because at that exact moment pleasure rippled through my body, my walls desperately clenching around his cock. My moans were so loud that I almost expected his hand to clamp down over my mouth and silence me.

“You really are beautiful. Every little noise that leaves your lips is music to my ears,” he whispered against my ear. My left leg had been moved back into its previous position, allowing him to be closer to me. His movements had become more sloppy and his eyes were practically burning into mine. “Do you- do you want me to pull out?” For a brief moment, he seemed as if he were unsure of what he was doing.

“No. I’d much rather you come inside me,” I assured him. I directed his face closer to mine, pressing our foreheads together.

“Ophelia, every touch of yours is so incredibly intoxicating. You set my mind and body on fire.” Tom groaned my name while he came, his cock twitching as he released into me. He stayed close to me for a few moments afterwards, peppering my face and neck with kisses. When he finally rolled off of me, I felt the cold metal of one of his rings brush against my skin. Glancing towards my own hand, I realized that I was still wearing the serpent ring he had gifted me.

#oneshot #tom riddle #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle oneshot #tom riddle smut #tom riddle imagine #smut oneshot #smut fanfiction

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