#might self destruct this tag later but it's like.

[eastgaysian]

Sorry this is a dumb question but can you explain why tomshiv is not abusive? Shiv seems to hit a lot of textbook behaviours of emotional abusers

thank you for your follow up clarifying this was in good faith bc i checked my inbox yesterday right after getting high and was like man come on. don't do this to me. but yeah i can talk about it, it's obviously something i have a fair amount of thoughts on

on a fundamental level, i take issue with the assertion that there are 'textbook behaviors of emotional abusers' in the first place. distilling abuse down to a set of behaviors is, imo, effectively meaningless and totally unproductive. it's not the behavior of an individual that defines abuse, it's a specific and intentionally cultivated imbalance of power and control within a relationship. victims of abuse can and do resort to survival mechanisms that could be considered in isolation as 'abusive behavior', the point is that you can't consider them in isolation. there's a gulf of difference between the same actions when they're coming from a person in a position of significant financial or physical or social power over someone else, or when they're coming from the person at a disadvantage.

i think viewing abuse as a set of behaviors also encourages you to treat interpersonal abuse as if it's discontinuous with systemic abuse, which is inaccurate and unproductive. a key part of succession's premise is that, because the family is literally the business, the familial abuse within the roy family is inextricable from the broader systems of capitalism, patriarchy, and the sexual violence and abuse endemic to them. with regards to how the show satirizes and critiques these systems, i think it's very telling that all of the characters are to some degree complicit and/or participants in abuse, but logan is the only one i'd say is unambiguously and intentionally presented as 'an abuser' (whose abuse is not an isolated product of him as a person, but integrated into/inseparable from the capitalist system which persists after his death). still, logan isn't reduced to a one-dimensional angry, abusive dad, he's given depth and complexity. his continued insistence that he loves his children isn't treated as something that's untrue, but that doesn't make it inherently good, and it certainly isn't incompatible with him abusing them.

circling back to tom and shiv. their relationship is unhealthy, it's not good for either of them to be married, shiv does fucking awful things to tom and tom does awful things right back, i'm not questioning any of that. but at my most cynical and bitchy, what it comes down to is quite simply: shiv doesn't have enough power over tom to be abusive, systemically or personally.

the thing is sometimes you see people say 'wow, if the genders were reversed people would say tom and shiv's relationship is unambiguously abusive!' which... hrm, but really the issue is that. the genders are the way they are, that's for a reason, and yes, that does make a significant difference in how we perceive their relationship and power dynamics. tom holds very real and present power over shiv as a man and as her husband, proposing to her when she was vulnerable in a way that placed huge pressure on her to accept and then trying to get her to have his baby so he can become patriarch. shiv's the heiress with the legitimacy of her family name and generational wealth but she is continuously, unavoidably subjected to gendered discrimination and violence. she's never allowed direct access to real power - she has to rely on the men around her, her husband or her brothers, and if they don't feel like humoring her she's shit out of luck.

this doesn't cancel out like a math equation, but it definitely makes things much more complicated than shiv being an Evil Bitch Wife to her Poor Pitiful Husband. when shiv finally does push tom too far, he immediately, successfully, goes over her head to her abusive father to fuck her over. maybe shiv wants to be her father in her relationships and exert the same kind of control he does. but she doesn't and she can't! she does not have that power! she cannot stop tom from kicking back and his hits are significant. as much as she might like to pretend otherwise, tom not only has always had the power to leave in a way shiv doesn't, he had and has the power to fuck her up badly, and he's used that power. that is simply not the power dynamic between abuser and victim to me.

i also have to say that abuse is not always going to be definitive black and white. in real life there are plenty of unambiguous situations but there are also plenty of complicated situations, and applying judgments to fiction is not always straightforward. i can't exactly call someone 'wrong' for personally being uncomfortable with tom and shiv's relationship or believing shiv is abusive, but i'm very skeptical of the viewpoint and the motivations or assumptions that are often contained within. if shiv is abusive, she definitely isn't uniquely so among the cast, so you had better be applying that label and any associated moral judgments equally across the board.

#mingbox #abuse mention #might self destruct this tag later but it's like. #my relationship with my ex was definitely unhealthy and fucked me up but it was not abusive because fundamentally. #he was actively worse to me than i was to him but the moment he went too far i cut him off and took all the friends in the divorce #if he had more influence in our social circle or could actually successfully emotionally manipulate me it would've been much worse #but he didn't so it wasn't. i won the idgaf wars and everyone liked me better because i am not an asshole so i peaced out. #he's a dickhead and i had to leave that relationship for my own good. still it was not abusive #chalkboard

[zanarkandskylines]

Hello! I was wondering if I could request a balugou or Todoroki x reader helping reader grieve their father. Their father died unexpectedly, and even years later they haven’t processed grief a lot yet. Like some days they’ll be fine, then something will remind them of their dad, or randomly in the middle of the night they’ll cry when they realize they lost their father. If not, totally okay! Love your work so so much!

omg anon, absolutely! i (unfortunately) have a lot of feelings about grief and have no problem talking/writing about it as i find it therapeutic. i super appreciate the respectful approach and thank you for reading my work! supporting my little fleeting thoughts brings me more warmth than you know. 😭💗 i am gonna choose bakugo over the two of them since i don’t think i could do todoroki well enough, hope that’s okay!!

lost in the echo 『 ♡ 』 bakugo x fem!reader ⇢ it all happened so fast - one moment, your family is happy and healthy. the next? it's broken and in disarray, loss shattering your whole world. in a world of super heroes, people often forget just how painfully human they are when sickness strikes.

꒰ tags & content ꒱ heavy talks of grief (parent's passing), talks of self harm/substance abuse (drugs/alcohol), talks of cancer/illness & hospitals | major emotional hurt/comfort, eventual fluff, sprinkles of angst about being perceived while grieving, soft bakugo, reader’s best friends are bakugo and mina, bakugo’s secretly crushing on reader, “happy ending,” characters are 18+ ꒰ cross posted to ao3 | wc; -1.5k ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist 

☆ inspired by "neon grave" by dayseeker ☆

⋆ ˚ʚɞ — just a general note to please, please mind the tags for this fic. it's not dark content, per se, but it deals with heavy subject matter (descriptive self destructive habits & harm) and could be upsetting for some. much love for you all! ♡

───

“This party sucks,” you whine, leaning on Mina’s shoulder. “Monoma’s drinks are weak as hell.”

Mina pats your head and exhales dramatically. “Might be time to call it a night, babe. It’s almost midnight, and they’re weak cause you’ve downed six cups.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever.”

The two of you had been invited by some of the class 3B students to hang out in their dorms over the weekend, AKA drink and bullshit the night away. Months ago, you wouldn’t have been caught dead at any of these parties, but nowadays? You were looking for any way to silence the nagging voice in your head. Mina tagged along, mostly to keep an eye on you since none of your other classmates attended said parties. She’d been on her phone most of the night, texting and scrolling in the corner as you knocked back drinks.

“Who the fuck are you texting?” Your words came out acidic, but that wasn’t your intention. The alcohol was beginning to sink in, stirring the emotions in your chest. It was Russian Roulette, you never knew which one would be loaded in the chamber and ready to fire.

Mina clicked her tongue at your tone, raising her eyebrows. “Why do you care?”

Ah, that was code for “I’m texting Bakugo updates on how you’re doing because we’re worried for your wellbeing.”

Logically, you knew they just cared about you. You’d had a tough couple of months - nothing crazy, just that your dad fucking died and tragically lost his battle against cancer.

The news wasn’t easy to hear, let alone digest, the longer it sat with you back when your mom first broke the news. Cancer. One of the most gut churning words in any language. The sheer mention of the term is enough to make anyone’s hairs stand on end, especially when it’s applied to someone you love and care about.

Fluorescent orange bottles lined your kitchen counter back home, multitudes of medication prescribed to keep your dad in a haze while his body decayed. They taunted you, a constant reminder of the grim reality your family was stuck in. You’ve memorized the smell of the hospital, too - that faint stench of death mixed with cleaning supplies. Late nights in the glow of vending machines of the ER lobby and long days spent listening to nurses drone on about hope and miracles. They even had the gall to give you and your mom false hope, declaring he was in remission one week before he died.

You shake your head to rid yourself of the memories, pissed off that even in your buzzed state of mind, all of it was crystal clear. Mina gives you a quizzical stare, realizing that you haven’t heard hear her talking to you the last few minutes.

“We’re leaving,” she exclaims, grabbing your wrist. You tug it from her grasp and chug the rest of the drink in your hand, tossing the now empty cup to the floor.

“Fuck off, Mina! I know you’ve been talking with Katsuki all night. You two treat me like I’m a fragile little bitch!” You yell, waving your arms for dramatic effect. At this point, she’s used to your combative outbursts. She knows you’re grieving, but goddamn, she wanted to smack the shit out of you when you got like this.

“Suit yourself, I’m goin’ to bed.” And with that, she leaves.

Mina actually walks out and leaves you.

You storm to the door, throwing it open and pursuing her down the hallway of the Class B dorms.

“Minaaa!” You call after her, slurring the latter half of her name. She’s got her phone to her ear as she cocks her head to the side, acknowledging she heard you but isn’t listening.

You’re not proud of what you’re about to do.

Sprinting to catch up to her, you take the phone out of her hand from behind, the screen blinking the caller ID briefly - Bakugo. A sinister cackle escapes you while bringing the phone to your ear.

“Katsuki fuckin’ Bakugo. You and Mina are the fucking worst. Why can’t you just let me self destruct, huh?!” The rage bubbling in your guts was too strong to ignore. The metaphorical gun was loaded, and unfortunately for Bakugo, he was the target.

“You treat me like I’m some weak-ass bitch. Just ‘cause my dad fuckin’ died doesn’t mean shit! I’m not a goddamn child, Katsuki!” Your voice cracks over the word ‘child.’

“Treating me like a kid is rich coming from you, ya know. Hah!”

Mina attempts to grab the phone from you, but fails when you duck out of her reach, dancing down the hall away from her. Bakugo still hasn’t said a word back to you.

“The guy who treated sweet little Midoriya like shit for no reason, bullied him over a fuckin’ non-existent grudge. You’re the goddamn poster child of a shitty friend.”

“Y/N, ENOUGH!” Mina screeches, ripping the phone from your hand. She turns away from you while raising the phone to her ear once more.

“I’m sorry Baku-“ Mina’s interrupted by soft snivels. She could tell he tried to hide it - you made him cry.

“Hey, she’s just drunk and being an asshole. She doesn’t mean it,” she whispers. “Get to bed, I’ve kept you up long enough.” Mina hangs up the phone and turns her attention back to you. She doesn’t say a word - her eyes tell you how disappointed she is with your actions.

You quietly sulk behind her back to the Class A dorms, reveling in the guilt of your actions.

───

Monday comes along and you still haven't said two words to Bakugo. Admittedly, you're ashamed of yourself and don't have the courage to apologize right now. It wasn’t the first time you’ve gotten into a small tiff, it always goes back to normal. You’re sure this’ll pass and he’ll just talk to you again…right?

But he doesn’t.

Classes wrap for the day and he leaves homeroom without looking your way.

───

The silence in your dorm room is starting to drive you mad, not having a decent enough distraction for the endless loop of thoughts circling in your mind. You wander into the bathroom and lazily open your medicine cabinet. A set of translucent orange bottles occupied the bottom shelf - you’d taken them from home, stealing your dead dad’s various medications. A pang of guilt stabs you in the gut while you shuffle through them. You had zero idea what most of these pills even did, but if it got you high? Who fucking cares.

You’re about to dump a few in your hand when something stops you, dropping the tablets onto the floor.

What the fuck?

“Dad…?” You speak aloud, knowing full well how fucking insane you sound for thinking your father’s ghost smacked the medicine out of your hand. As expected, there is no response, just dead air. You scurry back to your bed, grabbing for your phone. Instinctively, you’re about to click Bakugo’s name when your eyes fall on the time: 11:56PM.

You call him anyways.

After a few rings, the line picks up and you hear shuffling before he verbally answers.

“…Hey.”

“Uhh, hi. Sorry for waking you.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Can you come to my room?”

There’s a pause.

“Yeah.”

“Thank you. Door's open.”

The line ends with a click.

A minute or two later, your dorm room door cracks open, Bakugo stepping inside and closing it quietly behind him. He hesitantly makes his way over to the bed and sits beside you.

“Y’okay?”

“I almost took some pills. Something stopped me, though and I didn’t.” Shame creeps through you as you're acknowledging the destructive behavior for the first time in months.

“…I’m glad you ditched ‘em.”

Another pause.

“I’m sorry for the other night.”

Bakugo inhales deeply before shifting his gaze to the floor. “Yeah. ‘S fine.”

Obviously, it was not fine.

“Katsuki, seriously. I’m sorry for being an asshole.” You place a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t deserve to have you here right now.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t say shit like that. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t wanna be.”

The two of you sit in silence for what feels like an eternity.

Bakugo speaks up first. “Why’d you call me over? Y’coulda told me about the pills over the phone.”

Your eyes begin to well with tears, overcome with emotions that you'd been withholding for too long.

"I miss my dad," You say between hiccupped sobs. "I don't know what to do...it fucking hurts."

Bakugo doesn't hesitate to pull you close, awkwardly throwing his arms around you. "I know."

Everything comes pouring out of you, every single emotion that you've shoved away into the imaginary closet in your head since the funeral. No matter how many times you tell him that he can leave, he doesn't. He stays with you the entire night, laying beside you as you cry yourself to sleep.

───

When you stir awake the next morning, Bakugo's arm is securely hooked around your waist as he's peacefully resting behind you. You give him a light shake to wake him up.

"Mornin'," he grunts, sleepily opening one eye. "How ya feelin'?"

Honestly? You felt...okay.

"Good, I think. Better than I have in awhile," you say, rolling over to face him. "Thank you. I'm sorry again for-"

Unexpectedly, his lips are on yours, silencing your apology. You let out a squeak before melting into the warmth he offers, tugging on your waist to pull you closer to him. He breaks the kiss long enough to mumble, “Forget about all that. Just shut up and kiss me, dammit.”

You can’t help but feel guilty about his affection, how you didn’t think you deserved it after treating him so horribly. All Bakugo wanted to do was be there for you when you pushed him, and Mina, away.

“But…why now?” You ask while pulling away, perplexed at how casual he’s being about all of this.

He just shakes his head, grin plastered on his smug face. “Cause I don’t like seein’ you cry. And Mina may or may not have blabbed about a certain drunken rant ya went on about me.”

What the hell was he…oh. Ohhhh.

Dammit Mina!

“What did she tell you?!” You blurt out, covering your face with your hands. Bakugo grabs your wrists, pulling your hands away from your flared cheeks as he laughs.

“She didn’t say shit, but now I wanna hear it.”

You smack him playfully in the arm, huffing as you turn over. He scoots up and lays his head behind yours on the pillow.

“I care about you, idiot. That’s why. Do I need another reason?”

You close your eyes, a smile settling on your lips as you grab his hand, moving back to snuggle closer to him.

“No. That’s good enough for me.”

The pain in your heart momentarily subsides and offers you a glimpse of hope.

Things will get easier, no matter how dark it is.

💥 tags; @slayfics

#bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader fluff #bakugo x reader angst #katsuki bakugo #bakugo angst #bakugo fluff #tw: grief #mha bakugo x reader #my hero academia bakugo #my hero academia #☆.from the stars #☆.rei writes

[cooliestghouliest]

LOVE ME TWO TIMES, ch. one

(chapter one) (chapter two)

PAIRING: eventual Mungrove x Reader

SUMMARY: Struggling to come to terms with the abrupt abandonment of your father, you’re left with two options – attend an “all girls’ therapeutic boarding academy” that’s really more Bedlam Insane Asylum than trusty reformative school, or move half-way across the country to a small town in Indiana to live with your older brother, Rick. The upheaval of your life in Fresno might just end up being a little star-crossed and a whole lot serendipitous.

WORD COUNT: 3.5k+

SERIES TAGS: angst. some pretty heavy topics in later chapters. just enough fluff to hopefully balance it all out. eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI). eventual love triangle. neurodiversity. dom/sub undertones (dom!Billy, switch!Eddie, switch!Reader), also bi!Eddie and bi!Reader but confused!Billy. drugs and drug addiction. no use of Y/N (but much use of nicknames and pet names). Reefer Rick is Matthew Lillard circa Senseless. more TBA as the story progresses.

CHAPTER TAGS: absent dads and mean moms. brief mention of self-destructive tendencies (way more about that later). your brother's a total cockblock. long-winded parental background information. this is really just some stage setting before we get into the nitty gritty.

A/N: this is my favorite fic i've ever written, and now it's coming at you re-edited. it's my verbose word child, sprinkled with a few What The Fuck and Holy Shit moments, dolled up with some silly humor and a dose of hot (and often borderline depraved) smut. a lot's already planned for this, so i hope you enjoy. :-)

—

chapter title: O Brother, Where Art Thou?

You weren’t expecting the high pitch of the doorbell that sounded throughout your colonial-style home, and proof of that was now spilled all over the kitchen floor.

Tiny green buds were sprinkled across the white-and-black linoleum tile, some scattered in the blonde mess of curls that belonged to the boy kneeling before you, his mouth busy between your legs.

You’d been attempting to multitask, rolling a joint while twisted awkwardly at the dining table, the quarterback’s head shrouded by your bare thighs, lapping noisily at your wet center.

You huffed out a frustrated sigh at the spillage, but it quickly turned into a moan when goldilocks gave a particularly harsh suck on your clit.

“You needa get that?” he mumbled against your folds, tongue halting its assault only to speak before diving back in, showing no intention of stopping.

You shook your head, one hand moving to tangle in the his hair, the other crumbling up the now empty and useless rolling paper. “Uh-uh… prob’ly just some Mormons,” you answer, beginning to rock your hips up into the warm mouth covering your cunt. “I don’t wanna be saved.”

Chris… or Carl… or Craig… whatever his name was, laughed, the sound vibrating nicely against your heat. Your toes curled at the sensation, thighs wrapping tight around his ears.

He moaned appreciatively at your movement, running his tongue flat against the length of your opening. Maybe you could keep this one around. He liked New Kids on the Block unironically, but holy shit, he knew what to do with his mouth.

The bell rang again.

And then again, and again, and again.

“Oh, little seeeee-eeee-ster!” came a familiar male voice from the other side of the front door. “I know you’re in there, Bean. I can see your shadow in the kitchen!”

You shot up straight, aligning your posture and pulling Chris Carl Craig from between your legs by the grip you had in his hair. He gave an unappealing whine, his fingers moving up to console his scalp.

Standing quickly, you adjusted your pleated skirt so it fell normal again, just above your knees. “Up, up, up,” you impatiently urged the jock still kneeling on the ground, smoothing your clothing and hair to make sure nothing looked too out of place.

“Who is that?” the blonde asked, finally following you into a standing position, large hand still cradling his head. “Still the Mormons?”

“It was never Mormons, Chet,” you said, hoping your shot-in-the-dark guess at his name was right.

It wasn’t.

“It’s Chad,” he said, eyes beginning to narrow. Whether it was in suspicion, confusion, annoyance, or a combination of all three, you didn’t know. And it didn’t matter. You needed to get him out of here without your new visitor catching sight of him, or else you knew you’d never hear the end of it. Chad was still intent on conversing, though. “We’ve literally been in the same school district since, like, kindergarten.”

You bit your lower lip, offering a sheepish smile. “Right,” you said. “I know that.” You didn’t. “Sorry. Head’s a little loopy right now. Your tongue could win awards.”

With Chad’s newfound cocky grin, you knew the flattery angle had worked out. It usually did. Boys were such suckers for some ego stroking.

“Oh, fuckin’ right!” you heard from the front door, the visitor’s voice now cheerful. The door handle began to jangle, and you heard the sound of a key in the lock.

He must have found the spare. Of course he had. He’d only lived here his entire childhood, just like you.

The key had been in the same place it always had been since moving to Fresno -- under the coir doormat that read Definitely Not a Trap Door, courtesy of your father. He’d made it for the family after moving from Chicago to California for his new teaching position at CSU in ‘70. Your mom still hadn't gotten around to throwing it out, even though she’d managed to get rid of almost everything else inside the home that reminded her of her ex-husband.

The door swung open and there stood your older brother in all his punk rock, Fuck-the-Bourgeoisie glory. Short bleached blonde hair, numerous facial piercings, ripped Dead Kennedys t-shirt, tight red tartan pants, muddy black Doc Martens. He was smiling wide, dopey.

Fuckin' Rick.

You started to match his expression, unable to resist your brother’s effortless and childlike charm, but your smile fell flat when Rick’s now disapproving gaze landed on the blonde still standing at your side.

“A Letterman, Bean? Really?” Rick asked you incredulously, having spotted Chad’s football jacket as the jock in question slid it from its place on the kitchen chair to rest over his broad shoulder.

“What?” you asked Rick coyly, quickly eyeing Chad. “You know I don’t discriminate. I’m a true equal opportunist.”

Chad seemed oblivious to the underlying context of the conversation between the pair of siblings. He was watching the two of you interact with seemingly nothing behind his eyes.

God, so cute but so totally stupid.

You closed the distance between the two of you, Chad looking hopeful he was going to be kissed or something, but you instead reached your hand out to pluck a few pieces of weed from his hair. “You can go now,” you told him, finger tapping his nose lightly.

Chad’s face scrunched at your touch but he then shrugged it off, picking his backpack up off the kitchen floor before making his way to the front door. “See ya at school,” he said to you over his shoulder. Stopping briefly next to your brother, Chad assessed him before saying, “Um, bye, whoever you are.”

Rick pulled his lips into a tight line, raising his brows in amusement. He clapped his hand hard on Chad’s back a few times before pushing the footballer out the door. “Later, loverboy.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

An hour and a half later, you and Rick were seated on opposite ends of the tufted tuxedo sofa in the living room. A box of half-eaten extra cheese pizza laid open in between the two of you.

Some low budget horror VHS was playing on the TV across from the couch, the volume low. You thought it was called Ghoulies. You kept catching glances of tiny, ugly wet looking monsters scurrying on the screen out of your peripheral.

You’d been talking to Rick about senior year at Fresno Central High (you said you were doing great, straight A’s across the board, but in reality, you were failing everything but English and Music).

You'd been talking about work at Spins and Needles, the record store you’d been employed at for a little over two years now (you told him you’d gotten promoted to Assistant Manager, which was true, but you left out the fact that you were on Strike Two of Three for blowing off shifts to get high with some goth kids that routinely came in a few hours before closing).

And you'd been talking about your mom (this you were honest about – “She’s still a huge bitch, Rick, that hasn’t changed”).

But then he tried to bring up your dad, asking in an obnoxiously forced nonchalant tone if you’d heard from him lately.

But then he tried to bring up your dad, asking in an obnoxiously forced nonchalant tone if you’d heard from him lately.

That’s where you stopped him.

You were not going to talk about your dad.

Flipping the pizza box lid shut harshly, you sat up straight and faced him.

“Why are you really here?” you demanded.

Rick sighed, defeated.

He knew you’d catch on soon enough that this supposed innocent visit was actually a planned mission. He’d just been hoping maybe you’d be the one to breach the topic of going back to Indiana with him. Maybe you wanted out of this Californian hellhole. A chance at a fresh start, hundreds of miles away.

But he knew you recently had developed a penchant for self-destruction and self-catastrophizing, which meant getting you to see the bright side and the positives of his request was going to be near impossible.

Still, he had to try.

“Mom called me,” he admitted, which earned him a dramatic eye roll from you. “I know you’re failing your classes. I know your boss has been blowing up the landline wondering why you keep closing up shop so early. And I know mom’s a bitch. I’m trying to save you from her. She said she’s thinking of enrolling you into St. Mary’s.” Rick wasn’t surprised at the bewildered scoff you gave to that, St. Mary’s being Indiana’s notorious Catholic boarding school for wayward girls. He’d finally gotten to the point, the real reason he was there: “Come stay with me in Hawkins, Bean.”

“Wow, Rick, so noble. It only took you, what, ten years to come back for me?”

Rick couldn’t help but flinch, your wounding words accusing. And accurate.

It was true.

Rick, at twenty, had left Fresno in an old RV he’d bought for dirt cheap, with plans to travel the country and get the fuck away from his parents, Ronald and Maureen Lipton.

Or, away from his mother, really.

Ron Lipton was generally fine -- until a certain point in his life. To outsiders, the man seemed to be very happy and very put-together, successfully established in both his home life and his career.

Ron and Maureen had gotten married just a few short months following their high school graduation, after finding out Maureen was pregnant with Rick.

With the draft ever present, Ron enlisted in the army, while Maureen enlisted the help of her mother-in-law to take care of Rick (and eventually you, once you were born, conceived on one of Ron’s short stints back home), so she could work on her doctorate in psychiatry.

After being honorably discharged a handful of years later, Ron had gotten his Master’s degree in education and creative writing.

To the public, Ronald and Maureen Lipton were fantastic at keeping up the facade of Perfect Suburban Family.

In private, however, the Lipton household was like living in a layer of Hell.

Where Ron was imaginative and endlessly inquisitive, instilling a love of storytelling and curiosity in his children, Maureen was passive aggressive and judgemental, harboring jealousy for the relationship her children had with her husband. This eventually festered a spiteful dynamic between her and Ron, and between her and her offspring as well.

When the two of you were younger, Rick in his late teens and you in your last years of elementary school, one of your favorite backyard games was to wonder aloud to each other how and why your parents had ever even gotten together in the first place.

You were both sure that it must have been an arranged marriage of some sorts.

Rick thought maybe your grandparents had made a deal with the devil, and to ensure the safety of the family, Ronald and Maureen were forced to be betrothed for life.

You thought maybe Maureen was an evil sorceress who had cast a spell on your father, trapping him in a loveless marriage that he was an unsuspecting victim in.

The truth was not stranger than fiction.

The reason behind their nuptials was simple, really: Ronald was raised to believe he needed to provide for his family, and after having knocked Maureen up not only once but twice, he was resigned to the fact that this was his path in life.

Devoted father, loving husband.

While he couldn’t stand his wife, her harshness and indignation usurping any positive characteristics she may have once had, Ron did love his children. Dearly.

Rick was his wild child; his rebellious, rambunctious trouble maker.

Ron would sit on the front porch late at night, waiting for Rick to get home and tell him all about his latest escapades. What parties he’d gone to, what girls he’d kissed, whether he preferred the high from acid or mushrooms more. Ron lived vicariously through his son, encouraging the boy to play hard, but to play hard responsibly.

You were Ron’s Little Leia of Alderaan; his opinionated, open-minded warrior, brave enough to stand up to any bully who’d dare to make fun of you or your friends. You were Ron’s daydreamer, his whimsical muse, his daily reminder that there was still innocent softness in this cruel world.

You would have Daddy Daughter Dates twice a week, where you’d do things like go to the roller rink or have picnics in the park, and they always ended with a two scoop mint chocolate chip ice cream cone shared between the both of you.

But Ron’s love for his life dwindled the second he stepped foot inside his house -- where he was forced to occupy space with his resentful excuse of a wife, a woman who would never miss a beat to berate him for every choice he’d ever made in his life.

With your older brother gone, the squabbles between Ron and Maureen got worse.

Rick had been able to placate his father and put himself in the line of Maureen’s fire, taking her verbal hits so his father didn’t have to. You, being only ten when Rick had left, didn’t have much ground to stand on with your parents arguing, and trying to step in as Rick had would usually only make things escalate.

Ron fantasized about leaving, starting over anew. The immediate and resounding “no” that his subconscious always answered himself with, thinking of the kids, dwindled down over time, until all of his fantasizing led him to making actual plans of departure.

Last year, right before summer break was set to start, Ron finally left.

Having taken PTO from the campus, he’d waited that morning for Maureen to leave for work and for you to be on the bus to school. Alone, he took the time to pack all of his belongings, leaving only a few things behind, all with you in mind -- things to remind you of him in his absence. He’d intended on coming back for you as soon as possible, wanting to settle in somewhere before dragging his daughter into his uprooted life.

But it was over a year now that Ron had been gone, and you could count on one hand the amount of times he’d reached out to you.

You could count them on two fingers, actually.

The first time was the night after he’d left, when he’d tried explaining to you his reasoning, which you weren’t at all interested in hearing. You were beside yourself that he’d left you, just like Rick had, except Rick was your brother and that was normal, but Ron was your daddy and he was supposed to always be there.

Your mother, in anger that Ron would attempt to talk to you and not her, had disconnected the call, and while you waited by the phone all night for him to call back, he never did.

The second and last time he reached out was a few months ago, via letter for your 18th birthday. It was postmarked with an address in Fort Worth, Texas. When you’d tried writing back, you'd found the letter you'd sent in your mailbox a week later, marked Return to Sender.

It was mid-November now, and you hadn’t heard from him since.

At least Rick had kept in touch after he’d left.

He’d sent you care packages every month since arriving to Indiana in '81. They were full of sci-fi and horror books he’d found at the local Goodwill or Salvation Army, newspaper clippings for outlandish Classified segments, scribbled notes on stained notebook paper detailing concerts he’d gone to and new bands he thought you should check out.

Remembering this, you softened quickly after accusing Rick of abandoning, your biting comment causing guilt to swirl in your stomach.

Rick had his reasons to leave, you understood that. He was allowed to live his life. And even though he’d done just that, left and lived his life, he still always managed to keep tabs on you. The two of you hadn’t gone more than a few weeks without letters sent or parcels mailed back and forth since he’d first left home.

Never there, but never gone. Not really.

That was more than you could say for your father.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” you admitted, even though the hurt words you spoke did hold some kernel of truth. “It’s just… I don’t wanna have to start all over somewhere else.”

“It’ll be good for you,” Rick promised, choosing to let the accusation of his abandonment slide. He was sure you'd both get into it more later, considering it was a conversation that was long overdue. “The house is too big for just me anyway, and you know I’m fuckin’ shit at decorating. I’ve basically just been using beer cans for bookends and stuff like that – you could make it look way cozier.”

You laughed, sure your brother wasn’t exaggerating.

Rick was about as anti-capitalist as you could get, and that included being a minimalist when it came to possessions. Give the man a hand-me-down couch, a little TV, some weed, his cassettes, and a subscription to Playboy, and he’d be content for the rest of his life.

You were the opposite.

You loved things.

You had many different collections you’d amassed over the years -- your vast assortment of books had spilled from the two bookshelves in your room to several stacks littered throughout the house, much to your mother's annoyance; your vinyls were shoved into four big storage bins stacked under your octagonal bedroom window, which you draped a blanket over and used as a makeshift window seat nook; your cliques of creepy looking dolls you’d collected from estate sales and antique shops crowded your bed, your vanity, the storage shelf in your closet; the bug assemblages you’d been adding to since your childhood had their own corner of your room, little homes full of ladybugs, ants, and deathwatch beetles.

The idea that you could expand your knack for interior embellishing (hoarding, really) further than the confines of one room was one thing that made you start to consider taking Rick’s offer seriously.

That, and the realization that finally getting the fuck out of Fresno might not be such a bad idea.

Because what did you have there anymore, anyway? Shit grades? A handful of mean exes? A dead-end job?

Was any of that worth staying for?

You thought of your dad trying to reach out to you via telephone, imagined your mother answering and telling him you’d moved away and no longer lived there.

If it were only a few months since Ron had left, you didn’t think you would have gone with Rick back to Hawkins. You would have stayed just for the mere possibility that your dad would show up on the doorstep one day, begging for your forgiveness for leaving you alone with your coldhearted mother.

However, it was over a year now that he’d been gone. One year, four months, and fifteen days... if anyone was counting.

You’d never verbally admit it, but you still were.

There was a page hidden in the back of your diary where you kept track.

Your hopefulness was starting to make you sick.

Maybe a change wouldn’t be so bad.

Going back to Hawkins with Rick sure beat being forced to attend an all girls’ reformatory school, one with a reputation that claimed the headmaster performed shock therapy on students in lieu of giving them detentions.

You were sure that was just a rumor, but still. You didn’t want to take any chances.

“Bean, let me be there for you,” Rick said, reaching over to grasp your hand with his fingers. You noted his nails were painted a lime green. “It’ll be just like when we were kids, except now you’re older and actually cool so I won’t be embarrassed to introduce you to all my friends.” Dipping his head to the side, he wiggled his pierced brows, a grin toying on his lips as he added, “And we can smoke weed in the house.”

Pretending as if that alone was what sealed the deal, you stood swiftly. “Say less. You really should’ve started with that, Richard.” You headed off in the direction of the stairs that led up to your room, glancing over your shoulder at your brother who was staring off after you with a relieved countenance on his face. “Gimme an hour and then we can go?”

Rick answered with two thumbs up before grabbing a slice of pizza, shoving as much as he could of it into his mouth as you disappeared up the spiral staircase.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x you #eddie x reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy x reader #billy x you #mungrove x reader #mungrove #billy hargrove smut #eddie munson smut

[caffeiiine]

I read the tags on your Kunikida post… go ahead and explain, my liege

JUST SAW THIS SOMEHOW ABYWAYS TYYY

OKAY so probably going into detail about how kunikida can be considered passively suicidal since i have the most coherent thoughts on that aand warnings for stuff of that nature under the cut :D + length

[also small disclaimer, i have been procrastinating reading dazais entrance exam and so far have only seen the anime adaptation which apparently left a ton of stuff out so feel free to correct me on inaccurate details and/or missed examples or just downright incorrect information]

[note: idk if passive is the correct term bc i was thinking about it and hes not exactly like oh i hope this kills me yk, so whatever that term is lmk <3]

This stuff also sorta ties in with his ideals and their potential self destructive-ness. they tend to cause him to either negligently often risk his life with there being an apparent “other way”, or just outright risk his life with barely a second thought for his ideals.

so kunikida has very strong morals and that’s the core of his character. the main ideals referenced in the show being his infamous “ideal woman”, “how to make dazai ideal”, and the ideal that basically tells him to save people. [i forgot what that one is referred to as]. If we’re talking timeline wise i think one of the first examples of his ideals causing him to negligently risk his life would be in Dazais Entrance Exam, or The Azure Messenger arc if you’re an anime watcher.

First example off the top of my head in dazais entrance exam would be when him and Dazai first see the hostages, specifically the ones in the room

after the gas came down dazai has to actually wrestle kunikida away from the room because otherwise hes gonna die. kunikida repeatedly shouts about how “people shouldn’t die like this”. This might be a bit of a tangent but later on in the episode he remarks how he “may as well ahev set the bomb off himself” when Dazai asks about Rokuzou’s dad, implying he blames himself for Rokuzou’s dad’s death. This is of itself isn’t enough for me to say “oh yeah he’s passively suicidal” so moving on to the main manga where there are several other instances of his tendencies to throw himself directly in harms way.

[there may be examples before this i just skipped to chapter 40] and starting off strong we have the thing with Aya. This could be written up to circumstance but he had the opportunity to avoid death himself so im counting it. he’s basically hugging death. that’s all i have to say for this.

of course he ends up surviving it because of deus ex machina yosano. After the fact, Aya asks him what he would’ve done if Yosano wasn’t there. To which he replies basically he would’ve done the same thing he just did except died and basically would have been fine with the outcome as long as she didn’t die in front of him. [he would’ve been dead as well and not had to deal with the guilt] i should point out as well, he does this because of his ideals. he specifically cites his ideals around these parts usually. The not letting anybody die before his eyes is one of ideals and the most common one he uses.

[im pulling that from the fact he had no backup plans or anything to actually stop the bomb aside from Yosano, since his words could imply he would’ve tried to save Aya. and the guy with the bombs was using the fact Kunikida holds his ideals very close to him, taht he wouldn’t have allowed Aya to die if he could’ve prevented it.]

aaand i think our last example and best example for tonight

context for the scene: they’re in the getaway helicopter and tecchou is trying to take it down via his sword and Kunikida decides to take matters into his own hands and take down Tecchou. First off, HE DID NOT HAVE TO, CHUUYA IS RIGHT. THERE. HE LITERALLY SHOT TECCHOU WITH GRAVITY BULLETS EARLIER.

HE DID NOT HAVE TO RISK HIMSELF BUT HE DID. also additional context, in this arc and the previous arcs, he’s been faced with situation after situation where his ideals have failed him and he’s been unable to exercise them and save the people he thinks he should.

point being, he feels like complete shit! he probably is thinking like if he should do anything then, it should be he makes sure he gets his friends out of there. regardless of whether he’s dead or alive because he jumps out of the plane and full body tackles tecchou while being in direct contact with fucking chuuya.

chuuya “has to stay out of the fights and arcs half the time because he’s too good at his job” nakahara.

chuuya “just shot tecchou and did a decent job at keeping him back a few pages before” nakahara. you see my point.

oh and then he just attempts to blow the both of them up.

he does not care for his life at all here. not one bit. also he did not need to blow the both of them up. he could’ve made a fucking stun gun or anything else that wouldn’t KILL the BOTH of them??

my whole point is he does not care for his life here and it’s gets worse the more you progress through the manga.

anyways anyways ending off, kunikida repeatedly puts his life in danger either for his ideals or neglectfully and/or without need. this has been a ramble. this man is not okay.

also kinda funny is he’s partners with dazai of all people, actively suicidal princess bungou himself. i really enjoy their differences and how similarly different they are.

^ not actually related to anything but i almost started laughing so hard with my family in the room at this piece, junichiro looks so concerned

#good god this was a ton #i hope this was coherent #i most likely missed some stuff unfortunately sobs and there’s probably a contradiction or two in here im not proofreading this #ANYWAYS TYSM FOR ASKUNG #sodaramblestoomuch #bsd #soda ask and answers! #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd kunikida #bsd analysis #bsd manga #bsd spoilers #bungou stray dogs kunikida #kunikida doppo #bsd doppo kunikida #doppo kannonzaka #kunikida bsd #doppo kunikida #bungou sd #bungo sd #bungou gay dogs

[asurrogateblog]

can you explain a little more about the tags 'careful with that axe is about queer rage' and rogers whole perception of syds anger?

oh yah sure! (okay I didn't intend it to be this long when i started...)

that first tag was me just being only half-serious, speculating about the possible story connecting "point me at the sky" and "careful with that axe". in the first song, the character henry calls eugene and asks him to run away to the stars with him and to "hide" with him. henry also calls eugene "baby", which pretty clearly implies a romance. the song ends with the two of them saying goodbye to the world and taking to the sky. flip over to the b-side, next comes a song in which, based on the title and the...screaming, eugene commits some sort of horrible violence. there's no good reason not to think it's the same eugene as the one from the a-side, so my conclusion was that whatever happens in the "story", it has something to do with his relationship with henry and his flying machine. I meant "queer rage" as in "queer person full of rage for queer reasons" not "queer rage" as in "anger towards the system".... but who knows, maybe that's why henry wanted to leave so badly. I would say they probably didn't make the songs gay on purpose, but hey, we've got arnold layne too so there's no reason why it couldn't be.

that second set of tags was about syd was me making a more serious speculation about what the two songs might be really "about". of course, some silly songs are just silly songs, but I feel like I know roger's psychology well enough to not immediately take things at face-value. these songs seem to be about wanting to escape to a better place with someone, to literally reach the stars – but then some terrible disaster happens when one of them tries to bring them down (in careful with that axe, you can hear faintly the lyrics "down, down. the star is screaming beneath the lies"). to me, this seemed to be a good metaphor for the band. roger admits readily that back when syd first left, he was much less sympathetic to syd's situation, and viewed his self-destructive behavior as detrimental to the band. perhaps, then, eugene is syd, trying to destroy the flying machine that is pink floyd. OR, it's the opposite – eugene is roger, and the axe rampage represents the role he feels he played in syd's downfall when all syd wanted to do was fly. either seems plausible to me. after all, the flying motif comes up multiple times later on in the wall, and we all know that pink is based on both syd and roger.

I'm not really married to any single one of these interpretations, and perhaps I'm off the mark entirely, but I just noticed that there hasn't been much analysis of either of these songs. I wanted to have a go at it myself!

#id love to hear what other people think #pink floyd #roger waters #syd barrett #point me at the sky #careful with that axe eugene #asks

[flipside-phoebe]

So about that thing I mentioned earlier...

As per my previous spoiler-free review of Frozen Empire, I mentioned that the film includes something I never expected, and I have complex feelings about it. Well, here it is. Spoilers below, don't read if you haven't watched (I'm serious).

Alright well first of all, PHOEBE SPENGLER IS GAY!!! PHOEBE IS A FUCKING HOMOSEXUAL!!! A LESBIAB!!! WOMEN!!! THERE WAS NO HETEROSEXUAL EXPLANATION FOR THAT. HOW SHE TALKED WITH MELODY THE GHOST. THAT WAS FLIRTING. EVERYONE SHUT UP. PHEOBE OUT-GAYED YOU ALL. SHE HAS TAKEN HER CROWN AS THE QUEEREST GHOSTBUSTER AND THE SIMPSONS PREDICTED IT.

Ok. Ok. I'm fine. I'm calm now. I'm not. I'm fine I swear.

Joking aside, let me talk about this seriously. Phoebe's relationship with Melody was fascinating and a huge surprise to me. I suspected this movie might delve into the ethics of ghost hunting, and there would be a betrayal involved in the story (based on some very grasping-at-straws observations I made that I won't go into here) I was shocked to be right on both accounts, but not in the way I expected.

I loved the direction they took these two characters, and I loved seeing their interactions that read as awkward flirtations. It was beautiful and bittersweet up until the very end. I'm so happy they were able to make up and help each other. Melody was able to move on and Phoebe discovered a part of herself, along with a newfound appreciation for her family.

That being said, this plot element left me an emotional wreck. Once I got over the high of seeing obvious queer coding in a Ghostbusters movie, I crashed hard. The scene were Phoebe separated her own soul just to be close to Melody was upsetting to me. It's almost as self-destructive as suicide. It's in-character considering what Phoebe was going though at the time but still. That along with what happens after was really scary to witness. Also... Up until now I had been clinging to a personal headcanon that Phoebe was aroace like myself. I can't hold on to that idea anymore. Sitting in the theater dressed up as this character that I related to on a personal level for so long, suddenly watching her experience emotions that I never have or ever will... It broke me. I actually couldn't sleep last night because this + personal stuff made my anxiety come back. I had to call in sick today because I can't eat.

I feel horrible about this. It's selfish to want a character to be exactly like me when she was made by someone else. I don't want to be homophobic and I want to support other LGBTQ+ people in our community that can feel represented by this. I am truly happy for them! Even if this wasn't the perfect romance (it's between a living child and a ghost who can't grow up with her) it's still something special! Hopefully later down the line she can have a girlfriend with a pulse, though.

I do worry about what the fan reaction to this will be. Will people hate Phoebe for the mistake she made in trusting Melody? Is this going to be another "Mabel caused Weirdmageddon"? I'm not strong enough to handle that again. On the other hand, now that She's been strongly hinted at being gay and she's a bit older, is her tag going to become nothing but ships? Will everyone abandon all other headcanons/ideas in favor of "Melody stays" AUs (robbing her story of it's impact) or shipping her with OCs? The main tag is already full of romantic shipping and my sad little aro heart can't take it. I may just have to accept that fandom isn't for me and stay away.

I acknowledge that my feelings on this are deeply personal and do not detract from the film at all. I will be OK, I just need time to process this. I have to be mature about it. I still love Phoebe with all my heart. She's my favorite and nothing will change that, even though we are different for many reasons.

#Mera's rants #spoilers #gbfe #ghostbusters frozen empire #phoebe spengler #ghostbusters frozen empire spoilers #pouring my heart out here #please don't clown on me #not reblogable but you can talk to me about this if you want #just be civil

[229zmi]

CRASH AND BURN

PAIRING: Oikawa Tōru/Reader

CONTENT: reader is emotionally constipated, crying, comfort, i use the derailment of a train as a metaphor

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

(Picture this: an empty train in rectilinear motion, careening through rolling hills and lush greenery that appear to stretch on and on for miles. The exterior is scuffed, worn after decades of use, though the interior isn’t any better with its chipped paint, cobwebbed corners, and torn seats. Back outside, billowing wisps of smoke twist their way into the troposphere, slowly dissolving into the inky swirls of the sky.)

Oikawa can’t remember the last time he’s seen you cry. You aren’t one to wear your heart on your sleeve, and based on what he’s gathered throughout all his years of friendship with you, it would take a lot for you to cry.

Because you didn’t cry that time you painfully crashed your new bike into the neighbour’s garden and thus spent the rest of your summer break helping them replant everything as an apology. Neither did you cry the time you landed on your knee after toppling out of that old treehouse in your backyard nor when you knocked out a tooth during a game of tag. All Oikawa remembers is you sprawling out on the ground like a starfish and wailing until somebody helped you, but you didn’t cry. There were no tears.

You didn’t cry either at any of the sappy rom-coms movies you and him watched together, even though Oikawa figured you weren’t a very empathetic person anyway after he told you he found a roach in his shampoo bottle and you merely laughed in his face. You didn’t cry after a tumultuous breakup with your boyfriend of a whopping two months, not even after you got fired from your shitty job or during your high school and college graduation ceremonies, and you most certainly did not cry over the tragic end of another relationship years later — of a whopping two and a half months this time.

(Listen: the wheels clash against the rails with a continuous rumble. The wind whistles deafeningly, drowning all other noises of nature as the train picks up the pace.)

So you weren’t a sentimental person either, he eventually concluded, but for the longest time, he thought there was something wrong with you, or maybe you had a lacrimation allergy that he wasn’t aware of.

But no, that’s just how you are. The first image he sees when he thinks of you is exactly this: you with a loose grin, a thumb jutted at yourself, and your chest puffed out for the effect of confidence. Whether it’s mock or real, he can’t tell.

You’re an amalgamation of no use in crying over spilled milk, c'est la vie, and so on; you’re nearly the textbook definition of the jester archetype. Happy-go-lucky and lax, you laugh at the bad and then carry on as if the aforementioned bad never existed.

…At least on the surface, where it matters.

You’re like an onion in that sense, he supposes. Peel back all the layers, and suddenly the reality becomes clearer. You are nothing but a hollow, emotionally-constipated shell of everything you were taught, not through mundane lectures at school or how-to tutorials on YouTube but rather through reprimands that built up over time. Of crying equating to a display of vulnerability that would, in turn, only precipitate uncomfortable stares and artificial pity from others, and of repressing your shitty feelings so you wouldn’t have to deal with them.

(Listen, again: a sharp, grating noise rattles the vacant vehicle wholly. Too loud, too haphazard-sounding. There might be something wrong, but if a tree falls in a forest, and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?)

The then Oikawa might have shared a similar sentiment at some point, a very low point back in high school, but the now Oikawa knows all too well that this facade you keep up is a lot like a banana with too much ethylene gas; it’ll only continue to get worse over time until it ultimately decays.

In your case, you’re bound to self-destruct sooner or later. He’s sure of it.

But — you turned out fine, didn’t you? After all, you had escaped most of your childhood injuries with temporary bruises and scars that faded later on anyway and a fucked up knee that only mildly inconvenienced you at times. You’re not sure what was the problem.

And anyway, he’s getting off-topic. The point of this is as follows: it would take a lot for you to cry, he’s never seen you do it anyway — that’s just how things have always been.

(The harsh noise repeats itself, and the wheels start to come off the train. Another screech — shit goes off the rails.)

It’s a Monday evening. A torrential downpour had hit the city approximately half an hour ago and still persists; the local weather forecast says it won’t be at least another fifteen minutes or so before the rain starts to clear up. Thunder echoes overhead nonstop with the occasional jagged flashes of lightning ripping through the sky.

On a Monday evening, you show up at the door to his apartment unannounced. No text, no call. Just you. Oikawa surveys you all in one glance, eyes quickly flitting from your drenched figure to your slumped posture as if there’s an invisible weight physically holding your shoulders down. There’s a downcast expression overtaking your face, your lips are twisted into a scowl, and a translucent sheen glazes your puffy eyes.

Almost like you’ve been crying.

“[Y/N]…” he breathes out, instantly alert as all the alarm bells in his mind ring. His jaw might as well have dropped to the floor and scuttled away with how visibly shocked he is. Opening the door wider, he grabs you by the shirt sleeve and pulls, no, yanks you inside. Various questions threaten to spill off his tongue, the most prominent being something along the lines of What are you doing here?, but one more once-over of your haggard appearance and he decides that perhaps the prying inquiries can wait. Regardless of the situation, you’re way more important anyway.

After closing the door and with an arm slung over your shoulders, he guides you over to the living room. Or, at least. Tries to. The thing is, you sort of give up halfway there against your own will, falling into safety net of his arms right before you crumple to the ground, and perhaps this situation could be considered romantic if it’s not for the fact that you’re now crying. Like really crying, snot-faced and uncontrollable hee-hawing type of crying.

For a moment, Oikawa isn’t exactly sure what to do besides hold your trembling body closer to him and gently rub circles into your back, hoping that will somehow help soothe whatever it is that you’re feeling right now.

“I’m—“ You inhale intensely as if it’ll help you gain your composure just enough to finish your sentence, but then you break into another sob, moving your hands up to aggressively swipe at your cheeks. Oikawa catches your wrists with one hand, not wanting you to accidentally hurt yourself in the process with how rough you’re being, and wipes away your tears for you with the other.

“It’s alright, let it all out.”

“Tōru— I’m so sorry,” you finally manage to blubber out, your voice all gurgly and muddled with hiccups in between. You sniffle and then curl your hands into the fabric of his sweater, suddenly despising the shameful feeling that now shrouds you. Regret bubbles inside of you like a loud burp waiting to be released as you stare at the large wet stain on his sweater. “I’m sorry— for messing up your sweater and— showing up without letting you know I was gonna visit. I just— shit, I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. You don’t have to be sorry at all,” he assures. His thumb swipes over the back of your hand tenderly. “Are you okay, though?”

You nod, not trusting your voice to speak again without breaking.

“Do you want to talk about it? Need anything? Water?”

This time, you shake your head, and the conversation falls to a standstill. Outside, the sky emits yet another low rumble and a flash of light that briefly illuminates the two of you before darkness engulfs you again. Rain continues to lash violently against the window — a stark contrast to Tōru’s comforting embrace.

You speak up once your hiccups fully die down and you’ve had enough of listening to the sounds of the thunderstorm, “Still, I’m sorry for… y’know. Getting all dramatic on you.” You chuckle with a smile that falls short of your eyes. “I don’t even know why I was crying.”

Your words hang in the air for a moment before Oikawa processes them. His voice abruptly cuts through the silence, coming out harsher than intended.

“I don’t know whatever it is that’s bothering you, but you were not being dramatic, and I don’t want you to think that,” he snaps. You blink at him, momentarily stunned as if what he just said was outlandish in any way, though you quickly recover, painting on what appears to be a bashful expression.

“Aw, you don’t have to lie for my sake,” you tell him. There’s a hint of humor in your tone, yet the tension in his shoulders doesn’t ease. Matter of fact, it grows; you’re making him nervous. “I was literally full-on sobbing. Boogers and everything. You don’t think that’s at least a tiny bit dramatic?”

“That’s just you letting out your emotions after keeping them bottled up for so long.” You open your mouth to speak, but he’s not done. “[Y/N], that’s — that’s normal, and there’s no shame in doing so by crying.”

A loud roar of thunder shakes the walls of Oikawa’s apartment. You don’t respond in the couple of seconds it takes for the sound to dissipate, instead deciding to stare distantly at the ground for a moment as you gather your thoughts.

“Huh,” is all you say at first before your voice grows somber and tense, even more than it was minutes prior when you had just finished crying your heart out. Oikawa listens attentively. “You don’t think I’m weak or think any less of me for it?”

“Of course not! Look.” He stands up and gestures for you to follow him. The two of you stop once you reach the window, and he pulls away the curtains.

First, you see your reflection in the glass — a bleary image of your tear-stained face and Oikawa standing beside you, who offers a smile as your eyes meet, setting your cheeks aflame. You quickly divert your gaze out of embarrassment, and you next see the city — a labyrinth of towering skyscrapers and wide, open streets bustling with people and vehicles despite the deluge.

“It’s like this. You see that it’s raining outside, right? Lots of people say that means the sky is crying, the city is crying, whatever. Does the city look weak to you?” he asks.

“No.” You squint your eyes down at all the buildings, the cars, the people, as if it’ll magically improve your vision. You could say that it looks vibrant because of all the lights, that it looks busy because of those who still have places to be. But instead, you say, “It looks alive.”

“Does the sky look weak to you either?”

“No.” You look out at the torrent and the storm clouds and the lightning all at once and think the words to yourself this time: it looks beautiful.

“Then why view crying as a sign of weakness? It’s only a natural response to whatever you’re feeling,” he says. “And if anyone tries to convince you otherwise or says they think less of you for it, I’ll just— I don’t know. I’ll beat them up or something.”

He curls his hand into a fist, holds it up with the base knuckles facing you, and shakes it a bit as if the action is supposed to be menacing. Really, all that does is further dwindle his credibility, especially since you’re confident this man cannot fight for shit, but whatever — it’s the thought that counts anyway.

The ends of your mouth curl up, and a particularly strident laugh escapes you much to your surprise, cutting through the tension with ease. Your shoulders scrunch up and tremble and your eyes fill with tears of mirth as you try to contain your giggles, though it’s too late because Oikawa’s already thinking: he has never seen anything more beautiful.

Your own hand comes up to wipe away your newfound joyful tears once you find the moment no longer amusing. You exhale, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

“Do you feel better now?”

There’s a beat of peace and quiet — a shift in the air. Neither of you can hear the thunder anymore. Eventually:

“I do,” you conclude. “I do feel better.”

Outside, the rain relents at last.

#oikawa toru x reader #oikawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu comfort #oikawa x you #oikawa x y/n #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x gn!reader #229ZMI

[thetwelfthcrow]

Soooo can we get recs for 443316?👀

but of COURSE you can !!

▴🏎 4433 fic recs: with Charles edition 🏎▴

welcome everyone to this special fic rec list: 443316 - fics where, in whatever order, lewis/max/charles are together. it's a short list, but i hope that serves only as an invite to write these three more. as far as i know these are the only fics in this ot3 ship and they're amaziiiing! i sincerely invite all lestappen, 4433 and 4416 shippers to give these a try. even if you don't like one of these three ships, these two fics are absolutely worth your time - i promise !

AO3 collection with all my Formula One bookmarks general favorite fics in the 4433 ship favorite christmas fics in the 4433 ship favorite omegaverse fics in the 4433 ship

always be sure to check the accurate and updated tags on the fic itself (i only copy a few)! if your fic is on here and you'd like me to link your tumblr then just comment below and i'll add it :)

▴ honey, there is no right way [series] by latebrakers | 11,3k | incomplete secret relationship 4433, charles helps them / pining / getting together

(1) fair weather | G | 3k | complete

The first time, Max asks Charles for a favor. The next time Max could use some help, Charles offers it himself.

(2) fair warning | T | 5k | complete

Charles thought he was being generous, at first, but now he just feels greedy.

(3) fair share | M | 3k | complete

Lewis takes his phone out of his pocket and props it on the porch railing. “Two minutes,” he announces. “Everyone think of a wish.” Charles could not possibly think of just one. Or: Charles books a flight to Colorado.

▴ three [series] by additivity | 20,3k | incomplete secret relationship / relationship reveal friends with benefits

straight-ish | M | 3,6k | complete

There were a lot of photos of Formula 1 drivers on the internet. But none like this.

amateur photography | E | 16,6k | 5/5ch, complete

Lewis really isn't looking for a relationship. Which is why his current arrangement is pretty perfect. What's not so great is trying to explain that to his press officer while F1 twitter self-destructs about it.

▴ behind different doors [series] by kiwialicat | 49,3k | incomplete established fwb lestappen / voyeurism / unresolved feelings

It’s not the size of your motorhome it’s how you use it | E | 6k | complete

Max looks back at him, and then down at the hand that Lewis still has firmly planted on Charles’s knee. Despite Lewis being a little less sharp than usual, it’s definitely not lost on him. “Jealous, Maxy?” Lewis doesn't want to waste this champagne, post Silverstone 2020 round one. He goes to find someone to celebrate with and gets a little more celebration than he'd hoped for.

Let’s feel this and think later | E | 31k | 6/6ch, complete

Lewis is pretty sure when it comes to Max and Charles there are strings, of one form or another, but he can’t deny there’s also a pretty incredible pay-off attached to those strings. It's the second week of the British GP double header, and it's a bit more memorable than usual for Lewis with a new version of Max and Charles in his life.

Room for three | E | 11k | complete

“So…” Lewis breathes deeply, “this offer…” he watches his hands open and close in front of him, “is this just a one-time thing? Tonight only?” Lewis has Max and Charles over for dinner. Some eating, some talking and some other stuff ensues.

▴ He Hit Me (It Felt Like A Kiss) by m00nlightE | 18,8k | 2/5ch, incomplete omegaverse / alpha max, alpha lewis, omega charles / emotional manipulation

It was something they’d often discussed at the beginning of the relationship: the potential that one day, sometime in the future, the three of them could end up fighting for a championship title against one another. So when the start of the 2021 season came around and it looked like Red Bull might be bringing the competition to Mercedes at last, Charles couldn’t help but feel the battle between his partners was inevitable. He just never expected to get so caught in the middle of it all. OR: Charles, Max and Lewis, and how their relationship turned toxic over the course of the 2021 season.

------------------

askbox always open for your favourite 4433(16) fics! i love to know what you love to read. this list is not complete (nor will it ever be), but it turned out all 443316 fics are amazing so these are the only fics in the tag rn. this IS AN INVITE to everyone reading all the way to here to write 443316 heheh! enjoy reading!

#zhalia's lil' answer chat #Anonymous #443316 #4433 #lestappen #fic recs #4433 fic recs

[theheirofthesharingan]

Hii!! What are your thoughts on those who say Itachi is a terrible person and on this opinion?? I know you love him so I would like to know your thoughts on this .

I have no opinions on his haters, except for the fact that I want them to keep their hate boner for him in their pants and the relevant tags and not slip into my notes, which unfortunately doesn't happen, because haters think their hatred for a morally grey anime boy makes them morally superior, and they can't fall asleep unless they have broadcasted this everywhere in the world. I've seen haters invade the most normal posts about him to express how agonized they are because people love a character they hate. Who'd tell them the world doesn't revolve around their hatred for one character? Give it a break already. You're allowed to hate him or whatever but stop acting like a prick and let people have fun without getting offended.

As to the opinion that he's a "terrible person."

Sighs.

People have a hard time separating a character's motivations/actions with his intent. When you're analyzing any character, there are two factors to be considered — Reason and Consequences. Itachi is judged based on the consequences of his actions rather than his reasoning behind them. Everything else, except for the character in question and his feelings, is secondary in his analysis. This fandom makes everything else primary when it analyzes Itachi, whereas his own experiences and trauma aren't taken into account. If he hadn't lived the life he did, his, the clan's, and eventually Sasuke's fates would have been completely different.

If he wasn't taken to the battlefield when he was four, he wouldn't have developed the desire to end the conflict in the first place. He might have been able to preserve his innocence a little bit longer.

If he wasn't sent to Anbu at the age of 10, or if Danzo tried to persuade his family and his family refused, he wouldn't have witnessed the darkness that consumed him slowly.

If Shisui hadn't died he would have one person he could rely on.

If his clan didn't consider him a traitor he might not have lost it either.

If his family hadn't given up on him after Shisui's death, MAYBE things wouldn't have gone as bad for anyone.

Not only the way the village treated him but also he way the clan treated him made it impossible for Itachi to put his trust in anyone.

He didn't choose any of this to happen to himself. These things did and he drew into himself, entirely incapable of trusting other people. So, if I'm analyzing Itachi's character his experiences and feelings are to be prioritized first and foremost.. The consequences come later on, the primary factor is always the reason behind his actions. Not just for Itachi, but for every character who falls in the same category that Itachi does.

Ah, yes... Itachi is so terrible as a person that —

When he saw war happening in front of him, dead bodies, pain on the faces of the dead, his first instinct was to stop this destruction instead of letting this to be their future.

When a bunch of seniors came to bully him (in the novel) clearly with the intent of violence against him, he chose not to fight with them, even though none of them stood no chance against him.

Whatever horrible thing he did — murdering his clan or destroying Sasuke's life — he didn't expect any redemption or forgiveness even if his parents would have forgiven him and Sasuke also forgave him. In canon, it's impossible to change his mind about his self-loathing. He took the responsibility of his actions and lived and died with it.

When he returned as Edo Tensei, he chose to protect people because he knew war was hell. You could argue he was under the influence of kotoamatsukami. But someone in complete control of kotoamatsukami wouldn't be disgusted with Kabuto for doing something that broke grieving hearts of the loved ones of the dead again, making people go through the agony they'd once witnessed. What kind of terrible person feels this way?

When he learned Kabuto was also used by the Shinobi world, just like he was, instead of leaving Kabuto in Sasuke's care, entrusting him to kill Kabuto, Itachi chose to save his life.

Anyone who came closer to knowing Itachi, who had nothing to do with the village or anything, couldn't help but respect and admire him, despite him being a renowned criminal. Kisame, Killer Bee, etc., for example. It's a pity that very few people did and those who did never bothered to know the truth behind the massacre. And the others were dead.

Itachi wasn't a bad person. He was placed in the terrible circumstances that demanded him to make decisions. If his life had been teensy bit easier or if he'd had someone to support and guide him, he would have been more aware of his own faults, weaknesses, and tried to find a different path to handle the same situations. Just because he took the moral responsibility of his actions doesn't mean he was the only one responsible for the mess. He seems to be in complete denial of his trauma and sufferings, which is why we never see him blaming others. He, too, judged himself for the horrible things he'd done, and that was why he wanted to die at Sasuke's hands to avenge the clan or be hated by Sasuke forever.

#itachi #ask #anon #itachi uchiha #uchiha itachi

[iamamythologicalcreature]

I'm-Not-Going-To-Count-These-Sentences Sunday

Thank you @aroace-genderfluid-sheep and @hushed-chorus for the tags! (Guess what hushed-chorus I did that thing we talked about.) Also thank you to everyone who has tagged me on other WIP-days! I really appreciate it <3

So... I'm not counting sentences this time. I write long sentences, and I make rabid use of sentence-extending punctuation. And I have this thing about posting excerpts that are semi-contained in some way. Plus it's going to take me forever to get this fic posted, so I gotta give ya'll something. THUSLY: Here have a bunch of words.

(I really should have pinned my bi-weekly updates on Wednesday, but OH WELL.)

Context: Baz POV, with Agatha in the chapel after midnight, being 17 year olds. Simon is out of the picture after Baz kinda sorta stole his voice with a tape recorder in fifth year.

“I never thanked you for saving me,” she said, with just a little too much effort at nonchalance. “You did, actually,” I said, not slowing, or sparing her so much as a glance. “You might recall how you resembled a hypothermic beached mermaid? You were quite free with your gratitude once you caught your breath. It was all very melodramatic.” There was a brief pause - possibly an attempt to work out whether my description of her was complimentary or not. Either way, it didn’t deter her. “I never got to thank you the way I wanted to,” she said, a hint of a whine working its way past her shoddily built facade. I didn’t answer right away as I fought down a sudden surge of irritation, one that threatened to trigger my more destructive tendencies - self-destructive, perhaps, but not exclusively so. The only thing worse than being considered a villain was being cast as a tragic hero - someone only misunderstood, just waiting to be saved. “Basil—“ she began, apparently ready to try something else. I stopped short, forcing her to halt both her forward movement and that regrettable demonstration of poor judgment. We were at the entrance to the chapel, now, and it was easy to crowd her against the cold statuary. “How exactly did you want to thank me, then, Wellbelove?”

Later it's entirely likely these two are going to put special effort into trying to forget any of this ever happened, because teenage mistakes are brilliant like that. You're welcome, Bazatha.

Also, super stoked to be working on a couple @caught-on-tape-fest podfics as well as cowriting with @ileadacharmedlife for the @carryon-reverse-bang. Wheeeee I can totally do this all! >.>

Tags/Hellos under the cut! (BTW regarding tags - I'm often unable to browse tumblr, so if you've posted something creative Sunday/Wednesday/for the hell of it, please feel free to tag me so I see it!)

Thanks for the tags over the past couple weeks @aristocratic-otter, @whatevertheweather, @brilla-brilla-estrellita, @ileadacharmedlife, @prettygoododds, @cutestkilla, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @tender-ministrations, @ic3-que3n, @artsyunderstudy, @youarenevertooold, @ivelovedhimthroughworse - I love love love seeing what everyone is up to! (Sorry if I missed anyone - apparently tags don't always work? Sigh.)

Tags and hellos also to @fatalfangirl, @katmiscellanious, @shrekgogurt, @rimeswithpurple, @alleycat0306, @ebbpettier, @supercutedinosaurs, @nightimedreamersworld, @thewholelemon, @theearlgreymage, @bubble-gumhead, @raenestee, @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists (thanks for the extra notes XD), @ionlydrinkhotwater, @erzbethluna... And anyone else who wants tags, please let me know! Or just tag me! I love them.

#agatha will figure herself out eventually but it will not be This Day #ditto baz because he's just in a lovely out of control tailspin right now #WHERE IS SIMON? #maybe I know #I hope so anyway #I really need to title this fic #but I have a whole hat full of titles #a playlist full of them! #I could just call it ANGST #Or maybe ANGST ANGST BABY #No #I will absolutely not title it that #even I have standards #wait #*goes to AO3 to make sure I didn't just accidentally insult someone* #I think I'm okay #six sentences sunday #six sentence sunday #(which one is the right one?) #snowbaz #baz pitch #agatha wellbelove #simon snow series #the simon snow trilogy #simon snow fanfic #only sans Snow so far #what is it with me and tags? I mean really. #and all anyone really wants to know is when or why was Agatha a hypothermic beached mermaid? #jodofic

[glacierruler]

Patton Sanders

So, this is my reblog of a post that @cutebisexualmess reblogged and put tags on. And now I must go on a very very long ramble about Patton Sanders and especially his role in Sanders Sides.

I want to be very clear, that this is biased because I relate to him.

I'm not providing clear proof or evidence, because that would require me to watch the whole series again, and I will forget to write this.

CWs include: manipulation and talks of manipulation, talking about morality and the more muddy or unclear bits in it, self destructive habits, self deprecation, depression, and perfectionism

I'm going to be writing this and trying to update the Content Warnings, but I can't promise that I'll get them all.

With that done, if you're able to and would like to read, press read more!

Okay, so first we've got to remember that Patton isn't just Thomas's morality, but he's also Thomas's emotions. Which already muddies a lot of things up right out of the gate.

Morality, while having a kind of unclear dictionary definition, basically boils down to a person's sense of what's right and what's wrong.

Where as, emotions are how you feel about a situation.

I'll (try to remember to) explore both of those topics a bit deeper later on in the post.

So all this to say, that Patton isn't just in charge of what Thomas believes to be right and wrong, but also his feelings on the matter. Which makes him more subjective instead of objective on what's going on. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing in all situations. However, it can be detrimental because, since Patton is Thomas's morality, he has this belief that his views are always morally correct. Which is simply not factual. Morality can be skewed, morality is something that's learned. For most people, when they believe something is morally right or morally wrong, no matter if it is or not, it can be near impossible to convince them otherwise. And when people do things that go against their morals, they tend to feel horrible about it. This is one of the reasons that I believe if Thomas had gone to the callback instead of the wedding, he would've felt horrible there as well.

I'm not going to say I'm unbiased about the outcome of the debate between the callback and wedding, and imo there were better ways to go about figuring out which one to go to. But, what I feel like a lot of people look over when saying Thomas would have been happier going to the callback, is that he probably wouldn't have. Because Patton would feel guilty about missing out on a very important event in some of Thomas's closest friends' lives. Which would have made Thomas feel guilty, which makes it even less likely that Thomas would have been able to perform well, or as well as he would've liked. And as someone who has done acting before(albeit not really outside of the church I used to go to), your emotions going into trying to get a part are extremely important to how well you're going to be able to play the part. So there is a very big chance that if Thomas had gone to the callback instead of the wedding, he wouldn't have gotten the part and would feel even worse about a day where he already feels horrible. (Nevermind the fact that it could very easily spiral into thoughts of 'I went to the callback instead of my best friends' wedding, for no reason. Not only am I a horrible friend, but I suck at acting too.'[For clarification, this is not even close to what I think of Thomas, this is an example of the thoughts that could spiral from if Thomas had gone to the callback and not gotten the part.])

However, as everyone who has watched past the Wedding Redux video would know, Thomas went to the wedding and felt horrible about that. Some of you might understandably be wondering why, as he did what Patton - Thomas's morality- thought was the correct choice. This is because Thomas seemed to want to go to the callback as much if not more than the wedding. Which is where his emotions, which is also Patton, comes into play. Patton now feels guilty and horrible because Thomas wants to go to the callback, and Thomas wants that acting part.

Like, don't get me wrong, Patton absolutely believes going to the wedding was the correct choice, but Thomas had been excited to be fulfilling his dreams of being an actor. And so the excitement of his friends getting married was dampened by the fact that he missed out on what could've been a dream job. And not only that, but now because Thomas is bummed about missing this opportunity, Patton feels guilty about the disappointment, because his friends are getting married and he should be happy and even excited about it. But he isn't. And so, while morally Thomas did the right thing(according to Patton), because he isn't happy about what's happened, that essentially traps Patton in this circle of guilt. Guilt for the choice that Thomas made not making Thomas happy; and guilt for being at Lee and Mary-Lee's wedding to celebrate and not being ecstatic for them. And then there was what happened when Thomas got home and started processing everything.

This has happened before in, I think, at least one previous episode, where Patton has doubled down on his stance. On him being right, because he is Thomas's morality, he knows wrong from right. It. Is. His. Job. So when something(or someone) questions what Patton knows has to be morally correct, he has to shoot it down(I will hopefully remember to come back to this) because if he's wrong, then Thomas is wrong, and if Thomas is wrong, doesn't that make him a bad person? And in that respect, wouldn't that make Patton a bad side? And if he's a bad side, what then?

So Patton does his best to be perfect and correct and right all the time, and in turn he tries to kind of force the other 'light' sides in the same direction, because they need to be perfect. They need to be perfect for Thomas to be perfect. Which, imo, affects Roman the most. Because Roman is Thomas's ego, his creativity, his hopes and dreams, and his passion. With both Patton and Roman needing Thomas to be perfect and the best, it leaves almost no room for failure, which heightens Thomas's anxiety, and makes it less likely that he'll be successful with being logical about his reasoning. (I don't know too much about Remus's function to even semi-accurately allude to how this could be effecting him, and we will be talking about Janus soon.)

To make what was probably going to be a really long ramble shorter. Patton is urging Thomas to do the right thing, because he's morality and he has to be right about what is morally correct. And Roman, is more likely to listen to everything that Patton says, because he's the ego, and needs more positive attention. Being morally correct means more positive attention and that is a good thing. (I am not saying that Roman does or doesn't actually care about doing the right thing, I am saying that he is NOT morality so it is NOT nearly as important to him as positive attention. It is why Janus buttering him up during the trials was discombobulating him so much. And also probably one of the reasons why he started being more hostile to the side after, he did not like the fact that Janus knew how to use his ego against him.) And, I think Patton sort of knows this. Fair warning, this part might be more subjective than most of this post. I think that Patton knows enough to realize that Roman is more likely to agree with him when Roman gains positive attention(when the ego is being fed). And so, he frames things with Roman as though Thomas would be a bad friend for not doing {insert example here}, which Patton does believe. But it's also a blow to Roman at the same time. I don't think Patton realizes the extent of the damage it does to Roman(and in turn Thomas). In my opinion Patton does this because he believes it himself, that Thomas is a bad friend if he doesn't help out(or go to their wedding), and he realizes Roman is more likely to agree with him when he points things like that out. And Roman, as the ego, will not want to openly admit to being hurt by it(iirc the only times he ever tries to vent out his hurt and frustrations are when he can write it off as jokes or make it so his voice is barely heard, and he tends to be vague about it). And it does not help anyone that when Thomas chooses what Patton thinks is morally correct, Roman tends to get positive attention.

But that's unhealthy and can only last so long before everything falls apart.

For the record, I still don't believe that Patton knows that he's actively harming Roman.

Now, we're getting to the aftermath of the wedding(I know I said we were doing that quite a few paragraphs ago, but I realized that I wasn't quite there yet, sorry).

After the wedding, both Patton and Roman are trying to figure out what went wrong. Why couldn't they just be happy for their friend? What went wrong?

So Janus decides to jump in and start explaining to Patton why everything went wrong(in the disguise of Logan until he couldn't anymore). And he tries to go into the more grey areas of morality as a whole, and Patton does not like this. Because Patton believes, and has been raised to believe, that you always do the morally correct thing and that you have to do it for the right reasons. And I can not reiterate this enough, Patton is Thomas's morality and emotions.

So Patton and Janus start arguing. And Roman takes Patton's side, for multiple reasons, but one of them is the fact that one of the biggest blows to the ego tends to be when you are wrong about something you were sure you were right about. Yes, Roman also defended Patton because they are friends, but every decision they make is made by their own functions and their control in what Thomas does, you cannot separate them from their functions when talking about their actions because their actions are shaped by their functions. Throughout this argument things are chaotic and hectic and hard to keep up with. But then Patton turns into a frog and accidentally hurts Thomas while trying to make his point. Because of this, he realizes that Janus is correct in what he's saying. That Thomas needs a fucking break, and he can't do everything right all the time, and that morality isn't quite as simple as he thinks it is. However, the fact that Patton was wrong, kind of shatters Roman, because Roman needed him to be right. Or else what was it all for.

And I want to be very clear here, Patton is reeling from everything that's happened too. He understands that morality isn't quite as easy as crossing a line into being good or bad. I don't think he thought it was quite as simple as I'm saying, I'm just not sure how else to put it. Anyways, Patton while realizing he wasn't right this time, and he might not have been right last time, is too preoccupied with what this new information means for him. And no one is paying any real attention to Roman.

Janus, in order to get everyone present to trust him, tells them his name(iirc, and this detail I'm more iffy on than most, I believe Roman prompted this). Roman, now not just hurting from throwing hopes and dreams down the drain for the wedding but also probably about to sport the biggest bruise to his ego in a long while if not Thomas's life, makes fun of it. And Janus retaliates, poking at his deepest insecurity, comparing him to his twin - Remus. Neither Patton nor Thomas say anything, because in that moment Patton and to an extant Thomas are making that comparison. And then Roman says something about being their hero(I can't remember the exact words, I'm sorry, they're important, I know they're important, I just can't remember). Neither Patton or Thomas respond. And, imo, it's because they no longer know. They don't know. One other thing none of them know, is how much that silence broke Roman.

So, in conclusion. Patton is NOT an innocent little bean who can do no wrong. However he is also NOT unsympathetic.

Again, all of this is my opinions, and why I think this is what's going on. I think it'd be more convincing and have more and even better solid evidence if I had recently rewatched Sanders Sides. But I haven't.

#glacier rambles #sanders sides #tss #patton #patton sanders #ts patton #patton critical #patton sanders critical #ts patton critical #i'm actually not too sure how to tag it because it's not U!patton #but i think patton critical works #if it doesn't please tell me #thomas #ts thomas #thomas sanders #roman #ts roman #roman sanders #janus #ts janus #janus sanders #manipulation cw #self destructive habits cw #self deprecation cw #depression cw #perfectionism cw #i don't know how much i actually touch on a lot of these #and i'm not too sure if i got everything #so sorry if i didn't i will try to update the cw list if i didn't #there is a lot i gloss over in here

[ashes-writing]

stranger things ● can't fight this feeling pt 7 ● s. harrington

warning

the smallest hint of bisexual Tommy and his unrequited crush on Steve causing him to be an asshole, rumors / bullying / other high school pettiness + an ex boyfriend from reader's old school that's an asshole popping up here and there, mentions of alcohol/smoking/weed -at some point this is a high school romance thing so there will be no parents parties/ underage drinking, etc.., the stress and tension of senior year, strong hints of virgin!reader who dresses a little provocatively, absentee parents, loooots of affection / kissing + body fluids in the form of saliva, eventual filth -we're getting there.

<- reader / you are female with female parts + a certain look (example) and personality (rich, kind of sweet/innocent, outspoken, very flirtatious with Steve, etc). this is self indulgent and therefore, more personalized to the things writer wanted to have in the fic. DLDR.

word count

1528 exactly. for any missing context, part 6 <- is there.

summary

Steve shoves Tommy. Tommy shoves him back and laughs. "It's just a question, Harrington, relax."

"Yeah, not happening." Steve shakes his head and his eyes harden as he looks at Tommy. The boy who used to be his best friend. All he sees now is a bitter asshole and it's bad, it really is because he sees the way he was not even a year ago. "Leave her alone, alright? She's my girl, Hagan. Mine."

Tommy laughs. "Yeah, well. You really can pick 'em."

taglist + shoutouts

-- taglist is here. if you'd like to be on my taglist (other fandoms incl.) please click the bolded to be taken directly to it. If you're here for Gareth/Eddie or other ST guys and you don't want to be tagged in this -or anything Steve, please tell me so I don't tag you in this.

@tbmunson babesss you're my inspiration and I love you sm. I really don't know what I'd do without you, tbh. you're amazing and I can't wait til you start sharing your writing again 😭🥰

@music4life42

@allelitesmut your tags, oh my god, you're the sweetest and I love you sm and I'm so glad you like this fic so much, it truly means the world to me. ❤️

@caravelofthesun

@chaoticcancer

@dylanwritesgood

@eddiemuns0nl0ver

@just-a-blue-nerd

@slyisbehindyou

other links

masterlist ● steve's masterlist ● about + rules

Billy’s glaring a hole through Steve as he spots you both make your way into the crowded hallway. Nicole nudges him and laughs. “He’s gotta be with her because she’s easy. I mean, that has to be it.”

“Did anybody ask you to talk, Nicole?” Billy gives her a calm warning glare. “You don’t even know her.”

“I know she looks easy. And she’s a bimbo. Total bimbo. Somebody asked her what the opposite to a dominant trait was in class the other  day.. Do you know what her answer was, Billy?”

Billy rolls his eyes and Nicole smirks. “Submissive. It’s recessive, even I know that.”

“Aw, somebody’s just jealous her spot as Hawkins resident airhead is under attack.” Carol speaks up, laughing when Nicole pouts and flips her off. Carol rolls her eyes at the way you and Steve are in your own little world, his hands all over you in the middle of the hallway with no shame or care as to who might see. “She’s just gonna be another Nancy and I feel so bad for him, I really do.”

“But you’re gonna leave ‘em alone.” Tommy speaks up. “Let ‘em self-destruct because sooner or later, Harrington is gonna cling to her a little too much and she’ll be done. Dude is pathetic like that.” 

Deep down, Tommy knows the actual reason he’s even bothered by Steve finding a new girlfriend but he’s not in a position to say it. So he keeps it buried deep down. Because nobody can ever find out his little secret. Why he misses his former best friend so much that it honestly hurts sometimes and has made him even angrier and much harder to be around as of late.

“You’re not wrong. He’s  always been so needy.”

Nancy, who happens to be standing nearby, waiting on Jonathan at his locker, she’s heard enough. She’s sick and tired of hearing it, honestly. She clears her throat.

“You’re the one who broke him badly enough he had to resort to sluts.” Carol snaps at Nancy and Nancy rolls her eyes. “You’re such a bitch. You know that, right? If he’s really your friend, you’d be happy for him. Not demanding he give up someone who makes him happy because she doesn’t fit your uptight little aesthetic.”

“You’re really calling me uptight?”

“If the shoe fits, Carol.”

“He was our friend first. Not your boyfriend. You barely bothered to get to know him.”

Nancy throws up her hands,exasperated. “All I’m saying is if any of you try to mess this up for him, I’m going to make your life a living hell. I don’t know how, but I’ll find a way. He deserves something good, alright? He needs this.”

“How do you know? And why do you care, more importantly?” “Because unlike any of you, I do care about him. I just couldn’t love him the way he wanted me to. She seems to. He deserves that.”

“Are you done lecturing us yet, you mousy little priss?”

Billy’s tuned out the argument as it’s happening. Instead, he’s glaring at Steve angrily. Wondering what the hell Steve Harrington has that he doesn’t. Angry with himself because he wants you so bad he can taste it. Bitter because you couldn’t make it any more clearer that you couldn’t want him less if you tried.

“Sooner or later, they’ll break up. I’ll go for it.” Billy decides, smirking to himself.

–

" Nailed her yet, Harrington?"

Tommy's question has Steve stepping up into him and going for the front of Tommy's shirt. "What did you say about her, Hagan?"

Tommy chuckles, flashing a smirk. "You heard me."

Steve shoves Tommy. Tommy shoves him back and laughs. "It's just a question, Harrington, relax."

"Yeah, not happening." Steve shakes his head and his eyes harden as he looks at Tommy. The boy who used to be his best friend. All he sees now is a bitter asshole and it's bad, it really is because he sees the way he was not even a year ago. "Leave her alone, alright? She's my girl, Hagan. Mine."

Tommy laughs. "Yeah, well. You really can pick 'em."

The coach blows his whistle and the two step away from each other, Steve is glaring at Tommy and Tommy laughs, "Pathetic, Harrington. You're pathetic."

Steve gives Tommy a little shove. "The only pathetic person I see right now is you."

–

By lunch, everyone is talking. Everyone has an opinion, like always. You're a little worried that being forced to hear everyone's opinion will make Steve change his mind. You're a little nervous as you make your way out into the hall. 

Because it wouldn’t be the first time that every dumb thing anyone had to say about you got to a boy you’re interested in. Or people you wanted to be friends with. You’re just hoping to hell it doesn’t happen as fast as you’re afraid it will.

As you step into the hallway, strong arms circle your waist and you’re laughing the second you’re hauled up over Steve’s shoulder. “Hey! You’re gonna get in trouble, Steve.”

“Honestly, I don’t care.” Steve places you back on your own feet and you lean in against him. Breathing in the scent of his cologne. You feel the tension in your body melt away and you melt into him, gazing up. Biting your lip. Quiet and contemplative because there aren’t any words to describe what you’re feeling.

“I heard you get sent out into the hallway earlier, princess.” Steve’s gazing at you and he chuckles. “The walls in these classrooms are paper thin.”

You shrug. “Carol started it. What surprised me was that Nancy got involved?”

“What surprises me even more is Nancy Wheeler is taking Home Ec. She always used to say it was a waste of time.”

You shrug. “She’s not too bad, I guess. I’ve gotta work with her to establish a family budget and meal plan.”

Steve chuckles. “You do, huh?”

“Mhm. Told her to leave it to me, she could do the actual presentation of it.”

Steve pulls you into his side and drops a lazy kiss against the top of your head. The sugary scent of your favorite perfume fills his nose and he can just feel himself relaxing.

“Why’d you get sent out?”

“Well, when Carol told me you were only trying to find a rebound, I told her she was jealous she wasn’t it.. Among other things.”

Steve swears under his breath. “I’m sick of her shit.”

“It’s okay, Steve.. It’s.. Not really a big deal? I mean,” you point to your outfit of the day and laugh softly, “I don’t blame people for their own stupidity but I’m also not gonna change myself either. You learn to get a thicker skin, baby.”

“You shouldn’t have to though. She should learn t’ keep her mouth shut. Tommy too, for that matter.” Steve chuckles but you gaze at him in concern. “What’d he say?”

“Just that I’m clingy, pathetic and sooner or later, you’re going to get tired of it.” Steve shrugs as if it’s nothing and it doesn’t bother him but honestly, he’s been worried about that all morning. You’re glaring in Tommy and Billy’s direction. Billy licks his lips at you and you grimace even further into Steve’s side. “He’s so fucking disgusting, ugh.”

Steve locks eyes with Billy and Billy gives him a rude glare. Steve slips an arm around your body as the two of you walk past them in the hallway. But Tommy calls out his name.

“Steve..” you warn.

Steve looks back. “What, asshole? What now?”

Tommy shrugs and then laughs and Steve flips him off. “Keep it up, Hagan.”

“Steve, c’mon. Neither of them are even worth the energy. And I’m starvingggg.” you melt into him and throw your arms around his neck. “I want food.”

Steve chuckles. Focusing his attention back to you. “You are, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“Let’s go. You’re right, princess. They’re not worth the energy.”

As the two of you walk away, Billy speaks up, nodding to Steve’s retreating back. “He’ll fuck it up. Then she’s mine, man.”

“Oh you think so, Hargrove?” Tommy chuckles, dragging a hand through his hair.

“I know so, Hagan. I have a plan. All I need is patience. Then when the time is right.. I swoop in and save the day. But this year is endin with her on my arm.”

“But why though? You know what Landon said about her. Do you really wanna go from girls throwing their panties at you to dating one exclusively that doesn’t put out? What’s the point?”

Billy grabs Tommy’s collar. “I want what I want. Why I want it is none of your business. We clear, Hagan?”

Tommy glares at Billy and shoves him back. “Crystal, asshole. We’re crystal clear. So uh.. What’s this plan?”

“Just wait and let Steve’s doubts and shit get the best of him. It’ll happen, guy is that weak.”

“And then?” Tommy asks, a brow raised.

“Then I move in.. start playing her shoulder to cry on.. That sensitive nice guy bullshit. It’s worked before, Hagan.” Billy shrugs and laughs. “C’mon.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x you #<- my writing ● steve harrington #<- warnings | bullying rumors altercations ● teenagers and their drama ● slightest hint of bisexual tommy hagan and an unrequited love sitc #<- warning | female character with female parts ●hair/clothes ● personality ● nicknames/petnames #fandom ( stranger things ) ● season ( 2/3 and maybe 4 + total au ) ● character ( steve harrington ) #-- this one is not over. i repeat. not over.

[kitkatriel]

Yo what if I drew Whole (just a guy) and Whole (harmonia/triple winged dude) in like a Sunny + Omori situation.

I mean I do have this Omori inspired au for CCCC, might aswell lol

I said this before on the tags on one of my whole drawing but in my au of cccc Harmonia (triple winged mofo) is an alter ego like Omori. Like you know how sometimes people tend to think of themselves as a superior version of who they really are in there brain. Actually I think saying "ideal" is more accurate idk.

Yknow how when Sunny falls asleep to enter the headspace he basically let's Omori take the wheel. Yep, idk really this whole au was made up when I was laying on my bed trying to sleep

BASICALLY this whole AU is Whole being a maladaptive daydreamer as a coping mechanism or something. Still working on it tehe

The only problem is Omori was created to protect Sunny from "the truth" and I have no idea how I'm supposed to translate this unto Harmonia. Maybe he trys to do what he thinks is best for himself(whole) but he just keeps pushing himself back to square one due to a few self-destructive characteristics he possess. The "charming, confident and charismatic" person he wanted to be would only hurt him more due to his high ass standards of wanting to contain this image

Idk I'll think of this shet later eEugnhga

#chonny jash #this whole au was an excuse to give Mind a battle axe btw #idk this au isnt that well thought of lol #it was just the result of a still surprisingly fresh Omori hyperfixation + Chonny jash hyperfixation

[bluerose5]

A Light in the Darkness

Word Count: 1,531

Ship/Pairing: Gale/Male Tav (High Elf, Wizard)

Other Tags: Romance, Pre-Relationship, Hurt & Comfort, References to Past Domestic Violence, Fluff (I swear!), Act 2 & The Shadow Curse

Link to read on AO3.

...

It was not exactly an uncommon occurrence for Gale and Falorin to stay up late into their evenings together.

More often than not, it was their studies that kept them up until one yawn too many convinced them to part ways, each one returning to their respective bedroll.

That night, Falorin came to visit him later than usual.

One look at him, and Gale instantly knew that something was off.

Falorin stumbled into his tent, his warm skin pale, hands clammy to the touch.

Sweat beaded at his hairline, droplets of perspiration breaking away to stream down along the outline of his cheek.

Falorin clutched at his abdomen.

His expression twisted as nausea threatened to overtake him.

Gale instantly snapped the book closed that he had been reading, then set it aside.

Brow furrowed, he rushed forward to steady Fal as he swayed on his feet.

“Falorin?!” Gale asked, frantic with worry. He cupped his cheeks, brushed sweat-soaked hair back behind pointed ears with trembling fingers. “What's happening? What's wrong? Are you sick?” When Fal didn't immediately answer, he grew desperate for a response, any kind of response. “Speak to me!”

“I—”

Falorin's gaze was distant.

Each breath burned like smoke in his lungs.

He clutched at his throat, choking on the air around them.

“I can hear him, Gale.” Tears gathered in his one good eye. His lower lip wobbled. “I can hear him, whispering from the shadows.”

Realization dawned on him.

At this point in their journey, Falorin had shared enough about his past with Gale for him to know exactly who he was referring to.

In all honesty, Gale had been so wrapped up in his own self-destructive thoughts that he hadn't even taken the time to consider how the shadow curse might have been affecting him.

It made him feel like an ass, but no more.

“Tell me what to do.”

Falorin forced himself to focus on him, brought back from that far-off place for a split second by the sound of his voice.

Swallowing thickly, he rasped out, “Hold me.” He tried to take a deep, even breath through the discomfort. “Please,” he begged, “just hold m—”

He didn't waste another precious second, gathering Falorin up into his arms and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug, one that Falorin was quick to return in kind.

Falorin sobbed.

“It's like I can feel his magic all around me, inside me,” he whimpered, his grip tight upon the fabric of his shirt. “I can feel it clinging to my skin. Tainted, dirty. He's trying to silence me again, trying to plunge my world into darkness.” He gasped for relief from their cursed surroundings, anxiously shaking his head to and fro. “I can't, I can't…”

His knees buckled, but Gale was there to catch him.

“Hey,” Gale whispered. He pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead against his. “Look at me, Fal. Please?” When he did as he requested, Gale asked, “Do you trust me?”

Falorin searched his expression in confusion.

“What?”

“Do you trust me?” Gale repeated, drawing out each word. 

“Of course,” Fal answered without skipping a beat. He let out a bitter laugh at that. “Probably more than is wise, given my situation. Trusting people never seemed to work out all that well for me in the past.”

“Good thing I am more than happy to break the mold in that regard.”

He took one of Falorin's hands into his own and guided it to the center of his chest.

“Now, if you will, breathe with me.” Falorin followed his lead through every inhale and exhale, finding a rhythm that harmonized as one, slow and even. “The shadows are still there, yes, but focus on the fact that you are here. In camp, surrounded by friends and allies. You are safe. No harm shall fall upon you. And if your former husband somehow overcomes the bounds of death at this most inopportune time, then know that I will personally see to it that he never harms you again.”

“Heh,” Falorin scoffed, albeit with no real joy to be found, wanting to believe what he said more than anything. “Tell me then, how would you stop him?” 

“However I had to.”

The intensity, the sincerity, in which he spoke gave even Falorin pause.

“You—” He took a moment to compose his thoughts. “I simply can't believe that I found you now, of all times. You say all of the right things, but what matters is that you mean them.”

“Well,” Gale chuckled, his hand resting over his, “to be fair, I am a terrible liar. Absolutely atrocious at hiding my feelings, too.”

No use in denying it.

Falorin beamed, his nose crinkled in delight.

“A fact that I am grateful for,” he said. “Your honesty is a refreshing change of pace.” This time, Falorin took Gale's hand and placed it over his own heart instead. It raced beneath his palm as their eyes met. “I have imposed an isolation upon myself for decades, all because of the fear he planted inside me. I finally find myself wanting to actually live again, then you show up out of nowhere and waltz your way into my life like it's nothing. My mind keeps telling my heart not to rush into things again, but you—”

He trailed off in wonder, speechless for a moment, until he could find his voice again.

“You are my one light in a vast land of darkness.”

“I am? I mean, truly, you think so?” Gale stammered, caught off guard by the confession. When Fal nodded, he cleared his throat. He had to take a minute to recover his senses, finding himself choked up all of a sudden. “Interesting. I happen to think that is a rather apt description of a certain elf that I know. You see, his beauty truly knows no bounds. He is so bright and colorful with an even brighter personality. Even his surname, Sungleam, speaks to the radiance that he emanates.”

“Gale!” Falorin giggled with a playful roll of his eyes. “You know that this elf in question just made that name up, right?”

Gale shrugged.

“Aren't all names made up?” he countered.

“Fair enough,” Fal allowed, but he could not hide the effect he had on him.

A warm, pink blush spread from his freckled cheeks to his pointed ears, their tips twitching ever so slightly.

They stared into each other’s eyes, regarding one another with expressions both gentle and tender.

Falorin mustered up the courage to ask what was on his mind.

“Gale.”

“Yes, Fal?”

“May I stay the night? With you?” Falorin was quick to duck his head, his hair falling down to shield his face, even as he tried to make light of the situation. “Obviously with the intent to seduce you, of course.”

“But of course,” Gale laughed, but it was undeniable how he brightened at the very thought of spending more time together. “In all seriousness, though, you are most welcome to stay with me anytime you desire. I would enjoy nothing more.”

And he meant it.

That was all Falorin needed to hear. 

He dragged Gale back down onto his bedroll, wasting no time at all before he curled up at his side.

Taking a moment to process the position they were in, Gale slowly wrapped his arms around him.

His lips brushed against his temple.

Falorin shivered, then melted against him.

“You make me feel safe,” he murmured.

Before Gale had a chance to respond, Falorin abruptly sat up to reach over him.

He plucked Gale's book off the ground before he could stop him.

Falorin barely even glimpsed the title when he turned to him, bewildered.

“I, uh—” Sheepishly, Gale waved a hand about in his attempt to explain, but there was no point in hiding it now.

“I might have been trying to brush up on my Elvish a bit,” he admitted, to which Falorin beamed, brighter than the stars themselves.

He shoved the book into Gale's hands and snuggled up against him again, waiting expectantly.

“Go ahead,” he encouraged.

“You're not going to make fun of me, are you?”

“Oh, please, how could I,” Falorin asked, “when I love the sound of your voice?”

Hearing the ‘L’ word from him, even in such a context, set his spirit alight with joy.

“Besides,” Falorin hummed in delight, “as much as I enjoy all of your lessons, Mr. Of Waterdeep, perhaps I could teach you something for once.”

He playfully tapped him on the nose.

“Right.” Gale wrinkled it at him with a grin. “Well, perhaps we can start…” He flipped through the pages with a click of his tongue, then stopped, pointing at one lesson in particular. “Here.”

Once Falorin saw the topic at hand, he laughed, nodding eagerly in agreement as they settled into each other’s arms, a wisp of light conjured between them.

While they were certainly no strangers to staying up late into the evening with their studies, that was the first time they rested well into the morning together, wrapped up in each other’s embrace.

Thankfully, it was the first time of many to come.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 tav #falorin sungleam #gale x tav #tav x gale #bluerose writes

[ussjellyfish]

20 questions for fic writers

thank you, @mylittleredgirl for tagging me! Have I done this...perhaps. Will do it again! It might also be new? the questions are fun.

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

423

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

2,817,922 (hitting 3 million should be fun). I average 6661 words (ha) per fic. Which is interesting. I have 43 drabbles and 7 fics over 100,000 words so they must even out.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Once Upon a Time (though not for years). Star Trek the Next Generation, Star Trek Voyager, Star Trek Discovery. Stargate Atlantis and Agents of SHIELD. many other things, but not a lot of fics. (12 or less).

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Stray Feathers and Scales (Emma Swan/Regina Mills, Once Upon a Time) I almost listed this one as Maleficent/Regina, which it isn't..kind of is, could have been poly if I'd thought about). This fic has HUGE stats for me and I haven't reread it in years. Parts of it are really detailed though, and it's VERY me. It's all the tropes.

Lost Leaves of Autumn (Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Game of Thrones) This one is very soft and doesn't really belong in the GoT universe, which is so brutal, but I really love Catelyn.

Thawing Deep (Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell, Game of Thrones). They could have worked! I haven't read this one in ages either.

Her Majesty's Mercy (Maleficent/Regina Mills, Once Upon a Time) The best Once fic I wrote, in my opinion. I remember the fun of writing this one.

A Funny Thing Happened at a Stark Tower Gala (Melinda May/Phil Coulson, Agents of SHIELD). Maybe this got recced somewhere? Maybe AoS fandom was just big that year? It's cute and fun, and for some reason has a bunch of kudos.

(this is long)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to? If it's a fic that I'm really into I'll reply. I'm kind of giddy about comments on the ones I'm writing right now. If it's an older one that I am sentimental for I try to reply. If I'm not into it at the moment (I am kind of burnt out on Once Upon a Time, and I haven't been into Chakotay lately so I've been kind of meh on my own Janeway/Chakotay stuff). I try to, but I am fickle.

I did just have this really positive experience where I posted my chapter of Quantum Variations (which is my long Disco WIP) and the chapter was kind of a mess, but I was so happy to post it, I really didn't care) and people found things for me to fix and were really kind about it. It felt good, for a chapter with a bunch of errors.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I killed Elizabeth Weir once, but she came back, so the ending was pretty hopeful. I don't write much angst without a happy ending.

I have Janeway rather self-destructively run off with the Borg Queen but... uh...it wasn't that angsty. Dark, but she kind of wanted it.

There's probably something really angsty I'm just not thinking of, but I don't reread my really old stuff often. (some of them I honestly have no idea what the fic is about).

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

there's a really sappy SGA one where they have a bunch of kids.

Firefly (Star Trek Discovery, Philippa and...learning to have feelings). maybe? Considering how messy Philippa's feelings are, she ends up happy, and more human, and she goes on a very long journey about it.

8. Do you get hate on fic?

Not lately. I did, I have, but it's been years. Once Upon a Time fandom you were a wild ride.

I did make massive drama back in the day with Janeway/Crusher, because I really wanted to get to play with them in the fandom space I was in, but that was not the space for that.

9. Do you write smut?

Sometimes! I'm on a somewhat lazy sort of fade to feelings place at the moment. I wrote a somewhat detailed one awhile back, but it was pretty tame. The fic is good though! I really like that one. Trapped in a turbolift and then later they have sex.

Migrations and other recurring phenomena (Star Trek Discovery, Michael Burnham/Laira Rillak). Happy Birthday, madame captain...

10. Do you write crossovers?

Not often, I do have a SGA and TNG crossover where the Enterprise turns up at Atlantis, which is odd but fun, and for some reason (there's a space battle) it got outside my usual audience. I really liked the challenge of all the characters meeting each other.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I recall.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! I think a OUAT one? maybe two? It has happens but...I don't remember which fic it is.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! Jackie and I wrote two really long ones together (which were a blast). I don't think she's still on tumblr but, @shinewithalltheuntold, I love you).

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

I am really into whatever I am really into at the moment, because I get REALLY into things.

Right now it's Michael Burnham/Laira Rillak, underappreciated ship of my dreams. Michael gets to date the president of the Federation, as a treat. fun bonsu for me is that they have scenes together! and a relationship arc and that's really fun. (even if it's not romantic, it's something and I adore them, so I'll take it).

All time ever? Kathryn Janeway/Beverly Crusher, which made drama, ruined some of my fandom relationships, but really gave me something I needed.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t?

I have a few that I just ended, which I'm okay with. I've taken longer hiatuses than I'd like, lately. (life's just been a lot).

I have three right now. Only one is posted and I'll finish that one! (Quantum Variations on a Love Theme (Star Trek Discovery, Michael Burnham/Laira Rillak) is my favorite. It's my heart right now. It's long and it's sometimes hard to write and there's backstory and plot threads BUT I love it.

And it has it's own little following and really that's all a really long fic needs: a handful of people who read it.

The other two I need for Year of the OTP so I should get those done too. (Firefly universe crosses over into canon-adjacent universe and Michael rescues sick Laira fic).

Hopefully they all get finished. (I'm fairly certain they will. I am not answering the question well).

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue. Soft feelings. Incremental character growth. Long, slow, introspective character journeys. Friendship and found family moments. (there are some Tilly and Philippa moments I really like in Firefly, and Tilly and Laira and Tilly and Michael and...people having loving conversations is fun).

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Description. (I feel like I'm really lazy with this most of the time. They're there, you know what they look like).

Urgency. (my fics do not move quickly, or really with a lot of certainty in their direction).

Plot. (frequently feels like an afterthought so people can have feelings).

Focus? I drop plot threads, all the time.

Writing by myself is hard. I ALWAYS want to show whatever I've just done to a person and sometimes people are busy and I am so unmoored by that. (post it anyway, dammit). I adore having someone tell me it's good before I post it.Sometimes I have to post it anyway...

I also write the thing I want to write, over and over in different fandoms and with different a characters and I've written my own variations on "pregnant person goes on a journey with her feelings and grows as a person" at least 10 times.

and I'll do it again.

And I love midly sick character, which I will do again.

I feel bad and don't feel bad? It's what I want to read so I have to write it so I can read it.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I google translate, or skip around it, or switch POV so I don't have to deal with it. It's hard to do and I can usually avoid it. I use a lot of fantasy name/word generator for alien words.

It's mostly [alien name goes here] and hopefully I put something in.

I borrow words (or spelling conventions) from languages I know little pieces of (Finnish, German, Welsh) when I need to for alien things.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Star Trek the Next Generation. (Stranded, Beverly Crusher/Jean-Luc Picard, Will Riker/Deanna Troi, adorable future children who are lesbians). One of my oldest fics is ON Ao3! it is like 22 years old I think? it's a mess and I should fix the formatting but it's SO LONG... It's fine. It's there. It's really not bad for my first long fic.

It's fun to see how far I've come. I wrote that one so long ago that I wrote it under my real name on a usergroup. Then posted it on my own website that I made with html on geoctities.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Whatever I'm working on right now is usually my favorite. I have fics I am especially fond of.

Her Majesty's Mercy. (Once Upon a Time, Regina Mills/Maleficent) one of the darker things I've written for them, that has a very happy ending it's just...kind of all raw messy feelings)

When I the Starry Courses Know. (Star Trek Voyager: Kathryn Janeway/Borg Queen) very depressed Janeway gives herself up to the Borg Queen, which kind of a Faustian twist to it. It's one of the better things I've ever written).

Fedvision (the Federation does eurovision, with Beverly Crusher/Kathryn Janeway and most of Voyager and TNG at their party). Fedvision is wonderful I should write it again, because it should happen every year. (Disco needs it). This fic is full of bubbly happiness and hats and love. It's full of love.

Firefly (Star Trek Discovery: Mirror Philippa Georgiou and Michael Burnham, and feelings, and learning to trust people). I used to live in a state of angst waiting for someone to comment when I posted...this fic has chapters without any comments at all. I had never written anything this long that didn't depend on a romantic pairing, this one doesn't have one in the center. I took huge break...and came back! I didn't have a beta or an alpha and I lost friends in the time it took to write it, and it still turned out. I grew as a writer and poster with this fic.

Quantum Variations on a Love Theme (Star Trek Discovery: Michael Burnham/Laira Rillak) is my favourite right now, because it's a me fic. It's a long meandering jellyfish fic and Laira's pregnant and I love it. It's the most fun I could have. It has really good parts. (not all of them but, there are some stellar bits). Also it has some detailed world building, and that's fun. This is the me fic that owns my soul at the moment so of course it's my favourite.

I'll just have five...

Tagging @aleksandrachaev @that-one-curly-haired-chick @purlturtle, @winternightjewels @regionalpancake @galactic-pirates @jackabelle73 @holdouttrout (if you fancy it)

and you, if you feel like it, person who made it all the way to the bottom!

The questions!

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

8. Do you get hate on fic?

9. Do you write smut?

10. Do you write crossovers?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t?

16. What are your writing strengths?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

#long post #20 questions for fic writers #about me #so much about me

[astraltrickster]

One of the things I'm imagining that could potentially improve a lot of online lives is a more controllable Snapchat-like "self destruct" feature that doesn't necessarily delete your posts after a certain period of time, but automatically sets their visibility to a more private setting, and you can change how this behaves both by default and on a post-by-post basis.

You have your fairly common (and should be more common) time of posting visibility settings of "public/followers only/friends only/whitelist (close friends) only/only me", or whatever else may be relevant. You have a time selector with options such as "1 day/1 week/1 month/3 months/6 months/1 year/Never/Custom", after which you can select ANOTHER visibility setting that it will automatically be changed to.

So, I might have default settings of "Public -> 1 year -> Friends Only" - meaning that 1 year after I post something, it automatically changes privacy settings so only I and people on my friends list can see it, though for more personal things I might change it to "Public -> 1 month -> Private (or even delete)", or for art and other things I want to keep out there, "Public -> never change".

If you wanted to get more into it, you could even change default settings by tag or have multiple preset security profiles in a drop-down menu - I could make it so adding my personal or art tags automatically changes the default settings to the alternate profiles shown above, and/or I could just select those profiles independent of the tag.

I'll probably make a mockup of some description later but I think it would be a useful concept to build on.

#tech #internet culture #ideas