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#if canon won't do it i will
herebyjuly · 1 year
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bkg fic snippet
a short snippet of my bkg-centric multichaptered song (pov by ariana grande) fic for katsuki's bday (what a mouthful) !! ii'm planning on making it a different ship for each chapter bc i love me some baku loving
(this part is still unedited but i just wanted to share in celebration of katsuki's borth month ^^ pls enjoy hhhhh)
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
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(TODOROKI - BAKUGOU)
It's like you got superpowers
Turn my minutes into hours
Warm hands cradle his face, gentle, always gentle, and move in slow, deliberate strokes, filling Katsuki’s body with unbridled affection for the man (‘—the love of your life.’ a whisper, sounding eerily like him, echoes in the back of his mind. ‘Shut up.’ he says back) laying beside him and effectively rousing him from his slumber. He begrudgingly opens his eyes, only to squint at the natural light slipping past the curtains, bleeding into a soft afterglow which basks him and the room in molten gold. The blonde is greeted to the sight of one bleary eyed Todoroki Shouto, his face impassive - but eyes ever so vulnerable. “Good morning.” he greets, voice raspy and unused. 
Katsuki, in all his sleep ridden glory and not yet coherent enough to stop himself, smiles, tender and unassuming — with crinkled eyes and the appearance of the small dimple on the left side of his cheek that Shouto loved to poke and prod at whenever it was on display. 
He removes his hand from its clutch on Shouto’s bare back and instead, lays it on the top the one currently caressing his cheek, stopping the motion, “G’morning.” he replies, turning Shouto’s palm to face towards the ceiling and pressing his lips briefly onto the back of his hand. “What time is it?” 
Shouto shrugs, using his free hand to simply pull Katsuki’s body closerclosercloser — until he couldn’t tell where Katsuki began and Shouto ended — hand tightening around Katsuki’s narrow waist and burrowing his face into the blonde’s neck. “Too early for both of us to be awake.” The younger of the two grumbles, voice muffled into the fabric of his (Shouto’s) old tattered shirt. 
(Katsuki still remembers the day as clear as crystal when he had borrowed the shirt from his then ‘just classmate’ (and yes, I will punch myself before I admit that he was my crush, fuck you off-brand pikachu) when he had accidentally burned the better half of the hem of one of his trademark skull-tees because ‘you were too fuckin’ close half n’ half.’
So, like the oblivious, lovestruck idiot his now-boyfriend (no longer violently repressed crush) was, he had stripped himself of the shirt he had been wearing at the time and passed it to Katsuki like it was a seemingly normal reaction.
After they started dating, Katsuki had figured out that stealing (“I prefer the term permanently borrowing—”) Shouto’s shirts and slipping them on whenever he felt stressed or anxious or woke up in near tears from a nightmare, as it was far too late in the night for him to leave his room and go to Shouto’s instead, had helped soothed the overwhelming thoughts(?). The familiar and soothing scent of lavender wafting through his nose due to Shouto’s fabric softener, silly enough as it was, had him slipping into the realm of Morpheus far too easily than he would be pressed to admit.)
The two laid there in comfortable silence, basking in one another’s warmth.
Wait.. 
With a sudden vigor, Katsuki springs up on their bed, effectively shaking the last remnants of sleep from both himself and Shouto, who groans mournfully into the plush pillows. He scrambles to get his baggy shorts off from the floor, willing down his blush as the events of last night suddenly flooded his thoughts, and haphazardly pulls them up. He turns towards his boyfriend, still sprawled on their, admittedly, very soft and very tempting bed. “Your siblings are coming over.” he blurts. 
Shouto blinks, “Yes.”
“Fuck,” Katsuki curses, closing his eyes and breathing out through his nose slowly, counting down from ten to one, “Fuck.” He repeats, with more feeling.
“Fuyumi nee-san loves you,” Shouto points out, “and you and Natsu-nii are also close. I don’t quite understand why you’re freaking out over their visit.”
.......
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kinmokian · 2 years
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welcome to tumblr blog kinmokian where i have been pulling bullshit starlights lore out of my ass for the last 5 years
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novelconcepts · 28 days
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One of the most fundamentally interesting things to me about YJ and writing fic, specifically, is how the blame changes hands depending on the story. On whose perspective you're writing from. On whose story it is at a given moment. The very thing I dislike about viewers missing the point becomes so fascinating to me from within the narrative. Who are these characters when seen through the eyes of their peers?
Who does Jackie become? If you're Shauna, she's the love of your life, and your greatest rival, and the other half of your soul, and the person you blame for your dead dreams. If you're Van, she's the respected captain who earns none of your respect in the woods, the one who left you to die without blinking, the easiest target for teenage malice. If you're Natalie, she's competition for affection, the blabbermouth who can't leave well enough alone, the hands putting themselves to no good use. If you're Jackie? You're just a girl. You're so tired. You're so scared. You're losing face a little more every day, and you're made of despair, and you can't even trust your best friend. It's not your fault. It's not your fault. It's not your fault.
Who does Lottie become? If you're Natalie, she's your direct foil, the splinter under the edge of your thumbnail, the smart mouth to match your own, the confusing amalgamation of normal friend and mad ritual. If you're Misty, she's the first shred of obvious power in months, a leader who might need to be nudged back into line, a fascinating exercise in hitching your wagon to the right star early on. If you're Taissa, she's flat-nuts and endlessly frustrating, she's got your girlfriend's full attention, she's incredibly dangerous. If you're Lottie? You're just a girl. You're so tired. You're so scared. You've built a pedestal you can't keep your balance on, and you're not sure if you're right or going crazy, and you didn't want this. It's not your fault. It's not your fault. It's not your fault.
From outside the narrative, there is no bad guy. There is no blame. It is no one's fault. It is Man v. Nature, they are doing the best they can with an impossible situation. They're all trying to contribute what they can to the story, for better or worse.
From inside the narrative, you are a teenager trapped in a society constructed entirely of bare-bones-survival with the wildest assortment of girls. From inside the narrative, to stay human, you have to love and fight, respect and judge. Every story changes the game. Every story shifts the blame. A hero in one has the bloodiest hands in the next. And that, to me, is such a thrilling sandbox to play in.
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starflungwaddledee · 3 months
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wait.... wait, hang on. i'm about to draw him, which means there's a decision to make
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blog-of-frontiers · 1 month
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Okay do we get it now
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Do you know this queer character?
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Jon is Biromantic and Asexual, and uses He/Him pronouns!
Art by @ wellotwig on X
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viperwhispered · 1 month
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Rest
Guess what? I've got more Jamil x reader for y'all. You can also find this on ao3. No warnings, just 866 words of kinda fluffy(?) caretaking stuff with gender-neutral reader.
At this point, you know Jamil’s schedule almost as well as he does. So, when you have the chance, you head to Scarabia’s kitchen, hoping to spend some time with Jamil while he and the other students prepare dinner. 
However, when you enter, it takes you but a moment to notice Jamil’s uncharacteristic fumbling and the tired look in his eyes. The way Jamil’s chopping the vegetables has you worried about him cutting himself with that knife he’s usually so adept with, and it seems it’s only force of habit that’s keeping him on track.
You frown, and when your eyes meet Jamil’s, you can already see him put his guard up.
So he knows what state he is in, huh? And still, here he is.
It seems Jamil is reading your thoughts, all of him telling you drop it before any words are even said.
At least he still lets you lean in and give a quick kiss to his cheek in greeting.
“Hello love. Do you still have a lot on your agenda for today?” you ask, keeping your tone low for at least some semblance of privacy in the busy kitchen.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” is the response you get.
Of course.
It takes a little more pestering before Jamil actually answers your question. Your lips purse. That list is far too long to your liking.
You take a moment to think, juggling your own plans and to-do list against the urgency of the things Jamil mentioned.
“Will Kalim be eating from that?” you ask, pointing at the food Jamil is preparing.
“Yes.”
“Alright, I won’t be touching that one, then. I’ve gotta do a few things but I’ll be back when you’re done here.”
“Don’t,” Jamil says with a glare, clearly aware of what you’re thinking.
Yet even his disapproving look doesn’t have the usual weight behind it.
“Yes. I will,” you say firmly, even as your heart curls inwards with another bout of concern.
Really, when did he get so tired?
And how did you not notice it earlier?
You leave the kitchen before Jamil can protest further, hurrying through the dorm corridors to find Kalim.
Soon you have an enthusiastic – and concerned – supporter for your plans. You have Kalim point out a few reliable Scarabia students to help with a few of the most urgent matters Jamil mentioned – cleaning up the common areas, delivering some paperwork to Crowley, preparing some dorm-wide notices – while you see to Kalim getting his school supplies in order for the following day. You even recruit a couple of third years to help Kalim with his homework.
You’ll see to the rest tomorrow – after all, you do also have a boyfriend to look after.
Your conversation over dinner can hardly be called anything else than an argument – despite Kalim’s best attempts at acting as a moderating force between you two. It is very tempting to ask Kalim to tell Jamil to take the rest of the day off – it’s not like Jamil would be willing to openly disobey a direct order. Still, you really don’t need to remind Jamil of his position on top of everything else that you’re already doing more or less against his wishes.
Eventually, however, Jamil’s had a square meal, the most urgent things on his to-do list are being taken care of, and you’ve managed to drag him to his bed.
“I really wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard,” you murmur, your arms wrapped tightly around Jamil. You’re telling yourself you really do just want to cuddle, to offer some respite to Jamil. Still, there might also be a part of you worried that if you were to let go, he’d just jump up and get back to working himself to the bone.
Yet, for all his protestations, just the fact that you’ve gotten Jamil to lay down with you speaks volumes of his current exhaustion.
“I can’t just leave my duties, albi. You know this.”
“Making yourself too indispensable, is what you’re doing,” you protest.
Oh, you know it’s not so simple. Not with his background, not with all the expectations and assumptions.
But sometimes you really wish it would be.
Jamil merely scoffs in response to your words.
Still, it is undeniable that he is slowly beginning to relax in your arms, slowly bringing his head closer to yours. His eyes are starting to flutter, too.
“I will still need to help Kalim with his homework, at the very least.”
You wonder who he is trying to convince more, you or himself.
“Amin and Khalil are helping him. They’re basically top of their classes, aren’t they? I’m sure they’ve got it.”
Still, Jamil frowns.
You sigh. He really is not letting go, is he?
“Do you want me to go supervise?” you ask.
And leave you, unsaid yet hanging there right after your words.
“Don’t,” Jamil eventually says, the word barely more than a breath.
It seems he has accepted his fate.
You softly caress Jamil’s hair, listening to his softening breathing.
And when you wake up, wholly unaware of having been lulled to sleep in the first place, it’s to the lightest of touches from Jamil’s fingers.
Tagging @diodellet @twstgo @crystallizsch @jamilvapologist @jamilsimpno69 as per request If you'd like to be tagged for any future works, let me know!
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maniacwatchestheworld · 3 months
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You know something? Out of all the ideas that the Danny Phantom fandom has mined the everloving shit out of, I feel that Blood Blossoms have not been mined as a concept NEARLY enough!
Because just like... A flower that hurts ghosts...? That's actually a pretty honest to Arceus interesting idea! Can different species of Blood Blossoms do the same thing? Are there different flowers in the genus that can effect ghosts differently...? Are there other herbal or traditional folk medicine type stuff that can also effect ghosts...? Like, in the human world, Danny Phantom ghosts are pretty OP. But there being stuff that just grows and lives naturally on Earth being able to repel or harm ghosts? That's actually just neat! I wanna see that stuff used more and to know how ghosts would have been fought against in ye olde times before all of this fancy technology came along!
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grxceful-ly · 11 months
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peter bringing mayday with him to do spider stuff because yeah, he had things to live for before--but now he has a child and he is going to raise this child and be there for her and maybe if she’s there, strapped to his chest, he’ll be more careful. he’ll consider his life almost as precious as hers. maybe bringing mayday to work is a precaution. 
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breadandblankets · 1 month
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Bruce, slightly hungry on patrol:
Cass, not that far removed from straight up living on the streets: I found this rat, would you like some rat?
Bruce, born and raised a billionaire™: um uh thanks?
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revvethasmythh · 2 days
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ngl, "I'm the only one who understands [x] character" or "only ten people actually get [x] character" is like the #1 biggest red flag to me that a person probably will have an inaccurate interpretation of a character. because if you've decided that you understand that character in a uniquely objective way over others, you inherently wall yourself off from alternate opinions by deciding they're wrong on the basis of simply not being the exact same as yours. if you can't incorporate or even just ponder other people's perspectives, people who have lived different lives and are approaching the content through different but potentially very useful lenses, you might miss out on some extremely enlightening and fascinating interpretations. building yourself an insulated echo chamber is probably the worst thing you could do when assessing a character like that
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supemaeve · 2 months
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It's funny, you know, of all the people here, I've known you the longest. Sometimes it just seems like you're the only person I can lean on.
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lunarharp · 2 months
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:')
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irregularbillcipher · 4 months
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so god forbid i’m seen just as an average human being
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bearhugsandshrugs · 2 months
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Somewhere fandom culture lost the plot. Some parts of our fandom have forgotten the word "fanon" and instead started labelling all their (shared) HCs as canon.
Don't get me wrong. I also have my own interpretations. But I do think it's important to be able to distinguish what is a headcanon (i.e. your personal interpretation), what is fanon (i.e.: a significant portion of the fandom accepts that headcanon), and what is canon (i.e. what is in the game and the (sub)context).
I applaud all the creativity and interpretations of characters, but please be for real that most very popular fanons aren't supported by lore/canon/in-game mechanics/facts.
Like: you can reset Shadowheart's class and make her a bard, but her canon class is a cleric. Even if everyone makes her a bard tomorrow, that would still not make her a canon-bard.
That's what's been going on lately when I look at discourse around Durge, Durgetash, Astarion (especially ascended Astarion), or Gortash, to just name a few.
But then people scream really loudly about their interpretation being the only correct one. And worse, they start harassing other fans over it. Start looking down at parts of fandom who don't share that fanon.
I tend to get lost in my own HCs too, sure. But it's valuable to take a seat every now and then, set all the fanart and fanfics aside, and (re)play the game, the entire thing that is, and bask in the context and canon. It's humbling, I can tell you that from personal experience.
Own your headcanon, thrive in your fanon, but be respectful enough to recognize it as such.
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khattikeri · 20 days
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drives me nuts when people treat jin guangyao or wei wuxian like they're socialist revolutionaries like no! they're not!! in fact their respective roles in society and complacency regarding its hierarchies is why ANY of the story even happens to begin with!!!
jin guangyao doesn't hold bitterness just because he was born lower class. he is bitter because others deride him and his prostitute mother in spite of both their intelligence, skills, and efforts to climb the ladder.
why do you think we were shown scenes of other prostitutes in the brothel deriding meng shi for being literate, for "trying" so hard? why do you think we were shown scenes of anxin taunting meng yao and throwing shit at him because he was trying to learn cultivation at his mother's behest?
why do you think jin guangyao arranged for the arson of that brothel, burned to the ground with everyone except sisi inside? that's not the behavior of someone who believes in true equality and the inherent worth of sex workers as human beings!
that's the behavior of someone who thinks he's better than them. the behavior of a man who already came up on top through political games and war crimes, backstabbing and spying for the sake of the "greater good".
i won't rehash his argument to nie mingjue that he didn't have a choice-- he had some choice, but no matter what he does his class will come up and people will always assume the worst and try to hurt him for it, which forces his hand to do whatever will protect him best (hence 'no choice').
jin guangyao did everything he could to secure his own safety and a place among those already higher up. and by that point, he'd won it.
the fact that the temple rebuilt on the brothel site is to guanyin, the goddess of mercy, is even more ironic! the fact that jin guangyao has the goddess's statue carved to look like his own mother is proof that he viewed both her and himself as higher than them. more worthy than them.
of course he cared about the general welfare of others (read: the watchtowers). but consider also that there is no watchtower near yi city, which ended up being one of xue yang's playgrounds. jin guangyao can and will turn a blind eye to certain sufferings if it is convenient to him.
sure, jin guangyao made undeniable contributions to cultivation society and accessibility, but he is not at any point trying to topple existing class structures. his adherence to them is in fact integral to his own downfall in the end.
it brings with it the inevitability of society conveniently ignoring his triumphs and genuine moments of humanity to deride him once more as an evil, disgusting son of a whore once his crimes come to light.
now for wei wuxian. he's the righteous protagonist of the story and he doesn't give a fuck what society thinks, yes, but he wasn't out there trying to cause an uprising so that all the poor servant classes and lower could become cultivators. he wasn't trying to redistribute wealth or insinuate that those who are lower deserve to be viewed as equal to the gentry.
the most critical and non-explicitly stated fact of mo dao zu shi is that wei wuxian has always been resigned to his position in the social hierarchy.
his unreliable narration, especially regarding his own past and thoughts, is so damn important. he doesn't EVER tell the reader directly that people treated him any which way at their leisure because of his parents' differing social classes.
no. instead we are shown how much prestige he is afforded as cangse-sanren's son-- reputation as a talented and charming young cultivator, made head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang-- and how little respect he is given in the same breath, as the son of servant wei changze.
the way he is treated by others is as fickle as the wind. if he obeys and does as told, there is no reward. of course he did that, that was the expectation to start with! if he does anything even slightly inconvenient, there is a punishment. of course he has no manners, what else would you expect from an ungrateful son of a servant?
wei wuxian's righteousness is not a matter of adhering to principles he was explicitly taught, the way nie mingjue values honor or the way jiang cheng always tries to prove himself. wei wuxian does the right thing regardless of what the consequences are to him because his good deeds are always downplayed and his bad deeds are always singled out, no matter who or how many people were doing it with him.
he has faced this double standard since childhood. there are points in the novel where it's clear that this sticks out to wei wuxian, but does he ever fight back against that view of himself? does he EVER, at any point in the story, explain his actions and choices to jianghu society and try to debate or appeal to their sense of reason?
no. because he knows, at his very core, that any explicit deviation from their interests whatsoever will be punished.
slaughtering thousands of people is fine when they want him to do it, and when the alternative is unjust torture, re-education camps, and encroachment upon other sects' lands.
slaughtering thousands of people who are trying to paint him as evil for not going along with their genocidal plans, however, is punished.
wei wuxian knows his acceptance among the higher classes is superficial and unsteady. from the age of 10, when jiang fengmian took him in, he knew subconsciously that he could be kicked out at any time.
he knows that cultivation society doesn't care about war crimes and concentration camps and mistreatment of the remaining wen survivors of the sunshot campaign. but the right thing to do now that they aren't at wartime is to help them, plus they'd punish him either way for it, so he will.
in this regard wei wuxian is more self-aware of his position than jin guangyao. he does care about common people and he does try his best to help them as an individual. even if that ends up with him disabled, arrested, targeted in sieges, or dead.
but is he revolutionary? in the full equality, fight the establishment, rewrite laws, change social structures and people's perceptions of class sense?
no. no. he isn't.
now my knowledge of chinese society and history is fairly limited to my hindu diaspora upbringing and our shared cultural similarities ... but speaking to what i absolutely know us true, adherence to one's social class is expected.
this is rigid. efforts and merits might bring you some level of mobility, but in the end, the circumstances of your birth will always be scrutinized first, and your behavior compared to the stereotypes of where and how you originate.
mdzs is not about revolution, and none of its characters are able to truly change its society. there is no grand "maybe cutsleeves aren't inherently bad" or "i'm sorry for persecuting you and believing hearsay, you were truly a good person all along!" at the finale.
people ignore history and repeat it again with the next batch of ugly gossip and rumors.
wei wuxian, lan wangji, and luo qingyang find peace only by distancing themselves from cultivation society and its opinions.
jin guangyao and wei wuxian both cannot ever escape from others' perception of their origins and actions. regardless of their personal beliefs, they are not revolutionaries.
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