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voonroo · 3 months

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I have an idea! Only do it if you feel comfortable though 🙌🏻 no pressure

Teen reader with Alastor who have this father-daughter bond. Teen reader has never really 'acted out' in a sense. At least not in ways expected of in a sinner. Always had manners, polite, and reserved, yet was always open and honest with Alastor.

Now imagine reader out on the town doing some errands and they overhear a demon talking some nasty crap about Alastor. For the first time, they let their anger get the better of them and get into a fight with the demon. Not without a few cuts and bruises though, poor thing.

Reader not wanting Alastor to get angry or disappointed at them decide that it's best that just this one, they won't mention anything. They'll not tell him this one thing. It won't hurt. He won't know!

Yet it's Alastor. And he always knows. Mainly because they're reading sunglasses inside and trying (failing) to cover up a limp.

Are Ya Winning Child?

⌐‣Alastor & Teen Reader

Want more? Check out the masterlist↩︎

AUTHOR’S NOTE: KSNAKXNSM I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS I AM LIVING FOR THESE REQUESTS. I ACTUALLY HAD TO TAKE BREAKS WRITING THIS TO BREATHE. I WAS GENUINELY TWEAKING LIKE ALASTOR WAS THIS LAST EPISODE WRITING THIS.

Alastor & Teen Reader

You had always been one to hold your tongue and watch your actions. To not act out on rashness. That's how you had always been, even before ending up in hell. You had always been known for your good manners, even as a kid and it's only become more solidified in your character as you grew.

Then why was it so hard to not beat the living shit out of the demon in front of you.

There's no way they didn't know you were connected with the infamous radio demon in some way. Maybe they had seen you and him out and about here recently and knew you two had a connection. People are more courageous than ever to question Alastor’s authority since his 7-year absence.

Maybe the demon is just trying to get a rise out of you. Sinners, who were once people, tend to poke and prod at what they don't understand. “How could some random teenage sinner be so close to the radio demon? Maybe they have a deal? The poor soul probably got tricked…” You've heard it all by now.

But, every time someone said something would be in hushed whispers that were easy to ignore. However, it can be quite hard to ignore some random drunkard spouting lies from his lips. And straight to your face too.

“He’s probably got your ass on a leash doesn't he?” and “Oh! If he's so powerful—” There were a few loud noises, maybe a scream or two.

What…? Oh shit.

The walk back to the hotel was not fun. You really should have just ignored him. Silencing him was not worth the pain you had in your leg and the ache you felt. You're pretty sure you got a black eye too.

By the time you arrive, you have adorned sunglasses on your face come up with an idea as to why you have them, and practiced how to hide your limp until you at least got up the stairs.

By telling those who questioned your weird behavior, “Oh someone was giving out free sunglasses they didn't want anymore so I took one.” and walking past your sorry excuse of trying to hide a limp, you finally made it to your room.

However, you didn't have peace for long until a familiar knock sounded at your door. Quickly throwing back on your sunglasses, you heard Alastor’s static voice through the door.

“I heard you arrived back from town just a few minutes ago!” Oh, he's definitely already on your trail…

You walked- well more so limped, over to the door. Signing in defeat before tossing the sunglasses on your bed.

Fuck it, he probably already knows.

Opening the door, you were immediately met with the radio demon himself. His eyes already shooting up and down your figure. From your leg to your black eye.

“May I come in?” It sounded like more of a command rather than a question. Without much thought, you opened the door wider before going back over to your bed and sitting down on the edge. Staring blankly ahead like a guilty child who got caught with their hand in a cookie jar. There's no point in trying to argue that you're fine when you know Alastor will just keep pestering you until you tell him.

Sitting down next to you, Alastor sat with you in silence for a moment. As if giving you the chance to speak up first, but when you didn't he let out a soft sigh before gently cupping your face, turning your head to look at him.

“What happened.” The average sinner would have been scared shitless at his tone, but you were only mildly frightened. However, there was definitely ill intent behind his smile. He knows you didn't just do this to yourself. You had to have a reason, you don't usually act out of line.

“I got into a fight.” His hand dropped from your face as you spoke, his smile growing wider before he let out a chuckle. His shoulders slightly shaking and his eyes closed in euphoria. His next words were clear when he spoke, looking you in the eyes.

“And did you win?”

“Yeah…?”

Another chuckle left his lips, though, it sounded more like a childish giggle. His hand raised again, landing on your head before ruffling your hair. A proud smile on his face.

“Good.”

Word Count: 735

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dokidokitsuna · 19 days

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The Diary of Penny Polendina

The other day I was inspired to try working on a different NeverFell Projects installment, one that would probably be a lot shorter and quicker to write, because it's not like I care that deeply about Penny, right??

Well, I was incredibly wrong. ^^; So wrong that I'm actually having trouble with this story now...essentially, Penny goes through a bit of a 'rebellious phase' (gross oversimplification, but that's all you get for now) and there are, surprisingly, a lot of aspects of that character arc that I want to explore. Plus, a pivotal connection with Pyrrha, the climax of which I haven't quite figured out yet...

God only knows if I'll be able to finish, or if I'll just write the first 2/3rds of the story and leave it at that. But I figured I might as well warm up by talking about the designs. ^^

Penny's new look is basically 'Disney's Pinocchio, color picked from Arthur Watts' character design'~

I didn't necessarily want her to look evil, just...bolder. Like she specifically picked 'daring' items that maybe her father or Ironwood's PR team would rather she didn't wear, at least not compared to the more innocent frilly pastels she had on before. Between the chest window, midriff, and short sleeves, she's actually showing a lot more skin than before, despite still being 90% covered up. ^^;

Those multicolored wrist accessories are prototype weapons invented by Dr. Watts, that mix and pressurize Dust from the cartridges to cast "artificial magic". This way I get to do a bit of the 'Winter Maiden Penny' stuff in this Vol. 3-locked AU~

Penny's magic usage is one of the things that stumped me when writing this story...In NeverFell, magic isn't just glowy rainbow lasers or weather powers-- it essentially allows the user access to any conceivable semblance at any time; its potential is limitless. Being a beginner, Penny would probably just come up with one signature 'spell' to use in tandem with her Floating Array...but I can't decide what I want her to do. ^^; I think I'd like for her to do something connected to dance, because I feel like that's something unique to her, the way she dances with her weapons before striking. Nobody ever points out how the "robot" in the cast is the one who chooses to spend energy on unnecessary movements that aren't even used to maneuver around an enemy; they're just cute and fun. ^^ I think that's a great encapsulation of who Penny is~

Redesigning Pyrrha is always super difficult, because her original design is so perfect. But I like this end result a LOT. ^^ I may need to adjust the pant legs a bit, but overall it feels like a very believable alt outfit that keeps the spirit of the character.

Pyrrha is another one of the stumbling blocks in this story, because I'm now forced to create at least one malleable personality trait for her-- i.e. one that isn't intrinsically tied to Jaune and/or the plot. Something that she could actually take into a meaningful relationship with a different character... I had the idea to expand her "I'm sorry!" gag into a real guilt complex, where she has trouble letting go of instances where she's made mistakes or hurt someone. In this case, dismembering Penny 1.0 and essentially ending her life. :T She seeks out 2.0 in a desperate effort to make things right, and ends up helping her with ...things, and growing as people or whatever, and all that other stuff I have yet to write. ^^;

I just realized that Pyrrha could use her polarity semblance to pull Penny towards her in a situation where they need to reach each other...that's so cute. ^^ I gotta remember that~

#rwby #fan art #penny polendina #pyrrha nikos #neverfell

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lovelessrage · 3 months

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Loveless: A Loveless Review

[Plain Text: Loveless: A Loveless Review]

Trigger Warnings For: Discussion of sex, sex negativity, platonormativity, arophobic tropes, and anti-loveless rhetoric

Disclaimer/Disclosure: I couldn’t finish this book. This will factor heavily into the review, as it has to do with how some scenes, details, and the writing quality were just very hard to sit with and continue. I got about 50% through, so I didn’t just skim pages and get back to you on it.

You might guess I don’t think of this book highly if I had to put it down and stop reading. This would be correct. However, I have more in depth thoughts than that. If you like this book and don’t want to read negative things about it, that's fine, but I implore you to read it anyway. A lot of the problems in this book are present in a lot of creations I see and can be a valuable teaching lesson; loveless people aren’t out to ruin your fun because biases got questioned.

Alright. Enough disclaimers. Review under the cut.

The Bingo Card: Surprisingly, Not A Strikeout

People who have been following me for a while may remember I mentioned I went into reading this book with a bingo card in hand: Loveless and Tired Bingo, a sheet made by yours truly. I did not get Bingo with this book! I did, however, fill 17 spaces out of 25; it just didn’t happen to line up, not because the book passed with flying colors. We’ll return to the Bingo Card at the end of this post to see what it looked like. But, letting you know, that’s a rate of 68% of all squares ticked on Loveless and Tired Bingo. Not looking so hot.

Platonormativity, Envy, and The Loneliness Whirlpool

Let’s start with the meat of the post so nobody has to read it all if they just wanted my representation opinions. Other things like writing will be shuffled down for your convenience.

Edit: Past Scowl is a liar and a fraud and did not have maims glasses on, and misread the bingo card! I did get Bingo. Oops. Point still stands because the data is the same, I just gave this book a sliver more credit than it deserved for not getting one.

If this book had a full course meal, normativity would ironically be a key ingredient in every plate on the menu. Loveless has a platonormativity problem that confronts you from page 1, more realistically before that; the blurb!

[Text ID: From the marvelous author of Heartstopper comes an exceptional YA novel about discovering that it's okay if you don't have sexual or romantic feelings for anyone... since there are plenty of other ways to find love and connection. /End ID]

I promise not all my complaints will be raving about one sentence, but this kinda encapsulates the entirety of my problem with Loveless: Georgia Warr is not supported in her own novel. Loveless is a deeply insecure book that many can relate to, but, really… does it alleviate that insecurity, or just cover it up? There’s an unspoken “but” to every part of Loveless’ philosophy about aspec people [especially aroaces], where they must have platonic love to make them whole, to “fix” and “redeem” their lacking attractions. This has always bothered me, and it’s not an uncommon opinion in the community, unfortunately.

Aroaces aren’t allowed to simply “be” – they must be more. They must be so platonically invested you forget they’re aroace, because they have all this other type of love to give the world. It’s reflective of a view on a community sourced from hurt and exclusion, of someone trying to rebuild their worth on a new forefront. It doesn’t make it less of what it is, though: it’s a “yes they’re valid, but” statement that serves as the backbone for far too many aspec-focused media.

Georgia is a deeply unsure character, and there’s nothing wrong with her being this way; she’s a fictional character made to represent a journey of acceptance, not a real person with the ability to inflict harm on other real people. She does reflect the author’s biases in many ways and many points on the same token, though, acting as a mouthpiece. This often comes in Georgia’s insistence her friendships are simply stronger than other relationship types, as well as her reflexive tendencies to judge the friendless.

One of my many, many hurdles in this book had to do with Rooney [someone save her and half the cast from this novel, please], when the group realizes she’s only a socialite, not really a long-term relationship holder, and the entire room devolves into silent judgment. Georgia does not defend her newfound friend, simply noting she thought differently of her. What about Rooney not having many friends changes her outgoing personality? It doesn’t. It’s simply the fact that Rooney being friendless makes her weird, as with many things Rooney is unfairly demonized for in this novel.

The emphasis on friends doesn’t end here, and persists through the entire novel, practically. It is the main focus, when it isn’t talking about Georgia’s disinterests, and her friend circle is very important to her. All of this is fine. What isn’t fine is the expectation and casual enforcement of friendship being all you have, so you must seize it; this book, even though I wouldn’t recommend it, is often given as The Book on being aroace, but I wouldn’t agree [you’re free to tell me I can’t have an opinion on that if I’m not aroace, but at least read on before deciding anything, alright, official hear me out warning]. One, not all aroaces are alloplatonic, and two, this:

Why Is This Book Written Like A Workplace Safety Seminar

It’s a very… cookie-cutter way to be aroace, and cookie cutter aroaces exist in real life! The rep should exist, no doubt, and shouldn’t be taken away from anyone. It’s not my problem per se that the book is semi-stereotypical. What my problem is has to do with something I see a lot.

The book falls into many of the pitfalls of what I’m dubbing “the pamphlet effect”: when a novel, show, etc. continuously needs to halt the plot to remind the audience this character is different, and explains this to you in a way that resembles an educational pamphlet at a pride event. Georgia Barr feels like an example given to explain a concept more than a person, and I feel bad for her because of how little this book engages with her actual character when it shines through. I understand the book is primarily centered on her journey through the spectrum, but very little is given to make Georgia’s experience unique outside of one scene off the top of my head. Her interests, hobbies, and unique feelings only seem to play a role when it comes time to be an author mouthpiece on slutshaming for fun and sport; only one scene, the forced kiss with Jason when rehearsing the play, really blends her life experiences with her aroace experiences.

Georgia feels designed to be an everywoman, and it was very disappointing to say the least. Very little of the book actually feels like I’m with her, or learning about her unique take on being aroace as a theatre fan or young adult figuring things out; it just feels like Georgia [and the reader] are being dragged through the Cliff’s Notes version of what it is to discover being aroace, rather than a look at how a character like this might feel differently than others on a fuller, whole scale. She’s a hole that can fit most shapes into it, which makes her broadly relatable, but not as fun or engaging to read about if you don’t fit precisely in the demographic Georgia is for; even if you do, is there much to engage with beyond “I’m like that too!”?

This isn’t just a Georgia problem, either, as many, many characters in this book are walking stereotypes or very flat. But, we’ll get into that later [if you want to get into it now, skip to Writing Problems, Oh My!].

The Fingering In The Room: Loveless’ Weird Ideas About Sex

Alright, if you’re sex repulsed and braved the storm to get some insight, this next paragraph is just complete confusion about this book’s sex scenes and talking about some of the details within. If you want to skip that, skip the next paragraph.

Why is everybody fingering each other? Fingering is fine and it feels good, but it is basically the only sexual act this book knows outside of making out with tongue. Someone having sex in Loveless? They better have clipped their nails because at least two are going in. It feels like a point of research that was skipped because it was unimportant, which. Pretty much, yes. But when you’re someone who pays very close attention to sex scenes because you’re of the opinion they can have artistic value, as well as conveying the author’s views on sexuality, I come away with “is fingering what Oseman thinks young adults do?”. Anyways. Something I noticed.

[Okay sex repulsed people, you’re good. No in depth descriptions beyond this point, just the word “sex”.]

I should’ve titled this section “In Defense of Rooney Bach” because oh this poor girl. Oh you are just there to be gawked at.

First off, let’s begin in a good place: this book always has to clarify it isn’t slutshaming its characters, followed by slutshaming its characters. Rooney is, for the uninitiated, very sexually active. Georgia’s envy often leads to a judgemental, close minded view of Rooney that often pins her sex life as “too much” – something many sexually active women get villainized for. It strikes me immediately how Rooney is constantly picked on for her sexuality as a woman in ways no male characters who aren’t asexual either are treated. None of the men she flirts with or spends time with are reprimanded or “held to account” by the book; Rooney alone is breaking the rules. Rooney’s descriptions are often bookended with a disclaimer that she isn’t being called a slut, she’s just like one, which… This is slutshaming. You can’t just say you aren’t doing it to not be doing it.

Rooney is also a victim of a very arophobic trope, and one that is also misogynistic: the Broken Woman. Why is Rooney sexually active? A rough breakup that broke her heart and makes her fear intimacy on account of potentially being wrong again. Sure, sex feels good, but explicit focus is made on the fact she is only not engaging with romance because she tried and it didn’t work. For a few chapters, admittedly I was hoping for a book where an aroace and aroallo can get past some differences and expand each other's worldviews; what I got was Georgia thinking pretty poorly of Rooney through unaddressed envy and sex negativity, and Rooney being made to only like hookups because she’s messed up. Because of course a woman could only enjoy that if she had a negative experience that forced her on the path!

Also, another scene I didn’t like was Georgia and Pip watching Rooney have sex while she is completely unaware of their presence? Jason leaves as soon as he notices, but the two of them watch before Pip makes a comment on how disgusting it is and Georgia agrees. I’m shocked at how little this is brought up as being violating or creepy.

If it was a better book, I would have expected it to result in some kind of furthered conversation about boundaries; it could've been a place for Georgia to start establishing what she likes and dislikes, starting with Rooney preferably keeping her out of her sex life when she’s able. Instead, this event gets brought up solely for jokes, and for a motivation for Pip to start hating Rooney, despite her insistence it wasn't because of the hookup and she isn’t slutshaming. Always a great sign when that needs to be clarified. This is a PSA for everyone: you should not need to clarify you aren’t trying to slutshame. If you feel the need to do so, you are probably being sex negative.

This book isn’t very fond of sexually active people, nor is it kind to characters that are. I can understand why being asexual and sex repulsed is representation people would want, but I also think there’s many, many ways to write it without making it an exercise in shame.

Ironically Kinda Arophobic In Some Parts

This is a short section of a thing I noticed, hated, and had as a contributing factor for my ending early: this book loves aphobic tropes. There’s already the trope against aroallos of not needing romance because of being broken into only liking sex, but also the problem with Pip and Rooney.

I’m a lesbian, for clarification, and I’m saying from experience that I hate the archetype of the angry, jealous lesbian. It’s everywhere. It’s in this book. Pip, upon even the idea of being rejected, starts berating and demeaning the girl who turned her down, even if she was only turned down in her head. The book passes it off as a lighthearted, funny story that Pip got so mad at an ex-crush she was suspended for throwing an apple at their head. Why do I bring this up?

Is it not ringing any bells that this is arophobic? That a character so hostile to romantic rejection is treated as a joke? Many, many aros, and queer people in general, have experienced violence for turning down someone. It’s a serious issue for aros and a real fear in rejecting someone. I found it incredibly hard to read and sit through as everybody passes off Pip’s tendencies to do this to the women that reject her as a silly, funny Pip moment and not a major issue for the aspec community. I don’t care if it’s enemies to lovers, because it doesn’t really feel good to read at all. The only tension is built off the back of something I’ve experienced in real life and many others have as well.

Lovelessness: The Insecurity Unaddressed

This book, despite its title, is obviously about a loving character. Many people might not see this as a problem: first off, loveless doesn’t always mean the same thing, and second, many aroaces express feeling loveless when coming to terms with their identity. Here’s my rebuttal.

One: Georgia fits no definitions of the label. She subscribes to none of the beliefs. She loves her friends actively and sees their relationship as more than romance or sex, as something greater to her.

Second, this is because anti-loveless rhetoric is everywhere and all over this book. Not once is it suggested Georgia could live as loveless, or truly be without love. In the end, she is surrounded by it, simply learning to accept friendship instead. The way her insecurity isn’t met with “you’re complete as you are”, and instead with “you can still be complete if you simply fill the void with friends”, is anti-loveless. Nobody is allowed to be whole on their own without a subplot where their doubts are reinforced or they’re explicitly made to be broken inside.

This is shockingly common, and always sad every time I see it. Many aspects fear being loveless, as if it is a curse or blight they must cleanse. This book is one example out of many, but it doesn’t make it less hurtful when a book that runs against everything your community stands for [self-acceptance and the optionality of love] bears your name regardless. It is a book for people who are afraid of loneliness, and it answers their insecurities with “you’re right. You do need other people. You just need to find a way to still find and have a life partner!”. This is damaging to loveless people, especially those questioning an aplatonic identity.

Again, it’s not unique to Loveless. But, it’s reflective of a broader issue of aplatonics who may be seeking community constantly being presented with “you ARE broken, but friendship can fix you!”, a “solution” many can’t use, and often leads to even more self-hatred.

That’s about it from the aspec side of things. If you got this far, congrats! The rest is opinions on the writing, and the bingo card finale. You can drop off here if that’s all you came for.

Writing Problems, Oh My!

This is veering into heavy personal opinion, so, I will remind you: I don’t usually like YA, but YA can be a very good genre! I do not think this book is a good representation of what good YA looks like.

The writing quality is one of the hardest things to get past, because of a major problem I observed: Oseman is better at comics. This isn’t so much a vilification as a recommendation that it would’ve been much better suited for a different type of media. This kind of “media dysphoria” is present in many of the ways the book operates: many scenes would flow perfectly well in a visual piece. Georgia’s inner monologue has a tendency to jump suddenly into scenes and interrupt the action in a way that would be perfectly natural as a narration bubble put over a drawing of the scene around her. There are entire pages of just… text messages that would be much better suited to a visual medium where you could make these dialogue bits look much more interesting through different shots, or drawing what the background would look like on a screen [The Girl from the Sea does this well, for example].

There’s also the fact I cannot place in my mind if I'm too old for this novel. A lot of the jokes boil down to “hah! Sex!” in a way that instantly alienates me from the writing. The jokes can be pretty juvenile and repetitive, and serve to be the equivalent of a comedian saying “eh? Get it? That was a joke.” six times.

This isn’t to mention the fact many of these characters are complete cardboard. Sorry. Jason does not need to exist. When he appears in a scene, he is ignored or completely leaves it on his own. He really only serves to drive Georgia’s character forward, rather than have one of his own. I found myself forgetting he was present in a scene at all until he spoke again and reminded me of his existence. The book would practically be unchanged if Georgia temporarily dated Pip and Jason was never a factor, plus or minus the Shakespeare Soc plot.

Many interesting characters suffer from severe Pamphlet Effect syndrome. Most of the girls do. In a better novel, they would be more in depth, but Loveless doesn’t really afford them this luxury. I need to take the girls very far away from this novel, okay. I need someone to write a version of Loveless where they have personalities. There’s crumbs there. Please, someone make a loaf of bread out of it. They deserve it.

Another thing, but minor: the breakneck pacing at some points followed by slow slogs of not a lot happening contributes to the reading issues. You may thing something would be dwelled on, just for it to go flying away into the sunset as 3 more things happen and then one problem lasts for 2 chapters. I found it very hard to catch up with Loveless, while other parts I felt like I was constantly waiting for it to catch up with me instead.

The Final Frontier: The Bingo Card Returns

And without further ado, the Loveless and Tired Bingo Card for Loveless by Alice Oseman! Completed with help from other readers braver than I.

[Image ID: A bingo card made from a basic template. It has no title, and all the text is black on a white background. Some squares are marked with a blue X, while others are marked with a red scribble. The marked squares are: “Not prioritizing friendship treated as freak behaviour”, “Jab at loveless sex thrown in”, “Something about not being like THOSE people”, “Universal type of love is laid on thick”, “The answer to all your problems is finding some pals”, “Found family ending”, “Platonic-romantic binary”, “Love still treated as universal [free]”, “Friendship is more wholesome or pure”, “Amatonormativity BAD [platonormativity is my bestie]”, “Platonic love being more powerful or sumn”, “You still love your friends though, right?”, “Friendship saves the day”, “Still thinks you need dedicated people to survive”, “Being alone treated as worst thing in the world”, and “Friendships are more stable than partnerships anyways”. The unmarked, blank squares are: “Something about "players" and pickup artists where no commitment is villainized”, “Character fears being loveless and is kinda aplphobic about it”, “Aspec double standards [one is normal, one is weird]”, “You still love your FAMILY, right???”, “QPRs mentioned by no nuance given to their diversity”, “Friendship forced upon a character against their will”, “Comment about some people being inhuman gets brushed past”, and “Simply prioritise your family instead!!” /End ID]

Would I recommend this book? Uh. No! Well. Yes, but not as a good book for aspecs. I’d recommend it solely to read it yourself and form your own opinions. But, no, I would not recommend it to any aspecs I know, especially not loveless ones, aplatonic ones, aroallos, or if they're an aroace looking for support.

Ah, Loveless, how you vexx me. Never again. See you in the next, much shorter post.

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celluloidbroomcloset · 5 months

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The love declarations throughout Season 2 provide an interesting connection between the characters, and the assumptions they make about other people's feelings.

Izzy's statement, “I have...love for you, Edward," reads initially as a love confession, but the wording itself is important. Izzy doesn't say, "I love you." He says, "I have love for you." This is coupled with the statement that Izzy and Ed understand each other better than anybody, and develops into Izzy invoking Stede's ethos, which prompts Ed's escalation to discussing the "toxic atmosphere" with the crew.

But Izzy's love confession is a vague, imprecise statement—it’s saying that love exists in some way, and that it is a possession of Izzy's, not something he gives to Ed. It's spoken with hesitation, which makes both character and situational sense—Izzy is trying to express concern to a man completely past concern for his own well-being, and the statement is roundly dismissed. It is not something Ed wants to hear, nor does he seem to believe it.

Ed's later statement, which Izzy never hears, is equally as vague—“I loved you best i could.” Ed’s statement is also past tense, and can only be made after Izzy is supposedly dead. Whatever love existed there doesn’t exist anymore. There's a deliberate vagueness to both statements that make them difficult to interpret, which seems to be the intention of the writing. For Ed, it is a statement of finality, not even made within Izzy's hearing—Izzy is dead, and he's about to be. For Izzy, it is an attempt to bridge a gap that he helped create, and that he still insists doesn't exist.

This must be read through the full arc of the relationship. Izzy insists he understands Ed, but throughout Season 1 he misses or misinterprets Ed's behavior through the narrative he's created for himself. Stede is a "seducer" who has "done something to my boss's brain." Ed is "half insane" with "increasingly erratic moods." Neither of them are fulfilling the roles that Izzy has assigned them, and them moving outside of those roles confuses and angers him.

The toxicity is not all on Izzy's side. Ed is incapable of breaking out of the toxic pattern by himself. But it is Izzy's fundamental and continuous misunderstanding of who Ed is, filtered through his warped sense of love and duty, that creates the toxic atmosphere, as he systematically murders all Ed's softness. "I have love for you" is another extension of the warped nature of their love (whether this is read as unrequited romantic love or more familial). It is about possession, even bribery, rather than an offer of love without condition.

In "Fun and Games," Stede’s love confession is unequivocal—he’s stopped from directly saying “I love you,” but he continues with “I love everything about you.” Even in his attempt to finish the first sentence, before he's cut off, he's very deliberate. He emphasizes every word, without hesitation. He looks at Ed, not past him, as Izzy does. He is certain of his love.

(gif by @kiwistede)

Stede's love is simple—“it feels good”—and it is unconditional. Stede loves everything about Ed, including the facets of him that he believes make him unlovable. Stede also doesn't demand an answer, nor does he wait for one—"You don't have to say it back to me." Again, the statement is unconditional; Stede believes Ed loves him, but he's not going to insist, even with silence, that Ed say it.

Stede's love throughout has been unconditional. He does not demand anything of Ed. He does not ask to own or possess Ed's body or his love, but gives himself. He doesn't seek to define who Ed is, but to be allowed to love him as he is.

Ed’s later confession to Stede is equally straightforward. There are no prevarications or conditions—“I love you. I love you.” The emphasis means as much as Stede’s longer speech; Ed knows what it means to love Stede. He too doesn't insist that Stede say it back, because the surety of their love existed from the start. Stede has never doubted it, and Ed no longer doubts it either. Stede can say, "I know. I know that," because they have both always known.

The complicated love between Ed and Izzy has been too warped by toxicity, control, and manipulation to survive. It is "having love" not "loving," tied with a desire to define and possess without ever actually understanding. The love between Stede and Ed is about understanding and wanting each other within and without their individual personas and performances. It's the unselfishness of true love, uncomplicated and unconditional.

#ofmd #ofmd season 2 #our flag means death #ofmd meta #edward teach #stede bonnet #izzy hands #ed teach #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #gif #i have a sense someone may yell at me.#long post #my wee thoughts

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changbunnies · 3 months

Text

Misbehave, (18+)

♡ Pairing: Boyfriend!Changbin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: smut, pre-established relationship

♡ Word Count: 4k

♡ Summary: Changbin is on tour and misses his pretty girlfriend back home- and what better way to tell her he misses her than to send her a naughty video?

♡ Smut Warnings: sub!changbin, video recording, nipple play, masturbation, mommy kink (this is self indulgent okay), sex toys, phone sex, it is more than implied that bin has a degradation kink, petnames (baby, bunny, honey)

♡ Notes: so i saw this video of a guy in bunny pajamas jerking off and it gave me SUCH bad binnie brainrot i literally could not stop imagining him in cute pink bunny pajamas recording a video for his gf 😵‍💫😵‍💫 so yeah enjoy this purely self indulgent smut ! and i read a lot of mommy kink fic but this is my first time actually writing it so i'm not super confident its good but i hope it's at least decently enjoyable gfdgdf

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

“Baby! I’m wearing the pajamas you got me, you see?” Changbin smiles, bright and cute, just the way you like it as he looks into his phone's camera. The pajamas are a fluffy, pastel pink full body suit; warm, soft, cozy, with cute lopped bunny ears connected to the hood he has pulled up over his curly hair. You got the pajamas for him because they reminded you of him, you said, and he positively beamed- because you were thinking of him, because you bought him something so adorable, because now he gets to show them off for you.

He didn’t get a chance to wear them before he was getting shipped off on the next plane out of the country, but of course he packed them with him. And now, on a break between shows where he could just relax and take a breath, he decided this was the best time to wear them. But not just wear them- he had to show them to you! And sure, a few pictures would suffice, but isn’t this better? You can fully see how cute he looks in them this way, how the size you picked was just perfect, which he’s sure is because you know him inside and out.

He takes the soft pink bunny ears connected to the hood in his hands and flops them around, smiling while tilting his head back and forth, playing up his cuteness for the maximum effect. “If you were here, you’d call me cute, right? Your cute baby bunny?” Luckily for Changbin, he’s used to talking to a camera and displaying his cuteness, so recording a video like this for you comes to him naturally. And it’s lucky for you too, since that means your inbox is always full of new videos to get you through the drought until he comes back home.

Changbin can just imagine how you'd dote on him if you could see him now; you'd kiss his cheeks and nose, you'd ruffle his messy hair, you'd overload him with compliments and sweet words until his face goes pink and dick twitches in his pants. And really, he can't help that his body reacts to you this way- he just loves you so much, he lives for your compliments, and it's not his fault that the sweet, sometimes condescending way you speak them gets him all worked up. And while it's unfortunate he won't be able to get your initial reaction to his cute display in person, his imagination is more than enough fuel to keep him going.

“There's more I want to show you, you ready?” Changbin says as he starts to scoot away from where he has his phone propped up to record himself. It’s set pretty precariously against the pillows, seemingly on the verge of toppeling at any second, but he doesn’t think about that- his only thought is putting on a show for you. “It’s so soft- but you already know that, honey, you’re the one who picked it out,” he giggles a little to himself, giddy as he once again remembers it's a gift from you (exclamation point: you!), but he forces himself to stay on track before he gets too distracted.

“Since it’s so soft and comfy, I don’t need to wear anything underneath! See?” Changbin takes the zipper in his hand and he intends to pull it down slowly, but well.. he’s excited, and just can’t wait to show you how naked he is underneath the soft fluff of the pajamas you bought him. Sitting on his knees, he pulls the zipper down swiftly; and how quick he pulls it down causes it to get stuck for a moment, but he manages to keep it going smoothly after correcting its course.

If you were here, you’d definitely laugh at him for being so eager- you’d say something mean, but in that sweet, saccharine voice that’d instantly make his face flush pink and dick grow impossibly hard. You’d giggle at him for being pathetic, cock up your eyebrow and tilt your head to the side when he blushes, smirk when you see him twitch and throb and squirm after calling him a slut for always putting himself out on display for you.

The pajamas, big and loose as they are to comfortably fit all of Changbin’s muscle mass, completely hid his erection from view until the zipper was pulled all the way down. His chest, his cute tummy, his leaky cock- you can see it all now. But despite being exposed, he doesn’t take the pajamas off- he keeps the hood pulled up, doesn’t slip his arms out of the sleeves or take his legs out of the pants. He leaves them on for one main reason- because he feels cute in them, and wants you to think he's cute too.

“When I put them on I started thinking of you,” he says as he shifts into a more comfortable position off of his knees. There’s nothing to prop himself up against at the foot of the bed, so he has to just lean to one side and support himself with a single arm; not ideal, but the headboard has the very important task of keeping his phone upright (with the support of the pillows) and he will not be shifting anything around or starting over.

“A-And I get so hard whenever I think about you because you’re just so- mommy’s so pretty,” he says as his fingers ghost over his muscular chest, tracing the skin before he brushes his thumb over his nipple- the same way you would do it if you were here right now. It’s now that a blush finally rises on his cheeks; and it’s not that he’s embarrassed by doing it infront of a camera or from the image of himself tweaking his nipples reflected back at him, that part doesn’t matter- it’s because he’s sensitive.

His sensitivity to touch, whether yours or his own, is always enough to make his face burn, as it’s always a source of your teasing touches and words. You’ll pinch his sensitive nipples between your fingers while whispering filthy, playful words in his red-tinted ears, softly laughing when he squirms and whines. “I miss you,” he speaks to the camera, biting his lip when he rolls his nipple between his thick fingers, trying not to become too whiny right from the start.

Changbin is sure you’d like it if he was whiny right away, but he has to focus. He knows there’s major appeal in him becoming restless and needy quickly, and he has already shown how eager he is by hastily fumbling with his zipper, but still- he wants this video to last longer than a measly 5 minutes. It takes you longer to cum than him, and he needs to provide a video long enough for you to play with yourself to without having to loop it- that’s his thought process, anyways.

He averts his gaze from his phone setup, opting to look down at himself as he reaches over his chest to give his other nipple equal treatment. "I miss-" he starts to elaborate, but stumbles on his words after giving his nipple a particularly harsh tug. Shit- he has to move on if he wants to stay coherent enough to make a good video for you. Becoming unable to speak in the last few minutes is acceptable, but now, when he's barely even started? No, he has to do better!

So he trails his hand downwards, away from his chest and over his soft stomach as he tries again to let out what he wants to tell you. “I miss your smile, and- m-miss your kisses, your perfume, your hugs, your-” It’s a habit of Changbin’s to babble in these situations once he starts talking thanks to your influence on him. You like to get him talking when he’s like this- hearing him shyly babble away all the things he thinks you want to hear is easily one of your favorite things about fucking him.

And he obviously knows this, which is why he’s freely speaking every little thing that comes to his mind, knowing that you’ll like it (even if watching it back later will make him feel incredibly embarrassed.) Changbin isn’t shy about many things, but you always effortlessly bring his bashful side out. It’s another one of your favorite things, he knows- reducing your otherwise confident and unashamed boyfriend into an overly talkative, shy mess while his body takes on varying shades of pink and red.

So he does his best to bring himself to that place without your presence, to picture you there in front of him encouraging him to go on, to pretend his hand is yours instead. His string of words is broken by a harsh, shuddery breath when his hand finally reaches his cock. Changbin licks his drying lips and looks back at himself in the camera as he takes his length into his hand, stroking it as slowly as he can stand to.

It's more of a struggle than he'd like to admit- this is the first day he's had enough freetime to touch himself since leaving weeks ago, and his sensitivity, paired with the knowledge that he's recording for you and that you'll see all of this when you wake up in a couple of hours is causing his need to grow at an exponentially faster rate than he was prepared for.

He lets out a hiss when he rubs his thumb over the tip, and he has to make a conscious effort not to squirm or jolt his hips up into his hand too abruptly (both for his own sake, and his phone that isn't entirely stable in its placement.) Changbin's bottom lip quickly grows swollen and red from how frequently he bites at it in a vain effort to contain himself, and while it's more than mildly embarrassing to have such little control over his own body and voice, he knows you'll enjoy watching his failed efforts.

Changbin forces eye contact with the view of himself in his phone, wanting to ensure that it feels like he's looking at you when you inevitably watch it. He observes every detail, does his best to take note of what it is you'll be seeing; he watches the rise and fall of his own chest, how his stomach clenches, how his ever so slightly exposed thighs tense and twitch. You'll like this, right? Will think he's as sexy as he is cute? Will love it so much that you'll rub yourself over your dampening panties, that you'll reward him with a flood of sweet messages to wake up to when its morning for him?

"D-Do I look good like this, mama?" he asks the camera as he speeds up the motion of his hand, "Yes, right? I do? You love this, love me?" He briefly allows his eyes to close, imagining that you're there to answer his desperate questions- 'You look perfect, Binnie, you're amazing, such a good boy for me, I love you.' He can really hear you if he concentrates on the thought, as if you're just in front of him and not thousands of miles away peacefully asleep in bed.

Opening his eyes, Changbin remembers the bunny pajamas aren't the only thing he brought with him that he wanted to show you- he still has another surprise in store that he hopes you'll like to see. Letting go of his cock, he brings himself back to his knees and reaches for something just out of view of the camera- his fleshlight. His phone tilts from the shift in the weight, and Changbin is quick to catch it before it completely topples over.

He offers the camera a shy, somewhat awkward giggle as he puts his phone back in place, making an effort to secure it better this time in the hopes that it won't jostle too much from what he plans to do next. And in trying to get his toy ready quickly, he pours practically his entire travel-sized bottle of lube into it; a waste for sure, but he can always buy more later- getting the show back on track is more important.

Changbin is leaned forward now, face as close to the camera as it was when he was playing with the ears attached to the hood. His face being close again doesn't obscure the view of his body at all though, thanks to the fact that he's leaning at an angle, with one palm flat on the bed to support his weight while the other holds the fleshlight where he wants it. He's a bit nervous for this part, if he's being honest- maintaining eye contact himself while he fucks his toy is something he's never done before, but he wants to do it for you, so you have the best experience possible when he sends the video to you!

Other than briefly looking away to line himself up with the toy in his hand, he looks into the camera the entire time- as he slides inside, as he gasps and moans, as he rolls his hips over and over and over. He wonders if you’ve noticed it was gone; did you open up your shared drawer, pull out the bag containing all your fun little toys to have some fun with yourself, noticing in an instant that he took his own toys with him?

He imagines you did- that you pulled it out, intending to rummage for one of your vibrators and clearly saw it missing. You'd smile when you realized, he thinks, as there's only one reason to take such a thing with him. And you'd think of him the same way he always thinks of you, imagine him there next to you, close your eyes and pretend you're teasing him by making him watch you use a vibrator, not letting him touch you unless he's a good boy and keeps his hands to himself until you cum.

Changbin is always a good boy, even in his imaginary scenarios- he'd never, never do anything against what you tell him. Even when he imagines you touching yourself, when he thinks about what scenarios you'd picture in your mind to get off, he's a good boy who does whatever he's told, watching and waiting patiently for his time to touch you.

The ears on the hood still pulled over his fluffy hair bounce with each movement he makes, and finally he breaks eye contact with his phone, his head falling forward and eyes squeezing shut as his whimpers and moans grow in volume. "F-Feels so good baby, mom-mommy, mama, Binnie feels so- so good," he whines, biting his lip once more as he lifts his head to look at the camera again.

If he wasn't already so far gone, he'd feel bad for his neighbor on the other side of the hotel wall; he knows he's getting loud, but he can't help it. He's fucking his toy, head full of you- of what you'd say to him, how you'd sound with your vibrator pressed to your clit, how you'd expertly time your release with his, how you'd look at him when you cum together. With his eyes squeezed shut, he can perfectly conjure the image of you in his head, vivid and almost real enough to trick his brain into believing you’re together right now.

The way you smile at him always rattles his senses, pretty to an almost ethereal degree, sharply contrasting the dirty words you confidently, unashamedly tell him. And while your voice rings clearly in his head, it’s not really you- it’s just the memory of you; vivid, clear, but not as real as he wants it to be. His imagination helps but it’s still nothing compared to if you were really talking to him, if he could see you when he opens his eyes, if he could reach out and touch you or smell your perfume mixed with arousal.

Changbin just wants you, he misses you so fucking bad. It’s the early hours of the morning where you are, and you’re likely still asleep, but he has to call you, has to hear your voice. He obviously intended to cum on camera for you, and he’ll definitely feel bad about waking you up when he’s back in his right mind, but all he can think about right now is how much he craves you. He reaches for his phone, hastily ending the recording and pulling up your contact, pressing the call button before he can even think to stop himself.

The phone rings for so unbearably long that Changbin expects to hear your voicemail message, but to his surprised relief, you answer; a soft, deep and groggy “hello?” from the other end of the line. “Mommy-” he whines upon hearing your voice, his desperation clear through the speaker pressed to your ear. As if the needy whine wasn't enough of a tell to what he's doing, you can hear the slick, sloppy sounds of what you can only assume to be either his lubed up hand or one of his toys beneath his panting breaths and whimpery moans.

"Binnie," you start, a playful tone emerging in your voice, the haze of sleep melting away in record time in response to hearing your sweet boy playing with himself, "are you being naughty?" He nods quickly before he remembers you can't even see him right now and he needs to provide a verbal answer. "Y-Yeah, I- I was m-making a video for you but I need- need you so bad right now," he answers, his entire body shuddering when he hears you sweetly laugh in response.

"You always make me videos, though," you muse with a smile as you shift in bed, "but I'm guessing this is a naughty video, huh? Is that right, sweet boy?" Changbin whines when you call him that, but quickly affirms the statement with a timid 'yes.' You hum as your smile grows, settling comfortably on your back as you continue to talk to him. "So, what happened? Got so needy while making your slutty little video for me that you couldn't even finish it properly? Had to call mommy and wake her up just so you could finish getting off, is that it?"

He lets out another whine- louder this time, and beneath it another sound becomes obvious to your ears; whatever hotel bed he's on is beginning to creak. It tells you something important- that's he's not just laying on his back and stroking himself, but that he's deliberately fucking whatever it is he's using. And given the growing volume and rapid rate of the creaking, you imagine he's rutting into it pretty desperately.

Oh, what a sight he must be right now- it's a shame he's not recording anymore, because his debauched desperation would reflect beautifully on camera, a perfect image for only your eyes to see. "Are your eyes closed, bunny? Are you imagining me there?" you suddenly ask him and again he answers with an affirmative, albeit timid, whine. Good, you think, you know exactly what to do with this information- a little bit of roleplay is just the thing your sweet boy needs.

"How's my pussy feel, baby? Is it good?" you ask, having to bite your lip to suppress a delighted laugh when he gasps and whimpers. The fact that you're playing into his ongoing mental fantasies and pretending he's fucking you is driving him impossibly close to the edge. "S-So good, mama!" he manages to stutter out, and you can tell his rutting has grown more sporadic, the creaking of the bed far less successive and rhythmic as it was when you first noticed it.

“So wet, always so wet-” he continues, cutting himself off with a particularly loud whimper. In true ‘good boy’ fashion, Changbin intended to babble away all his thoughts and the things he knew you’d want to hear him say, but he has himself so high strung and taut that all he can do now is spill noise after noise from his harshly bitten lips. He wishes he wasn’t so close, if only so you could hear your voice for a little longer, but he can’t delay it much more than he already has. And the poor boy, he tries to ask for permission, or at least warn you it’s coming, but all that comes out are broken syllables between all his panting and crying.

It’s obvious he’s close without him even having to say it, and while your bunny appreciates a mean streak when it comes from you, you can tell he needs this and you’re not going to punish him for struggling to ask for permission. Instead, you’ll sweetly encourage him along; because another thing about Changbin is that he hates being bad, even when it’s by accident. “Gonna fill me up, sweet boy? Fill mommy’s pussy with your cum?” you ask, ensuring he knows it’s more than okay, that you want him to cum for you.

Changbin’s eyes roll back the instant the words leave your mouth, his cum spurting into the toy as a string of broken cries leave him in quick succession. He collapses to the bed with exhaustion when he’s finally done, his chest heaving as he tries to calm his racing heart and get his breathing back under control. He’s impossibly hot, from equal parts the pajamas and how worked up he got, his face red hot and his hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, eyes still closed while his brain tries to reboot itself and get back to normal function.

“Shit-” he suddenly scrambles back up, pressing the phone back up to his ear, “I’m so sorry, you were sleeping, it’s still early there and I called you anyways, oh my god-” Your giggle cuts off his string of apologies, and while he’s still impossibly sorry for waking you up just because he was horny, he is relieved you��re not mad at him. “It’s okay Bin, it was better than waking up to my alarm clock, that’s for sure,” you muse with a smile; could you have gotten an extra hour or two of sleep? Of course, but is this better? Absolutely.

“I love you, you know that? I love you so fucking much,” Changbin says and you giggle again before you reply. “I love you too, so don’t forget to send me that video! And clean yourself up, bunny, I know you’re a mess right now. I’ll stay on the phone with you, okay?” “Yeah? You will?” he smiles as he complies, carefully rising from the bed to get himself and his toy clean. “Mhm, it’s starting to get late for you, right? I’ll stay until you sleep,” you tell him, and oh, does that make him ecstatic.

He sends you the video before he forgets, and you talk about mundane things while he takes care of all the tasks he needs to get done to sleep. You’re talking about little things like what you plan to eat for breakfast, what you have to do at work today, what friends you’re going to meet for lunch- and Changbin soaks it all up happily, sighing contentedly as he lies back in his hotel bed, curled up with your soft voice to lull him comfortably to sleep. You don’t stop until you hear his soft snores and measured breaths, whispering to him a ‘good night’ and ‘I love you’ that he can no longer hear, but you have to say regardless.

Ending the call, you still have an hour left before you have to start your day in earnest, with a video in your inbox from your sweet boy just waiting to be watched and played to. You smile as you set your laptop at the foot of the bed and click open his video along with your camera, rays of sunshine just beginning to illuminate your room through the curtains, setting a beautiful backdrop as you set yourself up to return your sweet boyfriend’s favor.

#this was supposed to come out sooner but i got sick earlier this week :') forgive me besties #skz x reader #changbin x reader #skz smut #changbin smut #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fanfic #sub!skz #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

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purple-star-eyes · 3 months

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QnA with Viv, Erika and Amir (Wednesday, 31st January 2024)

(1 day before the Season 1 finale)

Who would be the better dad?

>Lucifer cuz his heart is in the right place.

Alastor wanted to get under Luci's skin, which is where the Dad rivalry came from.

Alastor is canonically aro/ace.

Said in a livestream by his voiceactor Amir Talai but Viv didn't deny it.

"It didn't come up in the show yet obviously."

Amir Talai owns an "Oh deer" cup a fan made for him

Concerning Fantheories: A lot of people have gotten a lot of things right.

Viv tries to avoid it, but she's excited to see how exact people get it. Apparently quite a few have figured it out to the T.

When Viv first made the characters she changed a lot of stories around, case and point Vaggie's story changed.

Viv laughed when she saw the HB theory that Wally Wackford is a secret form of Mammon.

>clearly false, fun but not true according to Viv, debunked in real time

Viv's brother works at A24 and loves trolling fans with theories like "Charlie dies in ep.4" (false obviously)

Amir said Alastor has a tail. Viv doesnt confirm or deny it.

Viv: "The tail is not relevant."

-> Might be answered later, since he'd have to be without the coat

Erika likes that Charlie has actual realists around her keeping her grounded.

(Like Angel in ep.4)

Charlie's view is very simplistic on redemption.

The point of the show is to explore that the grey area and redemption are very complicated

(Charlie's arc)

Mimzie is a relieable narator when it comes to Alastor.

But his backstory will come up in future episodes.

There *HAS TO BE* someone that scares Alastor according to Amir.

"We haven't even scratched the surface with Alastor." According to Viv.

Why does Alastor keep Nifty around?

-> Will be explored in the next episodes.

He is very fond of her.

They can connect due to "they both dont care about anything"

How tall is Lucifer-> 5'2 (as per the definitiom of shortking) and Charlie is a foot taller than him. (The hat adds a lot)

The hat is a concious choice of Luci to make up for his height.

"He's not concerned with fashion. Just his height."

The other sins are very big, Viv loves that Luci is the tiniest one of the sins.

Charlie is 6ft

Valentino is 10ft

Angel is 8ft

Alastor is around Charlie's height

Erika's favourite V is Vox due to his voice. She might never love Valentino (he makes her mad).

Amir refused to comment who his favourite V is.

Is there more to the beef between Alastor and Vox?

-> they hate each other, Vox is jealous

Alastor enjoys Vox like a rug (Vox exists and he can walk all over him.)

Pretty simple and nice dynamic but nothing else.

Alastor thinks Vox is "inconsequencial".

Viv thinks Alastor is Chaotic Neutral.

(Tho she's not too familiar with the categories)

Amir says it's hard to say without giving anything away, regarding what his alignment is.

It was hard to record in 2021 due to having to record sessions and duets alone in the booths, according to Amir.

Erika felt a lot of pressure during the first 2 Episodes, because she knows how long people waited for it.

Brandon will help write Eps in Helluva Boss, but works a mile a minute so he will come in and go "Oh I remember this one" :)

Someone dies in Hazbin.

"You can sleep tonight if you think it's Angel Dust"

Both said by Vivzie. So she basically confirmed that Angel will (probably) NOT die.

She did say it was "going to be obvious" who it would be.

Season 2 is in production.

#purple talks #hazbinhotelcharlie #hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel q and a #q and a #viviziepop #vivziepop q and a

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blackbirdie1234 · 1 month

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The Best Admirer

Fred! Weasley x GN!Reader

(Friends to lovers <3)

This is a Gender nuetral fic. I have only ever written for Fem! but I tried my best to use language that was GN. Let me know if there is anything I can do to improve!

a/n: Sorry for taking so long with this fic. I wanted to try something different. You and Fred are in your sixth year, also scabbers isn't Petter Pettigrew in this he is just a rat lol. Thank you for all the likes and interactions! I'm glad you all like my content. Feel free to request more Harry Potter fics for any character! As always feel free to interact and comment :) Not proof read!

Summary: You have been receiving letters from a secret admirer for weeks. The only problem is you are in love with Fred Weasley, who acts like you are best buds and nothing more. What happens when the secret admirer decides they are done sending letters and wants to meet in person.

This is the sixth letter you have received in the last two weeks. Not that you aren't flattered, you just wish that this "secret admirer" would reveal themselves already. You aren't the most patient person, you never have been and all these letters are pushing your curiosity.

The first letter was lovely. You had never had someone pay that much attention to you or at least tell you about it. It made you start questioning who this mystery person was.

"Dear Y/n, A few days ago I saw you sitting in the library, catching up on DADA homework. I have never seen anyone look so ethereal. How can someone look so unearthly, while doing something so mundane? The way you stick your tongue out ever so slightly when you are writing, or when you bite your lip when you are focused on something so intense makes me melt. I've never seen something so perfect. I hope I don't sound creepy, but I wanted to express how amazing you are to me.

Love, your secret admirer."

After the third one, your curiosity increased. You had no clue who it could be. Valentine's Day was coming up and you wondered if your admirer would reveal themselves soon. As selfish as it was you only had one person you hoped this could be.

Fred Weasley

You and Fred have been friends since the first year after he defended you against a seventh-year student who thought it was funny to make fun of your glasses.

Fred has always been a good friend to you. You're close to George as well, but it could never compare to the connection you have with his brother. You and Fred understand each other in a way no one else could. You didn't develop a crush on him until your third year, but ever since then, your feelings have only grown.

It's a cold and wet February day, not that you mind. You've always found comfort in the rain.

You are walking to class with a group of your friends, holding the latest letter in your hand, when you hear distinct laughter behind you.

"OI, BUNNY!" You hear footsteps bounding behind you as you turn around to see Fred and George sharing a wide smile and jogging to catch up to you.

"I'll catch up with you lot later." You wave to your friends as they continue walking to McGonagall's classroom.

"Bunny please tell George that I am your favorite Weasley. He seems to have it in his diluted mind that HE is the favorite and that just cannot be true, can it?" Fred smirks, knowing you would choose him over George any day of the week.

"Hmm, but you aren't." You hold back a smile as Fred's face falls in confusion and George's eyes perk up in interest.

"Yeah, yeah I thought you knew. Scabbers is definitely my favorite Weasley." You say with a smile as you start walking.

Fred's face turns from confusion into full disgust.

"You choose A RAT over ME?? A literal RAT." Fred says sounding appalled, only having to take a few steps until he's beside you, George following suit.

"I don't blame her, he is way less annoying than you" George remarks, a smirk appearing on his face before his brother pushes him into the corridor wall.

"Why do you hurt me so, love?" Fred feigns a frown, clutching his chest as if you've injured him.

"I am sorry darling, how will I ever repay you?" You respond, giggling softly at the boy's overdramatic ways.

"Hmmm, profess your undying love for me and maybe I will forgive you" He spoke with a mischievous grin, dodging your hand barrelling towards him with a laugh.

"In your dreams, Weasley" You retort, rolling your eyes but turning away to hide the blushing smile creeping upon your face.

You, Fred, and George walk to class, lowering your heads as you walk in the classroom trying to be discreet so you don't feel disappointment in Mcgonagals gaze when she sees that you are late as always.

You normally sit with Fred but decided to sit next to Hermione today, you wanted to read the note without Fred questioning what you were doing. You NEEDED to figure out who this mystery person was. It was eating you alive. Fred would just complicate things, he would probably try and read the letter and you did NOT want to explain what was happening. And yes maybe it was because you were secretly hoping it was him, and him seeing the letter and not knowing what it was would ruin that thought for you. So you were keeping it a secret. At least until you figure out who it is.

You kept reading the letters over and over again. You were obsessed at this point. Whoever this was obviously knew you well, they write as if they've known you for a long time. They would add details that you are sure you have only told a few people. They knew your favorite color, flower, and food, they even knew that you preferred to keep your hair long and over your ears because you felt insecure about it. If they weren't so poetic and sweet in their words you would be creeped out but you could tell this person was genuine, just by the way they wrote to you, as if you were someone worth writing for.

The next few days you became distant from everyone around you. You stayed to yourself in class, at the library, in your dorm. You wanted to figure out the letters so you decided the best way to investigate and you needed there to be no distractions. Even though you are an introvert you at least talk to your friends, especially Fred and George. All you could think about though was those stupid letters and who it could possibly be. You ruled out the majority of your friends, as you only have a small group of them.

You begin reading another letter.

"Dear Y/n, I must confess, I've admired you in secret for quite a while now. I've been enchanted by your beauty, intelligence, kindness, and your grace. I am scared you will not look at me the same after finding out who I am. I fear it will affect our connection. I just can't love you in secret anymore. So I have decided to explain how I feel in these letters in the hope you will understand exactly how I feel about you. I am not always great at expressing how I feel out loud so I hope this will make up for it. I admire you for many reasons but here are a few I can point out. I admire the way you carry yourself with such confidence and poise, yet remain humble and kind in your words and actions. Your inner beauty reflects the outer, captivating all who have the privlidge of seeing it. I will reveal myself soon my love. For now, I will continue to send these letters and poems as a reminder that I have loved you before, I will love you now, and I will love you after. With love, your secret admirer."

As you sit by the black lake re-reading the letter in your hands, you are pulled from your thoughts when you hear your name being called in the distance.

"Y/N" You hear, voice loud despite being almost a football field away from you. You know who it is obviously, you could recognize that voice anywhere. George. You slam your book shut, the letter hiding beneath the pages.

As the boy gets closer you wonder what he's doing alone. It's strange to see him without his brother by his side, both walking in sync, talking or laughing about the next prank/invention they are going to whip up. So seeing him walk up alone was very odd.

"Hey bunny, where have you been?" He questions sitting next to you, taking his shoes off making sure not to get dirt on the blanket scrawled out beneath you both. Bunny a nickname given to you by Fred in your first year on the ride to Hogwarts, he told you it's because your eyes and nose reminded him of a bunny and coincidently it is now your patronus.

"Oh you know, just been busy with potions work. Snape has really pilled it on this week, just trying to make sure I stay on track" You say trying not to show the nervousness buried beneath your smile.

"Fred and I could've helped you with that, Snape may be sick of us but we are damn good at potions" He replies with a cocky smirk, not noticing the lie. You're glad Fred isn't here because he would have seen right through you and questioned you until you spilled.

"Did you need something, not that I don't enjoy your company but you came down here with a sort of determination" You laughed softly while speaking, showing your amusement at the ginger's abrupt greeting.

George's face lit up as if he remembered something important and then reached for his pocket.

"Actually yes" He grins while pulling a pink-tinted letter. A letter that looked all too familiar.

Your eyes widened in surprise. What the HELL was George doing with that letter. Your mind raced as you tried to remember if you might've dropped or misplaced one of the letters, but that couldn't be possible since you kept them in your nightstand with an enchanted lock. You tried to hide your horrified expression as you thought just for a second that George was the one who was sending you these letters. Just as you were about to speak he cleared things up.

"I was told to give this to you, urgent matter" He wiggled his eyebrows while handing it to you, a boyish grin on his face the whole time.

You took the letter with hesitation staring at it, then looking back at George dumbfounded.

"Who gave this to you?" You questioned, shaking the letter with your hand.

"You'll just have to read it and find out I guess" He answered, not giving you much before standing up and placing his shoes back on his feet. Not before you see the small grin that he is obviously trying to hide.

You sit there watching him walk away, not knowing what to think you open the letter placed in your hand.

" Dear Y/n, Hello love, I hope you are well on this beautiful day. By the time you read this letter, I will be preparing. I have sent George to find you and give you this letter for a very special reason. If you want to meet me and know who I am, I will be at the astronomy tower tonight waiting for you. Meet me there at 9 o'clock tonight, bring your wand ;) Love, your secret admirer."

He wants to meet, tonight.

You look up to see the sun setting behind the water and realize it is time for dinner.

You immediately get up and flick your wand, effectively clearing your area of the lawn and packing up your things neatly into your bag. You snatch the bag and run to the castle.

You sit down next to Fred, he looks up at you with a smile. You realize you've been ignoring him for the past couple of weeks. You've been so busy with these letters you haven't even been sitting with him at dinner, as you normally always do.

"Oi Bunny, finally decided to sit next to me have you?" Fred says in a fake annoyed tone, not hiding the smile on his face when you look at him with guilt.

"Don't act as if you haven't missed me dearly darling" You speak, falling back into the playful banter you're used to.

"I'm not acting anything, love. I can't believe you left me with the kids, I've had to get a second job to pull the load" He fake sobs putting his face into his hands.

You rub his back laughing "Oh I am so sorry, honey. I'll buy you a new broom to make up for it."

His head shoots up with a smile "All is forgiven, buttercup"

You both laugh as George and Lee look between the two of you with confusion on their faces.

"You lot are so odd," George says laughing.

You enjoy the rest of dinner throwing banter with your friends, soaking in the time spent with them. You didn't realize how much you missed them until now. You wanted to enjoy this before you met your mystery person tonight.

You didn't realize you were staring at Fred the whole dinner until he looked at you and asked if there was something on his face. You responded by tucking your face away as it turned beet red.

"What should I wear? What if this is a prank? What if it's a first year or something?? Oh god, was I too nice to that one Ravenclaw in the great hall last month when he spilled milk on himself and I helped him clean it up???" You rant, pacing back and forth in your dorm.

Your friend who was sitting on the bed in front of you stands up grabbing your shoulders.

"Calm down! Breath!" they say shaking you back and forth, making you look at them.

They push you onto the bed and walk to the closet while talking.

"It is not a prank, you are a catch! I'm surprised you aren't getting letters from every person at Hogwarts by now" They say winking at you cheekily. "It is not a first year, especially not that Ravenclaw bloke" They answer putting clothes on the bed next to you in stacks. "If you want me to be honest I think it's a certain redhead who is always ogling you from afar without you noticing." They look at you waving their eyebrows and smirking.

"Who? Ron???" You ask with a look of disgust.

"No, you can be so daft sometimes you know" They roll their eyes in disappointment. "Fred, of course. Who else looks at you like you hold the stars in your eyes"

"Fred? No way." You put your head down hiding the blush threatening to rise to your cheeks. "He most definitely does not look at me like that. Besides, I think he likes Angelina." You can't help the jealousy raging in your chest as you think about it.

"What? No way! She and George have been going out for weeks now, they follow each other around like lovesick puppies. You've been so busy focusing on these letters you just haven't noticed." They speak knowingly as they pick up an outfit and hold it up for you to try on, pushing it towards you.

You breathe out in relief at the new information, standing up and heading to the bathroom. More of your roommates come into the dorm and help you get ready, excited for you to finally meet the person who has occupied your thoughts for the past few weeks.

Every time you come out of the bathroom you get their opinions and then shoved back in with 20 more items. After an hour, you finally walk out of the bathroom and the room is completely silent. Everyone is in awe just staring at you, mouths open.

"What?? What's wrong?" You hurriedly speak, looking down at yourself and then back at everyone with concern on your face.

Everyones face lights up and they start speaking all at once.

"You look amazing!"

"You're so hot omg!"

"Who is this lucky git who gets to see you like this"

They flood you with compliments, all agreeing this is the outfit you NEED to wear tonight.

Girl outfit ideas 1,2,3.

Guy outfit ideas 1,2,3.

Gn outfit ideas 1,2,3.

(Feel free to imagine any outfit you want these are just some ones I like)

Your friend takes your hand and drags you to the full-length mirror in the middle of the room, a big smile on their face, placing you in front of it and showing you the outfit in all its glory.

"You have to wear this, you look amazing. Anyone would be lucky to see you in this on a date like wow." They say in awe, everyone else in the room sharing their looks and sounds of approval.

They give you some accessories and pull the outfit fully together. You do your hair put some makeup on, look in the mirror, and smile.

Getting ready helped ease your nerves but now that you are ready and you have to wait all of the anxiety is coming back full force. The overwhelming thoughts flood back into your brain.

What If I don't like the person?

Can someone really like me this much?

Should I even go?

Before you could get too lost in your thoughts you heard the clock.

Dingggg, dinggggg, dingggg

You look up and read the time.

Shit I'm going to be late

You take one last look in the mirror and grab your wand before leaving the dorm and sneaking down the stairs.

You sneak around the castle making sure to not run into any prefects or Filch. When you get to the tower door you take a deep breath before continuing up the stairs.

When you walk into the tower the doorway is lined with candles leading to the middle of the room, as you continue walking you see a blanket with flower petals lying around the beautifully woven cloth. A wicker basket sits in the middle of the blanket, overflowing with bread, pastries, cheese, and jam.

As you are processing the sight before you, footsteps coming from behind you make you freeze.

"I almost thought you wouldn't come" A deep husky voice comes from behind you, giving you goosebumps across your skin.

Fred?

You turn around slowly, your face showing the shock you feel in your bones.

"Y-you?" You stutter releasing a breath you didn't know you were holding.

"Disappointed?" Fred questions, a shy smile on his face but you can hear the nervousness in his voice.

"Is this real? I mean are you being serious?" A mix of questioning and genuine shock bleeding into your words as you speak. You feel as if the room is spinning as you try to grasp the reality of this situation.

"Do you think I would joke about this? Come on Bunny, I know I make jokes and pranks but I'm not a foul git." Fred laughs trying to ease the tension that lingers in the space between you before he continues.

"I have felt this way for a very long time, I just haven't known how to tell you" He walks towards you slowly, and you finally sink back into the moment enough to see the flowers in his hands.

"(Your favorite flower)" You say softly, staring at the beautifully arranged bouquet in his hands. "How did you-"

"In the third year, you had a muggle book of flowers, you left it in the common room one day and when I returned it to you I noticed a particular page that looked more worn than the others. I just figured this was your favorite. Other than that it just suits you. If I were to imagine you as a flower I'd guess this one." Fred looks down and blushes as he realizes he just went on a rant about you as a flower but quickly tries to save his confidence by looking back up and stepping closer to you holding the bouquet out for you to take.

You look into his eyes and then at the flowers before taking them. You were completely and utterly dumbfounded. Never in a million years did you believe this moment would ever happen, but you couldn't be happier.

You smile brightly at Fred. "Thank you, Fred. Genuinely, this is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me."

"For you anything" He replies, looking down at you with nothing but pure adoration in his eyes.

He offers his hand for you to take and you accept, putting your hand in his. You blush realizing how large his hands actually are. He leads you to the blanket and keeps your hand in his as he helps you sit. He moves to the other side of the blanket, taking two glasses and filling them with wine. He hands one to you and takes a deep breath before speaking again.

"Y/n, I love you. I have loved you since the first year when I saw you at the sorting ceremony. You had big dorky glasses and your face was bright as a tomato, I saw how nervous you were going up in front of everyone but I never understood why. When I saw you I thought you were the most beautiful person I had ever seen, I couldn't understand how someone could be nervous when they had absolutely nothing to hide from. It wasn't just me, I saw how other people looked at you as well. It isn't just your looks that drew me in though, it was that quiet giggle I heard behind me when I accidentally hit Marcus Flint with a dung bomb. It was the most amazing sound I had ever heard in my entire life. That sound is the single reason I continued to prank people. I wanted to hear you laugh any chance I got and eventually, I started enjoying pranking and making jokes because it was fun. I am telling you this because I want you to understand how much you have turned my life upside down Y/n L/n. I understand if you don't feel the same but I couldn't keep this from you any longer. I meant everything I wrote in those letters, I didn't know how to tell you how I felt without ruining our friendship. I wasn't even going to send the letters when I began writing them, I wrote letters for you for over a year before I sent the first one. I saved them in hopes that one day I could send them and finally express how I felt to you. I know this is a lot to process and I am sorry if this is too much for you and if you need time I fully understand." Fred expresses holding your hand and looking into your eyes taking in every expression on your face. At the end, he releases a long breath, and you can see his shoulders relax. You now understand how much this had affected him and how long he has been hiding.

He stares at you waiting for you to speak or even make a sound, when suddenly you smash your lips against his. His eyes widen in surprise and he sinks into the kiss. He grips the back of your head, not roughly but hard enough to keep you in the same position. You grip at his shirt, as your mouths continue to move perfectly in sync. When both of you finally pull away your chest heaves, trying to steady your breathing.

"I feel the same way Fred, you don't even understand how glad I am that it is you" You smile, face flushed at the realization of the bold move you just pulled.

"Well, I'd bloody hope so, or do you just like kissing your friends?" You both laugh, the sound airy and light.

You sit and talk for hours under the starlight. Both sharing smiles and laughs, enjoying each other's company. Fred gives you his jacket when he sees you shiver and you take in the warmth, noticing he put on a new cologne you've never smelt before. You sit, eat, talk, and cuddle until you realize how late it is.

"Oh shit" You shriek, sitting up quickly. "What time is it?" You look back at Fred, still lying on the blanket. His eyes go wide as he checks his watch.

You and Fred clean up the blanket and food and begin walking to the door.

You feel your wrist being tugged and you look behind you.

"Hold on, I know a different way." He grins widely and drags you to the other side of the tower, he pulls out his wand. He gestures his wand at you, telling you to bring yours out.

"Repeat after me, revelio" He asks

Fred holds up three fingers, pointing his wand at the floor and you follow suit. When the last finger goes down you speak in unison.

"Revelio"

Suddenly the floor opens up and a staircase unfolds before your eyes. You stand there shocked, wondering how Fred discovered this mystery passage.

"Lumos" Fred mumbles and light shoots out of his wand, allowing you to see down the stairs. He gestures for you to take his hand and you hesitantly accept.

"Trust me, it's just a passage. I would never put you in harm's way." Fred assures you, turning forward after you nod your head and he begins descending the steps.

You continue hand in hand down the stairs, and when you reach the bottom you realize you are right next to the Gryffindor common room.

"How in the world did you figure this out?" You question astonished. You think back to all of the pranks he has pulled without getting caught and into trouble, it makes you wonder how many of these secret passages he has figured out.

"A good magician never reveals his secrets" Fred smirks and whispers the password to the very tired and annoyed fat lady.

He walks you to your dorm stairs and you both blush and giggle staring at each other.

"I guess this is goodnight" Fred whispers, looking at you as if you hold the sun in your eyes.

"I guess it is" You reply, both of you slowly leaning in.

"Goodnight"

You close the space between you and share a sweet and loving kiss.

You pull away first but Fred chases your lips making you giggle into another peck.

"Okay, okay we really need to get to bed" You laugh lightly, trying to be quiet and not make yourselves known to any nosy students.

"You really want to go" He pouts, even though he is joking you can see the hesitation in his eyes. Not wanting this moment to end.

"I'll see you tomorrow" You smile, enjoying watching him yearn for your affection.

"Promise?"

"I promise"

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fangswbenefits · 5 months

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getting this off my chest

I really, really love writing for this fandom.

I think I haven't felt like this in years.

Astarion is such an enticing vessel for my creativity and has rekindled my joy for writing and putting it out there.

Alas, imposter syndrome really gnaws at my nerves more often than I care to admit.

"But Ruby, you have so many people who like your work. Why do you doubt yourself?"

Because I grew up being told I was never enough. That I was the worst at what I did best, which back then was learning English and surrounding myself in the language, hence why I sought comfort in fanfiction.

My sister, whom I love dearly, is an English teacher. She would be so harsh on me, and I know she meant well. She really did. But it was so hard back then. I would come to her with creative writing in English and she would just roll her eyes and tell me I wasn't good enough.

Nowadays, she acknowledges that I am more proficient than her and more at ease with the language, and even tells my nephew to study English with me instead.

But back then, I needed someone to believe I could do better.

So, there is a part of me that is proud that I am able to deal with real-life fatigue by writing and finding enjoyment in this hobby. But a much darker part of me tells me I'm not worthy and that I simply got lucky.

The Arrangement means a lot to me. I tend to dive right into fandoms and start writing for the character that caught my eye.

But I couldn't do that for Astarion... I am still unsure why. For those of you who have been here from my Miguel O'Hara days or when I first started posting about Astarion, you'll know The Arrangement was the first thing I ever posted for him.

Took me 2 weeks to get the first chapter out because I kept thinking I couldn't find a voice for Astarion. One that felt like him. After all, I'm always a step behind because I am not a native speaker. There will always be that looming feeling that I can't convey this story properly.

Even if you now know me for my Astarion smut, that wasn't even the driving force of my love for him.

It took me 2 months to feel comfortable writing smut for him. Why? I don't even know.

But The Arrangement feels different.

I love writing it and I love taking my liberties with the plot.

It's my opportunity to fully showcase my love for him.

I know not everyone likes it. I know some of you have dropped it. Some of you will drop it. But some will walk along this path with me, and I can't stress enough how your feedback and love help keep these negative thoughts at bay.

It's an internal work, though. It is not your job to validate my writing skills. This is not what puts food on my table. I am not looking to be published. I am looking for an escape. And it's so frustrating when my mind tries to rob me of joy even when it comes to a hobby.

"If this is a hobby why does it matter what others think or if they like what you write? Just have fun. Write for yourself."

And I do write for myself, but I share my work because I am hopeful my words can make someone's day. I seek that connection I never had growing up. Perhaps it sounds silly, but it's what makes the most sense in my head.

The Arrangement should be my pride and joy even if not perfect (nothing ever is, I suppose). And I'm exhausted of not feeling proud of it. I'm tired of this vicious cycle of self-doubt.

Don't get me wrong. I love writing smut. I think that's what I'm best at (well, in my opinion). I love exploring Astarion this way, too, but...

I don't know where I'm going with this... if anyone has made it this far, thank you, and sorry for the word vomit...

#ruby rambles ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

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waspredteeth · 14 days

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I see a lot of confusion on why calling Damian Wayne "feral" is racist/problematic, so here's a rundown.

There's a difference between calling your child or your younger sibling "feral" and calling a character like Damian "feral." You know your child/sibling/niece/nephew etc. They're real people, and unless they have a problem with it personally, then there's nothing wrong with calling them feral as a joke. It doesn't (shouldn't) affect their perceptions by other people. It doesn't become a label that follows them.

Damian al Ghul-Wayne is a fictional character. A canonically mixed Arab/Chinese/Jewish White character with a history connected to some of the most prominent Arab comic book characters, who themselves also get insanely mischaracterized.

He's constantly whitewashed. He's been written with racist undertones (the suicide bomber vest). He's had his character development and progress backtracked time and time again by DC. DC treats him weirdly most days and completely shitty in the worst stories.

A good majority of fanon hasn't done any better than DC. You cannot pat yourselves on the back for being more inclusive or mental health aware than DC when you call a mixed Arab/Chinese boy "feral". It's constant. You can come up with various titles and nuances for every Bat-character, for every Robin.

Tim can be smart, a skater, a genius, the one holding everyone together, the little brother, the one who needs love. Jason can be cool, morally "right" or "wrong", unstable, PTSD-stricken, the one who was betrayed, the one with Shakespearean tragedies. Dick can be fun, happy, the first one, the prodigal son, the one with complicated history and the big brother.

You give them room for exploration. Love and care and attention and research. Many headcanons. You either comply with canon or you don't, but there's substance to their character.

What does Damian get? He's feral. He's rabid. He's a gremlin. He can't be reasoned with. He has no self-control, he's impulsive. He's hurt others, and you can't forgive it. Sometimes he's homophobic. Or classist. Or plain mean and rude to your favorite boy. He's always carrying a sword. A psychopath with no regard for another's well-being (usually Tim in a lot of fics). He can't be taught what's right.

I've seen people cry that Damian needs to punished or kicked out or treated the same way he's treated others. He needs to be brutalized or talked down to. He can never grow as a person, because he's mean to Tim or Jason, and you need him to exist as the abuser. His first move is always violent.

Fanon compares him to an animal often; he bites, claws, hisses, growls. Bruce or Dick or Jason or Tim have to wrangle him, tame him, civilize him the white man's way in lieu of his brown mother and grandfather who "clearly" raised him wrong. You don't see the issue with that? The issue with always labeling one of the few major brown characters in Batman comics as the unreasonable animal? That the child of color is always the abuser, the instigator, to older characters?

And even if you don't see him this way, you don't write him this way - then are you giving him the care and attention you give for other Bat characters?

Do you know anything else about him other than his "anger"? Because he isn't always angry. In fact, he's typically well-mannered. Quiet even, when he's not being provoked. DC's writing will always vary but whenever Damian lashes out, he's usually written with a reason to act the way he does.

Are you making him intelligent like he should be? A hard believer in redemption? A neglected and abused child who isn't meek or crying or closes himself within? Are you willing to explore that he's always exhibited the "wrong" kind of trauma responses - lashing out, being snippy, ruining relationships, refusing to admit weakness?

Do you write anything about him without making his mother and grandfather comically abusive and violent? Will you give him the supporting cast/friends he actually has? Can you write his dad/siblings interacting with him without making them white saviors or therapy pets? Can you write him without a ship or his love for animals or being vegetarian overshadowing everything?

Is he a character to you at all other than a glorified plot device with a sharp tongue and the convenience of being violent?

#damian wayne #dc #robin #damian wayne meta #dc meta #fandom needs to start interrogating their choices around non-white characters in general but especially when it comes to Batman comics #you may not intend to be racist or ableist or misinformed #but what you put out into the world is going to be seen by everyone #and you should very much reconsider doing things like calling Damian feral and implying he has zero self-control or civilization #or implying Duke is uneducated by hc'ing him with terrible handwriting or making him the “sane” one bc you haven't read any comics w him #or shoving Cassandra into a corner as a perfect unvocal specimen or making her a sentient therapy animal for your favorite white boy #or sexualizing Dick in obscene amounts and making him a “slut” when its against his entire character #its day in day out in this fandom when it comes to snubbing and being utterly wrong about characters of color #fandom critical #a painted bird called tamer #batman #batman meta #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #cassandra cain #batfamily

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art · 2 years

Photo

Creator Spotlight: @min-play

I’m Min! I’m an animator and storyboard rti t who also posts comics and fan art online. So far, I have worked on the Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and LEGO Monkie Kid. I run on AAA batteries.

Check out our interview with Min below!

How did you get your start in animation and storyboarding?

Fanart! My hyperfixations kept me drawing and posting online since I was around 16. Later I dropped my Computer Science degree to study animation. After graduating, I worked as an In-between Animator, Key Animator, and Storyboard Artist. My fanart of a couple funny skeletons played a big role in getting hired.

What do you wish you knew when you first started out creating content that you know now?

It’s ok to make mistakes. All the flaws in a drawing make it look much more interesting. Also, it’s a lot more fun than spending ages perfecting one line.

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

I always get 3 different flavors of art block (that I remember):

Art block from perfectionism

Sometimes there’s this self-enforced pressure that what you make has to be of a certain standard. Gotta loosen up and forgive yourself for not meeting an imaginary quality. Do it for the fun of it. Instead of thinking’ needs to be better,’ think ‘eh good enough lol.’ It’s cool to strive for improvement! Just don’t do it to the point it becomes self-deprecating.

Art block from burnout

Art hibernation! It’s ok to take breaks. Not every waking moment needs to be productive. Treat yourself to something yummy, hang out with people you’re comfortable with, or pick up a new anime series. Take the time to get some well-deserved rest.

Art block while drawing as a full-time job

WELL DANG.

Switch your ‘drive.’ If you’re running off on passion or interest as a motivator for work, that’s great! I do too! But also, it’s finicky. Set up routines for when that high runs out. I have a ‘Do task’ mode where I play a song or a movie I already watched on loop in the background (sometimes for weeks on end). I don’t know why but it helps me concentrate. Last week, it was the movie Cars.

These are personal methods and may not work for everyone, but I hope it helps!

What are 3 things you can’t live without as a creator?

Music + Noise-canceling headphones + Big blanket = Comfort force field

What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

Does blacksmithing count as a medium? I’d like to try it out at least once, though.

How do you want to evolve as a creator?

To connect with other creators more. Especially writers. They are so powerful.

Warm tones or cool tones?

Cool tones! Especially this one particular blend of blue and green.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

So maaaanyy. At the top of my head, though: @northpen. I am obsessed with their vivid-imagery writing style, and immaculate characterizations. Their character banters always have me in a gigglefit. They have this fic I binged in one sitting and left me crying and empty in a good way.

Thank you for such amazing answers, Min! You can check out more of Min’s creations over at @min-play!

#creator spotlight #animators on tumblr #storyboard artist #artists on tumblr #min-play

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soapskneebrace · 1 year

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CARTEL PROTECTION

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!Reader, John "Soap" MacTavish x f!Reader, Alejandro Vargas x f!Reader (unrequited but also kind of requited, it's complicated) Rating: All Ages Word Count: 1.3k Warnings: None Author's Notes: The first chapter in a series that I will likely not get to, but it's fun and I thought y'all might enjoy it. Who knows, if there's enough interest I might write a connected fic or two rather than a whole thing. I hope y'all can excuse how very rough this is, because it is literally the very first draft.

The tarmac of Los Vaqueros Cuartel General is hard and hot beneath the soles of your boots, bouncing the heat of the Mexican sun back upwards toward its origin, and as you approach the truckside powwow you can feel a fine sheen of perspiration beginning to form on your bare arms. It’s hot, far too hot for late October, and you don’t imagine yourself not sweating for however long this operation is going to take.

“I need you in Las Almas,” Laswell had said over the phone, intruding on an appointment with your manicurist. “Something is going on, and I don’t have enough information.”

“Sure,” you’d replied, regarding the woman opposite you trying to hide the fact that she was listening in. The nail tech wasn’t a plant, you were reasonably certain, but only an amateur talked freely about your kind of work. “I’d love to see Alejo and his kids again.”

You put two fingers (nails painted with tiny sugar skulls) to your tongue and cab-whistle at the group of three men to catch their attention. None of them flinch, and as they all turn to look at you, you realize immediately that this job is going to be more bothersome than you’d assumed, because the skull-plated mask that turns your way is not, as it were, a new face.

You remember the iron smell of staunched blood and the full brunt of his weight driving the both of you to the ground as you’d tried to hold him up. You remember the drench of warm Kastovian rain and hydroplaning in a stolen truck across the border into Georgia. You remember watching three hours of surgery. You had not stayed to see the fourth.

It shows immediately in his eyes as you meet them. The man you only know as Ghost remembers too.

You are not in the business of dragging baggage around. “Colonel Vargas!” you call, waving.

“Alma!” Alejandro exclaims, a wide smile breaking the severe lines of his angular face. “Laswell said you were coming, but I didn’t expect you so soon!”

As you join the men, you let him hug you, unable to keep from grinning at his easy affection. Alejandro—Alejo to you—is another familiar face.

You remember reheated mole verde on rice in the General kitchen, tiny sips of mezcal as he waxed poetic about what he could do with the full stock he kept in the larders of his fabled ranch. He’d looked at you warmly then, as warmly as he looks at you now when you release your embrace.

You hold his warmth precious, but do not respond to it.

“Someone has to be the brains of this operation,” you say, and wave to Rudy in the truck.

“It’s Alma, then?” asks the soldier standing next to Ghost, in a brogue that stands out as much as Ghost does.

John “Soap” MacTavish is the only personage you do not know. Laswell had given you a very sparse brief before you’d headed toward Mexico, so you already know that he’s both effective in the field and resolutely Scottish, but it only takes you one glance to get a notion of his character. The mohawk says more about him than he probably could ever say about himself, and the stunning blue eyes tell you the rest.

You glance at Ghost. Laswell had told you about Soap, and said you knew everyone else. Damn her. She isn’t getting a Christmas card this year.

“Sometimes,” you answer the Scot, looking back at him. Alma, of course, is not your real name.

Ghost snorts. He doesn’t say anything, but you know what he’s thinking.

So you say it out loud, smiling at the sergeant congenially. “Sometimes it’s Katya. Sometimes it’s something else. Maybe I’d be Mary, if we were in Glasgow.”

He smiles back immediately. Oh yes, Soap MacTavish is a dangerously open book. “Queen of Scots, aye? I see how it is.”

“CIA shit,” grumbles Ghost. Then, to business, “Where’s Hassan?”

Las Almas is as beautiful as you remember it, colorful and lively as the Fuerzas Especiales convoy passes from the countryside into the city’s sprawling outskirts.

“So how do you know Alejandro?” Soap asks, looking at you over his shoulder. He’d volunteered to take the furthermost seat in the back, which was really more of a padded bench facing out the window, in order to give you the more comfortable chair.

You meet his gaze. The SAS needed to hang a warning sign on him—DO NOT MAKE EYE CONTACT—because close up, the jewel-bright azure is even more arresting than it had been at a distance.

“I met him on vacation,” you reply, lifting one brow and hopefully hiding the little jolt in your breath that the proximity inspired.

Rudy and Alejandro both laugh at that. You chance a peek at Ghost, who’s sitting beside you in the back row of the SUV, and find him looking resolutely forward. You’re not sure if that’s good or bad.

“Anyone who comes to Las Almas for vacation is either too stupid to live past the first day,” says Rudy, eyes crinkling as they meet yours in the rear view mirror, “or just crazy enough to have a good time.”

You smile back—it wasn’t the first time he’d said that about you.

“In truth, we’ve ended up helping each other a few times, haven’t we?” says Alejo. “The US is always worried about narcos crossing the border, and Fuerzas Especiales is always in need of good intelligence.”

It had been your impeccable Spanish that had convinced Kate to stick you across the border. Her superiors had been doing their augury, reading the bird formations in the sky and sifting through the proverbial entrails, and had decided via these machinations that rather than let you monitor Verdansk post-Armistice as you’d originally been tasked (your Russian is also impeccable), you should instead worry about cartels on the Texas border.

You sneak a glance at Ghost again. He’s looking at you this time, eyes narrowed.

The reassignment had come to you at the third hour.

“Hopefully ‘Alma’ can help again, then,” he says, and it is very strange to hear that name on his tongue, to hear the syllables bend around the brassy, rumbling Manc that had comfortably used another name for you entirely.

Verdansk. A hollow shell of a building, its veins somehow still pumping water and electricity. His mask, pulled up over his nose, revealing a hard line of a mouth as he sipped bitter black coffee, the corners twisting as he was unable to hide how much he hated it.

“You should be burned for this by itself, Katya,” he’d grumbled.

“You do groceries next time,” you’d replied pleasantly. “See if the shelves magically fill with boxes of Tetley when you’re there.”

“Fuck Tetley. Even this swill is better than that.”

He still drank the whole cup.

“Think I prefer Mary,” says Soap, settling against your seat back.

The brogue brings you out of the memory and back into the present. Verdansk is half a world away. So is the Ghost you’d playacted domesticity with. You needed to make room in your head for missiles, rogue Quds Force majors, and enterprising narcos. The job had no care for anything else.

“And that’s why I’d choose it,” you say, mimicking his posture and sitting back. The Scot has no place in any of your memories, not in Kastovia and not in Las Almas—and you’re thankful, in that moment, that he’s there. “People are willing to do things for someone that sounds like one of their own.”

You hear the smile in his voice as he responds, “Can’t think of a man who wouldn’t do anything for you, bonnie—”

“Alright, sergeant!” Ghost snaps.

The reprimand surprises you both, and you lapse into awkward, contrite silence. Alejo meets your eyes in the rear view, concerned, and you give them an exaggerated roll.

The need to ground yourself notwithstanding, it was a bad idea—and, you think, massively trashy—to flirt right in front of him.

You slouch in your chair. Laswell is getting coal for Christmas. The grossest, sootiest stuff you can find.

#ghost x reader #soap x reader #alejo x reader #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #og post #i'm not gonna bother tagging for maximum visibility

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from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras · 8 months

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Three Weeks on the Nimrodel

Well, here it is. My first (and oldest) piece of fic. I'm going against my brand here by posting something set in Lorien when Rohan is really my jam. But this is the first thing I ever wrote, so it seems fitting that it should be the first posted, too.

Pairing: Haldir x reader (The reader is gender neutral beyond 2 uses of the descriptor "beautiful", which is still neutral to me but your mileage might vary.)

Genre: Romance, I guess

Summary: Two elves who are frequently misunderstood by others find the joy of having someone really see and value them for who they are.

Inspiration: This all came from the well loved gif above, in which Craig Parker does beautiful work communicating a whole emotional arc (surprise, confusion, acceptance, appreciation) when Aragorn unexpectedly shows Haldir some loving affection. In that half-second of screen time, I see an entire book of backstory about Haldir's character--about being someone who is very reserved by nature, who isn't necessarily comfortable freely expressing feelings and innermost thoughts, but who still feels deep emotional connections to others that can come out under the right circumstances. As a very reserved person myself, I can relate--if you tend to keep your thoughts and feelings close to the vest, people will make a lot of assumptions and judgments about you that probably aren't right, and that can be exhausting. When someone finally does understand you and allows you to be comfortable enough to open up on your own terms, it's a life changing experience. So that's what I tried to write.

Word count: approx 3200 (~ 6 pages)

**********

It is still early when you arrive in the center of Caras Galadhon, joining the crowd of elves waiting to find out where they will be posted for the next few weeks of guard duty. Most in the group are veteran marchwardens, deeply familiar with each other and the daily routine of life near the borders. By contrast, you are a city warden, often dedicated to the direct protection of the Lady of the Wood. But you have been asked to serve a temporary rotation on the borders while several of the regular marchwardens are away with Lord Celeborn on a visit to Mirkwood.

The change of pace is not unwelcome to you. While you love Caras Galadhon and are honored to spend time in the service of Lady Galadriel, you frequently find yourself craving distance from the city in favor of the quiet outlying areas, where it is easy to hear clear birdsong, the rustling steps of small animals scampering by, and the patter of light raindrops falling on mallorn leaves.

The crowd begins to murmur as the deputy captain appears and begins handing around sheets of paper with duty assignments. As the pages spread through the crowd, the murmurs turn to both sighs of disappointment and quiet expressions of satisfaction.

“All I want is to avoid the Nimrodel,” you overhear the elf next to you mutter to a friend of his. You recognize him as Calendil, who, like many of his companions, is well known for carousing around Caras Galadhon any time he is home on leave. As a group, the marchwardens are a boisterous company who seem always determined to pack several weeks of fun into the few days of free time they’ve been given. “Three weeks posted with the captain is more than can be asked of me.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at this mention of Captain Haldir. You know him a little–everyone in Lorien knows the leader of the marchwardens–and have never before heard a negative word uttered about him. Your path does not often cross with his, but you admire his impressive record of achievements and have never seen him treat another elf with anything but courteous respect.

“You speak truly,” replies Calendil’s companion. “I cannot spend so much time with someone who has so little to say. That much silence is enough to drive one a little mad.”

A wave of indignation rolls through your body. It is undeniably true that Haldir is very reserved. He says little that isn’t necessary to the conduct of his duties, and what he is truly thinking behind his large blue eyes is often a mystery. But that has never seemed a negative trait to you. Indeed, you appreciate that he does not talk simply for talk’s sake and that he does not seem concerned with always making his own opinions known. What’s more, you recognize a fair amount of his inherent reserve in your own nature. If you didn’t often force yourself to satisfy others’ expectations by taking on a more outgoing, sociable persona, perhaps your own wardens would describe you just as these elves have described their captain.

Calendil’s conversation comes to an abrupt end as a copy of the assignment sheet makes its way into his hands. Peering over his shoulder, you quickly find your own name allocated to a remote post near the edge of the Dimrill Dale. A glance further down the list confirms what you already know from the quiet groan that has just escaped from Calendil’s lips: he has been assigned to the Nimrodel post.

An idea quickly forms in your head, and you tap him on the shoulder. Why should he spend three weeks feeling miserable with his posting–and, no doubt, making anyone around him miserable as a result–when you have no particular attachment to your own assignment? Calendil can go to the Dimrill Dale, and you will spend your posting with Haldir instead.

“If such a trade is permitted within your ranks, I will gladly make the exchange,” you offer. “I have always loved the river. And I have no objection to the company of someone who takes his duty seriously and does not revel in idle chatter.”

Calendil’s face registers a moment of regret as he realizes that his prior conversation has been heard by others, but it is quickly replaced by a wide, beaming smile that reflects his rapid change of fortune. “It is permitted,” he says, “and I happily accept. Remind me the next time we are both on leave, and I will reward your generosity with some of my own!”

You doubt that whatever reward he has in mind will suit your inclinations, but there is no need to worry about that now. Calendil has already sprinted off toward the deputy captain to report the change, and you turn toward home to gather your supplies.

****

Two days later, you are approaching the Nimrodel post, which is located in a lovely old mallorn tree with twisted roots that hang over the river’s edge. You raise your hand to your lips and whistle the signal. The return call echoes off the trees before a slim rope ladder drops from the branches above you. You run lightly up the rungs, making easy work of the climb to the talan perched near the great tree’s crown, where it commands a wide view of the river and much of the western section of the border.

As you hoist yourself and your pack onto the platform, you look up to see a single figure standing a few feet away. It is Haldir, leaning against the wind screen with his bow slung loosely over his shoulder and his white-blonde hair blowing gently in the breeze.You are surprised to see him there alone; wardens generally keep watch in pairs or groups of three for safety. You are there to relieve Arthalion, who is due now to return home for a break, but there is no sign of Arthalion or his things.

“Mae govannen, Captain,” you say, placing your hand on your chest and bowing your head slightly. “Is everything well?”

Haldir returns the gesture with a small smile. “Yes. It has been blessedly uneventful. Perhaps it is the threat of the weather.”

This makes sense. Just last month, an orc party attempting a surprise attack during a thunderstorm found themselves nearly washed away by sudden flooding from the Celebrant. Since then, even the hint of rain has tended to keep them at bay.

“And Arthalion? Is he out on a task?”

Haldir shakes his head. “I sent him back early. You might have passed one another in the forest except that he planned to meet a small hunting party further north. As I said, things here were quiet, and he was anxious to join his friends.” He gives a small shrug and looks down. “I will do the same for you, if circumstances allow and you desire it. I do not wish to keep anyone from their enjoyments unless duty requires it.”

You permit yourself a brief moment to wonder what Haldir’s own enjoyments might be. You have heard that he is a talented artist, making detailed pencil sketches of the forest, but he does not often show his work to others.

“That is a thoughtful offer,” you say. “But I have no pressing need to return, and I would not have you out here alone, even if there is no other elf in Lorien better able to protect himself.”

He acknowledges this compliment with a modest smile and gestures toward a small shelf where you can store your belongings. His own are few in number but neatly stacked or folded with military precision. You note that he does, in fact, have a small bundle of pencils and a notebook, but, as expected, there is no sign of any actual drawings.

After stowing your things, you settle into a position opposite him on the talan, and a silence ensues. It is of no bother to you–you’re enjoying the smell of the damp air and the touch of the light wind on your face–but you soon notice that Haldir is looking increasingly discomfited as the quiet minutes slip by. His gaze shifts frequently between the horizon, his hands on his bow, and your face.

“Was…your journey here pleasant?” His face is studiously neutral, but his voice sounds strained and he picks at a splinter on his bow. You realize that he is trying to make conversation for your benefit, to fill in the noticeable silence with casual talk that clearly does not come easily to him. You feel a sudden rush of affection for him, this intensely quiet being who is making himself uncomfortable so that you will feel welcome. You wonder how best to put him at ease.

“It was very pleasant,” you reply. “I am so rarely outside of the city these days that any chance to enjoy the forest is a gift. I can understand why being a marchwarden is an attractive job, at least during times of relative peace.”

He looks up, reappraising your face, and nods his agreement.

You hesitate before speaking again, unsure about how directly to address his uneasiness.

“Captain,” you begin, “it sounds like we may have an uneventful tour here. If that is the case, please do not feel that you are obligated to occupy my time. I am quite comfortable with quiet activity and my own thoughts and would gladly afford you space for the same if that is something you wish.”

His cheeks and ears flush slightly but, despite his apparent embarrassment at being accurately perceived, he seems immediately relieved as well. “Thank you,” he says. “If you are as good a warden as you are a reader of people, I feel myself in safe hands indeed.”

The next several days pass by peacefully. Between occasional scouting trips up or down the riverbank and regularly monitoring the view from the talan, you mostly spend the time together in companionable silence. You take turns preparing simple meals, and during breaks in the intermittent rain you make minor repairs to nearby rope bridges and other hidden defenses in the area. In the evenings, you read a book by lantern light while Haldir sits next to his own lantern and sketches in his notebook, occasionally transferring completed drawings into a closed leather folio at his side. Every so often, you both glance up at the same time, and you give him a warm smile when your eyes meet before turning back to your respective pages.

*****

One evening, as you clean up the remains of your small dinner and take out your book again, Haldir lightly clears his throat.

“That book seems to engage you much,” he says. “May I ask what it is?”

Surprised, you hold it out to him, and he takes it, examining the cover and flipping through a few pages.

“I do not recognize this script,” he says, looking at it with curiosity.

“It is a representation of Rohirric,” you tell him. “My brother was a skilled linguist who passed on some small portion of his knowledge to me. He spent many months visiting a friend in the court at Edoras and helped them to start preserving some of their oral traditions with a system of letters. This is a copy of one of his first completed projects–the story of the founding of Rohan–which he sent to me as a gift.”

Haldir looks again with renewed interest at a few pages before handing the book back to you. “Your brother sounds like an impressive scholar,” he says. “Does he remain in Rohan?”

You hesitate slightly before responding. “In a way. Two years ago an orc band in search of horses raided a village near the Limlight while my brother happened to be visiting. They caught him and his hosts unaware. The Rohirrim buried his body in a place of honor with their people, though his spirit has surely gone to Mandos.”

You relate this with downcast eyes, tracing over your brother’s name on the cover of the book with your thumb. After a few moments, you look up again, expecting to see Haldir withdrawn from the conversation. You know that many elves are uncomfortable with death, which is an unnatural state for your kind, and there is nothing in your interactions so far to indicate that Haldir will want to continue such a personal discussion. You are surprised once again, however, to find that he is looking at you intently.

“I am deeply sorry,” he says. “Working as I do, I have known many elves who met a similar fate in battle, and it is never easy. My own brothers are a treasure to me, and I cannot imagine losing them. I hope I have not contributed to your suffering by unwittingly bringing up a painful subject.”

You blink back a few tears and smile. Through your sadness, you are moved by the warmth of his response and honored that he was willing to share something personal of himself. “Of course not,” you say. “Talking about my brother is one way to keep him with me. Thank you, Captain.” You reach forward and squeeze his hand. He flinches slightly at the unexpected touch, but then gently returns the squeeze.

“Please,” he says, “call me Haldir.”

*****

After that night, things are different between the two of you. You both speak more often, tentatively at first but then with increasing comfort. You trade stories about old adventures and talk about the joys and frustrations of your daily lives. You discover that he has much to say when he finally feels more at ease. He is even quite funny, with a dry wit that you did not expect but thoroughly enjoy. You walk together in the forest and rest your feet in the waters of the Nimrodel during the day, and in the evenings he asks you to read to him from your book. You happily relate tales of Cirion and Eorl and the coming of the Northmen to Calenardhon as he draws quietly, occasionally interjecting a question or a brief comment.

The time passes quickly and easily, and soon your rotation will be at an end. You realize there is a growing pain in your heart each time you think about your imminent departure. Your old life suddenly feels dull and uninteresting to you now. You do not want to go back to a time without his companionship. You debate whether to say this to him, but you cannot imagine how he might react to such a confession. Paralyzed by uncertainty, the last days of your assignment tick by.

On your final evening, you are preparing for one last opportunity to enjoy what has become your nightly routine. Just as he is about to settle with his notepad and folio, however, he notices your canteen is empty and insists on climbing down to fill it for you. As he reaches the ground and disappears over the riverbank, the wind changes direction and a sudden gust rips across the talan, flinging back the cover of the folio and sending papers flying out in all directions. You cry out in dismay and throw yourself desperately onto the pages whipping around you, seeking to hold them down long enough to gather them safely together.

It is only after you have retrieved all the loose pages and are preparing to neatly stack them that you first look at the drawings themselves and are stunned by what you see: beautiful illustrations of the stories you’ve been reading to him, the words of your brother’s book brought to vivid life in graceful pencil lines and delicate shading. You leaf through the stack in awed amazement only to nearly drop the whole pile again when you turn a page and find an image of yourself as you must look to him each night, sitting by your lantern with your book in your lap. You keep turning pages and find more of yourself…braiding your hair first thing in the morning, standing at the wind screen and scanning the horizon, unlacing your boots at the end of a day. Your breath catches in your throat as you absorb these images. You have never looked more beautiful than you do here, seen through his eyes.

A sudden noise behind you tears your attention from the papers in your hand, and you turn to find Haldir standing there. You are immediately overwhelmed by panic and begin to stammer out an explanation for how you came to be holding his personal things, violating his privacy. “I…the wind…they were blowing away and…”. Hot tears well up in your eyes and are soon spilling down your cheeks, partly from embarrassment at the situation but mostly as the feelings you’ve been keeping pent up threaten to come flooding out all at once. “I was not trying to…I…”. An involuntary sob robs you of the ability to finish your sentence, though you aren’t sure how you would have finished it had you been able.

At the sound of your sob, he moves forward, quickly closing the distance between you. He hesitantly cups a hand under your jaw and uses his thumb to brush a tear from your cheek. “Please do not cry,” he says. “I would not ever see you in pain if it were in my power to prevent it. I am not upset. These drawings were for you, for your book. You were meant to have them, except the last few, which I hoped to keep as a reminder of these days and how happy I have been.” Your eyes snap up to his face, searching for confirmation that you have correctly understood his words.

“You know that I am not much for talking,” he continues. “But I am a very good observer. I know that you see me for who I am, just as I see you. I see all of the ways that you are kind and interesting and intelligent and beautiful. I have no expectation that you return my feelings, and if all I ever have with you are these three weeks then I will cherish the memory of these weeks through all the long ages of my life. But I would….”

Before he can complete his thought, your body reacts on its own impulse, a pure release of elation. You throw your arms around his neck and bury your face in his broad chest, still crying but now with tears of joy. You hear a sharp intake of breath as he processes your reaction, and for a fraction of a moment he stands motionless and silent before breaking into a smile and wrapping you in his arms. You could live in those arms forever, and now perhaps you will.

#haldir #haldir x reader #haldir x you #lotr #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings fan fiction #haldir of lorien #tolkien fanfiction

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queens-of-spirits · 1 year

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Why the svsss papapa scenes are literary genius actually, Part 1:

So, fun fact, I originally wanted to do a funny little post where I ranked the four papapa scenes in svsss (with special mention to the start of the return to childhood extra and LMY’s writing) but my deranged ass decided to go full quirky English prof and turn this shit into a proper analysis.

So, believe it or not, the svsss papapa scenes are actually really important for understanding a lot of the characters and themes of the story. So yes. I am going to go through them all and explain why. Starting with…

Maigu Ridge (spoilers, obviously):

If this were actually my silly rankings post (which I still may make), Maigu ridge would rank dead last in any category related to actually being an enjoyable smut scene to read. That’s fine, because, to put it bluntly, that wasn’t the point.

It’s a subversion of the pressure and idea of the perfect first time or instinctive sexual skill seen in both power fantasy and romance/bl novels. That subversion and the shock of what happens is meant to take us out of the scene and make us think about the characters, the situation, and the tropes we take for granted. Remember, svsss is genre savvy twice over, both in Danmei/bl and power fantasy fiction. It explores both those worlds and the complicated aspects of both (I.e the obsession with revenge). It’s not trying to be a good smut scene, it’s setting up the characterization of the couple and the character arc seen throughout the rest of the papapa moments in the extras (more on that in future posts, but it’s about SQQ learning to be more open with his desire and pleasure) and exemplifying the main themes of the book (forgiveness and intention)

So without further ado, here is my analysis on this scene.

The notes about SQQ’s character in the Maigu Ridge scene should be obvious and understood by looking at the broad context of the scene. Like the Without a Cure moment, it shows how much he cares for LBH and his willingness to put his own life and body on the line to save him. It is devotion, pure and simple. However, more depth is revealed when examining specific passages (note all quotes are from the English publications because I don’t speak Chinese, so I’m sorry if the translation muddled the meaning).

The most vital part to me for Binghe’s character is this line:

“he’d done this out of consideration for Luo Binghe’s convenience, but unexpectedly he was flipped back around. Luo Binghe jammed himself between Shen Qingqiu’s legs, his entire attention rapt on Shen Qingqiu’s face.”

This refers to how SQQ tries to turn around so that LBH would not see his face during what is about to happen and LBH flipping him over again.

This, I believe is symbolic. SQQ turns around because he thinks that anyone will do and he is the only one willing, but that’s not true LBH wants SQH specifically. He needs to relieve the energy from the sword’s influence, yes, but despite that pain, he is focused solely on SQQ’s face.

The transformation from the stallion protagonist Bingge to our Bingmei is exemplified here better than any scene before it (I would argue it is later topped by the Bingge vs Bingmei extra). Unlike Binghe, Bingmei is not looking for mindless pleasure to escape his lonely life (represented here by the corrupting energy of the sword) he is seeking the one he adores above all, the one who he cares for more than anything. He has found true connection and THAT is what drives him to madness (remember, he’s trying to destroy everything to be the only one in SQQ’s world so he can’t be abandoned). That’s why, even when supposedly in a mad state, he seeks to look at SQQ’s face, because it isn’t about the sex, it’s about them, the two of them together.

The other vital part is the aftermath, before even the jade pendant. Specifically, this exchange:

“Shizun don’t hate me…I didn’t know…I never wanted to hurt you…why didn’t you push me away? Why didn’t you kill me?”

“This master knows. This master was willing”

Again, this was an act not born out of lust, like with Bingge and his wives, but something different. Bingge takes what he wants and feels no guilt because nothing was ever given to him, but Bingmei was given the world by one person and struggles with not feeling like, with not BEING the animal or monster that the rest of the world sees him as’

LBH had no intention to hurt SQQ

Just like how SQQ had no intention to hurt him by avoiding him

It’s symbolic of their relationship as a whole. Unintentional hurt and the forgiveness that follows. THATS why the remaining papapa scenes are so important. It’s about them learning to not hurt each other. Every single papapa scene that follows builds on this idea of them learning the right way to love each other (remember, their story together is just beginning after the last page of the book) and learning how to not hurt each other unintentionally, LBH physically, SQQ emotionally.

Again, clear themes of forgiveness and intention. The reasons behind why people do bad things (hence the focus on SJ and TLJ as complex characters) and the act of forgiveness and learning from mistakes, which I argue are the two main themes of SVSSS

So while Maigu ridge is terrible in terms of being an enjoyable scene to read, that was not it’s purpose. It’s purpose was to utilize the tropes of both Danmei and male fantasy to take us out of those genres (where first times always go well) and get us to THINK about the characters and why they do what they do, their intentions.

#bingqiu #svsss #shen qingqiu #luo binghe #luo bingge #luo bingmei #maigu ridge #scum villains self saving system #scum villian self saving system #papapa #SQQ #LBH #analysis #of things that maybe should not be #would my English teacher be proud or horrified?#you decide

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raelle-writing · 3 months

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Phee: torn between the past and the future

Phee is a deeply interesting, complex character. We know a lot about him, despite not seeing him on screen for a few episodes and not knowing about his background for a while.

This post got long so I'm putting in a break!

We know that Phee is a boy who falls in love fast and hard.

He's empathetic, and wears his emotions on his sleeves.

He's a caretaker.

We know that despite wanting to know what happened to Non, Phee also can't help trying to think the best of the group he's joined. Even trying to see another point of view when Tan calls Por a liar.

His position as of episode 9 in the story is really interesting... and also heartbreaking, in it's own way.

Phee has one foot in the past, unable to move forward, but his eyes toward the future.

In the past, he'd been in love with Non. Deeply in love. First love, arguably puppy love, but love nevertheless. That relationship ended in heartbreak for them both - Phee feeling as though Non had betrayed him by lying to him and sleeping with someone else (obligatory note that Non was groomed so we shouldn't label it as cheating, I'm just saying from Phee's POV). He was angry and hurt, and he said something awful in that moment that he didn't mean.

Afterwards, Phee is angry. He's hurt. He doesn't know what to do, so he goes to his dad for advice, and his dad tells him that he needs to talk to Non to understand why he'd done it, and move forward. In that moment, Phee doesn't know if he wants to make up with Non or not.

But eventually he takes his dad's advice to at least talk to him, and figure out why he acted the way he did. But by the time Phee is ready to hear from Non, Non is already gone.

Phee is now facing a slew of questions, and a lot of emotions. Where is Non? What happened to him? Did he really run off? Was it the friend group that did something to him? Could I have helped him if I hadn't been so angry? Did my last words make everything worse? Is he still alive? If he's dead, what will I do?

Phee is caught in a situation that many people find themselves in, at some point or another in life. Where a relationship (friendship or more) ends, but you get no closure. He's caught between wishing he knew what happened, feeling guilty, wanting to get Non back so he can talk to him and get answers... while also being basically out of the relationship entirely because he and Non broke up, and never got back together.

Then, Phee meets New, and it's easy to agree to his scheme. For the two of them to switch schools, infiltrate the friend group that was around Non, and see if they can figure out what happened to him. It's easy to say yes to New, because that's what Phee wants more than anything. Answers. He wants to know what happened to Non, but he also wants to know more than that. Why Non did what he did. If they can work it out and get together again. There's so many questions plaguing Phee's mind, and the lack of answers makes it impossible for him to move forward.

But then, at the same time, life moves on. It's been months since Non vanished already (the start of a new school year and it seemed like the old school year was still in session when they finished the movie, so at least a few months). Phee finds himself with a new group of friends. And while he's suspicious of them, he also has fun with them.

Phee isn't the type of person who can wholeheartedly condemn others. He doesn't have Tan's ability to write them all off as assholes.

Time passes, and Phee moves on. He removes the bracelet he once wore, even before he started classes at the new school. Perhaps he did it because he didn't want to give away his connection to Non - but he didn't have to. It was a simple red bracelet. No one in the group would've seen that and connected him to Non. I don't even think Jin would've, though Jin would've noticed it and wondered about it I'm sure. But Phee took it off anyway.

And, later, Phee takes Jin to the spot he once took Non. He takes him to Phee's special place.

While he's there, he's reminded of Non. He talks about Non. But the way he talks about Non is fond and distant. More of a nice memory, than something that's actively haunting him.

And you can tell by the look on Jin's face that Jin can tell. He knows what what Phee is talking about was in the past. Otherwise he wouldn't look so happy (considering we know he has a jealous streak). And Jin definitely wouldn't have seduced Phee if he got the vibe that Phee still liked someone else.

And then, that night, Phee sleeps with Jin. And perhaps Phee was thinking of Non in those moments, but I highly doubt it. Because I don't think the boy who told Non to "get lost and die" over perceived cheating would sleep with someone else while he's still in love with Non. That, and there's the soft look on his face the next morning...

Phee has moved on. His feelings have changed. He wants to find out what happened to Non, but honestly if it wasn't for his connection to New, I'm not sure how much longer Phee would've kept looking. He's young. He's found a new love. That doesn't mean his love for Non never mattered, or doesn't still impact him in different ways. It just means he's healed, and is looking to the future. That's normal for grief and loss. It becomes part of us, but eventually we learn to live with it and continue our lives.

But the past keeps pulling him back, in the form of New, and news about Non. First when New calls him out for sleeping with Jin and asking if he's cheating. Phee's response might be partially a lie and partially the truth. But he's at least lying to himself about why he did it.

I think Phee saying he loves Non is true - he probably does. In a distant way, of someone he lost. He has fond memories of him. He misses Non, too. But I think what he's telling New - and telling himself - about it being "just the same" is the lie. Phee is in denial that he's catching feelings for Jin. He's in denial about the reasons he did it, and he knows that. Because despite sleeping with Jin and flirting with him, he never asks Jin about Non.

Then he gets another reminder in the form of a news article about Non.

Google translate on the right.

That article brings it back - the anger, the grief, the rage. At himself, for what he said to Non. At Non for the lies he told - the reminder of Non sleeping with Keng. At the situation that he found himself in. He's yanked back to the past again, and all the guilt that comes with it.

And in that moment, he shoves Jin away. He lets the guilt and anger win as he draws a firm line. He denies his feelings, denies that he feels anything at all for Jin, and returns to his mission: to find out what happened to Non.

But in that moment, he doesn't realize that he's lost his future. Because he loses Jin. Jin won't speak to him, won't return his calls, gives him the cold shoulder. Won't even smile at him for the next two years.

Phee tries to talk to Jin, two years later. He hasn't moved on from Jin. Because he's trapped in the same friend group as Jin by his goal: learn more about Non. He can't leave the group to get away from Jin. No space. Which means neither he, nor Jin, are able to heal from what happened. Jin is now trapped in the past, just as much as Phee is.

Phee can't abandon New, can't abandon the mission they set out for, because it means abandoning every question that he still wants answers to. It means abandoning Non, once and for all. But in clinging to the past, he can't move to the future either. He can't choose Jin, but he doesn't want to lose him entirely.

In the present, Phee is still caught between the past and the future. The past being what happened to Non and New's scheme to learn information. And the future, his feelings for Jin that he can't deny anymore, that he can't run from. But that he also can't give in to, because of everything with New.

Phee's character is in stasis. He wants to grow. He wants to move on. If he didn't, he never would've caught feelings for Jin, much less slept with him. But he can't. Because of a sense of duty - to Non, who he failed to help, failed to protect. And now to Non's brother, who can't give up looking for him. And as long as New is looking for Non, Phee has to as well, or it means abandoning the very last piece of Non he has left.

But he's also torn, because while he's working with New on his scheme, he wants to protect Jin, the person he loves now. Perhaps even because he couldn't save Non, so now his redemption will be saving Jin?

This scene could be a plot by Phee to get Jin to open up, using his own tears and guilt in that way, but I do think his concern for Jin is real regardless.

I think Phee's final arc in the show will be having to choose, once and for all, between the past (Non and by extension New) and the future (Jin). I'm not sure what he'll choose yet, because there are still many unknowns and thinks that both Jin and Phee don't know about each other... but I hope that he can learn to choose the future. Because if he chooses the past, he'll never in his life be happy (though if Non is alive there's a possibility he could eventually learn to be happy, but I think the chance of that is low). And I think he deserves that, even if he's made some mistakes.

#dff the series #dead friend forever #dff #phee dff #pheejin #phee phromjinda #phi phromjinda #phijin #dff meta #dff analysis #dff spoilers #idk I just love Phee a lot #Phee is best boy

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