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comradekatara · 5 months

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if someone in the main cast besides aang were to be born the avatar, who would you want it to be? i think toph with access to all elements would be an unstoppable menace, but i’m curious to hear your thoughts

okay so obviously AUs that entertain an avatar during atla besides aang himself clearly have no interest in upholding the fundamental themes of the show, since aang is the only possible avatar/central figure of this show. it is explicitly structured in such a way that aang’s protagonism is no sheer coincidence or accident (ie, it’s good writing). so when entertaining who would make for a compelling avatar in an AU, we also must entertain how such a figure would necessarily shift the themes of the narrative, and whether such a transformation would be interesting.

1) katara wouldn’t be interesting, because her narrative role is too proximate to aang’s to change the themes of the show in any significant way, and even though seeing katara as the avatar would undoubtedly be cool as fuck, we already have korra, who is basically like if katara was the avatar (personality and skill-wise at least) and she is, indeed, cool as fuck. so not katara.

2) zuko is also proximate to aang, and his role as the avatar would be relatively similar to his role in the show already—unlearning the dogmas of his nation to align himself with justice and balance through learning the techniques of multiple elements. it is literally not different in any way.

3) toph would be extremely powerful of course, but she is already extremely powerful, so nothing much would change. her parents would attempt to restrict her, she would escape, travel the world, hone her craft, and defeat ozai. not very interesting.

4) suki would similarly not be interesting. she is an extremely diligent and talented warrior, so she would simply train and defeat ozai with no real obstacles in her way.

5) iroh as avatar also wouldn’t change much imo. azulon would see it as a blessing and wield him as a weapon in much the same way he does in the show. iroh’s failure and betrayal would maybe put a slightly bitter target on his back, but his emotional journey would be much the same.

that leaves 6) azula, 7) sokka, 8) mai and ty lee (yue and jet would also make for pretty interesting avatars, but you did say “main cast,” and we don’t have all day besides). they would make for interesting avatar AUs specifically because this role reversal necessitates a reversal of the show’s core themes.

6) avatar azula. she finds out as a child (perhaps ursa is there with her, perhaps she dies with azula’s secret), and is urged (by her desperate, terrified mother) to secrecy. no one, especially not her father, can know of her burden. she hones her firebending in broad daylight, and trains her other elements under the cover of darkness. her waterbending is more powerful under a full moon. her earthbending is so precise she can use it to pick a single flower from the garden without disturbing the feng shui. but despite ostensibly being her secondary element, her airbending still needs work (here is where she and korra happen to converge). then, one day, her precarious existence experiences a seismic shift—her older brother has been banished, and his task is singular and seemingly impossible: capture the avatar and return them to the palace in chains.

for all of zuko’s flaws, he is relentlessly stubborn, and azula knows that he will not rest until his task is completed. of course if she remains in the palace, zuko will never be able to find her or return home, but she cannot take that chance because she knows that iroh can sense what—who—she is. so she runs away. elegantly, of course. she puts it in ozai’s head that he needs to send her away for a special mission only she can complete, that will take an indefinite amount of time to accomplish. and she leaves the palace under ozai’s authority, disguises her identity, seeks out as many masters as she can find to train her, and plans her coup. she is able to recognize how palpable her fear of ozai truly is, because she has been hiding from him her whole life. and she knows that the only way to stop hiding is to defeat him. as you can see, this version proves a very different story, with different themes, different characters, and a vastly different ending. and so it compels me.

7) avatar sokka. sokka finds out he is a bender after katara finds out that she can waterbend, and after she is nearly killed for it, their mother in her place, and so he keeps quiet. especially because he first finds out he is a bender by lighting a fire in his palm. once all the men leave for war, sokka goes to the farthest outskirts of their land, under the guise of hunting, and trains with his firebending every day (of course he does also hunt. his village needs food after all). one day, while attempting a new firebending move, he launches himself ten feet in the air. and that’s how he discovers that he is also an airbender. as if being a firebender wasn’t enough of a hideous curse, he’s also the avatar. what a cruel joke life is.

one day, a fire nation ship docks in their village, and a scarred young soldier demands to know the whereabouts of the avatar. sokka clumsily fights him with his spear, his club, his boomerang. but when zuko attempts to burn him to a crisp, nothing happens. the flames merely dissipate inches away from his skin. then, in a moment of sheer desperation, sokka airbends him and his retinue back, all the way into the freezing waters of the south pole. of course, freezing waters are not enough to kill a firebender, but he’s also somewhat concussed by sokka’s boomerang, so iroh insists that zuko recover in his chambers until morning. zuko insists that he just found the avatar and has no time for recovery, but iroh claims that without his health he will never capture the avatar, and promptly locks him in his room.

sokka says a hasty goodbye to katara and kanna and makes his escape on a boat with enough supplies to last him until kyoshi island. of course katara somehow manages to stow aboard, which doesn’t surprise sokka in the slightest. after her initial shock wears down, she’s just like “so were you ever going to tell me you were the avatar???” and sokka’s like “uhhhhhh eventually…” they make it to kyoshi island, seconds away from being fed to the unagi until sokka reveals his true identity. zuko tracks them down to kyoshi island and sokka and katara are given a stronger boat and more provisions with which to escape.

since katara wants to go to the north pole, and katara always gets her way, that’s where they head, except sokka insists that he should at least find an earthbender while they traverse the massive continent before reaching the north pole. katara’s like “noo it has to be in order of the cycle!!” but sokka’s like “fuck that i’ll take what i can get.” he finds jeong jeong, and even though jeong jeong calls him an oaf, he turns out to be a pretty good student. he fears fire and values discipline, which is all jeong jeong really asks for. by some pure happenstance (because sokka and toph will always find each other) they find the perfect teacher in gaoling. she escapes with them as they head to the north pole, but once they arrive her feet are freezing and she’s forced to wear boots, at which point sokka agrees to carry her everywhere. then he meets yue and accidentally drops her.

pakku agrees to train sokka but refuses to train katara. at first sokka’s like “well it’s fine because you can learn from master yagoda how to heal and i’ll learn how to fight and then we can swap notes,” but he quickly realizes that this is a bad plan because they refuse to listen to each other, so instead he just demands that pakku teach katara. pakku is obstinate, so katara fights him, at which point he realizes that she’s kanna’s granddaughter so problem solved i guess. sokka also learns healing from yagoda, because having the ability to heal and not exercising it is silly. during the siege of the north, sokka goes to the spirit oasis to attempt to ask the spirits for aid, but the only times he’s ever been to the spirit world have been when the spirits allowed it, and as it turns out, he’s really bad at meditating. which is for the best, because it means he’s prepared for zuko’s attack, and he and katara work together to stop him. they don’t kill him, but only because yue is looking at him with fear and it makes him hesitate. then before they can stop him, zhao kills tui and yue sacrifices herself, and sokka turns into a giant spirit koi and goes apeshit in his grief.

sokka, katara, and toph decide to trust a general who will help sokka harness the power of the avatar state to defeat the firelord. sokka is all for it. he’s like “yeah i’ll be used as a weapon and kill as many people as it takes to end the war.” he’s fine with this. it’s his duty as avatar after all. so the war ends quicker than in the show. he finds a map of the fire nation, toph helps him enter the palace through a secret tunnel (cue the song), and alone he enters ozai’s throne room and fights him. he doesn’t even need to enter the avatar state to kill him. he just uses the waterbending techniques he picked up from yagoda to reach into his chest and explode his heart. sokka uses his influence as avatar and firelord-killer to end the war and navigate all the complicated postwar politics.

the end.

see? it’s not as good.

but there are still some elements that make this version compelling. for one thing, sokka would have to interact with the spirit world. a lot. and he wouldn’t be happy about it. he doesn’t like that they pose questions that don’t have answers. and so he decides to wield his power as a tool for war, rather than against it. he wields his cultural influence to exert control over the world. a story where sokka is avatar (and with no aang to temper him and make him laugh) is necessarily a story as cynical as sokka is. but if that’s what you want, then there’s no better candidate. (also, he'd come up with some really creative bending techniques, and that would be pretty interesting.)

(however, if that is really what you want, just read the kyoshi and/or yangchen novels. they’re basically just worlds populated with sokkas.)

8) finally, mai and ty lee’s stories as the avatar would be much the same, so it doesn’t matter which. they are both enlisted to join azula’s small, elite team to return zuko home in dishonor, and to capture the avatar. so they must hide in the lion’s den, obscuring their identity from those they keep closest. their world is already one of dual loyalties and secrets; what’s one more? mai and/or ty lee only reveal their true powers at the boiling rock, to keep the other safe. together, they defeat all the guards holding them back, go into the avatar state to reach the cliffside before azula’s airship departs to the western air temple. azula is outraged, shocked, and hurt. ty lee somehow talks sokka into letting them hitch a ride back, and that’s how mai and ty lee join team avatar. of course, one of them is actually the avatar, so that’s not what their team is named in this scenario. although it gets named that after they join. and mai and/or ty lee defeats ozai. the end.

this version is a version that, like azula’s, specifically explores the costs of lying and keeping your identity hidden. it is similar of course to their actual narrative, while also exacerbating the impact of aang’s initial introduction, but the stakes necessarily become even higher, and the story becomes focalized on their internal struggles in a way the show never truly did. so to any mai and/or ty lee fans, it’s compelling on those grounds alone.

in conclusion, even the more compelling alternate characters—exploring deception, secret identities, ruthless violence, and spiritual conundrums—do not actually make for more interesting protagonists than aang. i would say that azula definitely comes closest to being the most compelling alternate avatar, with sokka, mai, and ty lee being compelling insofar as it presents opportunities for their internality and cynicism to be explored. jet would also be pretty interesting thematically, but you know i hate his vibes. and yue’s narrative would completely reshape the story, so that could be compelling as well. but ultimately, aang needs to be the avatar for the story to work, and even in azula’s case, as a fascinating replacement figure, her original role in aang’s story is fascinating enough. without aang in the central role, the show just isn’t as good.

#ecothroat #asks #the gaang and #AUs #azula #sokka #(mostly)#had to put most of it under the cut because i started rambling for way too long #even though the short answer here is simply: no. aang must be the avatar #that was a lot of words to dismiss the question entirely huh?

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acrobattack · 2 months

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bliss redesign based off one I made in my teens

thought process + various other bits and bobs under the cut

I was 15 and annoyed by everything that moved when this character first came out, so in my own head I was very much making a Point with this redesign. Hence, I made very minimal changes. I wanted to work with what was already there and basically just make the existing design more thought-through. Little breakdown ahead (keeping in mind i myself am very much An Amateur who doesn’t know shit and am just ranting about my opinions and i also haven’t seen a single second of the 2016 reboot so i don’t know much about Bliss to begin with)

1. one of my Biggest pet peeves with Bliss is that the powerpuff girls each have bangs that are simple, memorable, and iconic while also being unique from each other and being reminiscent of irl little girls hairstyles. It’s very neat and clever and I like it a lot

and then Bliss has this confusing jumble of shapes that looks like it changes in style halfway across her forehead

i have absolutely no idea what the intent is here. My only guess is maybe it’s meant to look weird on purpose like she was trying to cut it herself or something (I suspect it’s something like that since she seems to have normal looking bangs as a little kid from what I can see) but it doesn’t really come off that way if that’s the case. It just looks like baby’s first PPG OC where you Understand that it’s meant to be hair and that it is made out of shapes but have 0 understanding of hairstyle or character design in general. Heck I might have put this exact hairline on a character in the past at the age of like 8

So in my redesign she’s got 5 even notches across her bangs, not thee most exciting change but it does the job I think. It is pretty reminiscent of Blossom but they look different enough from each other that I wasn’t too worried about it

2. low-hanging fruit time, Bliss’s hair color is horrible on the eyes. I’m bewildered at the decision to do this, especially since there is just so much of it, I struggle to think of how she could exist in any scene without hogging all the viewer’s attention constantly. That said, I understand they wanted her to have an unnatural hair color to really signal that she is a Fresh new Teen character from the late 2010’s, which is. Whatever, that’s fine, so she gets purple hair now. I kept the streak for the same reason, especially since she’s got a lot of hair, so no harm in a little extra interest in there.

I also learned recently that her hair glows sometimes? which i did Not know when first drawing her but well i think the darker color helps anyway. It adds some contrast for when she’s normal vs when she’s glowing and makes the latter appear more,, idk threatening or powerful or whatever the mood generally is when she’s doing that.

I did re-add that toothpaste blue to her eyelids though. I like to think it’s also the color of her lasers. It’s a cute color, just not as like 70% of this character’s palette

3. real talk I was drawing this from memory and didn’t mean to change the way her hair flares out from her head. realistically I think the original is fine, maybe just a little boring but fine, so that part of the redesign was an accident. Only thing is, it’s in the exact same position in every screenshot I’ve seen? It doesn’t seem to whip around when she’s flying or anything which looks weird and probably looks weirder in motion, especially since it takes up so much space onscreen. Idk it’s a strange decision, esp since the original show liked to use the ppg’s hair to emphasize their movement, so I’d just bring more movement into her hair. I mean if nothing else it’d make her look cooler.

very very rough little visual of what I mean

I also ended up making it shorter in my redesign—again, not really intentional, but I think it’s better that it eats up a little less of her silhouette

4. Her headband is largely the same, I didn’t hate the idea of her having an accessory, so I just toned down the colors. I’m not personally a fan of the powder blue and that pink heart is very bright and just doesn’t go with the rest of her (once again the color of her hair is doing it no favors). I also moved the heart over. Not necessarily needed I think, but I feel like it reads quicker as a headband and not a weird crown that way+introduces some asymmetry into her design that I think is nice.

5. my biggest gripe other than her bangs are her hips. I’m not against adding anatomy to this character design to make her read visually as older than the girls, but it’s so awkwardly done and distracting. I feel like it even interferes with her line of action more often than not (which is not helped by her unmoving hair).

Part of the issue is she still has the teeny tiny torso, just… with those square-ish hips slapped on, which makes her legs look all gangly and stretched out. I tried to balance out the proportions more in my redesign, as well as change the hips to a flared skirt. I think it helps differentiate her from the girls and still implies hips underneath, it just also functions as a less clunky transition from her torso to her legs.

Lengthening her torso also allows the stripe to look more like a belt above the skirt, which I think helps to sell her as “similar, but not the same” from the ppg

6. Her leggings(? Idk Im not a fashion person) aren’t a bad idea I think. like a more mature version of the girls’ stockings, but I think the white makes them look really distracting. It would help to make them a darker color I think, but since I wanted to keep them reminiscent of the girls’ socks I kept them white and just shortened them.

7. Not really sure what Bliss is wearing on her feet. I think they’re Mary Janes, but they’re drawn a bit different from the girls’ and I honestly think it’s too babyish a shoe for her to wear. I’m not sure what she’s actually wearing in my redesign either honestly, but the goal was just to make them look like the girls’ Mary Janes while clearly being something different.

8. Uh her signature color is something I’ve contemplated changing a lot but to be real I think it’s fine. I feel it was a very bad idea from a marketing standpoint because people were hype about Bunny and would obviously be mad they didn’t get her once the character actually dropped (and in the long-run she would just end up being overshadowed by the character everyone has already assigned that color to) but I’m personally not bugged by her being purple beyond that. If I were to draw them together though I think Bunny would have a more pinky shade of purple and Bliss leans more blue.

Loosely on the same topic, because of Bliss I’ve had a running headcanon that “only child” types of powerpuffs tend to come out purple. Kind of like how trios tend to have a red, blue, and green. It’s a fun little piece of fake lore to rotate around in my brain

Anyway with all that out of the way, here’s some redesigns I decided to have some fun with. Wasn’t being too precious about recognizability or simplicity or anything like that, but I did run out of steam partway through. There’s also one based off Whoopass Bell bc idk, why not

Finally, here’s some OCs I only ever drew once before out of a desire to give Bliss her own teen girl archetypes to form a team with. This is Bee and Beetle, who I’ll probably definitely forget about again immediately after posting this

#ppg Bliss #the powerpuff girls #my art #powerpuff oc #under the cut anyway #trying to do an interesting background #i got bit by a drawing bug and felt the strong need to finish this post today #i’ve been meaning to put together some art and a little ramble about bliss for a while #largely because idk if or when i’ll ever actually talk about her again #i also skimmed through this post once or twice so sorry if it’s incoherent #anyway this took a long ass time i need to take a nap or something

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sherlock-is-ace · 4 days

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Just some thoughts about DID Holmes in Sherlock & Co.

I need to preface this by saying I don't have DID, all I know about it is from reading and hearing people who do have DID talk about their experience. I can be wrong, I don't mean any harm by it and I encourage people to correct me (just please be kind).

Ok so in the Sherlock & Co. canon, Holmes has DID, amongst a variety of other things, which is a new and interesting thing to explore with this character. I'm not sure if we'll ever see it explored in the show, or if it'll just stay a part of a long list of what makes Sherlock neurodiverse. But I've been thinking about it and I'd like to dump my thoughts here.

I think it makes absolutely perfect sense for Sherlock Holmes to have DID. Even in the ACD canon, Holmes isn't known to have had a good childhood and a good relationship with his parents. Jeremy Brett liked to think Holmes didn't see his mother until he was like eight years old. Lots of neglect, coupled with the struggles of being a "difficult child" because of his perticular cocktail of disorders (ADHD, ASD, SPD, DMDD and ODD), is just the perfect recipe for repetitive childhood trauma that could very well develop into DID. There's no question in my mind that it was a good decision (at least an interesting one) to give Sherlock DID in this adaptation. And that got me thinking about how much he probably struggled with it.

I chose to believe that Sherlock achieved final fusion years before he met John. That's what makes the most sense to me. We know he's got official diagnoses for these things, so it would make sense to me that he got professional help for his DID as well. And based on his personality, and his need to be in control and know all the information available to him, I think final fusion would be the result he would have seeked, as opposed to functional multiplicity.

Now of course one can't logic their way out of neurodiversity, and one can't just logic their way into final fusion. But what works and doesn't work has to have some connection to the way someone is, and I think Sherlock Holmes would have worked his ass out in therapy to achieve final fusion because I think it would have been a horrible time for a man like him.

I'm thinking about how he would handle the amnesia (we know his views in memory and identity), the loss of control when a different alter fronted, the confusion of "waking up" in a completely different part of town, disassociating in the middle of important (or interesting) tasks, etc. etc. I also think that perhaps, his addiction could have been a result of a persecutor alter.

As someone who struggles with communication because of his autism, I think perhaps that could also affect Holmes' communication with his alters. I genuinely don't know if that could be a thing or not, I've never met anyone who had DID and autism so I'm not sure how correct that assumption is. But if that communication was also a struggle, it would explain why functional multiplicity wouldn't work as well.

And I don't know, perhaps we'll have more glimpses into Sherlock's past in the podcast, and we'll learn more about his DID diagnosis, perhaps he hasn't achieved final fusion, perhaps he very much still struggles with switches and memory loss. We don't know, but I do hope we get to explore it more! It ads a new layer of complexity to the character that we haven't seen in other adaptations, and I really love that!

We know that Sherlock Holmes is always neurodivergent, whether that is explicitly diagnosed in canon or not. The whole point of Sherlock Holmes as a character, from ACD canon to any modern version, is that he doesn't think like everyone else. That is literally the definition of neurodiversity. To take that away from Holmes is to destroy the character. But what this adaptation did, by giving a name to each and every trait of Holmes is very interesting and I hope they can handle it well! So far I've been very pleasently surprised by the way they have handled Sherlock's autism. It is very much a part of him and it informs his actions, but it is not all that he is. And maybe it's because Joel Emery's daughter is autistic so he has more knowledge about it than the other disorders, but I still hope we get to see more of that as well, especially Sherlock's DID.

Alright that's all kdjfhg

As I said, I don't have DID so take everything I said with a grain of salt. But if anyone has thoughts they'd like to share please come talk to me! :D And if anyone has DID and wants to share their thoughts about Sherlock & Co. thought the lense of someone with the disorder please do! I'd be very happy to read about it. (Also my ask is always open if anon is more comfy)

#lemme know if i should put a ''under the cut'' on this because i might be too long #but also feel free to completely ignore it lol #sherlock & co #sherlock & co meta #is it? idk #sherlock holmes #angel talks

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goldenamaranthe-blog · 5 months

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Blake: (panting with exhaustion as she struggles to hold herself up) Yang, please! I know you're still in there. Please stop!

Evil!Yang: I like it when you beg. (Saunters over to Blake, holds her chin between he finger and thumb, and tilts Blake’s face up) Do it again.

Blake: (eyes nearly turn completely black as she shivers so violently her knees give out)

Yang: (breaks character and catches Blake) Babe! Babe?! Are you okay???

Blake: Never better~

Yang: Okay, maybe we should stop role-playing this for a little while.

Blake: Don't you dare!

#bumbleby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #rwby #evil yang #bottom blake #roleplay #had to put the twist under the cut because I feel like the top half could be its own post #we approve of consent - aftercare - and consideration to your partner's safety here #losers in love #trying to be spicy #be patient with her blake she's doing her best

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beeduoo · 18 days

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originnssssss who remembers origins i Loved origins

Lowkey i ate with rhis actually no i didn't i ate wirh rhat ENDER EYE Why is it so rendered Hello

IGNORW RHEIR UGLY UGLY DESIGNS This was before they switched to their iconic Skins past e didn't know......

#loosely based off of this old thing it's under the Cut #origins smp #beeduo #beeduo fanart #idk what other tags to put i cant put C because this isn't C this is O..... but like do people even check those tags idk #actually no im scared i heard theres been like three failed origins revivals i dont want to interfere with their character ecosystem i was #only there for the first one😅#i rewatched some origins streams a little while ago oh my god theyre SO FUNNY #DUDE DOES ANUONE REMMEBER THAT ONE STREAM I COUDLNT FIND RHIS ONE STREAM #IR EAS LIKE THE ONE WHERE TUBBO WAS SINGING SUGAR BY MAROON FIVE thats all i remmeber ANF ALSO RNE can i call you senpaaiiii bit thay shit h #ad me CRYING in 2021 Please i swear this happened imnot crazy but also they might have been separate streams actuallu i dont rememebr its #been wayyyyyyy too long #BUT IT HAPPENED I PROMISE Sorry i've been gone for a while ive been very busy lots of Things going on went to Six flags then jad a surprise #bday party then i had to buy shoes for prom then Go to prom and also i do figure skating and am out like every day idknt have Time im sorry☹#had a crepe yesterday it was sooooo goood im like learning to drive too that shit is boring as hell my dad kept gettign 😑 bc i couldn't stop #yawning DRIVING IS SO BORING its not my fault😭😭😭😭#ok what else ohhhh. y god i locked in SO HARD for this physics essay u guys dont even knowim getting ONE HUNDRED on that trust i just really #wanted to share ok i love you bge #WAIT ACTUALLT SORRU IM LIKE REMMEBERJNG THE ORIGINS STREAMS K WAYCHED #RANBOO WAS SO FUCKING FUNNT IN THOSE STREAMS TOO LIKE I REMEMBER NIKI WANTED TO SEE THEIR BASE and tubbo was like ooh maybe we can put like #water down here for you niki we need a water system and ranwas like Do we though?I WAD WAYCHING THAT .LIKE DAMMMNNNNNN OM LIKE GIGGLING WRIT #ING THIS RIGHT NOW I CAN HEARTHE CLIP HE DID NOTTT WANT HER IJNTHEIR BASE😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#I NEED TO FIDN THAT STREAM WHERE IRS LIKE TOMMY AND JACK A D FHEHRE LOKE TALKING ABOUT DUOS AND THEN JACK SAYS THE MOST OUT OF POCKET SHIT I #VE EVER HEARD LKKE I LITERALLU HAD TK PAUSE. H PHONE AND BURST OUR LAUHJIMG MY JAW WAS ON THE FLOORRRRR DO U GUYS R EME ER WTF IM TLAKING AB #OUT IDK HOW TO FIND THESE STREAMS Oh my god u really Had to be there early 2021 that was liye the funniest era of mt life i wlild be #Tearing up from lauhjimg every day I MISS WAYCHING STREAMS LIVE CHAT WAS SO FUNNY I wishe it was archivedI WISH MORE STREAMERS KEPT CHAT ON #SCREEN i defiently understand why most didn't like Wyd when chats annouing ad hell but also Me 3 years later is interested in what the pub #lic had to say.... ok Now bye

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whathorselegs · 4 months

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When Kunikida realises he has feelings for Dazai he vehemently denies it. Not denial that he has the feelings themselves, but he simply refuses to indulge in them because it's inconvenient. Dazai's not an unattractive man and he has qualities Kunikida admires when he chooses to show them. So he understood how the feelings developed, but God, is he not what Kunikida was planning for.

Kunikida has a plan that he is determined to stick to. He has an ideal partner in mind, a set schedule for when he's going to meet them, date them, move in together, marry them, ect. Dazai does not fit into any of this.

So he ignores the feelings. Ignores the way his heart flutters whenever the other man is being his usual clingy self. The way he cant quite get angry at him anymore without a certain fondness creeping in. The moments where he realises he's stopped typing because he's been too busy watching Dazai and whatever shenanigans he's getting up to in the office. How distracting his laugh, hands, eyes and smile are.

He takes these feelings, boxes them up and waits for them to go away.

Problem is, they don't.

It only gets worse when Kunikida notices Dazai is flirting with him more and more as the days go on. And that he's getting bolder with his advances. Being pursued by chaos personified was certainly not in his plans. He shuts it down, ignores the flirting, rejecting Dazai in the most painless way he can, because Kunikida is still convinced Dazai isn't serious about any of it.

So Dazai switches from flirting to gifts. Though not they're not your typical idea of romantic tokens. It's bringing him snacks throughout the day, but he's already eaten half of it. It's a fancy "new" pen that he later finds out was swiped from Poe when he was visiting Ranpo. It's paperwork turned in on time, but there's so many mistakes and the writing is so unreadable that Kunikida almost wishes he'd just put the effort in and turned it in late. Its flowers with the roots still connected left on his desk that Dazai very clearly pulled up from garden somewhere.

All in all, Kunikida feels like he's been courted by a feral cat rather than a grown man.

Again he rejects Dazai. It's harder this time, as much as he hates it, the attention's working and Kunikida is slowly allowing himself to believe Dazai is serious about his feelings.

Eventually Dazai resorts to just asking Kunikida on a date. This time when Kunikida rejects him he instantly regrets it because of the earnest and quiet way Dazai just accepts it this time was almost too painful to witness. Kunikida goes home that night feeling awful, convinced he's ruined everything between them. He never expected Dazai to be hurt by any of this.

The next day, he almost didn't turn up to work, he spent a whole 2 minutes at his door debating on whether or not to leave. For the first time in- he didn't even know how long- he turned up to work late. He expected Dazai to not be there, but the whole office was empty.

Atsushi appears in the doorway of the meeting room. "Oh, thank God, he's really lost it this time Kunikida, you need to get in here."

For the next hour the entire Agency is subjected to a disheveled, running on too much caffeine, Dazai presenting them with a lengthy power point presentation of "All the reasons Kunikida should date me". They sat there staring at the walls, the table, the window, anywhere but the slow motion car wreck that was happening in front of them.

Well, everyone except Kunikida. Because, by his standards, this was the most romantic gesture anyone had made him.

If you ask Dazai how he and Kunikida got together, he will lie and lie and lie. Kunikida has the power point saved on a little black cat shaped memory stick and he'll show it you, proudly.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd kunikida #bsd dazai #kunikidazai #is that their ship name? I don't even know #my writing #Putting it under the cut because this one got long #and silly #Worst office romance in human history (affectionate)#worst office romance in history

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windydrawallday · 10 months

Text

COMFORTABLE

Continuation of [this one] ! Yeah, the tone shifted because... Because.

This is what I really wished that happened to me in a similar experience years ago. But it didn't. At all.

Now I can go back, reflect on it, learn and... talk about it. It still stings but the lesson is greater to let it hide behind my heart. I deserved comfort.

We all deserve comfort.

So, I will keep writing in this way now and then ♥.

#myart #transformers animated #tfa prowl #tfa bulkhead #prowlbulk #bulkprowl #that moment when the script makes you constantly stop and stare long and hard to the canvas #this one is so dear and incredibly personal to me #i cant believe once more i cried over the canvas #and i just-- if this isnt catharsis im the foolest of fools #theres still a long road to walk but im better than ever #i was about to put the rest of the text under the cut but FRICK IT #I TELL MY STORIES AND MY PERSONAL STORY because its my main muse #im my own muse pff #maccadam #ifellinrobothellagain #windydrawallday fanart #shipping to the moon and back

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vargaslovinghours · 10 months

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Fandom: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac (But really Vargas lol) Rating: Teen and up Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

What, exactly, did Scriabin take from Edgar when they separated?

My first multichapter fic for Vargas! :D Yay!

(Pls read Ch. 1 first - Ch. 2 is also recommended, but as long as you're caught up on the first, you're good to go!)

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Side B

What the fuck.

"It's, it's possible that if, maybe whatever happened earlier, whatever caused all that blood and for us to be knocked unconscious-"

What the fuck.

"-and if I suffered a head injury, then maybe-"

No. That's enough.

Scriabin pushed away from the closet door he'd defensively pressed himself up against and put his hands on Edgar's shoulders, which quieted him. He looked at him expectantly, with eyes that Scriabin somehow only just now realized were casually guarded, curious, uncertain in a way that denoted inexperience. That was so messed up, that was completely wrong. Edgar should've been on guard, absolutely, but only because he knew exactly what Scriabin was capable of. He really didn't want to look at him right now if this was what he was going to be seeing instead.

He spun him quickly and pushed him out the door before he could protest. He got one last look at those wide, confused eyes before he slammed the door behind him, bracing it shut with both hands for good measure.

What. The fuck. His head came forward, making a dull thud as his forehead connected with the door. He doesn't remember me? His fingers curled on the door. What does he mean he doesn't remember me?! How could he not know me?! One hand pushed through his hair; his scalp tingled and that was so weird, he felt it and it was so weird- We literally just- He literally just-! As if pulling him screaming into life wasn't bad enough, now he had decided to play some sick prank!

This can't be true. It's just like him to try and make jokes at the worst possible time, he has no tact.

There was a timid knock on the other side of the door. Scriabin jumped as it resonated through his skull, his elbow, pressed to the door with his hand buried in his hair, set his jaw. Then silence.

If he was really trying to get back in, clear things up, say he was only kidding, he'd actually try.

Nothing.

Scriabin's blood was ice as he went over it again. The way he'd said his name. The vacant look in his eyes as he said it, like his mouth knew its shape but none of the meaning. No fear, no realization, nothing that really felt like Edgar, just sound, just noise.

Maybe he really had-

Oh god. His knees gave out, and his arms had no practice at holding him upright, not yet. His hand slid down the door, his other hand guarding his head as his hair fluffed against the grain.

How could he do this

This is all his fault

Stupid, idiotic

He can't do this to me

I can't believe him

I can't believe this

How dare he leave me alone like this

Thoughts spiralling, and all he could do was hold himself down, press his fingers into the back of his neck, force his chest to his knees and maybe he wouldn't immolate under it all. He was shaking, from tension or fear he couldn't tell, his mind too hazardous and loud to cut through it all. He was shaking, dizzy, and if he moved, letting go would surely kill him.

He can't do this to me.

He breathed. And breathed. And swallowed. Eyes closed, heart pounding, sure. Confusion and dismay, whatever. Pain. Fine. So be it.

This isn't like me. A hand untethered from his vice grip in his hair, and he stayed attached to the floor. It connected with the carpet below him and became a new lifeline. He pushed up and away into a limp sit, arms already burning slightly from holding himself up after all that. He shook his head mildly. This isn't who I'm going to be in life. His body, this fear response be damned, he was in control now.

Regroup. Let's- a mental pause, barely a quarter of a second long as he turned the word in his head. Let's pretend it's all true- what does that mean?

He flopped over, leaned upright with his back against the door, heels of his fists pushed down into the carpet to scootch closer. Moving was so awkward still, very unfitting.

He was acting normal. Well, Edgar's baseline for "normal" had changed considerably, so maybe put an asterisk on that. Not that he was ever normal to begin with, but normal-for-Edgar, -ish. That means he has to have some memory.

Scriabin held out a hand, arm slung over his knee, one finger held out. He had recognized his glasses. One. The apartment. Two. Which key to use. Three. He had said Todd's name. Four.

His stuff can be discounted, he's had all that for a while. Back down to one. The kid is a new fixture. Which means he remembers the last couple months at least. He shook his head and brought his hand up to comb through his hair. Well...it's fuzzy for me, so it probably is for him, too. Scriabin remembered everything in as much clarity as the last couple months allowed, there was no way Edgar would know more even if he had all his memories.

Speaking of which, Scriabin could remember everything. He flipped through; the last two months and bringing Todd in, Edgar's parting words to Johnny, his and Devi's conversation - he grit his teeth - and further back, everything along the way, all the way back. False dreams, shared childhoods, everything that was once Edgar's alone, he still remembered it. Nothing was out of place which made it all the more strange!

This is so fucking weird, if I remember everything, then why would he-

He stopped short. His purported purpose had been to replace Edgar. Take him over completely. If he bought into the conceit for a moment, just to play in the space... He was alive now. That was not as intended; it shouldn't even have been possible.

Did he...give me his memories? Like, all the way? Not just to borrow, to shape him, give him legitimacy - he was alive now. His own person. Separate, embodied, and whole. Was this the price of life?

That's stupid. But possible, he couldn't discount. If this - he brought his hands up and looked down at them, watched himself touch his own chest and felt it beneath his coat, shirt, the nerves firing as his slid his fingers up himself - if this was possible, then...

He continued for a moment, curious and reverant, all of him new and privately exciting, to exist and to touch, to feel, smell, see, all of it clear and fresh and penetrated deeply into his mind, as if a layer of film had been lifted from his senses. The moment passed as the memories, unbidden but important, cluttered in around him again.

There were still a lot of questions, and most of them couldn't be answered without Edgar, ugh. If getting anything out of him before had been like pulling teeth, he was very sobered to think about how it might be now. Depending on how much Edgar remembered, maybe he could start piecing things together.

Did he do it on purpose? Did he know this would happen? There's no way he would have been willing to if he had- But he couldn't ask him things like that. Even if he did remember, admitting something like that...

He was just spinning his wheels at this point. Better to gather what he could from the man himself. He looked up, preparing to stand.

Ah-

The room was still in something of a state.

Edgar would be annoying, or at least distracted by trying to pick up the clothes and uncarefully unpacked items strewn about the floor from Scriabin's very successful excavation of his old glasses. The clutter would have to go if he wanted his full attention.

He grumbled as he pushed off the door to pick up the first few things. First day of life and I'm already his maid. Figures. He's always needed me to clean up after him.

Silence.

Somehow it only just hit him. Thinking alone in the late hours, planning things behind Edgar's back, it was nothing new. But a barb unsunk into his mental flesh was left out in the wide emptiness, poised to stab whoever happened upon it next, and he was the only one here.

He felt very small all of a sudden, and he didn't like it at all.

His eyes blankly scanned the room, looking for nothing, until they settled on the toy at Edgar's bedside. His toy.

He dropped the items he'd bundled into his arms and made his way over. He picked up the small simulacrum, turned it over in his hands once, and stared at it.

He wouldn't know this. Not really. He brushed a thumb up and over the little mouth, the contours of its small face. Retroactively, I've never been this at all.

I'm no one to him.

Does this mean we can start over? The thought struck him like lightning, freezing his heart in his chest. He was fixed solid, staring down at the small figure in his hands.

Before he could even think, he'd already thrown it through the open closet door, landing noisily in the box he'd dug through with a clatter. He grabbed up the fallen clothes and items and stuffed them back in the box, burying the toy in mundane detritus, then closed the cardboard flaps and slammed the door of the closet for good measure.

His breath was laboured and he glared, like wishing it gone would make the closet itself disappear.

Answers. He needed answers, more than anything.

He ripped the door open, and there was Edgar who looked up, staring dumbly back at him and carrying the clothes he'd shed earlier over his arm. Something in his mind clicked over, and he didn't think about it.

"Alright," he caught his breath for half a second, "what do you remember?"

Edgar just kept on staring, mouth open, eyes unconfident behind weak glasses. Scriabin huffed irritably, I don't have time for this, and moved towards him, arm outstretched.

"Come on." Edgar gave a small startled sound behind him as he grabbed his collar and dragged him through the doorway. He threw him across the room, not bothering to watch his arc as he closed the door behind him. The bed was that way, he'd be fine.

When he turned back, Edgar had managed to catch himself, though already halfway on the bed. Scriabin stood with his back to the door, feet planted and he crossed his arms. No more speculating around impossibilities, tangible and present as they might be, it was time for a proper interrogation. It was at least preferable to-

Edgar made a face at him and scooted back, offering a seat next to him on the bed. Equal footing briefly flashed through his mind and while he wouldn't consider it ideal, nothing today was really going his way. He sighed, then made his way over and sat across from Edgar, who was eyeing him with a certain degree of caution. At least the feeling was mutual.

"Spill." He re-crossed his arms and leaned towards Edgar. "What do you know?"

Edgar hesitated, apparently thinking, his hands laced and fingers agitatedly if quietly rubbing the backs of his hands.

"I want to verify some things first."

Scriabin snorted dismissively. Where had Edgar's overly-trusting nature gone? A serial killer, well he's an honoured guest, but Scriabin? He didn't even distrust him for the right reasons.

He gestured with an open hand, Go ahead, then tucked his arm back in.

"Todd's last name?"

Pfsh. At least it was proof enough that anything Edgar knew, Scriabin did as well. As expected.

"Casil. His stupid bear's called Shmee in case you forgot that too." Edgar shook his head. No he hadn't? If only he could just check!

"Do you know our phone number?" Obviously he did, so he rattled it off quickly, Edgar nodding in turn. He flipped his hair in time with the last digit, careful to keep his eyes covered. It was a bit of a timid attempt, being the first in this body, which was a minor blessing he supposed.

Edgar mulled over what he'd given him for a moment, then a moment longer, then a moment even longer. His eyes searched absently, gazing down into his own hand, his other on his chin, lightly thumbing his goatee. He was focused on names and numbers, but those were child's play compared to everything, everything Scriabin still wanted to know. It was frustrating on a visceral level, watching him struggle with such simple innocuous nothings while the most important person in his life was sitting right in front of him.

He was supposed to be the most important.

It was frustrating.

"You really don't remember anything, do you?" He didn't hide the sneer as it shaped his voice - odd the way his body just did that now, did things without him actively thinking them into being. Even things like the little waver that made its way in that he pushed back down and under. He was frustrated, angry, tired - any emotionality could be attributed to those, nothing else.

Edgar didn't answer, just kept his gaze locked to his face. That was almost worse. Watching him fumble through things, it wasn't fun, but at least he wasn't trying to pry. He could see him try to look past his bangs, and the fact that he didn't know better...

Scriabin looked away for a moment, then thought better of it. Best defense is a good offense.

He reached for Edgar's face, for those damn scars, ever-present reminders. Edgar shied away, not wanting to be touched suddenly by someone he didn't know. As if Scriabin had ever cared about that.

Well, things were different now. Maybe he didn't really want to touch him anyway. Not yet.

"Do you remember these...?" Instead he framed his face with his hands less than an inch from his skin, and even there he could feel the heat coming off him. Edgar reached for his face, looking away from Scriabin as he touched the angry red marks. He winced minutely, then glanced back at Scriabin, searching him, his expression guarded again. Scriabin could hear his own pulse in his ears.

"...Johnny?"

"Fuck." Fuck! "Of course you'd remember him but not me." God damn it! It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, just because Johnny came first by a hair's breadth, just because he wasn't in Edgar's head, with Edgar's fucked up little obsession with the murderous stick figure- It limited what he could get away with too, if he remembered that far back. Absolutely nothing was going in his favour.

"I'm sorry..." He sounded genuinely remorseful, and it stuck in his throat. Disgusting. "So you know Johnny, too."

"Unfortunately." Scriabin tucked his chin to his chest, arms crossed again in close proximity. This sucks. Edgar just kept rambling, unaware as ever. His excuses held this time at least, one point in his favour, no points for bringing his annoying habits with him despite everything.

"I don't think I've seen him for a couple months now? Everything's awfully..." He gave a vague gesture and Scriabin uncurled slightly. He was giving him room to contribute. He shook his head.

"You haven't."

"Have you?"

He returned to his tight coil of sulking. Not like he was keen to meet up and chat, but he couldn't explain why he hadn't had the opportunity to either.

"I remember he called, too."

"Ugh," barely above breath. Enough about Johnny! Again, Edgar continued obliviously.

"Although I don't really recall what we talked about, not for a while..."

Of course not. I took over for half of those.

He perked a bit, and Edgar focused more on him, patiently setting his hands in his lap.

"You know."

He could play this to his advantage. Give Johnny some well-deserved karmic justice for fucking him over so many times. It was almost better that Edgar didn't know - Scriabin had been trying to get him away from Johnny all this time, and if he really had forgotten everything, not just the moments when Scriabin took over but every moment they had shared, then that meant it coincided almost perfectly with his first meeting with Johnny. Blank spot after blank spot after blank spot, all lined up immediately after getting his face slashed.

He could work with that.

"It's probably trauma." Edgar startled and his hand shot to his temple, lightly touching his hair.

"Like, head trauma?" Scriabing almost laughed. Yeah, probably that too. But that wouldn't help his case.

"No." He leaned in, taking a more intimate, secretive tone. "Think about it. When did things start getting fuzzy?" If he was right on this - which of course he was, but not being able to verify, not being able to see that he was right, it was disconcerting - but if he was, Edgar's memories of Scriabin should start with that first fateful encounter, give or take. A bit of reframing here, a touch of implication there... It probably wasn't even an outright lie; if Edgar's memory were perfect after experiencing everything Johnny had put them through, that would be some kind of twisted miracle.

His only real concern was their "childhood" - how much had Scriabin pulled with him? Would that throw off his story? But that was so far back, there was no way Scriabin or Johnny could be implicated in that. As long as Edgar didn't bring it up before he thought his way around it...

Edgar stayed quiet for a long while. His eyes raced behind closed eyelids, searching, scanning, retracing - Scriabin could almost see the moments where he hesitated, stopped and went back, then starting recollecting again. He wished he could see it for real, watch him unfold himself, touch those memories again, hold up his own in contrast. Even just hear Edgar's thoughts as they went by, feel the emotions he felt. But he couldn't, so he just stared as unblinkingly as this new body would allow, just watched as Edgar went over everything on his own.

He finally opened his eyes, staring back into Scriabin's though he was sure they were still hidden. He felt naked and awkward and Edgar still hadn't said anything. If he could just see like he was supposed to, or if Edgar would just tell him, he wouldn't have to ask. I have to do everything around here.

"It was after you met him, wasn't it?"

"You think it's...mental trauma?" An unspoken 'yes.' Relief flooded him, and he pushed ahead.

"Edgar. He stabbed you." Edgar gripped his shoulder, his eyes closing again and he looked to be in pain. That was a very effective reminder at least. "Do you even know why?" He shook his head and spoke throught half-grit teeth.

"I must have made him mad, but I don't remember-" Of course not, I did that.

"Your mind is trying to protect you." Not. But one of us has to with your inexhaustable deathwish. Scriabin reached out to touch him properly, but Edgar pulled away. He didn't follow, still not yet. Play up the pity. "He messed you up so bad," with a curl in his tone, an I told you so that barely made it to words even privately; how long had he been holding that in? "Surely you must've felt like you wanted, you needed to get away from him, that he wasn't good for you, that you-" He'd told him so many times, some it must have stuck, some of it had to have-

"Then-!" Edgar's eyes shot open, wide and desperate with an edge of disbelief. A strangled gasp escaped him, half-choking him as he tried to speak. "Then why can't I remember you?!"

He almost began rolling off the cuff, but really, he still didn't know for sure. And it definitely wasn't like he could tell the truth even if he wanted to; who, who hadn't lived it, would believe him? Edgar certainly wouldn't, not with his lack of imagination. He had to dress this up, weave a narrative that was plausible, had the perfect mix of truth and falsehood to stand up to scrutiny.

Huh. Ironic.

"I..." No. Some of this was Edgar's fault too. "We...argued."

"Argued?"

"I... Mng." He wanted to aim for some kind of levity, but his throat had tightened on him. He just wanted to tell this stupid inside joke and not have it affect him, not have it mean anything, and here he was getting emotional? He'd say it and fucking mean it. "It's not like I'm in your head, so-" spat out in a rush, there, he'd said it. Haha, isn't that so funny. He swallowed harshly, pushing down everything he felt into his stomach acid. He was in control. He was fine. This didn't shake him. "I can't know for sure," another humourless laugh inside, "but I was against your relationship with Johnny. Maybe you shut me out so you could keep seeing him with no pushback."

It certainly wasn't outside the realm of possibilities of what Edgar would do to avoid taking Scriabin's extremely basic advice about fraternizing with serial killers. How many times had he been ignored up to this point, only to culminate in the ultimate 'I don't know what you're talking about.' Pfeh. I bet he wishes he'd thought of this sooner. It did nothing for his painfully stuttered pulse.

"You know, I've been trying to convince you to stop going back to him for a while, but, well..." He waved his hand at Edgar's hand still death gripped into his shoulder, and Edgar averted his eyes guiltily. At least he showed some remorse. Better than his nigh constant apologia.

He stayed quiet a moment longer, and just before Scriabin made to fill the silence again, Edgar struck him with an intense look.

"What are you to me?" Ugh. Of course. There was not a single good answer for that. Even if he told him everything- no, especially if he told him everything, there was no way Edgar would believe him. But coming up with a convincing lie on the spot, when they were so clearly something to each other - even he needed time to come up with something workable. How could he have ever prepared for a situation like this? It was never meant to happen, so many things were never meant to happen!

He continued at Scriabin's silence. "You know Nny," Ugh! Even his awful nickname. "And Todd. And...me." He couldn't refute it, so he nodded tightly. "Do you live here?"

Technically he had, and technically he hadn't. Still, going forward, it would be easier to let Edgar assume that he did. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go at the moment anyway.

"Yes."

"Are we..." He searched him, looked him over as much as he could and he wasn't subtle about it. If only Scriabin had his proper glasses, he'd let him look as much he wanted, behold his spectacle! As it was, he just felt self-conscious and it was very unbefitting. "...family?"

The baggage on that. He did not feel like opening that particular can of worms in either of their current states. He turned his head and flipped through any number of halfway decent ways to phrase it until he hit on something Edgar would remember. Better not to contradict for now.

"You told Johnny you have no family when you met."

"That's true..." Edgar blinked, processing. "Wait, did I tell you that?" Scriabin startled. Even after he'd accounted for his memory! Of course he had to pick his story apart now, he never knew when to leave well enough alone.

"When you-" No, he had to be involved. "When we bandaged your face."

Edgar mulled on that for a few seconds, taking on a thoughtful pose. "I only remember being alone."

"You don't remember me at all. What do you want from me?" He huffed.

"No, sorry, you're right."

"Thank you." He was right!

Where had Edgar expected him to be? There was something weird about how he'd said it. He filed the thought away for later.

"So, if you've been living here, where..." Edgar looked around the room, then back to Scriabin. "Where have you been sleeping? Todd's already on the couch..."

Scriabin couldn't help as a smile sprung to his face. If he was going to present him with such a perfect opportunity, well, he'd better take it. He even had the decency to look nervous in response! This was too good.

"Would you believe me if I said right here, in bed?" He again tucked his chin, playfully this time, his hair falling further in his eyes. Even through the dark tangles he could make out Edgar's face immediately bristling with heat.

Ooh. That's such a fetching shade on you, my dear.

"But-! I, I haven't been sleeping on the floor!" He was visibly sweating!

"Correct." His smile grew. This was too easy, and he needed an easy win right about now.

"W-" He leaned forward on his legs, though refused to get any closer. When he spoke it was a harsh whisper. "Why...?"

Scriabin shrugged easily, not bothering to reign in his smile in the least. "I mean, where else, right?" He leaned in since Edgar refused to, and oh. He was blushing all the way up to his scalp. Hilarious. "You certainly didn't seem to mind." He couldn't hold back the slightly musical tone or his eyebrows inclination to move on their own. His body knew what he was getting at, and he could see it only increased Edgar's fluster. All the better.

"Well I do now!" Edgar darted up and away, stumbling in his hasty retreat. "If you'll excuse me!" though he was already practically in the hallway by the time he said it. What a display, and Scriabin's laugh was loud and natural.

Finally, something positive. He'd managed to fumble his way through, not his best work in lying or manipulation, but he'd set some important groundwork. He'd gotten some answers, and he could start to shape some more believable stories around them.

The biggest hurdles were Johnny and Devi. As long as Edgar didn't meet with them too soon - or well, at all would be preferable, but he doubted he could just keep him locked up, as much as the idea appealed to him. There were so many things that were possible now, things that he had the ability to do, given the right circumstances... All of that in due time. For now he had a yarn to spin.

He listened as Edgar fumbled in the hall, the sheer sound of cloth being pulled and folded over an arm barely perceptable. Was he really going to try to sleep on what little was left over? Maybe he'd give up once he realized the pickings were thin and beg Scriabin to let him sleep with him. Hah.

While he was out, Scriabin made his way over to the pajamas drawer. They were all old and soft, even just to his hand. They'd do for now, until he could get his own. It wasn't like he hadn't worn all this before anyway.

By the time he'd finished dressing, his clothes discarded on the opposite side of the bed to where Edgar had set up his little nest, Edgar had finally gotten himself a set of pajamas. He wondered for a moment if he'd dress with Scriabin in the room again, though maybe his intense stare drove him off. Who could say. He patted the bed with a wide grin when he returned and was dutifully ignored. He settled down to the side, and Scriabin laid on his arms to look down at him.

"Ugh, lame."

"I don't-"

"Yeah, whatever." He'd heard it all before. At least he could literally look down on him like this. He folded his hands and leaned just a bit further, looking him over. A desire he hadn't realized he had surfaced in the dark and quiet. "Give me your hand."

"Sorry?" Scriabin held out his hand expectantly.

"I used to hear your heart beat every day." Edgar looked at him incredulously, but Scriabin was unperturbed. "Let me hear it again."

He hesitated but eventually slowly offered his arm. "...Okay."

He pulled his arm up and placed his thumb against his wrist. He felt a strange mismatch - where he'd been expecting one heartbeat, there were two. He covered his surprise, near shock at the realization that of course he had his own body now, by pulling harder on Edgar's arm, directing him up to his ear.

"Wh-"

"Shh." Quietly. He had wanted this, wanted this body, this separation, this freedom for so long, and now... He spoke quietly, his voice betraying nothing. "I'm listening."

Edgar's pulse was erratic, but he hardly paid attention to it. His own fingers on Edgar's skin, warm and pliant, and Edgar's fingers twitching in his hair, he could feel it, he was trying not to touch him- This hesitation was killing him, every jerky movement away not from fear of what Scriabin could do to him, just uncertainty, like he was still a stranger- He pressed him harder to his head, and he could feel goosebumps under his fingers. He wanted to just hold him there until all the memories they'd shared poured back through him, into his blood, into his breath.

Where are you?

But he replied in that same uncertain, guarded tone that indicated he didn't know, not really.

"C...can I have my arm back now?"

He pushed him away. "Fine." Edgar curled his hand protectively against his chest, and he noticed he rubbed it slightly, he probably hadn't even realized.

He mumbled out a harried "Good night," and it was almost enough to make Scriabin smile. Almost. He could still affect him but this wasn't enough, it wasn't right.

He laid his head on the pillow, not bothering to pull his arm up over the side of the bed. If he twitched in the night and touched Edgar, well, that could mean anything. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he did it on purpose. Plausible deniability was one of his greatest assets.

As it was, he was just tired. Maybe he didn't pull it back because he hated the thought of sleeping alone, pushed out and forgotten, and hated it more that he was even thinking something like that. How pathetic. He didn't need anyone, especially not Edgar.

But he was tired. Not in his right mind.

Does this mean we can start over...?

The thought echoed and died, and he slept.

#💟#Fanfiction #Blank Slate AU #Edgar #Scriabin #Todd #Shmee #He's technically in there but once again no speaking lines :P Yet anyway lol #It's fanfic time again! I fell into yet another writing fugue and finished Chapters 1 and 2 in like four days lol #If you'll notice tho ♪ Neither of those chapters are featured under the cut :3c Pls do read Ch. 1 at least to get caught up before diving in #This one took a bit longer but that'd be because it's Almost as big as both previous chapters combined lol #I'll update it to the chapter list in a few days! Y'all get a preview here :D It'll be the same there with slightly different formatting #Decided to try something new since tumblr doesn't normally allow underlines but it's very important to Scriabin's syntax #I promise they're all just links to the first chapter lol - you're welcome to check but I promise I didn't put a sneaky link anywhere lol #My one gripe is that it doesn't look as good on-blog :/ Fine on the dash! But I'm not willing to sacrifice the dark colouration on the links #Italics were chosen as the only light feature for a reason ♪#I mean at least it's not Bolded lol I'll take it #These were a lot of fun to write so far ahhh <3 I've been wanting to dig a little deeper for a long while now!#I mentioned this idea offhandedly in the tags of Incoming Outgoing but ahhh it's very rewarding to put to words :D #Fun Fun Fun

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the-converse-high-top · 1 month

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this is going to sound really fucked up but i just need to say it i think.

I never realized that people could actually care. I always thought that the depictions of friendship in movies and TV shows were over-the-top portrayals, and weren't things that actually happened. This was then exacerbated by the fact that my entire life I always wanted people to just Know How I Was Feeling like they do on TV and I found out that that's Not How It Works. I always thought I was naive for caring so much about my friends and for doing nice things for them out of the blue, and I always resented myself for resenting my parents for not doing more for me as a child.

So when I got to uni, and my friends started caring about me and asking if I was ok when I looked sad and doing nice things for me, I didn't know what to do with myself. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me in a long time. When I was staying with a friend, and she said that she left the window open in the room I was going to be staying in because I liked it to be cold when i sleep, I bluescreened. I didn't know how to respond. It is quite literally one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for me. No one had ever paid that much attention to the things I liked. Every year on my birthday it was either a gamble if I would get something I actually wanted from my parents (spoiler alert: I was often disappointed) or I would just have to straight up tell them what I wanted. I got accustomed to the latter, and now I don't mind, but receiving two gifts from friends about languages this year made me realize that I could have it so much better.

And don't even get me started on online friends. I sort of thought that everyone was lying about them? Or that it was something unattainable, and reserved only for God's Chosen Favorites or something. But no, there are little people in my phone who care about me. They legitimately care about me as much as I care about them. I've been nervous to ask them about their well-being because I'm still nervous about being naive and getting a wake-up call that no one cares again, but after being told that they were worried about me when I overslept, I think i should know that I'm in the clear. And that's not even including all the times they tell me to go to bed when it's late, and when they ping me about things I may enjoy or things I was involved in.

All this is to say I guess that I'm touched that people remember my existence. It makes me feel good to be wanted. I will be eternally grateful to both my irl and online friends who made me realize that just because my parents or my friends from home didn't care enough to remember what I like or to go out of their way to do nice things for me, it doesn't mean that no one will. I need to step up and do more for you guys. I trained myself to push down my desire to help and check in with people because I thought I was betting on something that I'd never get in return, but now I know I can.

Thank you all, and I love you 💚

#uf this is a long one sorry 😅#i put it under a cut so it wont clog up your dash #btw if you are an online friend and you do something nice for me #what you arent seeing is me squealing and crying and bluescreening before giving your message a heart emoji and possibly the 🥹 emoji #the 🥹 emoji to me is a dear friend #🥹 to me in the context of accepting nice things means that im basically already crying #i am so incredibly appreciative of you all #i will not stop saying it #and i need to say it more to my irls faces #if you know me irl and you see this expect me to tell you very soon that i fucking love you #and if youre an online friend and you have vagueposted about something happening to you since ive met you #you may or may not get a message about it (depending on how chicken i am) because i fucking care about your well-being goddamnit #idk idk idk i just #it still amazes me that this isnt fake #that you actually care #i keep thinking that ill say something wrong or whatever and ill lose it all #but in the back of my mind i know that isnt true #i should probably be telling all this to a therapist but therapy is expensive and posting online is free #there was something else i wanted to say but i forgor so ill edit and add it when i rember #ok to rb #long post #personal

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moni-logues · 1 year

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The ~engagement 'issue'~

I feel like I'm seeing more and more posts about readers' lack of engagement with writers on here and I now want to say something. I don't say things short so buckle in lmao

TL;DR: idgaf if you, readers, comment on my shit or not. I care that you enjoy it and, if you did, job complete, mission accomplished, well done. I want to be part of a community, not a service provider/'content creator'. I write because I want to and getting to hear people's thoughts and feedback is just a huge fucking bonus to that. Also, readers I love you.

I love my readers. All of them, loud and silent alike. Readers who comment with long reviews, pulling out quotes or bits they liked, reacting with predictions or responding to the characters. Readers who just comment that they really liked it! that it was good! Readers who like. Readers who read and leave no mark at all. Readers who follow me and readers who come across something I wrote another way, who didn't follow me before and don't after. I am deeply grateful that anyone takes the time to read the things I write, whether you've read everything I've ever posted or just one drabble.

I know that all writers are similarly grateful to have this space and to have people here who read their work. I do, to a certain extent, understand the frustration with regards to like:comment ratios.

However.

I know that reviews take effort. I am a chronically unenthusiastic person and it takes a lot for me to summon the energy to respond how I feel I should, in a way that I think would make the writer happy, in a way that I feel is befitting how I actually feel about the fic I read. There are other reasons I have been reading less recently but one of the reasons is that I feel pressure to review every single thing I read. So I just don't read!!! Isn't that stupid???? Sure, I'm putting imaginary presure on myself by thinking I need to respond in a particular way and that is very much my problem (and I'm trying hard to address it and read/review more anyway), but I feel like readers are taking a bit of a bashing right now and I don't ever want readers to stop reading or to have the reading experience spoilt by feeling a pressure to respond.

I write because I enjoy it. When I first started writing, I had no followers. It took me months to get 100 followers. It took almost a year to get to 1k and then I started over with a brand new blog. I wrote all 60k of A Fine Line by myself, with absolutely no one else reading it because I wanted to. I love getting comments from readers; I love hearing people's thoughts about the shit I write; I love this little community here... But that's what it is: community. This is not transactional! or at least, I don't want it to be! I am not writing fics as a service for which I am paid in reblogs. I am being a fan of BTS with other fans of BTS and we are making up little stories and imagining scenarios and having all kinds of fun with each other, whether you write or gif or edit or just consume. We're in this together!

I saw once, I don't remember where or when, a thing that said, if you are feeling miserable, do something nice for someone else and it will lift your mood. This is, in my experience, absolutely correct. Writers, if you are feeling miserable about your engagment, engage with others the way you want people to with you, write a review for someone else's fic that would make your day if you received it. We writers are all readers, too, and we are not exempt from these ~criticisms~ just because we write.

I am not trying to ~call anyone out~ or, in turn, criticise writers. I'm not. I understand. I do. But every time I see one of these posts, it upsets me, because if I were an active, engaged reader, it would make me feel bad. If I were a silent reader, it would make me feel bad. I don't ever want to make anyone feel bad for enjoying something. Readers don't owe us anything! If this issue is ruining the writing experience for you, it is on you to examine that; it is not the fault of your readers. If it means that you no longer enjoy writing, stop writing. Our time on earth is short and precious! Let's spend it, as much as we can, doing things we enjoy! Not doing things that make us miserable!

Fin.

#oh dear moni is discoursing #i know this is long but i don't want to put it under a cut because i got shit to say

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jfleamont · 11 months

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what kind of careers do you imagine James and lily having if the war was over and the weren't in the order and they also live lol rip

I can't imagine either of them wanting to rest on the potter fortune, they'd be waaaaay too bored

would love to know your thoughts!

You're absolutely right! We're talking about two people in their early twenties, full of hope and with big dreams, and even with a young kid to look after they'd still have lots of energy.

I think for Lily the answer is quite easy: she becomes a potioneer... But what kind of potioneer? Is she more into research (working on the development and improvement of the Wolfsbane potion) or does she prefer to help people more directly, perhaps working at St. Mungo's? In my opinion, after the war Lily starts working in the hospital because when she was in the Order it never felt like she was winning any of those fights, every mission was the same: she would barely escape death and she would see no real progress. So working at St. Mungo's after the war is her way of feeling useful, and seeing her patients get better before her very eyes is an immense satisfaction. I also think she longs to be around people: during the war, I doubt she went out and socialised much, what with her being a Muggleborn, and I think people in the Order were also advised to keep a low profile... And this is before they went into hiding! I think doing research would be more alienating in that sense. Furthermore, going from a state of 'constant vigilance' to finally being able to rest is quite difficult for her. All of the people in the Order who survived have some sort of PTSD: there's a sense of urgency, as if danger is always near and it keeps them on edge. I think the constant stream of patients that arrive at the hospital feeds into her restlessness. Working in research would make her feel like she's wasting time, and I think she feels like she's running out of it; she has a hard time adjusting to this new life. I think in the long haul this is dangerous, but I see her eventually realising that research is her future.

As for James, I believe he's a lot like Lily if not more restless after the war: I think this whole experience was quite a shock and he feels a lot of uncertainty and guilt. Unlike many of his peers, he had a choice, he could have turned a blind eye and lived an easy life. The fact that he didn't ignore the attacks and actually fought in the war didn't matter: he felt guilty for the privilege that choice provided him. I think James has no idea what to do after the war: he's a great Chaser, but that lifestyle isn't appealing to him anymore. So at first he stays home with Harry while Lily works at the hospital... But we're talking about James, he's easily bored. So I think that at one point he decides to volunteer (he doesn't need money, he doesn't want it) for different organisations, both Muggle and Magic: he likes helping people, he likes leading them and learning from them and there's this whole world he wasn't privy to and it's wonderful! He's been told how hard it is to be Muggleborn, but seeing how rich and complex and different this universe is (and how similar it is to the Wizarding World, too) is an eye-opening experience. So this is what he does for a while: he sees how corrupt the Muggle government is and he becomes interested in politics - this is right when Margaret Thatcher becomes prime minister - and he tries to help in any way he can (he participates in fundraising events, protests, strikes) and he does the same for Wizarding politics. He protests against the treatment of werewolves and other creatures in the magic community, he writes articles that get published in the Daily Prophet - he calls out Rita Skeeter in some of them, she fires back, he sues her, it's a whole thing - and he's channelling his energy in all these different endeavours but he's still hungry for something else. And yes, this is how he's always been, never satisfied, always looking for the next dopamine hit, but now he feels a bit lost, so Lily suggests he does something more mundane and grounded. The idea comes to him when he's looking at his son - now a toddler - and realises that he doesn't want Harry to grow up like he did. Don't get him wrong, James had a wonderful childhood, but he was a kid with no friends his age, elderly parents and an endless amount of energy. So James realises that kids in the Wizarding World generally grow up very sheltered since they're homeschooled until they're ten and he wants to do something about it. He thinks about what he liked to do as a kid and all he can think about is Quidditch, but now he knows all about all these different muggle sports and wouldn't it be incredible to introduce kids to them? In a couple of weeks he has it all figured out: he's now the founding member of this club, where he gets kids involved in sports, muggle culture (books, movies and music) and even trips to aquariums, museums, cinemas and plays! At first it's just Harry, a couple of Weasley kids and Neville, but with the help of his friends he gets other kids to join, and he soon realises he needs some help managing all these little monsters, so he hires Remus - he's reluctant at first, but he knows that James is too ambitious for his own good and he cannot possibly organise all these activities on his own, bless his heart, so Remus needs to intervene - and McGonagall helps him find other employees. His parents' manor is empty and he can't think of a better way to honour their memory than to use their house as a kindergarten of sorts, so after a bit of cleaning and refurbishing, the house is ready. He loves this: it gives him purpose and hope, and it's like being Quidditch Captain and Head Boy only way harder, but also way more fun. And who knows, he might do this for the rest of his life or he might not, but it doesn't matter, because he has a whole life ahead of him and he can reinvent himself as many times as he wants.

So that's all, I guess lol I thought my answer was gonna be short - she's a potioneer and he's a quidditch player - but as always I got carried away :) do you agree? Feel free to tell me your headcanons!

#jily #jple #jfleamont rambles #asks #james potter #lily evans #jily headcanons #edit October 2023: I put it under the cut because I realised it was too long lol

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