#my point isn’t to make something worth reblogging i just need to talk about these guys or i will go crazy

[jcbmcdrmtt]

I love how the happiest Cao Guangyan’s been up until this point is when someone’s insulting Pu Yiyong, and then not even an hour later he’s looking at Yiyong writing down the names of all the homeless people and starting to realize he’s actually not a terrible person. Enemies to friends (lovers?) speedrun

#i apologize for the terrible image quality - i was taking a pic of the tv with my phone #my point isn’t to make something worth reblogging i just need to talk about these guys or i will go crazy #oh no! here comes trouble #oh no here comes trouble #pu yiyong #cao guangyan #mine #jake talks

[asongofmarvelanddc]

Someone. Anyone.

PAIRING: Aegon II X Reader

WORD COUNT: 4688

WARNINGS: None

SUMMARY: Aegon has waited his entire life for someone to care.

A/N: This simply refused to leave my brain until it was written down. I can't wait to see more of Aegon II in season 2! As always, please reblog, like, comment, send an ask, a raven – anything! I wanna talk to you guys! ❤️

The days seem to blur together recently. Aegon can’t tell the difference between them anymore, bar something particularly extraordinary happening. No such thing has happened of late and so the days continue to blur.

When Aegon wakes that morning, he half-expects it to be the evening. It’s an odd thing the way he sleeps. Erratic. Some days he rises before the birds, and other days it’s just as supper is being cleared from the dinner table. No one thinks to wake him anymore – probably glad to be rid of his presence.

With a sigh, he shuffles out of bed, groaning when his head pounds in response to being on his feet. The thought of washing before he leaves the room crosses his mind. Briefly. There’s no one around to draw him a bath, and frankly, he’s in no mood to wait. He is hungry, tired…and lonely. But he can only do something about those first two things.

He exits the room looking quite haphazard, but rests easy knowing that no one would dare comment on his ghastly appearance. Most of the servants and guards avoid eye contact as he passes. Aegon takes that to mean that no one has requested his presence somewhere. No one wants to see him.

Even when he sits to eat, he’s left utterly alone. He stares into space as he downs his breakfast. A drink. That’s what he needs. It doesn’t distract from the loneliness anymore – it hasn’t in years – but it dulls the pain at least. He finishes eating, and though he has had his fill, the pit in his stomach remains empty.

Sunfyre.

Perhaps that is who he needs. She always manages to plug the hole in his heart, however temporary it may be. He rises and immediately heads for the dragon pit.

On the way down there he walks past Helaena’s room. The door is ajar, and the laughter of children filters out into the hall. Aegon’s lip twitches as he edges closer to the door. It has been a few days – two, maybe three – since he’s seen the kids. He wants to sit with them, play with them. They’re growing so fast.

He pushes the door open further and slides halfway through, but his smile falters when he realises that his wife and children are not alone.

His brother, Aemond, is sitting on the floor with the children. They’re tugging at his hair, completely unaware of the discomfort they might be causing, while Aemond sits there trying his best to appear annoyed with them. Alicent and Helaena are watching from the lounger, entirely amused by the scene before them.

They seem happy. Happier than they could ever be in his presence at least.

Instead of dampening the mood with his entrance, he quietly slides back out of the room, making sure he isn’t seen or heard. It’s selfish to be hurt by the fact that they are happy without him, but he can’t help it.

He can’t remember a time when his family were happy to see him. His father ignores him, his mother berates him, his brother is disgusted by him, and his wife can’t stand the sight of him….And he’s not entirely sure he can blame them.

He has never been the best version of himself that he could be…but what is the point in being great when all that is expected of him is failure? They all look at him and see nothing of worth. Why prove them otherwise? Worthless he shall continue to be.

Aegon is content to wallow in self-pity for the remainder of the day until he runs into a familiar face upon turning a corner. Although you barely collide, it's enough to startle you and make you jump back.

"Aegon!" you yelp, but quickly recover and bow your head in a more composed manner, "My Prince."

His mood is instantly improved at the sight of you, and he can't say exactly why. He’s paid attention to you, in a way he never has to other young maidens in the castle. At first, it was purely due to the allure of your striking beauty, but soon it became…more.

Your father joined the Small Council only a few months ago, and you've been strolling the halls of the Red Keep since. Not long after your arrival, you joined Aegon for a drink just outside the servants’ quarters and he questioned you about why you accompanied your father to the capital rather than remain at home with your mother and sisters. You clammed up and offered a rather vague explanation that indicated a turbulent relationship with her. Aegon let you be, but since then, he made sure to stop and speak to you whenever you crossed paths.

He wouldn’t call you a friend. No, not at all. However, you are one of the few able to keep up with him when it comes to drink. You don't sigh when he enters a room, nor do you look at him with derision or contempt in your eyes. You laugh at his jokes, so he tells even more for your sake. Because he wants you to enjoy his company as much as he does yours.

He's starting to care, and though it terrifies him, it's better than anything he's felt for years.

"My Lady." Taking your hand, he turns it over so the palm is facing upwards. He raises a brow and looks up at you, "I see you have been drawing again."

It's the charcoal dust on your fingers that gives it away. He's aware of your hobby – drawing various flowers and documenting their differences and similarities. You swear it'll be useful to the maesters one day. Aegon is not so sure, but he doesn't share those thoughts because he sees how happy it makes you.

"Someone ought to do it," you shrug and wipe your hands on the small purse slung across your body, "If I don't, who will?"

"Is that where you are off to in such a hurry?"

"No," you sigh heavily and roll your eyes as you seem to recall something of particular annoyance, "Do you know that there are weeds growing in the godswood?"

"Weeds?"

"Weeds!" you repeat, even more concerned, "I have asked the gardener to prune them but it doesn’t seem to have been done properly. So, I have decided to do it myself."

Your passion is infectious, it breathes life into him. He cares not about the art of gardening, but he cares about you, your interests. It pains him to admit that he craves the idea of being a part of your life, in any and all ways.

"I shall join you," he says after a moment of thought, "If you will have me."

It's a silly question to ask, one to which you don't bother responding for he knows the answer is always 'yes'. Aegon walks alongside you, occasionally glancing at each other, but not knowing what to say. He’s always like this when he hasn’t had a drink.

"I called on you earlier. I was told you were still asleep."

Most are rarely happy to see Aegon, much less purposely seeking him out. This is unusual for him.

“I was, I only woke a short while ago,” he says, “Were you after something?”

You look up at him with a cheery smile, "No, I just wanted to spend time with you."

He frowns in confusion, "Why?"

You come to a sudden stop and look up at him properly, a soft pout forming on your lips, "You and I are friends, are we not?"

Friends. He cannot say that he has ever had one. Every person he has ever spent a reasonably enjoyable time with was either paid to be accommodating, or did so out of mere obligation. Everyone but you.

"Besides, who's to say you and I will even have the chance to speak at the feast later?" you say with a chuckle.

"We are to have a feast tonight?"

Your brows crease as you search his eyes for any sign that he may be teasing, “Today is your Name Day. Have you forgotten?”

You state it as if it is the most obvious thing to remember.

“No, I–,” he stutters as he tries to recall the date, “No one told me...”

Aegon retreats into his own mind. Until this very moment, he had completely forgotten that this is meant to be a day of celebration. Normally his mother would be dragging him out of bed first thing in the morning, and there would be some attempt from his family to spend time together. But today has been like all the rest, and they have chosen to exclude him.

That is expected. Forgetting his own Name Day is not. It's a painful thing when no one seems to care, but it's terrifying to know that he is starting to care less about himself.

"I'm sure your mother is preparing a banquet that shall be the talk of the Kingdoms," you gently touch his arm, a level of tenderness he can’t remember when last he received.

Aegon looks into your eyes, a ray of light in this haze of misery he calls a life. And just like that, he doesn’t feel so lonely anymore.

***

As the honoured guest, Aegon is seated at the head of the High Table, his mother and grandsire on either side of him along with his siblings and children. But somehow, as the night goes on, Aegon climbs down from the raised platform and joins you at one of the tables meant for the Small Council members and their families.

Although you are flattered, people are staring because it is not in fact common for the Heir to ignore most of the guests at his own Name Day feast in order to spend time with the Master of Coin's daughter.

No matter. You do your best to ignore them just as Aegon seems to do.

Slouched in his chair, right leg up on the table and his left hand holding a goblet of wine, you can’t help noticing that he isn't drunk – yet – and you hope it stays that way for the evening. He engages you in a heated discussion about whether or not the dance being performed by the guests is worth watching. You are of the strong opinion that it is entertaining to watch and romantic when participating.

Aegon shoots you a look of incredulity, "They are not even touching!"

"Yes, because this dance is about the simple intimacy of the near-touch," you hover your palms close together to imitate one of the dance moves.

Aegon scoffs and sips his drink, "There is nothing intimate about not touching your dance partner."

"True intimacy is about when you–" he stops himself and laughs, shaking his head, "I suppose it would be improper of me to divulge such salacious secrets to a virtuous maiden such as yourself, my Lady."

You roll your eyes at his condescending tone and shove him playfully in the shoulder which makes him laugh.

“Lady Y/N!” ha gasps in faux horror, “You just touched me! How will we ever know the meaning of true intimacy now?”

You laugh and shove him again, earning even more looks from the people around. Quickly you quiet down and focus on Aegon again. He's watching the dancers but you're looking at him.

Even half-drunk, with tousled hair from constantly running his hand through the cropped locks and red-rimmed eyes, you still find him beautiful. You feel the urge to reach out and touch his cheek or his hair, but stop yourself from doing something so inappropriate in public.

Besides, who knows how Aegon would react to such a thing?

“You truly don’t believe two people can share an intimate moment without touching?”

He chuckles at first, ready to brush off the question with a silly joke, but when he turns to you and senses how serious you are, his eyes soften.

There is many a moment you've shared with Aegon that you would consider intimate, and not once have you touched him during them. You want to know that he feels the same way about those moments. You need to know.

He holds your gaze for some time, and you can't be sure what he is thinking about, then he answers in a low voice, "Perhaps..."

He glances down at your lips, it is only for a second, but you catch it anyway. Aegon knows this, but it does not make him lean back into his chair, nor pretend to be embarrassed.

"There are people looking at us," you whisper, glancing around the room at the obvious stares, "Could we go somewhere?"

He frowns, "Why?"

"I want to give you your gift."

***

Aegon follows you to a less visible corner of the room. He doesn't truly care about what this gift may be, he is only happy to be alone with you away from prying eyes.

He watches as you reach into a hidden zip in the front of your dress, a clever design, and pull out an oval shaped case. It rattles when you pull it out so there is clearly something hidden inside. You step closer to him and press the case into the palm of his hand, practically shaking with excitement.

Whatever it is, it's small, which is quite an unusual kind of gift for Aegon. He often receives famous first edition books, expensive fabrics and custom-made swords for his Name Day. The gifts are piled high on the other end of the room at this very moment.

"Will you open it?"

Aegon, amused by your visible excitement and anticipation, snaps the case open. Inside is a golden insignia ring displaying the three heads of the dragon, perfectly etched into metal.

“It was supposed to be black and red, like the sigil of your House, but I think I like it better in gold,” you say, a look of pride in your eyes as you look down at your gift, “When it catches the light, it shimmers like the scales on Sunfyre.”

You smile as you tilt the ring towards the candle above you, “You see?”

Aegon can’t say for sure if your assertion is true because he doesn’t look to inspect the ring. Instead his gaze stays fixed on you, confused and in awe. He has been showered with gifts since before he had memories of his Name Day, but none as thoughtful as this.

When he glances down at the ring, he notices an inscription on the inside of the band. "To my dearest Prince, Aegon," it reads in High Valyrian.

"You added this?"

"There wasn't much space to have any more inscribed," you say, "But I had Aemond translate it to High Valyrian for me because I wanted it to mean something to you."

He doesn't know what to say. The gift is so small, yet sentimental. No one has ever offered him such kindness, and Aegon doesn't believe he deserves it. His entire life he has longed for someone, anyone, to care about him. Not Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name, Heir to the Iron Throne – just him. He is not used to receiving such compassion and doesn’t know how to respond to it.

He ignores the stinging of tears behind his eyes and clears his throat.

"Thank you, Y/N," he says as he slips the ring onto his pinky finger, "I shall wear it always."

Your heart swells as he kisses the ring.

"I know it is improper for a Lady to ask," you begin, already feeling the burn of embarrassment on your cheeks, "But would you care to dance, my Prince?"

Aegon is beyond flattered and kicks himself for not asking first. He does not want you to think that he is not eager, when it is in fact the opposite.

"I would–" he cuts himself off at the sight of his mother approaching from behind you.

A frown carves itself into his lips, "I would love to, but it seems my mother wants to have a word."

You look behind you and nod in understanding when you see Alicent walking up, "Of course. Perhaps later then?"

He nods with a smile, "Don't tire yourself out."

You bow to the Queen Mother as you excuse yourself, glancing back at Aegon when you walk away.

Alicent sidles up to Aegon’s side, a goblet of wine in her hands. “I see you’ve grown quite close to Lady Y/N as of late,” she says, “You’re fond of her?”

Aegon’s brows furrow as he looks down at his mother. He’s not sure where she is going with this and thinks to lie, but even he knows he can’t deceive her.

“I am,” he answers, looking away from her and searching for you with his eyes.

Alicent nods slowly and sips from her cup, “She’s beautiful, is she not?”

Aegon finally spots you among the dancers, floating across the floor with Tyland Lannister as your partner. His heart warms as you laugh at something the man says, your smile tugging at something that has long been buried within him. As if you can feel his eyes on you, you turn your head to look at him, throwing him a wink.

“I suppose she is,” he responds absent-mindedly to Alicent's question as the corner of his lips begin to turn up.

Alicent looks at him again, growing more and more irritated as the seconds go by.

"I hear her father intends to propose a marriage for her to Tyland Lannister."

Aegon's head snaps towards his mother.

"Tyland Lannister?" he gasps violently, "He is an old man!"

In truth, Tyland Lannister is a mere six and thirty – not considered old by the country’s standards.

"He is the Master of Ships and brother to the Warden of the West," she says, ignoring the outburst, "A Lannister is a good match for her."

Over my dead body, he thinks. There is not a reality Aegon is willing to accept in which you belong to somebody else. If he must claim you as his wife, then he will. Just as Aegon the Conqueror had two wives, so it shall be for Aegon II. The thought of you being wed to another man not only makes him angry, it is sickening.

“Aegon.” He is torn away from his thoughts of you by his mother’s stern voice.

This conversation is annoying and agitating. He does not want to hear it. He wants to go to you, to tear you away from that Lannister Lord and take you somewhere you can be alone together.

"Whether it is to Tyland Lannister or some other nobleman, she will be wed," Alicent says, her firm tone taking on a desperate edge, "Her father sits on the Small Council. She will be married to a decent man someday who will make her a good husband."

His scowl deepens. "Why are you telling me all this, Mother?"

"Because she is not like one of your whores, Aegon,” she turns to face him fully, though he avoids her eyes, “You cannot sully her skirts with your debauchery. You must leave her alone.”

Aegon has never believed that he is good enough for you, nor that he even deserves your friendship. It is why he has kept you at a distance as much as he can. Too selfish to completely let you go, but also afraid that one day, you will see him as he is and abandon him. His mother has just taken that fear, and in a few words, beaten him over the head with it.

Does she not see that he is trying? He has not stepped foot in a pleasure house in some weeks now. And though he still drinks, he does not do it until he loses his senses anymore. The days no longer blur, and he wakes eager to start them. That emptiness that tormented him so, it has faded.

Does she really not see?

Devastated does not convey the intensity of the pain that descends upon Aegon in that moment. His efforts to do better, to be better, have gone completely unnoticed by the one who chastises him the most for his self-indulgence and lechery.

“Aegon,” she says again, pulling on his arm, “Promise me that you will leave that girl alone.”

Aegon glances in your direction. You’re still dancing, but with a different partner now. Blissfully unaware that his heart has just been shattered into pieces.

“I promise,” he grunts.

As soon as he says the words, Alicent leaves his side, no longer needing to be in his presence.

Aegon stumbles, a bit overwhelmed in the moment as he looks around the room for something, anything, to distract him from the shame and embarrassment he feels. He spots a pitcher of wine on the corner of a table by him and swipes it, heading down to the cellars of the Keep.

***

Aegon promised you a dance, but after searching for him for close to an hour, you find him in the cellars with Balerion, sitting against the stone wall, legs spread out in front of him as he stares at the dragon’s skull. A wine chalice lies discarded by his side, spilling out what was left of its contents.

Aegon does not react as you walk towards him. Even when you stand right in front of him he doesn’t look up at you. He is completely out of it, and the sight makes you let out a deep sigh.

You move beside him and slide down the wall, choosing to sit quietly with him. Aegon drinks wine like it is water, but to get like this, something must have upset him. You don’t ask him about it. He always wants someone to listen, because of that you never have to press him to share his thoughts.

“What is worse than hate?”

Those are the first words that leave his lips after almost an hour of silence. He’s still staring up at Balerion as he speaks, but his arms are now resting on his knees which are pulled up to his chest. Though he is right beside you, he feels a million miles away.

You ponder the question some, but can’t quite offer a response, “I can’t imagine there is anything worse than hate.”

“Indifference,” he answers, nodding to himself, “It is empty. Hollow. Lonely.”

Finally, he looks at you with tear-filled, bloodshot eyes, “That is all I see when my family looks at me.”

Your heart breaks for him, and a lump forms in your throat as you try not to cry.

“Aegon,” you whisper, voice shaking, “Your family do not hate you. Nor are they indifferent.”

He laughs bitterly as his head rolls back to rest against the wall. “You do not have to lie to make me feel better,” he says, “That is what the whores are for.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, preferring the sting of physical pain than the one caused by his words.

“It’s the drink making you feel this way.”

His head rolls to the side so he’s looking at you again, though at an angle. At first, he doesn’t speak and it sends your mind racing as you try to guess what he might be thinking in that clouded head of his.

“Without the drink, I sink into a hole of despair,” his eyes soften, “A hole…I fear I may never climb out of.”

You hate seeing him like this. So broken and worn down by what he sees as a burdensome life.

Aegon’s eyes shift from you to the ground when he feels you trying to lace your fingers through his. He shakes his head and draws back, burying his face in his hands. This is the first time he’s rejected the comfort you offer. He is in a worse state than you imagined and you don’t know what brought him to this.

“Aegon,” his name falls from your lips like a desperate plea. You reach out to pull his hands away from his face, but even that won’t make him look at you.

You look down at your hand as tears begin to well in your eyes. “I’m not indifferent,” you mumble, but in the quiet, the words come out clear as day, “And I don’t hate you, Aegon.”

That seems to stir something in him. He looks at you with narrowed eyes, as though he is suspicious. But the longer he looks, the suspicion fades. And without a second thought, he reaches over and grabs your head in his hands, roughly capturing your lips in a kiss.

His lips taste of wine and salt from the tears now freely spilling down his cheeks. Everywhere his hands find, they grip you tight, afraid to let you go. And you melt into him, promising him with every kiss and every tug that you won’t leave.

You don’t care that his kiss is not the sweet and tender one you imagined. It’s rough, needy and desperate, noses bumping into each other and hands fumbling against your bodies as he pulls you into his lap – a motion only made possible because you want it to be.

All you can think about is how you can’t get enough of this. Of him. Day and night he has consumed your thoughts, dreaming of being held and kissed and touched by him. His sad eyes plagued your mind from the first night you spoke with him. You knew he had burrowed himself deep in your heart the first time you got down on your knees in the Sept and prayed for his healing.

But even now, as his lips merge themselves to yours, his hands sliding up your thighs, you can’t enjoy the moment fully. Because he’s drowning. His heart is broken, and you’re not sure you can fix it.

Just as the thought crosses your mind, he pulls away from you – though, even that seems hard for him to do.

“Aegon…?”

He opens those beautiful sad eyes again and upon meeting yours, shakes his head. He’s fighting with himself, with what he ought to do and what he wants to do. What he needs from you.

He looks up at you again and gently strokes your cheek.

“I don’t want to debase you,” he chokes out, looking like he is in physical pain.

“How could you debase me?”

“I can’t–” He grips your face tightly and pulls you closer, searching your eyes in desperation.

More tears spill over and roll down his cheeks. “You are far too precious to me.”

The pain in his eyes is so raw you can practically see him twisting the knife in his own heart. He’s clinging to you for life while begging you to let him go. He doesn’t know that if you let him succumb, the darkness will consume you too.

“And what do you think you are to me?” you whisper, hands cupping his face, “A rarity. The person I love.”

His grip softens and his eyes widen.

“You love me?”

“More than anything,” you say without any hesitation.

He stares at you in awe, fingers tracing your cheeks and jaw and lips. You cannot say if he is in the room with you in this moment, or if his mind is somewhere else. As if snapped back to his senses, he sucks in a stuttered breath and his gaze refocuses.

“You love me?” he asks again, voice breaking as he speaks.

The last of his resolve breaks when you nod again. Burying his head into your chest, he begins to sob uncontrollably, arms squeezing around your waist as he holds onto you.

With trembling lips, you place a kiss to the top of his head, your tears soaking through his silver hair.

#aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x reader #aegon fanfic #tom glynn carney #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fic #hotd imagine #house of the dragon fic

[megvmins]

moments with wind breaker men

some bf headcanons with my fav troublemakers.

includes: vinny, jay, dom, owen, joker

warnings: suggestive

author's note: I fell in love again and I need to share my Wind Breaker headcanons with the world. I wanted to add more but I might just do part 2 for the rest of the boys. likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 🫶

VINNY: it's notoriously well-known that waking up sleeping Vinny is impossible unless he can smell something delicious or hear people talking about food. that being sad, it is also absolutely impossible to get out of his embrace in the morning. arms hugging your waist, his chin resting on the top of your head and your legs intertwined, there is nowhere for you to go. once Vinny actually wakes up, he plants a soft kiss on the top of your head (but if you mention him doing that he will deny it like his life depends on it) and only then will he let go. your favorite past-time has to be annoying him because his reactions are always priceless. for example when you two are brushing your teeth side by side and you end up pulling faces looking at him through the mirror. it's all worth it just to see him almost spit out his toothpaste and throw you a death glare that softens into a loving eye-roll. 

JAY: cooking with Jay is one of your favorite moments. if you weren't a good cook, Jay is the perfect teacher thanks to his patience, so even if you mess up he wouldn't get angry (but he might make the cutest puzzled expressions over the possible catastrophes you manage to create while working on a fairly straightforward beginner friendly recipe). those puppy-like faces just make u wanna smooch him and he definitely doesn't mind. that being said, he is frustratingly proper and won't just ditch the cooking for a make-out session (his mind is definitely running with ideas but his self-control is something to behold, unfortunately). he will just resume cooking, this time standing right behind you and guiding you through your second attempt. just know he knows what he's doing and that you did not learn anything while he was in such a close proximity and all you could think about was how nice it feels to be in his arms and that his shampoo smells amazing. 

DOM: everyone knows that Dom got really passionate about biking and now his mind is literally filled with it and nothing else. but exams are coming up and he is in great need of intervention to not repeat the year again. you'd think helping him study would be pretty straightforward but it's definitely not. half the time you just find him gazing at you with heart eyes and content smile. sometimes it's necessary to just bonk his head with your textbook to bring him back to earth. but can you blame him? he is just really curious about the new chapstick he saw you use. so to motivate him to study you have to bet something on the line and suddenly he is back to being the Mr. Passionate everyone knows him to be. it only takes the promise of a few kisses and his motivation is back in overdrive. 

OWEN: Owen is great at distracting you. if you are having a tough time or just need to do something to forget about your troubles for a bit, he is the best person to go to. he's going to search up places to take you to – pretty cafes that are absolutely instagram worth and shopping trip that will make your feet hurt and your closet overflow because he will not hold back. if he sees your gaze linger on something he is pushing it into your arms to try it. it's definitely not just a treat for you, don't be mistaken. he loves seeing you show off the items and bonus points if you need him to help you zip something up. he plays it all cool and suave but his fingers are shaking a little bit, he takes his sweet time with it and then he makes sure to send you a naughty smile with a compliment that makes you weak in the knees. 

JOKER: Joker isn't really a fan of having you attend his underground fights. it makes him uneasy, thinking he will scare you away and that you might be used against him if someone decides to look for his weakness. that doesn't stop you from showing up anyway and patching him up. at this point you are both used to this silent dance of you cleaning his cuts and cooling down his soon-to-be-bruises. when you finish up, he brings you closer between his thighs and hugs your midriff since he is usually sitting down before you and rests his head on your chest/stomach listening to your calming heartbeat. before he let's go he whispers soft “thanks.” and offers a faint barely there smile that somehow still manages to make your heart skip a beat. 

#wind breaker #windbreaker #windbreaker x reader #wind breaker x reader #vinny hong #vinny hong x reader #jay jo #jay jo x reader #dom kang #dom kang x reader #owen knight #owen knight x reader #joker #joker x reader #wind breaker joker x reader #wind breaker headcanons #moon writes

[honkytonk-hangman]

How It's Done (1/2)

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Aviator!Reader

Summary: “Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean. “Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–” “–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by.

Warnings: erm maybe just some references to sex? jake being jake? language? minions. big warning for minions xD

Notes: This is part one of a two-parter, the next will be mostly smut lmao. Thank you for reading! I would love any feedback or comments and dont forget to reblog if you feel so inclined!!!

Masterlist

“Well, I’ll be damned…”

You pinch your eyes shut and steel yourself at the sound of the all too familiar Texan drawl, hanging on to the hope that perhaps he isn’t talking to you. You’re out of luck though, and moments later Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin slides into the open space next to you at the bar, already posed in a casual lean as he looks you up and down appraisingly.

It makes your teeth grind.

It makes your face hot.

“If it isn’t Mirage. Would have invited you to play with us if I’d known you were here earlier…” Hangman cocks his head, and his lips tip up in an infuriatingly perfect smile. “But one can never really be sure if you’re around or not… and that's before you get in a cockpit,” he grins, but when you meet his eye at last, he looks away from you, toward Penny who seems to approach in the nick of time, saving you from needing to respond.

You blink down at your drink, and finish it quickly, unnerved by what you think might have just been a compliment of sorts from Hangman. You’d been stationed together previously, though you weren’t friends, so you’d been expecting something a little more acidic in nature. You’d heard him interact with other aviators, knew he liked to push and poke them, usually got away with it too. For some reason though, he’d never really gone there with you and frankly you’ve always just chalked it up to not being worth his time. In fact, you’re pretty sure the only times you’d ever actually spoken had been in the sky. To be completely honest, you’re more than a little surprised that he remembers you at all.

You didn’t exactly go out of your way to stand out…

You were naturally quiet, which wasn’t helped by your social anxiety, resulting in most people describing you as extremely shy. They wouldn’t be wrong, you suppose, you did tend to keep to yourself, the idea of having too many eyes on you all but unbearable to you. But if you’d thought a roomful of people singing happy birthday to you was bad, somehow being under the unwavering stare of Hangman is approximately one thousand times worse.

“Penny, my dear… I’ll have,” he stops to glance pointedly down at your now finished beer, adjusts his stance to lean even more and unwittingly makes the muscles in his bicep bulge.

“Five more on the Old Timer,” Hangman says, nodding to the man who sits on the other side of the bar.

Internally you blanch, but externally, you say nothing and give even less away, feeling a little ping of satisfaction that apparently, you know something Hangman doesn’t. Before he’d come along, you’d been carefully watching the interaction between Penny and Captain Mitchell. You’d never met the man before, but you knew how to read military insignia, which at this point, was more than you could say for Hangman, who dismisses him quickly.

You wonder if Monday morning you’ll be able to work up the nerve to tease him about it.

You’re distracted from your thoughts when Penny returns with the requested drinks. You had no real intentions of going and hanging out with Hangman and the others, but before you can excuse yourself, your empty beer is smoothly plucked from your hands, replaced quickly with a brand new one.

“Help me carry these back?” Hangman asks then, jerking his head in the vague direction of the pool table. You frown when he immediately takes off walking, not actually letting you help him at all, all four beers still slotted between his fingers. You find yourself following him anyway, as if he’d placed some kind of spell over you.

Hangman stops ahead of you at the ancient jukebox, looking back over his shoulder at you, nodding in a pleased manner when he sees you trailing behind. He waits for you, gaze never leaving your form, even as he nods to the space next to him. You awkwardly step up to the spot opposite to him, and look past the glass and at the selection inside. Hangman, once more, takes up a lean, this time against the rickety machine.

“Would you be so kind as to select track number…” he trails off as he checks the list of songs, but quickly flicks his gaze back to you, and smiles bright, tauntingly, again. “Eighty-Six?” he asks, but it's barely a question. You nod, and swallow, shifting from holding your beer with two hands to holding it with just one. You carefully tap the chunky ‘eight’ and ‘six’ keys as he watches. The machine’s little analogue screen confirms that your song is next up, and nervously, you look back up at Hangman, horrified to find he’s just been staring at your face for the past however long.

“S’been a while, Mirage.” He drawls, making you blink rapidly and look away.

“Has it?” Is all you can manage meekly in reply, surprised when he lets out a genuine sounding laugh. He hums warmly, and you practically feel it in your chest.

“And yet,” he lifts hand, two beers held expertly between his fingers, but he extends it to tap your nose, almost making you almost flinch.

“You haven’t changed at all.” Hangman grins Cheshire-like down at you, before his eyes narrow ever so slightly, and he leans in even closer while flicking his eyes up and down your form again.

“I don’t bite you know,” he tells you, his voice sounding serious, but his somberness lasts mere seconds.

“Well, not unless you ask me to first, sweetheart,” he winks and his smile grows large as your eyes grow wide and you splutter, flustered.

Your face grows hot with slight embarrassment, a wave of inner resentment at his teasing washing through you.

Hangman laughs, seemingly bored with you now, and he turns to walk back toward the pool tables. Without even looking, he beckons you to follow with one finger on his still occupied hands. For a moment your pique prevents you from doing so, certain that if you were to dip into the crowd now, he’d not care enough to seek you out again, let alone notice you were missing.

You know he didn’t mean it, you know his flirting is just to get a rise, but you also know that he’d never do it to Phoenix, or Halo, and a little bit of you hates yourself for being such a marked pushover. You make the decision now that you won’t let him do it again, if you can help it.

Your eyes travel past Hangman then, towards the pool tables where you can now see another figure has joined the other gathered aviators, and for the first time all evening, you don’t feel nervous to go join them.

You follow after Hangman, but quickly diverge from his path, cutting around a gathered group of Navy personnel to get there faster. As you approach, you take a moment to shake off any lingering anxiety, before gently laying a hand on the faded Hawaiian shirt in front of you, doing your best to keep yourself from bouncing on your heels.

Rooster half looks ready to wave off whoever is trying to get his attention, but when his shaded eyes land on you, he spins his whole body to face you, grinning widely in unguarded excitement as he gathers you up in his arms.

“Miri!” he exclaims warmly, and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you when he briefly lifts you off the ground.

“I was just about to ask Phoenix if she’d seen you yet.” Rooster informs you. 

“Seen who?” Phoenix steps around him, frowning as she quickly glances you over, though it disappears quickly.

“Yeah, that about tracks…” Rooster mutters mostly to himself.

“Nat, this is Mirage, you know her right?” Rooster introduces the two of you, and while neither of you make to shake hands, you only feel friendly energy radiate off the other woman, even as she openly looks you over now, nodding at Rooster’s words.

“Right, I have heard about you… I guess there's no real mystery behind your callsign… I didn’t even realise you were here… Sorry,” she tells you bluntly, but you appreciate her straightforwardness.

“They said ‘Wallflower’ was too long.” You joke lightly, and the other woman smiles. A moment passes between you, and you get the distinct feeling that Phoenix has become determined to never let you go unnoticed in her presence again.

You aren’t sure just yet if you appreciate that, but you are sure that you’ve just made a friend.

“Mirage?” Another voice joins then and you look to your left, smiling again when you see another familiar face.

“Bob!” you move to embrace him too, not seeing the look shared between Phoenix and Payback who watch you in surprise.

“Huh. Figures.”

---

Neither you or Hangman have moved since Rooster and Mav went down. The rest of Dagger had returned an hour ago, mission complete. There was no reason for either of you to be on standby.

And yet.

When the call came through that Dagger Two had been hit, both you and Hangman had separately requested to be launched, to help, but you’d been denied.

As a rule, you made yourself easy to work with, even if those around you were less compliant, and you’d experienced plenty of that, flying alongside Hangman the past few weeks. Whether it was him leaving you to get shot down in training, or refusing to fly as a team during simulations. And yet, despite his habit of ‘hanging you out to dry’ being the reason behind his callsign, deep down, you’ve never once doubted flying alongside him in the real thing like the others seemed to.

You’re glad for that lack of hesitation now, glad that it only takes a single moment of eye contact from across the tarmac for the two of you to understand one another perfectly. Glad that when you got word that somehow, Rooster was supersonic again, you already know his answer before you even ask.

“Hangman? Hondo’s cleared us for take off with the ground crew, against orders. You with me?” you ask quietly, looking over at your wingman, knowing that when you return you’ll most certainly be court marshalled, but unable to sit and do nothing any longer.

“To hell and back, Mirage,” comes his immediate reply.

You see him move in sync with you, both of your canopy’s lowering at the same time.

You ignore the panicked voices ordering you to stand down, long enough for Hondo and the others to get you on the catapult, and by then it’s too late.

In two seconds you’re propelled from zero to over a hundred and sixty, and in your ears you hear Hangman right behind you.

---

“Do you want to get a coffee with me?” The question makes you jump, your drink almost sloshing everywhere. The sudden voice, as well as the person it belonged to, takes you completely by surprise, but you’re thankful he doesn’t draw attention to your startling.

Up until moments ago, you’d been peacefully watching the ocean toss and turn, burying your feet in the damp sand and thinking about what you were going to do with your upcoming two weeks of post-mission leave.

Most of Dagger were a little further up the shore, a bonfire crackling away, although you weren’t the only one to have splintered off. Mav and Rooster were currently standing in the shallows talking, and you think Halo and Phoenix have moved to sit apart from the others as well. You had managed to sneak away easily enough, content to just sit on your own for a while, though your efforts appear to have been mostly in vain, if the man now plopped in the sand beside you is any indicator.

You blink at each other.

“What?!” you blurt out dumbly, not completely certain you really understood what he’d said. Hangman’s lips press into a thin line, and he looks away from you, linking his hands together around his knees, and staring out at the rolling waves.

“Coffee. Would you like to get one with me?” He repeats, sounding only a smidge impatient, but it still doesn't clear up much for you.

“I… No, I heard you the first time… I… I just don’t understand… why?”

Over the past three weeks you’ve been forced more out of your shell than you ever have before. It was torture. It was wonderful.

Part of you pats yourself on the back for being able to ask him so starightly, but another part of you slaps yourself in the face for questioning him.

Hangman turns to look at you apprehensively.

“Are you asking why coffee or why am I asking you?” He speaks slowly and carefully, his face blank and devoid of any hint he was teasing, though you think he might be anyway.

“Why… Why are you asking me?” You push, shuffling your feet in the sand, drawing his attention for a moment. He looks back at your face and frowns slightly, cocking his head.

“Because I like you? And that is usually what somebody does when they like someone. Ask them.” He answers, and this time you definitely get the impression he’s politely trying not to laugh, but for once, you don’t feel like you’re on the outside of the joke.

Still, you find yourself taken somewhat aback at his confession, admitted so easily and freely, as if it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, which confuses you.

“Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean.

“Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–”

“–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by. Especially when for the past three weeks you haven't been able to get rid of the odd heart skips you got whenever Hangman acknowledged your presence at all.

And besides, you weren’t blind.

Hangman was ridiculously pretty, and not anywhere near as much of an asshole as he wanted people to believe.

He looks at you blankly for a moment, processing your words, before his face breaks out in a smile. It isn’t one of his usual smirks or tauntingly pearly grins, though. It’s softer, sweeter, and you stare mesmerised as he looks away from you again quickly, and down at his linked hands, nodding.

Two days pass, and even when you’re sitting across from him in a small, niche little coffee shop you had no idea existed, you feel like you’re in a dream.

You’ve never seen Hangman out of uniform, you realise, and it’s a whole new experience you’re forced quickly to process when he stands to go get your drinks.

Dark jeans, white shirt, casual jacket. It’s a simple outfit, but goddamn does he make it look good. Nervously you have to wonder if your white and blue sundress, sneakers and bomber jacket were having the same effect on him, though you highly doubt it.

He returns quickly, attentively, placing both your coffees down, before folding himself into his chair once more. You both look at each other awkwardly before you distract yourself by taking a sip of your coffee. Hangman seems to do the same, but instead of drinking, he begins tearing into several little sugar packets, and emptying them into his coffee foam.

You huff out a tiny laugh before you can stop yourself, and his eyes quickly snap to you.

“What?” he asks defensively, but the corners of his mouth twitch.

“I just… I guess I never figured you for a sweet coffee kinda guy…”

“Oh, and why is that?” his twitching lips turn into a full smirk, but it isn’t his usual Hangman smirk. You chew on the inside of your lip, and sip your coffee once more before answering.

“I’m not sure. I guess you just don’t seem like the type of guy who…” you trail off, unsure of what exactly you’re trying to say and even more; how to say it.

“Listen, I may have rippling, glistening abdominals, but I have a sweet tooth,” he says, putting on the defensiveness now, leaning toward you and pointing at himself. You pinch your brows together and purse your lips, nodding vehemently.

“I know how to have fun,” he tells you, tipping a third sugar into his coffee.

“Of that I don’t really doubt, Hangman,” you say, but his gaze snaps back to you again, almost sharply this time.

“Jake.” he corrects you.

You pause.

Of course, you knew his first name, but you’re fairly certain you’ve never once used it. Hangman has just always been, well, Hangman. But you weren’t in a cockpit right now, he’d asked you out, this wasn’t the time and place for callsigns. He wasn’t Hangman, and you weren’t Mirage.

“Jake,” you say slowly, carefully, as if he’ll tell you any moment he’s just kidding around. But he doesn’t.

“Miri,” he replies, slow like you, but softer, and it’s silly, but it sounds so nice coming from him. You shake your head and swallow.

“Jake, if you don’t like coffee, why did you ask me out for one?” you ask him, watching as he blinks slowly at you, before his gaze slowly drops to the latte in front of him.

“If I asked you for a drink, you might’ve got the wrong idea,” he starts, speaking carefully. “If I asked you for dinner, it could be too formal, too awkward–”

“–It’s already awkward,” you point out, making him grimace slightly, so you shrug.

“Coffee just seemed like– I just wanted to–” he cuts himself off and drops both hands to the table.

“Look– I just didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding about what this was. I like you. I know you like coffee.” Jake admits all in a flurry, his voice quiet, and his eyes flickering around as he speaks.

For as long as you’ve known him, you’ve never seen Jake unable to maintain eye contact, actually it seemed to be something he took immense pride in, and it always made you slightly uncomfortable, but right now he appears completely incapable, and it's not a side of Hangman you’ve ever seen before. You realise you might be meeting Jake properly for the first time.

You decide to let him off easy, with all the newfound courage Dagger had been feeding into you the past few weeks, and you change the subject.

“You know, when you came up to me at the Hard Deck that first night, I was kinda surprised you remembered me at all,” you say slowly, sipping your coffee and eying him evenly. Jake frowns then, but it smooths out into a cool grin, and he leans back in his chair, cocking his head.

“Are you kidding? I’m always clocking possible threats.” he tells you, making you cough lightly.

“How am I a threat to you?!” you ask in disbelief.

“Oh, I could name a few,” Jake teases, nodding at you, but flicking his eyes away, almost making a show of clocking an incoming group of customers behind you.

You weren’t clueless, you knew you were a part of Dagger for a reason. You were damn good at your job, but still, Jake was Hangman, not only was he an aviator you respected, he was an aviator with very high personal standards, and for him to see you as comparable to him… well truthfully, you find yourself rather humbled.

And then flustered, at his clear unabashed flirting.

“I always thought you flirting was just you messing with me,” you admit, and he grins wider.

“Can’t it be both?” he asks, leaning forward again, and clasping his hands together. He seems to have no problem maintaining eye contact now, you note. When you cold-stare him, he simply shrugs.

“You’re cute when you get all flustered and nervous, what can I say?”

“Literally anything else.” You grumble back.

You finish your coffee and push the cup to the side, crossing your arms on the table and leaning forward like he was. Jake mimics you, pushing his own coffee away, clearly with no intention to start, let alone finish it. You aren’t as good as him with eye contact though, no matter how much you’d come out of your shell, so you take the opportunity to glance sideways out the window, only for your gaze to catch on something.

Your heart thumps loudly for a moment in your ears, and you wonder briefly if you should act on the thoughts popping around your brain right now, or if you should just stay put.

You lean forward even more, and flick your eyes back to Jake who is staring at you curiously.

“Hey, I have an idea…” you start, chewing on the inside of your lip, before standing up. You only hesitate a little before offering your hand.

“You with me?” you ask without thinking, the words the same as the ones you ask time and again to your wingmen while in flight manoeuvres. Jake stares up at you for a moment, before he too stands, your heart skipping when he takes your hand. With a tiny squeeze you almost don’t notice, Jake grins, and nods.

—

“Oh, hey! Stop! That’s not fair!” You elbow Jake in the side, but it’s already too late. The hand he’d shot out to block your light gun had done its job, and where you’d previously been neck in neck for score on the dual Time Crisis cabinet, Jake’s character was now cheering in victory, while your screen was asking you to insert more coins and try again.

Jake chortles and you both slot your plastic guns back into their plastic holsters at the front of the machine.

“We never agreed to no interference,” he says proudly, and you sock him in the arm only half as hard as you can.

“I didn’t think it needed to be said!” you exclaim pointedly. Jake grins down at you, and collects his tickets.

“Quit complaining, all these are gonna go towards whatever stuffed bear or whatever the hell you want anyway.” He rolls his eyes, and gestures to the shoddy ‘rewards’ counter of the arcade you’d spotted from the coffee shop.

“I want the Minion.” You state firmly after glancing at the redemption counter for three seconds, and spotting the big ugly yellow creature on the top shelf. Jake sighs in a put-upon manner and shakes his head.

“See, this is how you know I really like you. I’m willing to ignore that,” he says, and you actually think he might be serious this time. You grin up at him as he takes your elbow, and begins leading you toward the back of the room.

“What are you going to cheat me out of kicking your ass at this time?” you glance around you, goosebumps trailing up and down your arm as Jake lets his hand slide from around your elbow, down your forearm and into your hand, which he squeezes as if in warning.

“I didn’t cheat, I simply used black ops tactics,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. You purse your lips at him and narrow your own eyes back.

“Cheat.” you say again, pronouncing each syllable deliberately.

You come to a stop then, and you look up at the old photo booth machine. Jake pulls out a fistfull of tickets, squinting his eyes at the label with instructions, before looking back over at the redemption counter. He seems to run some numbers before he looks back down at you with a grin, and waves the strings of crumpled tickets.

“My cheating means we can use the booth, and still have enough for a Kevin plush, so I don’t wanna hear no more complaining outta you,” he waggles a finger in front of your nose, and you blink up at him sheepishly.

“Jake– I don’t really want the Minion…” you say, before your voice turns suspicious. “Anyway, how do you know which one is Kevin?!” you lift an eyebrow, only for Jake to roll his eyes and push you into the curtained booth.

You orient yourself in the tiny enclosed space, looking around you as Jake takes a moment to feed several lines of win-tickets into the machine before he follows you. He’s forced to duck down real low, making the space even smaller, and you both stare for a moment at the small seat barely big enough for one person, let alone two.

“Well, either you can sit on my lap, or I can sit on yours, darlin’, but I know which one I’d prefer.” Jake intones lowly, and for the first time in an hour or so, you feel yourself get all flustered again. Honestly, you’d kind of forgotten about the explicitly romantic tone of this meeting until now, and more than that, your stomach begins to flip and flop like the first time you’d gotten in a jet when he eases past you and drops himself onto the bench before patting his thighs.

“Jake, maybe if you just move over a litt–”

“No can do, honey,” and he’s not even trying to tease you, he demonstrates the spread of his legs, and the tight fit into the booth, before looking back up at you expectantly again.

“Okay… Okay…” you say more for your own sanity than anything else, and turn, quickly perching yourself on his leg before you can really think too hard about what you're doing.

Your efforts are for naught though, because the moment you’re sat down, Jake’s hands are tugging you against him further, sitting you more comfortably on the thick expanse of his thigh, and you barely repress the noise that nearly escapes you at the feeling of his fingers digging into your hips.

“There we go, sweetheart,” he says softly, almost to himself, and moves his hands to wrap around you completely. If he notices your little noise, which by his self satisfied smirk he definitely has, he thankfully chooses not to say anything. Your face grows warm, not only at the hold he has on you but at the pet name too.

“Did you just call me ‘sweetheart’?” you ask, sounding half bewildered, half incredulous, forgetting for a moment where exactly you were and why. As you look over your shoulder at the man behind you, Jake stares back, his smirk still in place even as his eyes seem to search your face, his own expression mostly unreadable.

“Would you prefer ‘honey’?” he almost purrs, his voice distinctly amused, but you notice that he doesn’t back down, doesn’t apologise or step back.

It makes your stomach twist up in knots. It makes your heartbeat skip like a record.

You turn away from him, shake your head.

“It’s fine,” you tell him bashfully, wanting to grumble slightly when against your back you sense what you think is him puffing his chest a little. Quickly, you add: “Not at work, though…”

Jake chortles, but as you peek over your shoulder to look at him again, he’s relenting, his smirk gone and replaced with a far softer smile as he nods.

“Not at work, though.” he repeats lowly in confirmation, almost making you jump when he shifts one hand to steady you around the waist, his other reaching out to begin fiddling with the controls on the lit up screen in front of you.

“Alright, let's get this show on the road shall we?”

By the time you’re exiting the tiny cubicle, Jake’s hands still attached to your hips as he follows you out, you’re both laughing quietly to yourselves. You’re amazed to find just how much Jake can affect you, either setting you at complete ease or sending you into a tizzy, depending on what he’s said or done. Usually you wouldn’t be surprised by other people’s effects on you, you were jumpy and anxious by nature, but it was rare that somebody who put you on edge as much as Jake did, could also give you such comfort.

When he detaches his hands from your sides at last to survey the sheets of photos spat out by the booth, you marvel at how much you start to miss the contact. With all the subtlety you can muster, you inch closer to him, under the guise of getting a look at the photos as well, though really, you’re only hoping that you might prompt him into reaching out for you again.

Jake chortles and points at a set of two pictures. In one, you’re both grinning madly, pulling silly faces, and in the other, you’re wearing softer smiles, and you notice now, that Jake had pushed his face a little closer to yours. It makes heat rise in your cheeks, not just at the seeming intimacy of the photo, but truthfully, of how much you like seeing the two of you like that.

“You won’t mind if I keep these, will ya?” Jake asks, looking over at you. You simply shake your head, and he grins a little wider, carefully tearing off the two pictures before pulling out his wallet and tucking them inside, for sake keeping, you assume.

Jake lets you keep the rest, and absently, you fold them into the zipper in your purse, too distracted by the fact that he does indeed take your hand again, before quickly releasing it to instead wrap his arm over your shoulder. You can’t stop yourself from smiling a little as you blink dumbly up at him, and he grins down at you, ducking his face even closer to yours.

“Now sweetheart, I believe I was instructed to win you a minion plush.”

---

Jake’s appearance in the women’s locker room should startle you more than it does. As it stands, you barely even bat an eyelash when you spot him all of a sudden in the mirror behind you, like he was enacting some sort of horror movie jumpscare. It doesn’t really have that effect on you though, his presence nowadays is both common enough and exciting enough that he holds your rapt attention whenever he’s around.

In the mirror behind you, he stands at a casual lean against the row of locker doors, making sure to face you, but also making sure he has the opportunity to rifle through your locker, get a good look at the things you kept in there.

“What are you doing?” you ask, sounding less scolding and more genuinely curious, which is a point against you as far as you’re concerned. You turn from the mirror and move back toward your locker, replacing the small toiletries bag you kept with you inside. Jake doesn’t move a muscle, standing exactly in the same position, which meant that now he was practically leaning over you, crowding your space in that way he did sometimes just to make you flustered.

You were long past the point of it really working though, now you revelled in it just as much as he seemed to, eager for any small moment where you had an excuse to be so close to him. Especially at work.

You blink up at him doe-ishly, finding his gaze exactly where you expected it to be, which is trained on your face. His signature smirk grows slightly as he meets your eye, and your stomach explodes in a flurry of butterflies and fireworks at the way he seems to either consciously or subconsciously lean even further in toward you, completely dwarfing you now. It makes you feel small in the best way possible, and you have to actively work to put aside the thoughts of his big hands at your waist, and other such things that make your legs go all wobbly.

“Say, you don’t happen to have any plans for the fourteenth, do you?” Jake ignores your question entirely, but you’re not bothered by it, too caught up now on his own query.

“The fourteenth?” you ask, a little dumbly, racking your mind for something you may have forgotten, which you know is the correct course of action thanks to the amusement currently playing out on his very handsome features.

“Valentine’s Day?” Jake supplies for you eventually, putting you out of one misery and into another.

“You want to do something on Valentine’s Day?” you’re not sure which part of his suggestion you’re not getting, but you do know that something isn’t quite clicking. Jake’s features soften only slightly, and he bends his face even closer to yours, his eyes flickering down to your lips briefly before back to your eyes.

“Mhmm. If my girlfriend is alright with that?” Jake practically purrs the words, and they reverberate down your spine, making you blink rapidly.

You don’t think you’ll ever get over hearing him call you that, although you do note that he definitely shouldn't be doing it at work, considering none of your friends and colleagues know about the two of you yet.

“Y-yes, she is fine with that…” you reply, doing your best not to sound as lovesick as you felt. Jake lifts an eyebrow and turns his body in toward you even more, almost bringing your chests to touch now.

“Just ‘fine’? Sweetheart, I am hoping to get more of a reaction than that,” he again makes a show of trailing his eyes up and down your face, and you feel yourself swallow thickly.

“After all,” Jake continues, lifting an arm now to rest against the locker above your head, actually crowding your space now. “I believe we had a discussion about exactly how Valentine’s Day would play out, around… four weeks ago?” Jake makes a humming noise, as if he himself didn’t remember clearly, despite everything else about his delivery saying otherwise.

Your lips part ever so slightly as you recall the conversation he’s referring to, a heat crackling over your skin when you realise that, despite you not remembering it until now, this had clearly been something Jake was looking forward to.

You definitely were too, now.

“Thank you, Jake… tonight was really great,” you cringe a little at how scripted the words sound, but when you look up at where Jake stands just behind you, waiting for you to slot your key into your door, he’s only gazing down at you in a way that makes you immediately drop them. The sound makes you jump and turn away, but before you can clumsily begin apologising and scooping them up, Jake takes a slight step forward, never breaking your eye contact even as he swipes your fallen keys from your feet.

He’s right in front of you now, still slightly bowed over so that his face hovers right in front of yours as if by accident, though you know it's anything but. You can’t even bring yourself to move, as much as these dates had you a little off-kilter still, you couldn't deny the fact that your feelings for the man in front of you had been increasing exponentially, in a way that was becoming harder and harder to physically hold back from.

You don’t even mean to, but your eyes drop to his lips for several beats, transfixed until you force yourself to look away again. You part your own lips, getting ready to say something, anything, but Jake sees your wandering gaze for what it is, and doesn’t let you ruin the moment.

Instead, Jake surges forward, the hand not holding your keys moving to cup the side of your face, and at the same time, stands to his full height once more, the space previously still left between you now completely nonexistent as you find yourself pushed up against your door.

You’ve had relationships in the past, but you had never, ever, been kissed like this before, all heat and fire and what you can only describe as desire. However, as that thought sets in, you find that oddly, it doesn’t fluster you like you think it should, or would have. In fact, for the first time in a really long time, you don't feel any of your normal anxieties or nerves. Everything is replaced by the knowledge that Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin is currently pressing his body against yours, his hands carefully starting to roam a little and how much you want everything that that strong grip of his promises.

Unfortunately, that's when the one useful anxiety you have left returns to you, and just as always, you can’t bring yourself to ignore it like you so badly wish you could.

It takes only a slight push against Jake’s chest for him to pull away from you, though it's as though he can’t bring himself to go far at all. He stares down at you, lips kiss-swollen and his face so close still that you swear if he blinks, you’ll feel his lashes brush your cheek.

“What’s wrong?” Jake’s voice is incredibly gravely and rough and the sound of it alone is almost enough to push you back in toward him.

“I’m sorry– I just–” the rising panic in your voice makes Jake shift again, though he still doesn’t detach himself from you entirely, he does move his hands to rest on your shoulders.

“We– We work together, and I don’t do this often–ever, actually, and I just don’t want to get into something where we can’t come back from, because I’m actually really starting to like you, a lot, and I know this is a thing normal people totally do all the time– sleep together I mean– but you’re just so– and I’m– and I–”

“Hey, it’s alright, calm down,” Jake’s stern ‘work’ voice startles you a bit, but just like always, he seems to know exactly what it is you need. You blink up at him, realising you’re clinging tightly to his forearms, and he’s looking down at you with so much concern and care you could almost just start crying.

“It’s alright, Miri,” Jake continues after a moment, lifting one hand from your shoulder to cup your cheek again. You stare at him, your brows furrowing into a frown.

“Alright? You’re not– you don’t mind that I don’t want to sleep with you?”

Jake’s lips quirk, and he rolls his eyes a little.

“Miri, the only thing I want more than to take you inside and continue this with far less clothing, is for you to want that too. So, no, I don’t mind.”

You keep staring up at him, unsure of how to proceed now, but once again, Jake swoops in.

“You want to give it time?” he asks, earning a nod from you, but you suddenly feel the need to reassure him of your own affections.

“Just to be clear, this isn’t me not wanting to have sex with you!” you state quickly, earning a somewhat confused frown from the man still cupping your cheek. “I mean, I do, that’s not an issue, my problem is specifically just… rushing into this, when we work together. Our jobs are so high-stress as it is, I just think it would be better to… I’m not sure, ease into it I guess…”

You’re glad you made a point of explaining yourself, because Jake’s face flashes with brief understanding, and his approach seems to switch tact.

“Well…” he clears his throat. “That’s still alright, but it does make it a whole lot harder to resist, I have to tell you,” you know he’s only half serious, but the way he looks at you in the dim lighting of your porch sends your insides twisting and curling.

“So… when do you think it will stop being ‘too soon’?” Jake asks lightly, but you do think it’s an entirely fair question given that you are asking him to wait for you.

“A few weeks? I’m not sure, I just…” you trail off, but watch as Jake appears to do some mental maths, and then his face lights up, his grin pulling his lips in a rather distracting way.

“Valentine's Day?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

Before you can verbally agree, his mood seems to shift, and he’s leaning in a little closer again, lowering his voice. “I’ll take you out, real fancy, suit and tie dress code, you’ll get to wear something slinky and I’ll pretend the way I keep touching you is an accident all night.”

Your breath catches in your throat as Jake crowds in closer to you as he speaks, looking over you as if the things he’s describing were visible to him right now.

“Then, I’ll take you back to mine, maybe I’ll be presumptuous and buy you some lacy little underthings to wear for me, and–” He seems to snap out of the intensity all of a sudden, smirking down at you and cocking his head at your dazed and almost drooling expression.

“Well, the rest is a secret, but for now, let's just pencil all that in, hmn?”

“S-so, what did you have planned?” you bite your lip a little and reach past him to grab a scrunchie from your locker, but before you can slip it onto your wrist, Jake takes it off of your and begins combing your hair back himself. You stand and watch him dumbly as he does, already blanking out when his fingers seem to tighten ever so slightly as he gathers a ponytail at the base of your neck, and tugs.

You almost let out a pitiful little sound at the feeling, but unfortunately you aren’t able to control the fluttering of your eyes the same way. Jake smirks above you as he slips the scrunchie off his wrist and secures your hair into a somewhat regulation bun, all the while still grinning down at you. You want to tell him to screw valentines day and screw you now, but you manage to keep your mouth shut long enough for him to answer your question.

“I’ve already told you too much. Just be ready by seven. Wear something slinky for me, yeah?” he murmurs, letting his hands fall from the back of your head to your waist where he pulls you in.

“Alright,” you confirm, mind already wandering to what on earth you had in your closet right now that would fit the bill of ‘slinky’ and deciding that you were probably going to have to go shopping.

“Don’t worry about the lacy things,” Jake says softly, lips now ghosting over yours as he speaks, though he hasn’t broken your eye contact once yet. “I’ve already got that covered.” He says, making you go blank again.

The thought, no, the mere idea that Jake has bought you lingerie to wear, and that he wanted to see you in it, makes you want to vibrate right out of the room, and possibly several times around the planet, but you manage to resist, and instead just swallow heavily, and nod.

Jake grins wide, no longer smirking cheekily, his smile is nothing but warmth now, and you can’t help but mirror it.

“Great,” he says, giving your waist a squeeze, and you a tiny peck on the lips before he pulls away. “Now, I gotta get outta here before I get court-martialed.”

You snort as he spins on his heel and heads toward the door, but turns back and gives you a lazy salute and wink before he leaves.

When you’re certain that he’s gone, you let out a sigh and fall back against your locker, your heart thumping wildly along in your chest as you mull over your upcoming plans. The thought of shopping enters your mind once again, and you hum to yourself. Reaching for your throne, you shoot off a text to your group chat with Phoenix and Halo, and hope they won’t ask too many questions about your Valentine’s plans.

#jake 'hangman' seresin fanfic #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin #jake seresin #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin

[hadesoftheladies]

just throwing this out there, but perhaps the postmodernist psyop that is “neopronouns” queer theory would be more diffused if you simply . . . and hear me out, didn’t spend so much time talking about it. a psyop is literally just there to to distract and frustrate you from organizing and talking. imagine a random man from the park interrupting your talk about, idk, particle physics, and he starts mumbling and muttering about how atoms are actually “tiptoes” and how bigoted you are for believing in the second law of thermodynamics or whatever . . . would you try to engage him, help him see the error of his ways . . . or would you just walk away and continue your conversation with sane people? imagine doing that online. just continuing with your feminist discussion and ignoring all the people screaming about how sex-based violence should be discussed in gender neutral language. what they say is literally irrelevant and that’s why it’s successful. literally just ignore those kinds of people. what’s gonna happen? they’re gonna get mad? who cares? we were talking about separatism, so back to that!

men will never acknowledge what feminists have to say. they’ll never “hear you out.” it’s like asking them to “be nice” to women trying to play chess in a chess champions tournament. like asking them to “not rape.” it’s not that they can’t. they won’t. never in hell is it gonna happen. it has nothing to do with our credibility and character. and it doesn’t deserve a reaction. it really doesn’t.

i personally enjoy reblogging simple thinkpieces or opinions that show the absurdity of gender in clever ways. but i’ve given up trying to convert white or male liberals, even liberal women. if they have character and are worthwhile people, i can only hope they will follow whatever intellectual curiosity and moral ethic they have and find the right resources and information and use their critical thinking, but either way, it’s not my responsibility. (I really had to learn this as an exvangelical. no matter how dangerous someone’s beliefs are, you do not have any control over that person’s journey and you have to let go).

i have a responsibility to women and girls in my life. in my circle of influence. they’ll ask me for advice when they need it. i try to be there for them if they need me. but I don’t want to keep tearing at low-hanging fruit. and im not their saviour. im really just not in control and not the one.

it is imperative as activists that we stop making it our mission to be martyrs, especially as women. like these people can figure it out if you did. you’re not special. isn’t that a relief?

i think if we stopped seeing it as our responsibility to mother or guide men or even liberal or traditional women, we’d conserve energy for what actually works. being intellectually and morally integrous. pushing for justice in our communities.

I think we need to starve this internet capitalist campaign by only engaging in it when the benefits of engaging outweigh the cost, e.g. personal release of stress or explaining your point to the genuinely curious.

but let go of the impulse to defend yourself in front of people who can only ever interact with you in bad faith. watch a funny show instead, or something.

if they don’t care, they’re not worth your effort anyways. and it’s really not for you to decide. 🤷🏽‍♀️

#radblr #feminism #radfem

[r0sebutch]

ayo, for someone with he and they pronouns in their bio you just reblogged the terfiest “men are animals” shit I’ve read in a long time. i’m not gonna tell you to do anything about this bc i’m not you, but maybe terf talking points are not the most relevant things to be pushing in a time where persecution against trans people is really ramping up

hi! i’m hoping you mean well by this, so i’m going to try to respond in a way that isn’t bitchy. okay?

first of all, acknowledging misogyny as an issue isn’t a “terf thing”. in fact, feminism and trans liberation are inherently linked! either you believe in bodily autonomy and the right to choose or you don’t. standing for one and against the other is always shooting yourself in the foot- so the simple act of saying “women are societally oppressed” is not a terf talking point, but rather an actual societal fact, and ignoring it or arguing against it is harming both causes- one of which you actually seem to care about!

second of all, i’m sorry that people mentioning the tangible harm men do to women hurts your feelings and puts you instantly on the defensive, but that might be something to examine about yourself. also something worth examining is the fact that you saw a post say “misogyny is real and misandry is not, and if you’re going to discuss feminist theory you need to know this” and went “this post is attacking trans women”. if you’d taken a moment to check out op, you’d see the fact that she has made another post about misogyny- one specifically about how erasing discussions of misogyny harms trans women by erasing acknowledgement of one of the driving factors of transmisogyny!

thirdly, it sucks for you that we’re not centering men’s feelings in this discussion about how women are harmed by men. i get it. and i know that by not softening discussions about it by adding “of course not all men do this” in every post we make makes you uncomfortable. however, couching discussions about stuff like this in language that absolves you of all guilt inherently means you will never examine your own internal biases. maybe you need to do that. it might help to find out where this flinch-and-accuse reflex comes from, where you see the word misogyny and call me a terf right away because talking about it makes you feel bad.

fourthly, don’t try to use my gender against me! that was weird of you! you don’t know me! step back please!

and lastly, since you didn’t even read the post you sent this ask about, i can say with full confidence that you’re not actually going to read this response either. i mostly wrote it to just speak my own thoughts about this! so since reading comprehension clearly isn’t your strong suit, i’ll leave you with something you might actually get:

L + ratio + the post didn’t say that + you don’t understand even basic feminist theory + why are you following me if you hate women + learn how to read

[miralines]

Before I say anything, I just want to inform you that I just randomly came across your post browsing the discourse tag for something else. I don't know who you are nor what's happening with ao3 users here. I don't know if you wanted a deep(ish)dive into someone's thoughts and reasons for choosing fics based on kudos and hits ratio, but 100% ignore if you didn't! Sorry if I am intruding by doing this!

I come from multiple giant fandoms and when there are multiple fic choices with tags and summaries that I like, I do choose to go by kudos and hits ratio. Just to pick which one to check out first. I did notice however, that in smaller fandoms or tags this couldn't be applied because there's not enough fics, so I just read what I'm interested in most.

Why? Kudos signify how enjoyed the fic is to me, because usually the more kudos it has the more talked about it is on other platforms. Why would that be important? It's just that I enjoy exploring content made by others after I'm up to date with a fic. It's really fun to see people talk, theorize, make art and speculate or scream over things that will or did happen. It's giving me an opportunity to find people with similar interests and see what they make overall!

Sometimes though, if fic in a fandom or a tag that's incredibly popular gets hundreds of hits and very few kudos, I choose not to read it. This is based on a few bad experiences I had giving those fics a chance, where something in them made me uncomfortable or hard to read. I don't have any very specific needs when I'm reading fics, I just enjoy reading as a part of enjoying the fandom, so when I see the general readers avoid giving kudos in fandoms where it's very usual to have a lot on fics, I don't want to read that fic for my enjoyment.

I really don't know much about this, I'm sorry! But yeah, I basically use kudos to hits ratio to oriantate myself and avoid something I wouldn't like based on previous correlations I made. I don't know if that's wrong or upsetting for others, but if you find it that way, I would like to know why too and improve! Sorry for any grammatical mistakes I made!

Oh hi anon! I wasn’t expecting anyone to reach out like this, but thank you for taking the time to write out your thoughts! (Also. Please do not feel the need to apologize for grammatical mistakes. I do not believe in ‘correct’ grammar; as long as I understood you, which I did, I think you’re absolutely fine and using language as it’s intended!) (I am. A particular kind of nerd and not policing grammar is something I have Opinions about hence this tangent lmao)

This got terribly long, so I’ve put a tldr above the cut and divided the rest under headers for ease of reading.

Tldr: I see your points with regard to differences between large and small fandoms, and with the specific goal of finding “sub-fandoms” for particular fics. I still disagree that kudos-to-hits ratio is the best way to decide what fics to read, both because it isn’t an accurate metric of engagement and because I dislike the idea of using engagement as the primary metric in the first place. When I use A03, I prefer to sort by what’s recent and use the tags and summary to decide what to read, or to use the (excellent) search function to find what I’m looking for specifically.

I’d also like to note to anyone else reading: I doubt this will be an issue, but if anyone is rude to anon I’m going to turn off reblogs on this post. I know this is something some people feel strongly about, and discussion is fine, but this is absolutely not worth being mean to another human about.

Size of fandom

To begin my more thorough response: This is an interesting perspective– not one I entirely agree with, but I can certainly see how in larger fandoms with a lot more content it would be valuable to be more selective. For context, my main fandom is an obscure storytelling band with under 3k total works on A03, and these days I mostly occupy a niche of that fandom (one specific album) with only 128 works. The largest fandom I’ve been active in currently has 37k works on A03.

I don’t know what your fandoms are, but as some examples of bigger fandoms, Star Trek currently has over 100k works, Supernatural has almost 300k, and Harry Potter has nearly 500k. That is a big difference! I’m currently working on a goal to read every fic in my 128-fic niche (with some exclusion criteria), but in larger fandoms it’s impossible not to be selective. This is all to say– I definitely agree with you that the size of a fandom impacts how a person can and does interact with it.

Fans of fics

Your point about wanting to interact with other fans of a particular fic also makes sense! There was a particular fic series in my largest fandom that had a pretty decent following, and I still have friends from that sub-fandom several years later. If this metric helps you find fics that match your goal of having that experience, I can see how the kudos-to-hits ratio could function as a potentially useful metric, though I still think its usefulness is a bit limited for reasons I’m about to go into.

Kudos-to-hits isn’t accurate

I have two reasons for thinking that kudos-to-hits ratio isn’t the best way to determine what to read. The first is purely numerical. If you’ve been watching this discourse, you’ve probably already seen people discussing how users can only leave a single kudos, but may be responsible for 20-plus hits on a work. This is especially applicable to multichapter works, which in my experience are the fics that are able to develop their own following. If you want to sort fics by engagement, it seems like at the very least, using comments for the ratio is a more accurate measurement.

Using engagement as a metric at all

Secondly, though, I (and I believe, a lot of people) dislike the notion of using engagement as a metric to measure fics in the first place. I think the current discourse is partially due to some regrettable phrasing on the part of the OP of the post I was vaguing– if I recall correctly, they said that they use this metric to determine if a fic is “worth reading”. I think this phrasing was hurtful to a lot of fic writers who may not have large followings or a lot of engagement, but who work very hard on their fics and feel frustrated that this person implied that they aren’t worth reading. I have fics that are personal favorites of mine, but that I haven’t gotten a lot of feedback on.

Of course, this is just part of writing, and it’s an important skill for any writer (of fic or anything else) to learn to handle rejection or just lack of feedback. But I also think that particular post was phrased in a thoughtless way that interacted poorly with pre-existing insecurities (this is part of why I suggested that post was bait– the phrasing seems to me like a perfect storm to make writers upset and defensive, but of course this could also be due to the OP just being a bit careless with their words, and not expecting to have hit quite nerve they did).

There’s an excellent post here on engagement on fics and what a realistic assessment of “successful” engagement metrics are based on professional standards (which includes a stat about how Harry Styles, one of the most popular and successful current celebrities, only gets a 1:30 ratio of likes to views on his social media. I don’t know what ratio you’re using, but iirc the post I was discussing suggested 1:10). Personally, though, I worry about both authors and readers depending too much on statistics, especially in a broader cultural context when it feels like everything is performed, measured, and monetized. Most social media platforms have gone from a place to share with friends to a place to compete for attention and make money and fame off it. There’s a lot of cultural anxiety around that at the moment, which is another reason I think this discussion has gotten so big.

Why I disagree with using engagement

I think this discussion, at its heart, is a debate about what fandom should be, and I feel focusing overmuch on engagement statistics contributes to a fandom culture uncomfortably close to the commercialization of everything else on the internet. I feel that fic should be enjoyed as art (whatever art means) and not as a product. I’m not saying you’re personally approaching fic that way, but unfortunately there does seem to be something of a broader trend towards that, which troubles me.

As a writer, I would hope that when people come across my fic, they give it a chance based on the metatext information I give them in the tags and summary, the quality of my writing, and whether my work matches what the reader is looking for. Judging it based on the numbers feels reductive to me, and makes me feel like nothing about the work or passion I put in matters; just the popularity. My fics aren’t going to be for everyone, and I understand that. If someone comes across my fic and decides they’re not interested, that’s their prerogative. But I hope that potential readers don’t discount my work just because it doesn’t meet a numerical standard that, in my opinion, is extremely arbitrary.

My suggestions for what to do instead

As a reader, I default to sorting by what’s been posted recently, and then using the tags and summary to decide what to read. That’s what those things are designed to be used for, and I think they’re much more informative than the stats. Worst-case scenario, I start reading and then go back to the search. All I’ve lost is a couple minutes.

In large fandoms, this might be an inefficient way to search for fic, and I recognize that. I’d encourage you to try using A03’s (fantastic) search function to find what you’re looking for– you can both include and exclude fandoms, characters, pairings, and tags. I have come across people who don’t realize that A03 has no algorithm, and haven’t realized they need to learn to use the search function. This is understandable, given the state of most of the internet and what these (often young) fans have learned to use before, but I think learning to search and filter is a vital skill to develop. I have no idea if you’re in this boat, anon, but if you are, please check out the search. It is, in my experience, the best way to find what you’re looking for on A03, and can at the very least supplement numbers-based selection.

Conclusion

I don’t think you have a moral responsibility to stop using engagement as a way to determine what you want to read. Frankly, this isn’t that important. I don’t think you even strictly need to stop using kudos as the measure instead of comments, though I think that would be more accurate if you do prefer to sort by engagement. But I do think you could be surprised at the hidden gems you could find if you didn’t limit yourself to only reading fics with high ratios. I don’t know the nature of your bad experiences in the past, and obviously how you use A03 is up to you. But I think there are better ways to decide what to read.

Thank you again for reaching out– you’ve helped me understand the other perspective as well! I really do appreciate your explanation. I hope I’ve been as respectful as you have, and that I’ve helped you understand where writers who share my opinion are coming from. If you’d like to continue talking about this or respond to any of my points, please feel free to shoot me another ask or a message. I hope you’re doing well and that you have a nice day!

#not maintagging this either because I don't want to get too involved in the discourse TM #this ended up being a bit of an essay. I tried to cut it down and it just didn't work #discourse #<- for blacklists

[nuttersincorporated]

The Narrator Parable

Story Premise: The Player is away and the Narrator is in a bad mood until he comes up with great idea! He’ll take human form and let Stanley tell a story for once. What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter One: The Narrator decides to try something new

Word Count: 1,807

AN: This is a role swap au that’s also a form swap. It was inspired by the this comic by @celestetcetera about the same premise.

This is unbetaed. If you notice any spelling or grammar mistakes, please feel free to tell me.

I want you to know that the Narrator – when he takes human form – looks like Idris Elba in this fic.

Also, on AO3

Narrator Note: Hello reader! Reblog and/or reply to earn an achievement!

Chapter One

Stanley realised he’d made a mistake the moment he hit the 3 button and the Narrator actually growled in frustration.

“Oh, of course. A three, heaven forbid you make an actual choice on your own.”

Stanley glared at the Narrator who was currently in his favourite form as a shadow like figure[1] against the wall.

‘Unfair!’ Stanley signed. ‘I just wanted to play with the cars. I didn’t think what I pressed mattered. You know I like your game.’

“Oh, I know do I?” the Narrator said sarcastically. “Yes, of course I know. That’s why I keep the feedback buttons here and ask you to press them even when the Player isn’t around.”

Stanley walked over to the 5 button and pressed it.

‘There. Happy?’

“No,” the Narrator said flatly. “Obviously, my game – that I work so hard to make enjoyable for both you and the Player – isn’t worth any actual critical thinking or feedback from you. I’m the villain for wanting a little engagement.”

Stanley closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again, ‘I’m not getting to play with the cars today, am I?’

“No.”

Stanley sighed and sat down.

‘This is because the Player chose 1 last time they were here, isn’t it?’

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the Narrator said a little too quickly.

So that was a yes, then.

Stanley really wished that the Narrator didn’t care so much about pleasing the Player. It was the one thing they disagreed about the most; the Narrator always looked forward to the Player’s return and Stanley dreaded it.

Stanley hated the Player. He hated what they did to him and the Narrator. Even if he’d long since given up hope of escaping the parable itself, he still hoped that one day the Player would stop coming back and he’d at least be free of their influence.

Perhaps Stanley and the Narrator’s difference in opinion wasn’t really that surprising. The Narrator wasn’t the one who had his body hijacked and forced into traumatic situations. Stanley also remembered all the endings. At least he assumed he remembered everything. Maybe they both forgot things and he didn’t know.

Without the Player, the Narrator didn’t follow a script and things only reset when the he wanted them to. The Narrator didn’t mind Stanley going off track. Stanley was free to wonder the office to his heart’s content and go places that were normally inaccessible to the Player.

When Stanley did choose to follow paths set out for the Player, things were much more fun without them and not just before he was the one making the choices. The Narrator allowed him to do things like play with all the assets in Games Ending, rather than just the balls… but apparently not today.

“I don’t think you appreciate how much work I put into making this enjoyable for you,” the Narrator said sullenly.

Through a force of will Stanley didn’t roll his eyes or point out that he wasn’t exactly having much fun at the moment.

‘I’m sorry, okay? Your game is very good. How about you reset things, I’ll turn off the mind control and we can go outside together until the Player comes back.’

“No,” Stanley watched the Narrator’s shadow stalk moodily around the walls of the room. “Since, you apparently don’t enjoy my game, there’s no point.”

Stupid Narrator and his stupid constant need for reassurance and praise, Stanley thought.

Why couldn’t he just let the Player’s 1 go? He knew how much Stanley appreciated the effort he put into making this prison[2] as enjoyable as possible.

This time Stanley did roll his eyes.

“Oh, real mature, Stanley,” the Narrator snarled. “Okay, you obviously don’t feel ambivalent about my story, you hate it and you hate me.”

‘You know that’s not true!’ Stanley signed frustratedly. ‘It was just a stupid button! I said I was sorry! What more do you want?’

The Narrator came to a holt and a slow smile spread across his face.

“What do I want? No, no, no! It’s what do you want Stanley?” the Narrator said slowly.

Oh, this can’t be good, Stanley thought.

“Since my attempts at entertainment are obviously such a failure, I’m going to give you the chance to show me how it’s done.”

The Narrator snapped his fingers.

Stanley was back in his office but everything felt wrong. He wasn’t standing at his desk. The Narrator – now in human form – was standing in Stanley’s normal spot instead.

Stanley looked down at himself and swore. The Narrator hadn’t just given himself a human looking body, he’d given Stanley a shadowy form.

“What do you think?” the Narrator asked, as he spun around arms out, showing off his new body.

Distracted for a moment, from the form the Narrator had put him into, Stanley’s eyes narrowed. It really wasn’t fair that the Narrator could always make himself look so attractive in human form. The body he was in this time, looked male and Stanley tried to push the words ‘silver fox’ from his mind.

The Narrator was black, had a nice smile, brown eyes and a beard that had started to go grey. The suit he was wearing was too posh for the office. However, due to the purple bowtie and yellow glasses which clashed horrible, he came across as dorky rather than overdressed.

‘You look… it suits you,’ Stanley coincided, then remembered he was supposed to be angry. ‘But change me back right now!’

“No, no, no, Stanley! This will be fun!” the Narrator smirked. “You hate my story so much, well here’s your chance to make something better. You’re a creative kid, I’m sure it’ll be something fun.”

Stanley shook his head and make a rude gesture.

“Oh, come on, Stanley!” the Narrator grinned. “It’s your turn! Narrate for me!”

Stanley gave him pointed look before patting his throat – the touch felt weirdly like cool water – and gestured to his mouth.

“Hmmm, fair point,” the Narrator conceded his smile dimming slightly.

The Narrator thought for a moment before his smile came back in full force. He clicked his fingers again and words appeared in front of Stanley.

“There we go! You just press the ones you want, I’ll read them out and follow your instructions.”

Stanley shook his head again.

‘Put me back!’ he demanded.

Stanley realised for the first time that his words weren’t exactly clear in this form. His hands were now nothing but shadows on a wall. However, the Narrator had never needed to read his hands to understand him before[3] so he supposed it didn’t really matter.

“Oh, come now Stanley. This will be fun!” the Narrator chided. “You wanted something different, well here we are. You wanted to decide what happens; I’ve given you control.”

‘This isn’t control! You’ve changed my form but I can’t change anything. You didn’t give me the option to actually change things when you made me like this. All the options are still things you’ve programmed. I can only choose from the options you’ve given me.’

“Well of course,” the Narrator said impatiently. “If I gave you too much control, you might damage the game and then what would the Player think? I’ve given you new choices though. You can pick from them how an ending will go.”

The Narrator stretched and walked out the door of Stanley’s office. With nothing else to do, Stanley followed him, moving across the walls and floor.

“Use the dialog options I’ve given you Stanley,” the Narrator said, “and we’ll make a new story together. If you do a good job, I might give you a keyboard to write your own script later, won’t that be nice?”

Stanley looked at the options. In the corner there was a small option to restart, which he ignored in favour of reading the others.

All of his co-workers were gone… Once upon a time… On a dark and stormy night… Call me Ishmael… Far Out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the Western Spiral arm of the galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun… It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen…

“Hurry up, Stanley! Make a chose! That’s what you’re all about, isn’t it?”

‘This will end badly,’ Stanley signed before reaching out and pressing the first option. The options instantly disappeared to be replaced with new ones.

“Really, Stanley?” the Narrator sighed somewhat disappointedly. “I give you new choices and you just picked my normal lines anyway? Very well, if you insist,

‘All of his co-workers were gone…’”

Stanley looked at the new options,

Protagonist’s name:

Stanley… the Narrator… Mary Poppins…the Doctor… Arsène Lupin… Prince Charming… Jo March… Mr Darcy… Ford Prefect… Nancy Drew…

Stanley smiled despite himself as he chose,

“‘Mr Darcy…’” the Narrator said, then he stopped walking started to laugh. “Well at least you're picking something new now and what a perfect choice too, Stanley! I think I’d make a rather good Darcy; don’t you agree?”

‘Yes,’ Stanley grinned teasingly. ‘You’re both British and very argent, for a start.’

The Narrator shrugged, unoffended. “He’s adored by his sister.”

‘He’s unfriendly and aloof.’

“His staff think highly of him and he’s generous with his money.”

‘He’s terrible at proposing.’

“Only the first time.”

They both laughed. Despite his instincts, Stanley found that he was enjoying himself. The Narrator was also clearly in a much better mood. Maybe this hadn’t been such a terrible idea after all.

He looked at the new options and made his choice,

Mr Darcy decided to:

Go to the meeting room… Go to the library… Go for a swim in the lake outside… Check his emails… Call Jessica Fletcher… Call his wife… Check if the internet was down… Ignore the problem and hope it went away on its own…

“‘Mr Darcy decided to for a swim in the lake outside…’ Now you’re getting into the spirit of the thing Sta…”

The Narrator was cut off mid word as the world went black.

[1] For the most part, the Narrator looked like a normal shadow in this form but his mouth, glasses and a bowtie were visible to give some contrast. It was the form he favoured most often, though he could choose others. In his shadow form, Stanley could see him – unless he was hidden by real shadows – but the Player couldn’t.

[2] Not that the Narrator would ever admit it was a prison.

[3] Stanley wasn’t quite sure how it worked. The Narrator couldn’t read his mind. Stanley needed to say the words and the Narrator needed to be able to see him to understand. However, the Narrator didn’t need to watch Stanley’s hands themselves. It was as if he could hear the words Stanley signed if he was looking at him.

#the stanley parable #the stanley parable: ultra deluxe #The Narrator Parable #my fanfics #celestetcetera #role swap au #form swap au #When the Player isn’t around Narrator and Stanley are friends #Or more? #Well not yet in this story #But that MIGHT change #Did the Narrator choose a form that Stanley would find attractive on purpose? #If you asked him he’d deny it #The Narrator is nonbinary but uses he/him pronouns #He wouldn’t mind if you used other pronouns for him though #He doesn’t really ‘get’ gender #no spoilers for the new game in this chapter #if you want tagging when the next chapter comes out please ask

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I made this post yesterday in response to a message I got, and I’m making a new one instead of reblogging it just because it was so long and there’s no need to bring the whole thing back, but this is an addition to the post here (I won’t usually be arrogant enough to tell people it’s worth the time of reading my own posts, but this one does have a reply from someone else that brings some really interesting perspective, and I recommend reading that if you haven’t).

Today I tried to look up an article that would explain the concept of comedy washing, thinking I should probably update that post with a link to someone who knows more than I do defining the term itself. Annoyingly I didn’t find anything I was happy with, but I did happen to find this, which is quite funny:

It’s such a good point that it seems worth adding to my previous post. Once you understand the concept and start looking for it, everything is comedy washing, and therefore, it may as well be the case that nothing is. In the same way that everything is political, talking about how anything “shouldn’t be political” is ridiculous because that isn’t possible. We can’t be perfectly principled about this because we’ve moved so far into accepting politics in our entertainment and entertainment in our politics and the erosion of journalistic integrity, so the only debate now is where to accept the drawing of the line. (…I don’t think that’s necessarily the point David O’Doherty was trying to make with that joke, but it’s what I got when I happened to see it in this context.)

The relationship between journalism and politics, between journalism and entertainment media, and between politics and entertainment media, is complicated. In some cases, there’s no perfect way to navigate it. But the problem is that so many sources aren’t even trying to get it right anymore. This is why I have so much respect for the CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation), because they still try. They try for basic, fundamental, journalism 101 principles like:

- Declare all potential conflicts of interest even if they seem small, don’t put a journalist on a story at all if they have a conflict of interest that could be significant.

- Report all sides of an issue fairly, but in a way that’s actually representative of the issue itself and expert consensus, not just giving equal voice to all parties regardless of qualifications (this one is really really hard to get right and I don’t always agree with how they end up approaching it, but at least they give it a shot).

- Report the facts with objectivity (again, this is almost impossible to do perfectly, but at least they try), and then report subjective reactions to those facts.

- Here’s a big one: fucking fact check – anything reported with no caveat should be a fully verified fact, anything that’s not fully verified should be clearly labeled as speculation or opinion, and if you do make a mistake in this area, issue a formal retraction.

- Here’s another really difficult one that comes down to the skill of the actual reporter: Fact check politicians and other guests, in real time if necessary. If they engage in speculation, inform the viewers that this is unverified. If they make a statement of fact that is untrue, cut them off and say it’s untrue.

- Give airtime to viable political parties that is equitable according to the share of population they represent.

- Give credit to sources where it’s due, protect anonymity of sources where that is due.

- Give airtime to stories according to how important they are, not how many “clicks” or “views” they’re likely to garner.

- Tell stories in an honest and not sensationalized way.

- Don’t let your news organization or any of its journalists become the news – hold yourself to a high enough standard of integrity to maintain the public’s trust.

- Give enough context so the audience can understand what they’re being told. If a politician or other guest says something technically true but leaves out context that changes what they’re saying, it’s the reporter’s job to add this context so there’s no confusion.

- Get funding from… well, there’s no perfect way to do this. Advertising in political journalism is obviously bad, as it causes a conflict if they need to report on any brands that advertise with them. Private doners are bad for the same reason. Government funding has the same problem. Being funded by paying viewers/readers/listeners is bad because that incentives compromising all those other principles to bring in a bigger audience. Personally, I think the public broadcasting model, with strong rules to preserve journalistic independence from the government that funds it, is flawed but the best option we have.

This stuff is hard. And it’s often imperfect, because sometimes different principles contradict each other. They’re supposed to give equitable airtime to all viable political parties but not spread misinformation – well what if one viable party bases most of its platform around disinformation? When contradictions occur, journalists have to figure out how to navigate the issues as responsibly as possible, and I like the way CBC approaches that. If I may briefly get more specific than anyone wants, CBC’s current chief political correspondent Rosemary Barton is one person who does it incredibly well.

I think there should be a term like the Overton window, but rather than describing the parameters of publicly accepted political opinions, it describes the parameters of publicly accepted deviation from journalistic integrity.

If I may briefly indulge even more in being a pretentious nerd (and isn’t that a problem, that I say some very basic journalistic principles are important and then I immediately feel the need to apologize for being annoyingly old-fashioned and pedantic?), there’s a 2015 documentary I really like called The Best of Enemies, which you can buy for pretty cheap on YouTube if anyone else is interested in this. It’s about Gore Vidal and William Buckley, two opposing figures in American politics in the late 60s and 70s. They took advantage of live television creating new ways to bring political opinions to the masses, and played a major part in ushering in the current era of political punditry (also they were two middle-aged men with a lifelong rivalry and one was queer, by rights this should be Tumblr’s favourite movie). They were part of a movement that changed the game for political journalism, and I find that history fascinating.

So much of that documentary seems antiquated now, not just the issues and opinions but the responses. When one of them lost his objectivity for a moment and engaged in a personal attack, he lost all his credibility from an audience that expected better of their public figures. That’s how much higher standards were back then. Now, the bar’s been lowered so much that CBC stands head and shoulders above most other sources even when they’re at their worst, just because at least they’re still trying to get it right. (If you want to watch something that explores this stuff in a more fun way than the Best of Enemies documentary, I think Tracey Wigfield and Tina Fey’s 2017-2018 sitcom Good News was quite underrated.)

We now accept so much more news in our pop culture and pop culture in our news, and it’s so common for people to just consume pop culture instead of news. I love political comedy, but it’s supposed to be what you watch/read/listen to to dissect the news after you’ve heard what’s actually happening from actual journalists. And any responsible political comedian will say that. John Oliver and Jon Stewart have both just about shouted it from the rooftops, insisting any time they get the opportunity that people should not equate them with serious journalism. Because meme-ifying and comedy-ifying and pop culture-ifying the news is how you get an erosion of journalistic principles, subsequent erosion of public trust in journalism and the rise in misinformation, and people voting for Donald Trump and Boris Johnson for a laugh.

Okay, that’s what I’ve got on this for the moment. Thank you, whatever anonymous person sent me that message yesterday, I’m sure you did not realize how much ranting from me you would set off. I didn’t realize it either, and only some of it has been relevant to the original question, but I do feel slightly better for having written this all down.

[i-stand-with-survivors]

Hey there! This blog is pretty cool, but I've noticed that some TERF posts have snuck into the stuff you've reblogged in defense of Amber. One of the unfortunate things about this case is that TERFs are trying to co-opt it to attack trans people and they're hard to differentiate from good faith actors. One thing that really helps is the Shinigami Eyes extension which flags users who've posted transphobic attacks so you know right away if they're acting in bad faith. Thanks for this blog.

Hi anon, I appreciate you reaching out and your kind words, as well as the thought and consideration I know it takes to call somebody “in.” I’ve been thinking a lot about how to respond to this and how to best articulate my stance.

I double checked a few pages to make sure there wasn’t some passing sentence that slipped by me or something, and as far as I can find none of the posts I've reblogged have said anything about trans people whatsoever -- with the exception of one calling out JD making transphobic remarks about a friend of AH -- so I don't think I've reblogged any of the posts you're referencing. Since obviously a post that doesn't even mention trans people can't be attacking them.

I want to be clear that I would not reblog any posts calling for harm of trans people (or anybody else for that matter). I don’t support posts like that.

Past that, I have a lot of thoughts about some of the implications here. I feel that expecting a person to only reblog from people who they 100% agree with on every issue is unreasonable. Reblogging a post means I overall agree with that specific post. It’s not an endorsement of the blog or anything else the blogger has posted.

For me, this isn’t just about “I’m not going to dig through their entire blog,” although that’s also true -- I’m speaking beyond this specific topic, as there’s no extension that is going to flag every single thing that I would find offensive or harmful. But more to the point, we societally have spoken for the past ~8 years about the problems caused by the increasing political polarization and the online echo chambers that are likely both a symptom and a cause of this. I personally do not feel I can object to echo chambers and then turn around and completely refuse to interact with everybody I disagree with.

I also feel that many people -- and I don’t think this is you anon, as I interpret your ask as being in good faith -- jump at any excuse to discredit and shut down any conversations around feminism. I am unwilling to feed into a dynamic that silences women speaking out about our oppression. When I see so many of the pro-AH blogs I follow get repeated messages like “Are you a TERF? This sounds TERFy. Are you a TERF?” when they often either have only ever talked about the trial or even have actively spoken in support of trans people, it feels for me like I’m seeing just one more way that society has painted women as not credible or not worth listening to, by conflating feminism with bigotry.

Anyway I think I’ve been talking long enough lol plus I don’t want to derail from the focus of this blog so that’s all I’m going to say on this topic. I do recognize that some people may be uncomfortable following me in light of this, and that’s ok -- everyone can curate their online space however they want or need to.

#answered

[fireflyingaway]

hi you KNOW I gotta ask about both red string and enchanted EEEE

yesssssss ok ok so i'll do red string first and then do enchanted in a reblog let's go SO RED STRING MY BELOVED in case anyone's reading this and doesn't know what it's about the basic idea is alex is able to see the strings of fate but almost no one else can and he broke his own when he was seventeen so now he's a matchmaker and a serial one night stand until he meets willie, who also sees the strings except he hasn't been able to see his own since his 19th birthday and he doesn't know why, so because alex can see their string they have him take them on a road trip to the other side with alex only reluctantly agreeing because willie is his boss' nibling and alex needs to get out of serving a client he'd had a one night stand with. anyways, rambling over, have a very long snippet just because i believe this entire section needs to be read as a whole to really sell it

putting it under the cut due to a slight content warning for innuendo (alex is under the impression that Adult Things are about to happen)

It’s only when Alex sits on the sofa that he realizes the strangers taken to pacing back and forth on a Persian rug, carefully observing its intricate notches as they mutter under his breath, panning out his hands like they’re trying to solve a math problem on a blackboard. The sight feels more familiar to Alex than he would prefer; he gets like this all the time when he’s--

“Nervous?”

The stranger’s hair flips behind his shoulder when their head turns to face Alex, eyes resembling those of a deer caught in headlights. It seems his self-assurance had bolstered up to get them into the room only to fester out once they got there, which honestly isn’t much of a surprise-- for most people, it’s much easier to walk into a room than it is to bare their body and desires to a complete and total stranger.

“A little,” they admit after a second, moving straight past the sofa Alex is sitting on to sit in a chair beside it.

“Take your time, okay?” Alex tells them softly. “I’m not in a rush.”

The stranger nods before continuing to deliberate in his head, leaving the occasional whisper to themself to be the only sound carrying through the room. Alex tries to let the silence lie as long as possible, fighting tooth and nail to be sure he doesn’t interrupt their thought process. For as long as Alex could remember, he’s always hated silence. Of course, he also hates crowds and loud noises, but neither as much as silence. Silence tends to leave Alex hyper-aware of himself; he starts thinking about the air filling his lungs, his hands dampening slightly with sweat-- he even starts thinking about his own fucking thoughts. He starts to tap his fingers for a moment only to stop as quickly as he starts, because otherwise the stranger might think he’s getting impatient and that’s the last impression he wants to give off but damn it there’s too much space, something needs to fill the space--

“You know, I don’t want anything happening in here that you don’t want happening too.” Alex starts talking just to fill the void, but watching the stranger’s behavior, he decides it’s worth saying. It should be obvious, Alex thinks, but horrible people exist and it can be hard to weed them out without closing up altogether. “If you want me to leave now, I’ll leave. If you want to try, then we’ll try but if at any point you want to stop, we’ll stop. Just say the word, or make a face… or even shove at me a little if you feel like you have to, I can handle it. But don’t let me do anything you don’t want me doing because believe me that’s the last thing I want from this.”

He doesn’t seem to notice that Alex had been speaking-- now instead of sprawling out his imaginary map and muttering, they’ve started taking deep breaths in and out while rubbing their elbow with their thumb.

“So do you want me to go--”

“So you see them too?” he finally says, studying Alex carefully. Alex blinks in surprise.

“I’m sorry, huh?”

“The strings,” they clarify. “I saw you messing with yours earlier, so you must’ve… you had to have known it was there.”

Alex blinks again. And again. And one more time, just to really settle in on what just happened.

“How the fuck do you know about the strings?”

#thatbitchmabel #what's iris up to #ask iris things

[thecityonthemoon]

I think Exodus (Fantastic Four (1961) #240) deserves its own post, despite being a short story

Look at their winter clothes! It makes no sense that Medusa is wearing no pants but I love the cloak, and Crystal’s dress and hood are lovely!

Also, Medusa likes flowers!

: (

Like I asked before, what is it with Maximus and heroic deaths? Also, her eyes are so beautiful

The friendship and mutual respect between BB and Reed is so nice to see

Medusa’s reaction to her man fainting is also so cute

Black Bolt was alone using his powers to keep all of his people well. Just. I can’t with this man. I can talk for hours about how he believes he must do everything all on his own to the point he hurts himself and sabotage all his relationships.

The… doctor? Warned him against it. Why are men like this? And some cute couple stuff with some Sleeping Beauty imagery. I definitely need fic of Medusa taking care of BB

Idk, Gorgon watching over Karnak is also cute. And “small one”. Karnak doesn’t even protest being called this. It’s nice

Oh look, my most hated moment of all. Really, if there’s anything I hate more than the cursed comic is this thing the writers did to the Alphas. Misguided altruism my ass. I hate that there isn’t still a satisfying resolution to this plot point.

(And shut up, OAFK, with the “he promised to free them” thing, it’s not making anyone look better, if he did promise he never kept it! Damn, this subject makes me so mad!)

For what it’s worth (not much), there is something about BB going down there personally and alone, but then again he needed to go there to use his powers and he wouldn’t want anyone there for it

Continues in the next reblog

#silence or death

[mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune]

I Think Watching Steven Universe Movie & SU-Future Is Helping Take Mind Off Of Toxic-Fans...

so yeah if you saw the post that talked about well some stuff that has to do with Vivziepop, which I found out earlier today and I hope she takes all the time she needs to properly heal and the stuff that has been going on, works out.

and her cat gives her plenty of TLC, which can stand for Tender Loving Care or Tender Loving Comfort.

if what the video I found that talks about a little of it is true,

then well the problem wouldn’t just be one person’s problem but anyone who creates a show or movie or video game, sure you got your fans that will do the normal and awesome things, that has to do with fanon creation, where the canon characters will appear in fanon timelines.

but when fans can’t understand such creations take time, then well it is a problem....

I mean even the whole assuming that the Bendy and The Dark Revival game being cancelled, when really isn’t, would get any Bendy Fan Peeved or annoyed or disappointed at such a rumor that had no evidence.

plus it helps to check the updates about it on the official Joey Drew Studios site, for any new updates about it, or I guess the tweets.

I don’t really have twitter, but if the Joey Drew Studios has a official tumblr on here, I will try to check it out, too.

right now I’m on the Snow Day episode of Steven Universe Future,

and like I said in the other post, I started with the Steven Universe Movie first, then went to the Steven Universe Future.

for some odd reason while watching the episode with Onion giving Steven and Pearl a hard time, does give me a idea for a crossover fan art idea...

when I came back to inform that I’m on the Snow Day episode now, and that watching Steven Universe Movie and the Steven Universe Future is helping after the whole finding out what happen thing, I did see some FNAF fan art that had to do with Sunny/Moony, I had to reblog one of them.

anyway I think watching Steven Universe is helping, you know to take my mind off of all of, what I had learned in a video I saw.

even if it can feel like a new video game or movie or even a episode is taking forever, and yeah any fan will feel the wait get to them and be like “are we there yet, are we there yet...?” type of feeling, and that is just one part of you,

while the other feeling is like “be patient, and don’t make me turn us around.”

guess that is a little confusing and weird to put it that way.

but sometimes the feeling like it is taking forever, can turn into something else inside of most fans, where they stop being the good kind of feeling like it’s taking forever but still feel patient and know it will be worth the wait.

to selfish, insensitive, special privilege type fans.

I mean if it is like “special privilege” although I’m not 100% sure about that one, maybe it would be a little.

the point is, you can’t just rush these things, and sometimes what is being worked on will have to go into hiatus so those who are working on it, can take much needed time to themselves and have some healing.

plus if some fans do worry they might end up like some fans who went all toxic-fan mode, just try to understand from each creators point of view, like reasons why they can’t have a movie or video game or episode you really love out right away....it takes time and plus it doesn’t mean they don’t want to, it’s just they might have a lot going on right now, and Toxic-Fans bullying ain’t gonna help it along.

I don’t want anybody to misinterpret what I’m trying to point out, but I think some fans can agree, that even if you can ask nicely about a update, but if your told it wont be for a while or even a little bit longer or maybe until a year,

doesn’t mean you should say “do it now, I want to see it now.”

that is NOT helping, I mean sometimes stuff happens where you can’t do things right away, I know and I’m not even famous.

I don’t think being descendant of certain royalty would count, when it comes to fandom....at least I don’t think so.

King David is still a butt head, and you know why I feel that way if you read my previous talks about it how he didn’t stop his sicko of a son from harming Tamar.

guess no one ever thought King David’s descendant granddaughter would call him a butt head for not punishing his sicko son.

but yeah, this is the fandom zone, so yeah like I said, it takes time, lot of energy and there will be times when both the creator and team/friends that works with the creator of the series, will need to take a break to relax and depending on it, to heal both their mental health and emotional health.

emotional health can be important just like mental health.

anyway, I don’t want to leave the Snow Day episode pause for too long.

after I finish watching Steven Universe Future, I will check out more fan art on here.

also even if some might not want to wait very long for a FREE DLC of FNAF Security Breach, which will take until 2023....but we have to.

you can’t just rush it along or say mean things to the people are working on it.

so hopefully some will understand what I’m saying and not misunderstand it.

so yeah, see ya later, stay safe and NEVER become a Shisno-Clod.

(that is like combined form of Shisno from Red Vs Blue & Clod from Steven Universe, although I think the word “clod” was used before in some other show, but can’t remember where I saw it, I know it was some days ago or some month or so when I saw it being used somewhere that wasn’t Steven Universe....yeah anyway, let’s all hope we NEVER become Shisno-Clods.)                                                

#toxic fans #patience #steven universe future #bendy and the dark revival #understanding #trust #it takes time #fnaf security breach

[saviorbladed]

Non-RP Blogs (Personals) do not Interact and/or Like and/or Reblog this post. I will block you if you do. I only tag these posts with findable tags as a courtesy to my followers who are not caught up with the campaign.

When Orym was falling, part of him accepted it. He was ready to fall because he had no way to stop it. The ship was going far too fast, and the height was to high. He also did not have enough hit points to survive that fall. This is not like the fall in Escape the Bloodkeep. This is entirely different.

Orym flipping in the air definitely did not help him keep his mind in the clear. Its not like if he was making just a straight fall where he could think and accept it. He would have eventually stopped spinning I like to think.

However as he fell he knew it was the end. Given the opportunity Liam would have RPed it that way. Orym seems very okay with eventually facing death, which is sad since we know next to nothing about him. But he would have been okay to meet the big moon again.

When Orym gets onto the deck of the ship, and yes he will want to know what Fearne would have done if she ever brings up she was going to try something. He is very shaken up. He had come to terms with his death and was alive, and was saved in a way that he could never do for the others. That is why he is so grateful to Imogen and Laudna. I wouldn’t be surprised to see him start protecting them more so they can do more in fights now, and I wouldn’t be surprised for him to start singing their praises in a way he hasn’t before. They did what he never could and he appreciates that.

He is very shaken up, and is taken to rest by Ashton. And I fully believe he is just resting rather than fully sleeping. He isn’t so much thinking its just resting. He needs to take that time to more or less process what happened in a way that will eventually lull him into a dreamless sleep. I definitely think this also opens up a conversation avenue with Ashton. As Orym played off what happened and the focus very quickly went away from him save for Ashton who kept the lookout for him.

If he is upset that the fall and his feelings around it wasn’t talked about it, or if people care he will not voice it. He knows others are more important and had very cool things happen. And he was avenue for that, so he is okay with not being the center of attention. He is good at compartmentalizing, so he wont bring it up, but he does likely need to talk about it but he wont unless someone else does first.

I do think this fall will cause sleep to be harder for him, as I do think this will cause nightmares. It will also cause him to perhaps think more of his background, and question if he is worth being an Air Ashari, and if he did what he could if that makes sense.

#headcanon tag #hopefully getting out of main tags #don't mind me #just trying to not let the personals find me #personals GO AWAY #cr spoilers #c3 spoilers #tw: spoilers

[intuitive-bbloom]

🦋🦋How is your life going to be like for you in 2022? 🦋🦋

Hello my lovelies! 💕✨💕✨ this is a new pac I just made to satiate all the inquiries you all have been making about next year. This pac will include common questions like,

Career opportunities?

Love life?

Advice from spirit.

Overall energy of your new year.

Alright then, let’s hop into it! Don’t forget to like and reblog ✨✨✨

Disclaimer: pics aren’t mine, I got them from Pinterest

Pile 1

Career opportunities : What are they and when are they coming?

I’m hearing good, the opportunity coming out for 2022 is gonna be good, better look out for them and don’t hesitate to seize it. I’m hearing something as a clerk, sales manager, something along the lines of working for someone in like a shop or something. When are they coming? I’m hearing June and March might be all through the months or those two specifically.

Love life? Who are they? When are they coming?

Who is coming into your love life? I’m hearing yes and no, i guess some of you will find a new love interest while some of you will not. Anyways for the people that are meeting someone, I’m feeling they’re someone you know so it’s no stranger, maybe a friend you’ve finally noticed or vice versa. When are they coming? May and March.

Advice from spirit

Put your head down and work for what you want, put in the effort and time and everything will come out just as you dreamed it will be. It will be worth it in the end.

Overall energy of your year

Work, work, work. This year is a year of tilling the soil, the sowing period but don’t be afraid you will then get the reaping and your harvest.

Pile 2

Career opportunities : What are they and when are they coming?

Business I’m hearing, entrepreneur. Are you about to start a self made business? If thats the case spirits want to tell you theyre on your side, good job! Im hearing May, August and July.

Love life? Who are they? When are they coming?

I’m hearing the cherry on top of the sundae? Is this person going to be like that to you? Like the best part of your year? How sweet. I have the feeling they’re going to be of great help to you in 2022, financially, emotionally and everything else. Who are they? I have the feeling you know them, a friend maybe? When is this connection coming? April, May, June.

Advice from spirit

You don’t have to be afraid, take a deep breath and will yourself. This seems new and out of the box for you but there’s nothing to fear, we are with you in every step of the way, you are protected and loved so persevere. Love you angel.

Overall energy of your year

Enlightenment, discovering new things and stepping out of your comfort zone.

Pile 3

Career opportunities : What are they and when are they coming?

No career opportunities I’m hearing, seems this year isn’t one for career or money making. Are you already in a stable place in your life? If no then sorry, but this year isn’t your year for money.

Love life? Who are they? When are they coming?

Your heart is broken isn’t it? You haven’t yet healed from the pain of the last relationship. Well this year is a year for self love, get a journal and begin your entries and discover yourself. You need to find yourself and the worth you have, revisit past traumas and begin your healing journey. You can’t love someone if you can’t/don’t love yourself.

Advice from spirit

2022 is a year for you to discover yourself and venture deep. You seem not to know yourself and you’re left in a dark confusion riddled with dark energies. Look deep within yourself and talk to us, we are always here.

Funny enough the picture I chose said dreamers, you might see them in your dreams or communicating or receiving messages is more easier in your dreams. Plus 24/7, ha your spirit guides are literally saying they’re there for you all day everyday. I just had to point this out.

Overall energy of your year

Self love, meditation, spiritual journey.

Pile 4

Career opportunities : What are they and when are they coming?

Big changes wow! Are you getting a promotion or moving to another place for work. What are the odds that I just noticed a butterfly and the picture you guys chose is a butterfly. You’re on the path to greatness, people are going to start noticing your hard work and talent. When is this coming? I’m hearing June, September, October.

Love life? Who are they? When are they coming?

Are you going to be traveling? This is someone new, probably a foreigner. It will be nice and electrifying, something new to spice up your life. I’m seeing trains, airports, ships. I think this new romance has been something you’ve been waiting for. Very romantic. August, June, November.

Advice from spirit

Like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, so shall you be too. A diamond in the rough finally polished and adored. This year is your year of adoration, you’ve done the hard work now it’s time to enjoy and be recognized, everything you’ve been doing has not gone unnoticed.

Overall energy of your year

Rewarding, beauty, transformation.

𝔹𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕞💕✨

#astrology #intuitive #pac reading #pick a card #pick a pile #pick an image #spiritualism #spirituality #pac #free tarot #intuitive readings #intuitive asks #2022 predictions #2022 reading

[wof-reworked]

I don’t want to reblog the post in question because like. I generally like the people involved in it but there’s a post about Qibli going around rn that is making me legitimately kind of mad so let’s talk about Qibli and where Tui fucked up with him, but also where she didn’t

(this is going to get a little bit aggressive, I might end up deleting this because it is an impassioned rant of sorts, but it’s on my mind as more people talk about Qibli)

(please, keep in mind: I don’t think all of his behavior is healthy. This dragon needs some goddamn therapy. But I think the distinction between unhealthy vs destructive is important. I talk about this later)

SO.

The idea that Qibli is manipulative for having very clear self loathing and trauma is, quite frankly, disgusting?? Like did you forget that a really, really common trauma response is to latch onto people who are kind to you in your life??? The idea that Qibli only acts like he cares about Thorn, his fucking adoptive mother, to get her to pay attention to him is a wild stretch and such a butchering of their relationship I’m genuinely still trying to comprehend it. 

 Qibli thinks Thorn hung the moon because, honestly, when you’re deprived of kindness, having it freely given feels like magic. And Thorn is one of the few dragons in Qibli’s life that has given him any amount of genuine compassion. And we see this with Moon too, the fact she thinks of him as smart and kind himself is something new and kind of shocking for Qibli. This is only emphasized by the fact she’s seen into his thoughts and finds someone she loves there. He thinks of Moon as being way too good for him (and he doesn’t understand why she likes *him*, or if she does at all) and it shows. 

 Like I know the point they’re trying to get at with this analysis, but it’s such a strange reading of the text. Qibli comparing himself to Winter in his thoughts is not the same thing as him pressuring Moon to choose him, if you remember, Qibli still has a piece of skyfire, meaning his thoughts are blocked from Moon’s. He isn’t thinking these things in an active attempt to pressure Moon, these are just his thoughts! He isn’t trying to pressure Moon into being in a relationship with him, he is just a deeply self loathing character, and her response reflects that with how she replies “don’t overthink this. say yes” BECAUSE QIBLI HAS BEEN, IF ANYTHING ELSE, DELIBERATELY AVOIDING TRYING TO PUT HER IN A POSITION WHERE SHE IS HIS ONLY OPTION. LIKE THIS WHOLE BOOK IS HIM GOING “I don’t want to pressure Moon into a relationship, I love her but I want what’s best for her”. AND SHE WANTS TO MAKE SURE HE KNOWS SHE’S SINCERE AND WANTS THIS TOO. 

And related to this: Him thinking about Winter is not about trying to garner sympathy from Moon or make himself the one who needs her attention, it’s based off genuinely feeling Winter brings more to the table and would be better for her. I’ll say it again: Qibli is a deeply insecure dragon who doubts his own skills constantly, that’s the root of him comparing himself to Winter. 

SO: EVERYTHING I’VE DESCRIBE IS UNHEALTHY. LIKE THIS IS NOT A HEALTHY WAY TO LIVE. BUT IT’S NOT MANIPULATIVE. I think what I would call Qibli is, more than anything, codependent. His relationships with Moon and Thorn involve idolizing them to an unhealthy degree and placing them on a pedestal where everything they do is right. I would’ve loved to see this get actually explored in canon. 

Now. I do want to point out Qibli’s book is not actually very good lol. Qibli is also never wrong, which is boring and bad storytelling. He solves everything put in front of him and always comes out perfectly fine and forgiving. I would’ve loved to see him as a more complex character, and honestly a better written character here’s how BPD qibli can still win- *I am dragged off-stage by a comically long hook*

And it’s worth mentioning: Part of Qibli being written without meaningful flaws is that this is presented as his genuine thoughts and feelings and reality. Qibli is not an unreliable narrator like Darkstalker or Peril. So the idea he’s “acting” or otherwise pretending to have these feelings is a really bad read. 

Not to get personal, but Qibli as a character matters to me a lot. As someone who struggles with a lot of the same inner monologue to the point of being brought to tears when I read this book the first time, this book and the message mean a lot to me. The idea that that inner monologue is indicative of being manipulative is the kind of rhetoric that lead to me feeling like I was manipulating people into caring about me when I shared my problems. That idea has actively sabotaged relationships in my life, and I cannot stress how much I hate it. That the only way to be mentally ill is to suffer in silence away from the world because sharing your feelings with loved ones is forcing them to care about you. 

I understand being annoyed by Qibli’s narration. I like a lot of Qibli critical analysis. Do not take this as me mindlessly defending this character. But I do not like the rhetoric I’m seeing passed around AT ALL. 

so y’know. If you can have compassion for Winter, you can have compassion for Qibli. 

#qibli #qibli wof #qibli the sandwing #wof #wings of fire #ok to reblog #do not take this the wrong way I have respect for the ppl who reblogged the post and like. I generally like the content the person who made- #-the post makes. I don't have any actual ill will towards them #but god #sometimes. trauma victims. are traumatized #WILD CONCEPT I KNOW #if this is ur approach to someone clearly in pain and trying their best to be a good person idk if I feel safe around you