#anyway I’m being sentimental because once again I am

[leclsrc]

wait and see ✴︎ cl16

genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, angst barely, other drivers appear

word count: 2.5k

The grid recounts the evolution, nature, and many ups and downs of your and Charles' vague relationship.

auds here... req'd, this was p fun to write i hope u guys like it! :) short bec if it was any longer it wouldnt have been as nice to read i think? anyway... i love u guys. title from this.

Lando takes a seat. “Is this the thingy for…? Yeah? Okay. What am I supposed to do again?”

“Just describe the two of them.”

“Easy. She was always pissing him off.” He rubs his chin, lost in thought. “But… in a good way?”

—

“I told you a hundred times I didn’t want this to be the soundbite you published.” Charles chases after you, his footsteps quickening like a lost puppy as you wrestle your way into the media pen. “A hundred times, and you said okay, and you still published it. Che succede?”

You turn, crossing your arms over your torso. “Look. I said yes, but when I looked it over, nothing else you said was really worth it. It was all just repetitions of the same PR bullshit that makes you look good on camera.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, exhaling with frustration, watching his biting comment on Iñaki rack up hundreds of thousands of views. “This was not a good idea!” He repeats, the same sentiment he’s been telling you in the half-hour he’s known of this video’s publicity.

“But it happened.” You adjust your mic and gesture to Lando, who’s awkwardly waiting for the cameras to roll so you can start the post-FP2 interview and he can talk about his shit car. “I’m busy, so deal with it. Your fans will appreciate you not riding Ferrari’s dick all the time.”

Charles opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it, shoving his way back outside and into the motorhome so he can cooperate in damage control. He doesn’t admit it—to you, to Carlos, to anyone—but the PR that comes of it is more good than it is bad in the end. He doesn’t admit it because it means admitting you’re right, and God if that’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

—

“They were always butting heads,” George says, laughing as he soaks in the memories of it. “Always fighting over something. Anything. Whatever there was that could be disagreed on—they’d be disagreeing.”

—

It started harmlessly enough. Seb walked in with two swatches of color—a blue and a purple—and addressed the room with a light tone, asking what color would best suit the tablecloths at his wedding. And then, as it always did with you and Charles, chaos ensued.

“Blue suits green better.” You wave the blue in his face. “You’re busy thinking of red all the time so you don’t understand color theory.”

“It’s not about coordination! It’s about creating a highlight!” He gestures with his hands, aggressively gesticulating to try and get his point across. “Highlight!”

“Oh, bullshit! Blue!”

“Purple!”

“Are you crazy?!”

Across the room, Seb and George watch in mild horror at the two figures caught in a needlessly intense argument over colors at a wedding that isn’t even theirs.

An AlphaTauri engineer comes in to refill his coffee for the third time, finds the two of you still fighting and is genuinely stupefied. He turns to the two onlookers, asks, “Bridezilla, huh? Happened to me once, too. I swear the grooms always try to weasel their way in to seem more involved but their choices never make sense.”

“Oh, no. They, uh, they’re not together.” George clarifies quickly.

“They’re not?!” The engineer and Seb ask at the same time.

They all watch the argument, bemused, but secretly they all wonder just how correct George is.

—

“We have a saying in Spanish. Del amor al odio hay un paso. Neither of them will understand it—it’s in Spanish, obviously—but I think that applies to them. One minute you think they hate each other, and the next…” Carlos lets himself taper into silence, smiling softly.

—

Being around Charles feels like karmic retribution, a constant eternal push and pull. But it makes the both of you better, even if neither of you admit it in the end. You can’t really grasp why, or how it started—it might take ages if you do so much as try—but you’re content with letting things happen the way they do.

Or maybe you’re not. “You ruined my fucking broadcast, dickhead!”

You toss your earpiece at his chest, body welling up with annoyance. Your segment was being casted live until Charles insisted he take up your airtime to do whatever-the-fuck, you honestly don’t care. And yeah, sure, he’s way more relevant, but the less airtime you get, the less easily you get the exposure you need.

“It happened one time.” He sounds amused, and it patronizes you, sets you on fire. He clutches your earpiece to his chest and hands it back to you.

“Fuck you.” You tug it toward yourself, and suddenly you’re closer, noses almost touching. You step back, but it’s not enough. “You have no idea how much that mattered to me.”

His eyes flit toward your lips, your bodies melting together. “If it really did…” he says, inhaling, “you would’ve just ignored me.” And damn, he’s right.

Charles does not like you. He just knows you well. But then one might argue—isn’t that the same thing?

—

“They have trouble not calling the shots, is the thing,” Lewis offers. “So put them in a team, in a room together, and boom.”

—

“…We didn’t agree on this script.” You underline the problematic lines and toss it onto Charles’ lap from where you stand in front of the sofa. “You want your fans to hate you?”

“The questions were clumsy. I asked you to reword them, but you didn’t.”

“You didn’t ask, to be clear. You demanded.” You click your tongue.

Lewis is in the middle of posting on Roscoe’s Instagram account and manually making typos, but he looks up, interest piqued by the increasingly heated conversation.

“I asked,” Charles insists stubbornly. “Plus, this is a Ferrari segment. You get hired to write on Ferrari, you follow Ferrari.” He points to the yellow logo on his shirt. Ferrari, he mouths. Lewis stifles a chuckle at the sarcastic exchange.

“Jesus.” You reread the script. “Fine. I’ll reword this and this.”

“And that.” He points, tapping the paper.

“Only if you edit this and this. Oh, God, and this.”

“Fine. Wait, that?”

“Are you serious? It’s the corniest statement ever. Edit that or I edit nothing.”

“Okay, bossy.”

Lewis exits Instagram in favor of texting Seb to ask if you two are dating. The response he receives is equally unhelpful: Nobody knows mate.

—

“You know, for all the disagreeing they did, they actually agreed on so much of the same stuff. If they stopped fighting for two seconds they would agree on most things.” Alex muses. “But they never did, so. Or maybe a few times.”

—

Media is a tricky thing. It’s either on your side, or it isn’t.

And this weekend, Charles has drawn the short straw, subjected to bouts of backhanded journalists and tweets for his strategy during quali. You know this especially well—you’re media, for Christ’s sake—and you’ve seen your colleagues hound Charles for how he chose to tackle the session.

Alex is in the middle of a FaceTime call with Lily when he hears it. “Wait—I think they’re talking,” he says to his girlfriend when he hears you approach him, carefully maneuvering himself into optimal eavesdropping position.

“Is this the right thing to do?” Lily’s voice comes through like static.

“I know it’s wrong,” Alex confesses. “But—”

“No, I meant I can’t hear properly. Move the phone closer, you dick.”

So he does, and the two of them listen intently to your talk. You go first, a few shuffling footsteps and an adjustment of your media pass, then. “Will’s been all over you today.”

“Yeah,” comes Charles’ voice, tired if anything. “I, uh… I just hope I can understand where I went wrong and, uh. Well, uh.”

“No, I…” There’s heavy silence. “I think you did the right thing. You didn’t get pole, but it was a good strategy. Better than what was being proposed, anyway. I think that would’ve landed you at the back of the grid, to be honest.”

You both laugh. “Thanks,” he croaks.

“You did great. Don’t, um… don’t let them tell you otherwise. I’m proud of you.”

Alex never tells anybody what he heard. But it inspires many long-winded conversations with Lily about the nature of your relationship. Each time, though, they never arrive to a solid answer.

—

“Hey, listen. I always knew something was there with those two. They had the kind of dynamic you only find once in, like, a million instances.” Daniel says firmly. “But I also kept thinking… poor Charlotte.”

—

You’re half-sure Pierre was the one who bought you all shots. Or a quarter-sure. Okay, you’re not sure at all. Your mind’s cloudy, your inhibitions lowered, tongue loose and laugh contagious. Around the table everyone is laughing, some others have gotten up to dance, but you, Daniel, Lewis, and Charles are all conversing about work, albeit while drunk.

“Is… tequila… plant-based?” Lewis grimaces as he throws another shot back and you all laugh mindlessly.

“Danny,” you say, tapping his shoulder. “Any plans once you’re out of the paddock next season?”

“Ah,” he hums. “Self-discovery and a shit ton of shrooms.”

You all cheers to the epiphany, shots once again entering your system. “And a party again tomorrow!” Daniel adds half-jokingly, much to your delight. Charles, right beside you, throws an arm over your shoulder as he laughs. You’re unfazed.

Daniel’s gaze lingers on his arm a little too long, especially because your own hand reaches upward to wrap around his wrist, to make sure he doesn’t pull away. But you’re both drunk, he reasons. And plus, you can’t usually stand each other’s guts.

“I’ll pass, mate, if it happens,” Charles says, his tone clearly inebriated.

“You’re no fun,” you say lightly, laughing and turning to him. Your eyes are on the other’s, dark, lips almost touching as if you’ve forgotten Daniel and Lewis are even around (though the latter is as good as dead, honestly.)

“Invite Charlotte instead,” Daniel says with a smile, to try and test your reactions. “How long, now? Three months?”

You clear your throat, looking away with a faux smile.

“Oh. We’re not doing so well, to be honest.” Charles smiles, tight-lipped. He hopes Daniel doesn’t ask why. He can’t think of a lie quickly enough to cover how Charlotte told him I love you, Charles, but this is over. I hope you end up with her someday.

—

Seb takes some time to think about it. “Those two always fought. Everyone said that, didn’t they? All the time, disagreeing.” He hums. “I could tell very early, though, that they were also the only two who could truly understand the other. Figuratively, obviously—but as a result, also literally.”

“Elaborate?”

“When you understand someone that well, inside and out, you end up understanding everything they say.” Seb smiles. “That was them, I think.”

—

“It’s impossible to transcribe your interviews,” Will says to Charles. It’s that hour on the paddock where everyone’s waiting for the pre-race bustle to start, so small talk is what’s keeping them busy.

You’re reviewing a few clips from practice on your phone and Seb is chipping into the conversation, which has moved from Mick’s future to F1 into Sky Sports into this.

“What do you mean?” Charles asks.

“You’re always sliding in and out of your three languages!” The Englishman laughs. “I have to consult a native speaker of both Italian and French each time. And you’re always going I, I, I, or we, we, we… but hey, the fans dig it, innit?”

“I think I sound perfectly understandable.” Charles smiles. You’re still busy, unfocused on the conversation at present.

“Like, okay. Look at this.” Will retrieves his phone, opens his voice memos app, and plays one of the audio recordings there. It’s a scratchy one of Charles describing his quali session, and sure enough, even if he’s speaking straight English, the adrenaline and exhaustion have him sounding totally indecipherable.

We—we had gasjdhfhs and I, I, I… I think we need to rejshdhs and thijsjsh about the hsfhdh, yeah? And, and, uh, we ajhshajs. And

Will closes it. “Sebastian, can you tell me that said?”

He shrugs, amused. “Sorry, Charles. I genuinely can’t.”

“See?!” Will makes a voila motion. “Nobody understands this.”

“He said we had good traction and I think we need to recalibrate and think about the boxing strategy, yeah? And we need that mindset.” You’re still going over your phone, busy and not 100% invested. “You two just aren’t listening.”

Charles doesn’t take his eyes off you, or the smile off his face, the whole hour.

—

Pierre comes last, clearing his throat. He’s ready. He knows exactly what to say, so he says it. “Those two are fucking soulmates.”

—

It’s three-thirty when somebody knocks on your hotel room.

But your body still feels like it’s five in the evening, your brain’s stuck at two in the afternoon, and your sleep schedule thinks it’s nine in the morning, so you’re not asleep but instead rewriting notes from the weekend prior.

You’re horribly disoriented when you grab your pepper spray and unlatch the door, and even more disoriented when you see Charles on the other side of it.

“Am I crazy?” He asks, breathless, like he’s been waiting for you all his life. Maybe he has.

“You’re at my hotel room at three a.m., so… a bit.” You rub sleepiness and jetlag out of your eyes. “Charles, what’s going on?”

“I love you.” There it is. “It sounds so stupid. But I love you. And it’s almost—I can’t bear it. I woke up this morning? You, on my mind. Lights go off after a race? You. I go to sleep? You. It’s always you. And I know, I know it’s—I know, with Charlotte, and—but it’s true. I, I, I—I think about you every minute. And usually this happens accidentally. Nous sommes tous des idiots quand il s’agit d’amour... moi y compris.

“But this was… I knew I was falling in love and I let it happen. And so I thought, why keep waiting? Why let it drag on and on and fight over and over when I can just come and tell you how much I—and maybe, hopefully, see if you feel the same?”

He pants, tired from his clearly rambled and unplanned confession.

“I love you, too,” you say, struck. Oh God.

“Can I kiss you, then?”

“It’s may,” you breathe. “May I kiss you.”

“You may,” he whispers.

“Right now?”

“Anytime.”

“So now.”

“It’s now or next Tuesday,” he jokes.

“Now is… the best. Now would do.”

“Now would do.” So you cross the threshold and let him scoop you into his arms so he can well and truly kiss you.

—

“Is that all?” The interviewer asks Pierre. “Just… those words? We need a bit more for the article on this event.”

“Oh, yeah.” He gets up, straightens his tie. “Don’t worry. You’ll hear the rest during my best man speech.”

Del amor al odio hay un paso – From love to hate, there is one step.

Nous sommes tous des idiots quand il s'agit d'amour... moi y compris – We are all fools in love... me included.

#f1 #leclsrc2000 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader

[vaguely-concerned]

Ever since watching The Wire for the first time, my brain has doggedly kept working away at the Especially the lies of it all, and specifically at how much the structure beneath the different stories Garak tells contributes to the overall meaning of what he’s trying to say. While the contradicting narratives of course expertly obscure the factual circumstances of his getting exiled, using them also allows him to tell aspects and facets of the emotional truth I don’t think he ever could have, if he’d simply told the actual story of what happened. (It’s very Varric-core of him honestly.)

The first story — the ‘oh, you think you know me?’ story — says I have done things that would sicken you if you knew any detail of it. It’s clearly meant to scare Bashir away so he’ll leave him to die shamefully in peace already lol. But it’s also one of his (probably much-needed lbr) little lessons to Julian that are so frequent in the beginning, given while Garak still has some hold on himself — “Don’t be so quick to forgive me if you don’t even know what I’ve done; what would you do if this really were the sum total of what I am?” (And Julian seems to surprise him by going ‘Well, exactly the same thing, because no matter who you are I am a doctor. But I sort of take your point.’)

The second story — the letting the orphans go story — says I have failed to smother my soul in its cradle when it was required of me, and I regret that more than anything I’ve done. To my ears this is the one most shot through with active self-loathing too, which is interesting. He’s officially lost the control he’s been clinging to and it’s about to get ugly. His TL;DR is ‘Sentiment is the greatest weakness of all’, even all the way back here. (Which is the one lesson Julian steadfastly refuses to learn, which I think in turn does some serious rearrangement of Garak’s soul over the course of the show haha. Get uno reversed into the process of loving and being loved without shame asshole.)  This is also where he builds up to admitting to having any sort of need for companionship or closeness at all and — so much worse — that Julian’s role in his life actually has fulfilled some of that need, and he’s DRIPPING with defensive venom over it b/c well I get it Garak vulnerability is scary it can take a person like that. 

(I also feel there’s something honest and forbidden in ‘Suddenly the whole exercise seemed utterly meaningless’. I suspect ‘actually… why the fuck are we even doing this???’ is not a welcome sentiment in an Obsidian Order water cooler environment, no matter what you’re saying it about lmao. The very first seeds of him deconstructing the things he’s been taught about Cardassia and his work might be hinted at here, though they of course take a looong time to come to any real fruition.)   

The third story — the ‘Elim was my best friend’ story — says hey, remember that thing you said once, about how sometimes, you have to be loyal to yourself before you can be loyal to anything else? Well. guess what. I couldn’t even be that lmao. It also furthers that thread of being divided from yourself, split, that having ‘Elim’ as a separate person around in all versions of the story brings in. He’s in control of himself again, but he essentially hands his life and soul over to Julian to decide what should be done with them. 

I’ve done horrible things and it finally caught up with me, I’m getting what I deserve → I let sentiment master me and the fact that I’m too weak to do what’s needed of me shames me more than the evil I’ve done → I fucked up. I betrayed myself and everything I held to, all for nothing, and I have no one to blame for it but myself. But it’s very nice that you’re here anyway, Doctor. (Wow. I didn’t realize quite how isolated and lonely that last one was before right now. The way Tain has shaped him really has just… locked him completely into himself, huh.) We can also see a movement through from a completely professional context in the first story, to an intensely interpersonal and internal context in the last one — even his fake stories spiral in towards intimacy, which I think is what he longs for here even if he can’t quite like. Touch that without the stories as a buffer yet, it’s clearly like touching a hot stove for him to interact with it too directly. 

And you know what I find incredibly interesting the whole way through? Even on his deathbed, where he’s dying from the thing Tain had put in his head, he’s protecting Tain. He puts all the blame for where he is on himself (‘My future was limitless, until I threw it away’), even if he has to employ a strange twisty logic where he’s split himself into two to do it. Don’t get me wrong, Garak has done horrific things all on his own haha, but it’s notable that he almost isolates Tain from that. ‘Tain was the Obsidian Order. Not even the Central Command dared challenge him. And I was his right hand.’ Tain in Garak’s stories is this infallible implacable weirdly distant figure, even now. Indeed, as will make a lot of sense with the revelations further down the line, more than anything it seems the gaze of an abused child desperate for recognition looking up at an idealized (if not in any way nurturing) parent.‘He was retired at that point; he couldn't protect me’, Garak says, as if what he’d need protection from in the first place isn’t Tain himself lmao, as if Tain had no active part in any of this. He never lets blame touch Tain at all. At this stage he would rather consider himself a broken flawed tool than accept that the hands that have wrought and wielded him have ever had any fault in them. AND in the middle of it all, with plausible deniability, on death’s door and knocking meekly to be let in before he must finish the mortifying ordeal of being known and test the even more daunting possibility of being loved, Garak at the same time manages to drop the breadcrumb trail of clues to make it possible for Julian to find Tain if he so chooses and gets in the ‘sons of Tain’ thing too for future dramatic irony purposes. Truly he is the Michelangelo of lying. Every falsehood a multifaceted masterpiece. Elim ‘achieving a state of intertextuality in real life is possible if you work hard and believe in yourself’ Garak. I love him so much. 

I think all of this is why “I forgive you. For whatever it is you did,” works so well, because it too works on a structural level. It’s such a deceptively multilayered response — it has the syntax of a joke, in a way, and it is kind of funny even under the circumstances, but delivered with such earnest warmth and fondness. It’s both recognition and acceptance (forgiveness!). It’s saying ‘I finally understand enough of what you’re trying to tell me beneath and through all that, in whatever way you’re capable of, I see you’ and ‘my answer hasn’t changed (bitch)’. The forgiveness Julian offers here is complete — on principle, and out of personal feeling and empathy (only one of which Garak deigns to respond to during the second story, where he calls it ‘smug Federation sympathy’, placing it more completely on the principle side than it probably is. ‘Dude you’re my friend please don’t just lie down and die in a completely avoidable way on me, who else is going to not only tolerate but actually gleefully enjoy me being annoying as fuck over lunch’ seems to be the subtext that’s a lot harder to acknowledge and invite in for both of them. And yet Tain seems perfectly clear on the fact that Julian is Garak’s friend, which, y’know. Must be fun living with the knowledge that Tain has eyes everywhere looming over you every day haha guess you’d just have to tune that out.) 

Most of all — ’Don’t give up on me now, Doctor’... and he didn’t! He didn’t. Augh. Ow.

#garashir #elim garak #julian bashir #star trek ds9 #ds9 #star trek #ds9 meta #S2EP22 The Wire #alternate title: baby's first brush with unconditional love through unreliable narration lol #I'm not sure I got to say everything I want to in this/found the exact right words in places or hit all the nuances #but god help me I so desperately need this out of my brain to free up some disc space so go forth little meta haha be free #I'm sure I'll come back to you in time #meta #enabran tain #(derogatory)

[peachydarlingz]

-Memories of you- Finnick Odair

headers @attxnt and @plutism

Warnings: Major angst, implied character deaths.

Pairing: Finnick odair x f! reader

-

We were growing old together, of course we were dying.

We found time to talk about it, the sensitive stuff; And it always brought us closer.

Back in our twenties, we might’ve avoided the topic, finding time to ignore and argue about it instead. But when you’re old, wise and your days are spent mindlessly rocking back and forth holding hands, things become simpler, easier. Those harder conversations seem to flow naturally.

“Finn, when I die, can you hold my hand until I get to the other side?”

“How do you know I won’t go first?” Theres a jest in my voice, but I know she’s serious. Her health has been declining more and more recently. I just smile and squeeze her hand. “Of course, my blossom.”

And what a privilege it was to grow old by her side. After everything we had been through together, it was everything I wanted and more.

In my old age, years after my love died, I was often asked the question, “Will you remarry?” and I would always laugh, and it would always catch them off guard. But that’s a funny question to me; I couldn’t help but laugh, because when you’ve had everything, why would you want anything else?

But I loved that question too, because every time they’d ask, I get to talk about you.

“I remember how she could notice an arthritis flare up from the shift in the air, she knew me so well. It’s so rare that you’re connected with someone. So connected, that you can breathe their air and know what they’re feeling, exactly what they’re saying...” there’s a long pause.

“Anyways, when she would notice a flare up, she was always right by my side with a heating pad and a massage. “And I catch myself remembering what once was. “Someone who once soothed the deep pain she knew she could not heal… but would do anything to calm it. Any remedy or potion, because that’s love.” and those sentiments in our old life, and that silly question reminds me of a new memory my mind threatens to forget. but I know deep down, she is the last thing I’ll ever forget. That is something I’ll make sure of.

And every time, I am met with the same response to the same stupid question, silence.

I talk to the vision of you in my head, and I’ll often make that poor nurse pull out the photo album again. But I can’t help it, you look so beautiful in our wedding photo; Or the picture of you planting sage in the garden, just for me.

“Every morning when I’d get back from my morning swim, she would always have a fresh cup of sage tea and a hazelnut muffin waiting for me. Even on the days the bakery wasn’t open, and especially the holidays, she made sure to get extra.”

“That’s very sweet Mr. Odair, now let’s take your medicine.” And I’m pulled back into limbo again.

I seem to be rotting more and more after being the last one left. After you died, it seemed that old age and disease got our friends. You’ll be happy to know that the ‘Star-crossed lovers’ from district 12 died together from old age, just like we predicted they would. Suddenly I’m laughing to myself, remembering our conversations of the pair. Both of us agreeing that if one died, the other would soon follow from heartbreak, if they didn’t grow old together.

It seems like every little memory brings me back to her, even when I don’t mean to.

But maybe that’s my feeble mind’s attempt to keep its grasp on you.

I think the only reason I lived so long after you passed is because you’d be mad at me if I didn’t. And I would never want to upset my wife, even if it’s in the afterlife.

But once Johanna faded, it was just me left. Life just seemed a lot duller after that.

You would think being in the games, the war, all the death I’ve been through would make it easier, but somehow, it’s not. Each death just seemed to take more of the life out of me, and now, I’m the last one left. So, I lay here in this cold hospital bed drifting in and out of the labyrinth that is my mind.

From what I can gather when I’m conscious, I’m not doing too great. The doctors say I’ve forgotten how to do everything except drink water and mumble a few words. They say I can’t last long like this. But to be honest, I really don’t care. I just want to see you again.

“Pictures!!”

“Yes, Mr. Odair I’m getting the photo album, I promise.” That poor nurse, I hope she knows it’s appreciated.

When the nurse sits down next to me and starts flipping through the book, I feel grounded again. I’m looking at my favorite picture of you, how could I ever forget that memory?

We were on our honeymoon, and I just remember thinking, ‘Wow, that’s my wife.’.  I couldn’t help but snap a quick picture when you weren’t looking. Which, of course you didn’t like, but that’s exactly why I did it, and I’m so glad I did. I really do miss you.

I think the thing I miss the most about you is your smell. There was nothing else like it, because it was just so you. I could never replicate it even if I tried, and I did try.

It was the way she layered the complimenting scents after putting on her lotion. I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like. I crave for the day I get to crossover and embrace that euphoric feeling again.

I’m not scared to die; I’ve been close to death more times than I can count. But in a way, maybe I am scared. I’m scared that I won’t see you again. And maybe I shouldn’t have based my idea of the afterlife on you, but to me everything is based off you. It’s how I keep myself sane. Well, as sane as I can be.

I may not know the date, or really what I even look like in my now bedridden state, but I feel an overwhelming sense of peace and I can’t help but close my eyes and reflect on my life. My body feels heavy, I can truly say I wouldn’t trade my life for the world. The wrinkles on my face remind me of every smile and laugh I experienced and for a moment I’m ethereal.

But I guess I’ve really lost it, because I swear, I can smell the essence of you…

#peachywritesfinnick🩷 #peachywrites🩷 #finnick odair #the hunger games #thg finnick #finnick odair x reader #finnick fluff #finnick angst #fanfic #finnick odair smut #finnick x y/n #finnick x you #finnick x reader #finnick imagine #finnick odair imagine #thg series #thg #finnick odair fanfiction #finnick fanfic #sam claflin

[drbased]

Does it ever make you ever feel depressed that men have more variation in IQ? That means even though there will always be more male idiots, there will also be more male geniuses. So women can excel in any field, but a man will almost always be the "best" in it. It just makes me feel inferior every time I think about it, way more than strength difference does. Not only that, but they also have higher variation in all types of brain structure. That would mean men are naturally more diverse, personality-wise.

Sometimes I get into these negative thought processes about stupid shit and it totally consumes me. This is my latest one... Please help

Hmm.

Well firstly, IQ is a completely fake concept designed specifically for eugenicist purposes. You can train for an IQ test, your score can change depending on the day, and your score doesn’t mean anything apart from how good you are at IQ tests. It’s not a measure of intelligence, and ‘intelligence’ isn’t real anyway - as in, there is no such quality of uniform intelligence. I think it stands to reason that the highest IQ scores will be from men, because the tests are constructed around a fundamentally male world-view and value system as well as a white one. And that is what depresses me more - that ‘intelligence’ is viewed as some innate quality that only oppressors can possess so they can prove that they deserve their place in a meritocracy. It’s like that controversy about men winning more at Jeopardy than women - the world is structured around male interests and values, so men achieve in mainstream contests and use that to retroactively justify the legitimacy of those values and interests in the culture.

I’m less interested in the concept of a man beating a woman at certain activities because of him being smarter than her, than I am about him beating her because he's socialised from a young age into enjoying and valuing those activities - but also often regardless of his actual performance, he's also by default assumed to be better and more competent than her purely because he's a man. Take for example that study where when they did blind auditions for orchestras, men still got in more than women, but when they put carpeting down so women's heels couldn't be heard, there was finally a more equal ratio of women getting in. Or those studies where identical CVs given out and names that are typical of women, black people etc. get seen as less competent than those with male and white names.

We don't live in a world where we can objectively measure men's 'natural' abilities at anything psychological. But we do live in a world where we know that women's skills are massively undervalued - women have all sorts of intelligences that make the world run round; we're excellent negotiators, we're less violent, we're great at remembering, we have greater compassion, we make good leaders, we are more responsible, we have greater tact, we are safer in the workplace, we're more conscious of social issues and the environment, etc. etc. And none of what we have is seen as 'intelligence'; in fact, quite the opposite - many of our intelligences are dismissed outright as sentimentality and pearl-clutching.

Once again, though, I don't believe these traits are uniform across all women, or that they're 'natural' to us, just as men's traits aren't 'natural' to them. In the nature-nurture debate, there are too many factors in nurture that can't be realistically measured - and I have a suspicion that for many, feminists included, simply saying that men and women naturally possess certain traits is an easier narrative to swallow, because for many women the fear exists that if men can be socialised to be better, then dismissing them as evil would be morally wrong. But I don't think people need to be intrinsically, ontologically evil for us to dismiss them as oppressors - I simply judge by behaviour, which is more measurable.

Going back to intelligence, I think it's also worth saying here that women are socialised into not recognised or appreciating our skills, and to partake in behaviours that psychologically hobble us. Take for example in that orchestra study - under a feminist lens, wearing heels is a form of hobbling that's both literal and psychological. The woman is performing a feminine ritual, wearing a physically debilitating item that submissively marks her as a woman. Not to say that she would be respected more if she was gnc, but I find it interesting how women accidentally lost their spot on the orchestra in the study because their performative clothing made them noisier and easier to recognise as women. And on top of that, we have stereotype threat - there was a study done where men and women were performing some sort of test, and in one half they were in normal clothes, and the second they were in swimwear. In the second one, women performed more poorly than they did in the first, and men saw no change. Once again, we have two inexorably interlinked factors at play, here - women's swimwear is not built for utility but rather to be sexy, and women's bodies are considered inherently sexual; that's not to say that if women were wearing men's swimwear they'd do better at the test, but rather women are socialised to be self-conscious of themselves but also expected to show more skin - we're expected to dumb ourselves down in the name of being sexy.

The upside in all of this is that the moment you recognise that these things aren't set in stone, and rather that these are all skills you can develop if you gain confidence in yourself, you develop a robust sense of self that you can be comfortable and happy with regardless of external measure of male-approved success. I, for example, found confidence in myself and my writing, and now I'm finding success and getting praise online by women on tumblr. It seems you're best finding yourself environments surrounded by other women, especially feminist-minded women who are consciously choosing to fight against established biases by valuing the skills of women that are undervalued by society. Devaluing male interests and achievements in your own head is something you can also do, and I once again recommend feminist spaces as an excellent opportunity to de-program (obligatory plug for my side blog @learningwomanhood where I do exactly that).

For me, the biggest wisdom to be gained from feminism is the psychological distancing yourself from male thought - the more things you reject that you once unthinkingly believed to be normal, the more you feel that you can truly be human, vibrant, unconstrained; and the more silly the whole enterprise of patriarchy looks. It's not nice that rejecting patriarchy means rejecting mainstream society, but the older you get the more you realise that you simply can't dwell on these things and instead have to do what benefits you within it; nobody is owed a perfect existence, and once you realise that you have to choose a life for yourself and choose to be happy with that, your life will be much more comfortable. In the end, life is all about the gestures of love you make to yourself and others. When you realise that it's your job to be your own best friend, you can carry that energy with you your whole life; you will be inpenetrable because all that matters to you, no matter what situation you're going through or what hell you're in, is that you made decisions that showed love to yourself. That could be considered a form of intelligence - perhaps wisdom itself is a form of intelligence that is devalued specifically because it's female-coded. But wisdom sounds like nothing until you internalise it - all the language in the world can't seem to really get to its essence until something inside you clicks and you understand it.

One thing I would like to say is that those negative thought processes you have are not stupid: they are a valuable part of your processing of the world and are worth attention. We have this cultural idea that with regards to mental health, the parts of us that are 'real' and 'valid' and 'truly us' are all the good parts, and the negative thought processes and patterns of behaviour are like cancerous tumours that need to be artifically removed. One of the best things I ever did for myself is to take myself seriously - because that's my prerogative, as myself and my own best friend. The only thing 'bad' thing about those thought processes is that they cause you distress; that's it. So, then, it's up to you to decide how much you want to indulge in them. I find the best way to really tackle unpleasant behavioural patterns is to simply do them shamelessly, because clearly a part of you wants to do them anyway; one of the first ways I got out of my depressive spirals was to decide that I was going to do all the depressive actions (stay in bed, eat junk food etc.) but simply embrace that those are things I want to do and not feel guilty or sad about it. That way, the depression hasn't consumed me and instead I have made a choice - I have reformed my relationship with myself as an active agent and a made a choice to show love for myself through the gesture of taking my desires seriously, not dismissing them as 'mentally ill'. I could go on but the point is that all of your head is necessarily you - as in, it doesn't come from anywhere else but you, and therefore all of it should be respected and valued. Mainstream society won't tell you that - there's always supposed to be a limit, there's always something that's 'unhealthy' in some sort of metaphysical sense, there's always a part of you that's supposed to be beholden to some external standard, that keeps you feeling insecure and needing validation. But there is no true objective measure of a healthy mind; the only thing that matters is if you're comfortable with yourself, and you can always make gestures of love to yourself regardless of your situation.

#my writing #anon #theory posting #wisdom posting

[citadelofswords]

interstitial infinity casino car: proximity is canon to infinity me, bolt upright a month and a half later: proximity is canon to infinity

shadow’s honestly a little surprised when it’s tails who finds him at the bar, three months after he gets off the train. usually when he disappears on these sorts of benders it’s sonic who comes after him and drags him back to civilization. “drew the short straw, did you?” shadow asks, because he’s still an asshole and no amount of time displaced therapy train is going to get that out of him.

“he’s out of town this week,” tails says flatly, and sits down next to him. “i don’t want to deal with the panic if he comes back and finds you gone again, even if it’s not permanent. this doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

shadow picks up his glass and toasts him sarcastically with it. “feeling’s mutual.”

“really? you had to come to this side of town?” the rest of the bar is empty, but brightly lit, like the inside of the casino. if shadow closes his eyes he can almost imagine he’s doing shots with audrey again. “not your usual dark and broody scene, is it?”

“maybe i’ve changed since last you saw me,” shadow says, and tails huffs.

“hardly likely,” he says. “unless you got therapy during those weeks you were gone—,” shadow’s hand closes over the glass so hard it cracks, and mercifully tails shuts up.

“you don’t know,” he says through gritted teeth, “what i got up to while i was gone.”

“well, no,” tails says, “because if you told anyone you told sonic, and sonic didn’t tell us. because he’s nice.”

“nice.” shigeo would have been nice like that. al, too, probably. he was certainly keeping secrets for audrey by the end there. shadow hadn’t told sonic anything about the train, but finds himself speaking anyway. “well let me tell you, tails. have you ever felt small. have you ever felt like the world around you was so. fucking. small. have you ever learned there is so much more to this goddamn existence. and then walked away from it?” shadow shakes his head. the tequila is leaking out from the cracked glass around his hand.

very quietly, tails says, “what happened?”

“i made some friends,” shadow says. he drinks the last of his tequila and sets the glass down. “and then i walked away from them to come back here. and i will never see them again. i can never see them again. and i don’t have.” he has nothing of them. just the memories, already beginning to fade from his mind. he tries to cling to them, but they’re already being overwritten by the dull monotony of being back here, in a world that once seemed so large and brilliant and now feels tiny and stifling.

he doesn’t want to get back onto the train. he really doesn’t. he likes being home. but it’s. some days it’s hard.

“i understand,” tails says.

“how the fuck could you possibly un—,” shadow begins to snap, turning to face tails, and stops abruptly when he sees the look on his face. the most serious he’s maybe ever seen tails look.

“i understand,” tails repeats. “maybe more than anyone else we know. and i’m sorry, shadow. i really am.” he takes a deep breath. “for what it’s worth, i’m sure they’re feeling the same way about you.”

they probably are, the sentimental fools. shadow still asks, “how can you be sure?”

tails just looks at him, and says, “because mine did.”

and then he turns, and signals to the bartender to get them a second round of drinks.

#my writing #interstitial infinity #what you have to remember about most of these minifics is: i write them in a fugue state and post them unedited #interstitial spoilers #I GUESS??????

[zimthandmade]

I’m a little late but…Happy birthday to our boi Mello! Was yesterday lol SO…Question. 

Does M&M (Matt&Mello) feel jealousy of each other? I mean, Matt did say in canon that he finds Misa hot and Mello did have a toxic obsession on getting the upper hand with Near every time he layed eyes on him (don’t know if this aspect of their relationship is in your headcanon’s but I saw they had fights when they’re kids in one of your posts sooo idk). Sorry if I misspelled something here, just minor curiosity, english isn’t my first language but I love the way u draw the Wammy’s kids and ur headcanons!

The short version is: Oh yeah, Mello is jealous on main. As friend AND lover. Matt is a lot more chill about it.

Here’s some scenarios I can see play out in both 2.0 and 2.1, if you feel like reading:

2.0

Neither at Wammy’s nor in L.A., they both don’t have many friends for different reasons. Matt is a loudmouth, Mello has attitudes. Let’s just say they’re both pretty unpleasant to have around most of the time if you’re not in on their humour. At Wammy’s, Matt one time bonds with some kids over video games or something and Mello instantly tries to intervene, being afraid they’re stealing his only friend. Mello keeps interrupting, trying to steal the show, talks down on everything Matt seems to have a shared passion with the other kid and he’s being such a nasty wanker until Matt’s had enough and fists start flying. “I CAN BE FRIENDS WITH OTHER PEOPLE TOO, YOU KNOW?! GIMME A BREAK!” “BUT I ONLY HAVE YOU!!” ”THAT’S NOT MY PROBLEM, MELLO! YOU’D HAVE OTHER FRIENDS TOO IF YOU STOPPED BEING A PISSPOT EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE!” They avoid each other as much as possible the next days. Matt hangs around at his new friend group while Mello is just bitterly watching them from afar. Maybe he actually makes the efford to talk to other people out of desparation? Matt enjoys the new company for 2 days before he gets bored. The conversations are dull, nobody laughs at his brilliant jokes and they openly gossip about Mello. He hears rumors about him that he would rather not have heard and he starts to feel sorry for him. But he doesn't want to apologise either - Mello was clearly being a prick earlier. I don’t think Mello ever apologises, things just fall back in place someday. I can see them sitting in class - Matt with his new buddies at the front, Mello at the back, but within earshot. And Matt makes some insanely stupid comment, some joke NOBODY laughs about. He hears a chuckle behind him. Matt turns around, Mello grins at him, Matt grins back. And that's it.

Another time at Wammy’s, Mello gets an enormous bottle of the most balkan aftershave you can think of (what the fuck, Nikola, the boy is like 13 or something) for his birthday. Matt unknowingly mistakes the stuff for some really expensive shampoo or something and empties the whole thing on himself thinking “It burns like a buttcheek on a stick, that means: it works.”. It’s all croatian on the bottle, so he can’t read anything anyways. The shower can’t be used for over a week because of the stench. Ivanka (Mellos mom) is over for a visit a day after and comments on how Matt reminds her of Nikola and she gets overly sentimental and touchy with Matt. Nothing perverted happening but it’s just the whole vibe of this visit is OFF, everyone is so uncomfortable. Once Ivanka is gone, Mellos slams the door shut “You wanker, you did that on purpose, didn’t you?!” ”’scuse me??” Another fight breaks out, Mello punches first. ”-JUST BECAUSE YOU NEVER HAD A MOM DOESN’T MEAN YOU CAN THROW YOURSELF AT MINE!!” ””THROW MYSELF AT—” WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU IMPLYING MELLO?!” Again, they don’t talk for a few days after that. But this time, Mello apologises. ”Hey man, I overreacted earlier-” “-greatly, yeah.” “Yeah. Sorry. I mean, nobody wants to smell like that voluntarily, am I right? Are we cool again?” ”Sure.”

2.1

I headcanon that Matt works in all kinds of different jobs, like, as a cashier at a GameStop, at Walmart, Starbucks, maybe even something like an IT guy or a software developer at small tech companies … just some stuff on the side while Mello is doing “the more important stuff” - they’re still working towards the whole “catch Kira”-mission after all. Mello sometimes stops by at wherever Matt works at the moment and sees him interacting with female coworkers or trying to unsuccessfully flirt with customers. Especially when Mello starts crushing on Matt, seeing this play out makes him feel like throwing up. It’s one of the tell tale signs for him to realise he feels more for Matt than friendship. I can see him downright interrogating Matt about who his regular contacts are, all under the pretense that they “mustn’t lose cover, can’t reveal their identity” and he pressures Matt into not getting too close to anyone.

I can see this play the other way around too though, when Matt is crushing on Mello. Mello showing up at Matts workplace, with a biker look, you know, cool ass leather jacket, helmet under one arm, whipping his hair back, looking SLEEK AS FUCK, only thing missing are the guitar riffs playing in the background as he enters the store. He asks the girl behind the counter if Matt is here and without taking her eyes off Mello shouts a “MAAAAATT-” “huh?!” “THERE’S SOMEONE HERE FOR YOU” Matt comes stumbling out from some backrooms and has the widest smile when he sees who’s here. And the girl watches them outside through a window talking, eyeing Mello respectfully. Matt comes back in and she goes “Matt, who was that??” “My roommate - why?” “OOHH Is he taken?” “Uhm, I don’t think so…?” “Nice. Can you, like, invite me over sometime??” “What, why??” “That guy is HOT.” And Matt feels the jealously well up and his mind starts racing, picturing Mello with this girl in various situations and him being the miserable third wheel. The girl notices Matts reserved reaction and goes “OH WAIT, NO- YOUR “ROOMMATE”?? Are you two…?” “NO NO It’s not like that! We’re just- just friends…”

And yeah the thing with Misa haha Notice how they start with Matt following Misa and after hearing his comments about how Matt thinks she’s cute, Mello is promptly taking the job on listening in to her? And Mello refusing to switch despite Matt asking for it? He is 100% mocking Mello with the whole “your job would be better since you can listen to a cute girl”. He knows Mello is jealous and tries to mess with him a little. At least that’s my interpretation wearing heavily mellodramattically tainted glasses.

#ask #death note #dn au 2.0 #dn au 2.1 #headcanon #au #mello #matt #mihael keehl #mail jeevas #wammys boys #wammys house #wammy boys #wammy kids #wammy's house

[sillystardew]

Hi! I’m really new to the Stardew fandom (just started playing this year) and am so smitten by Shane it’s ridiculous. I love the fluffy things you’ve written so far <3

Was wondering if you’d write something about the farmer repairing the holes in Shane’s jacket. Like sewing little chicken patches or patches of random fabric to fix the holes.

Could maybe extend the prompt to the other bachelors (farmer fixing something small of theirs that they use daily) but I’d be so satisfied with just Shane <3

Keep up the wonderful writing! I’d love to read your fic in AO3 when it’s out!

Ahh tysm! I’m really glad people are liking the things i write, it’s actually been helping me practice a lot more than i used to!!

It’s such a cute idea to be like “hey i can fix that for ya :)” and the romanceables just being so amazed that the farmer can do literally anything?? Anyway i did this with Shane, Elliott and Sam bc i love this prompt soooo much

Gender neutral reader 🦇

Shane

-Shane is a sucker for little details. He loves those iron-on patches (and definitely puts some of them on Jas’ clothes) but beyond that, he’s too afraid to mess his clothes up even further, so he kind of just leaves the rest of it alone.

-If you offer to sew up his Joja jacket, he’s a little hesitant. Its one of his number-one comfort items and he doesn’t want to risk it getting ruined, but the second you say you can probably also remove the joja logo, he’s on board.

-He specifically asks you not to mess with the holes in the pockets because he likes fiddling with them when he’s just standing around

-He assumed you would just sew the holes closed, but when he sees that you’ve also put little patches on it, he literally gasps

“is that a fucking junimo?”

-The Joja logo is replaced with a little chicken and he just kind of stares at it for a while

-Tbh he doesn’t wash it for a few weeks afterwards because he’s really scared the stitching will come undone and he doesn’t want to make you sew it up again

-He’s embarrassed because he feels like he shouldn’t be this excited over a beat up old jacket. Save this man

Sam

-Like shane, he loves iron-on patches. He probably doesn’t have a single jacket or hoodie that doesn’t have one or two. He doesn’t consider himself particularly outdoorsy, but he is a skater, so most of his clothes are pretty roughed up

-Idk if you guys have noticed but his jacket in the game is just as bad as Shanes, if not WORSE. How have these two managed to literally destroy their clothes. Is Joja forcing them to roll in gravel

-Anyway, he’s stoked when you offer to fix up his clothes. His mom pesters him about “looking at least a *little* presentable” so he’s just glad to finally be able to wear his jacket in peace

-He thinks it’s literally so cool. He’s dumbfounded. “Where did you learn how to do that????” Sam. Sammy. There are so many tutorials online

-He really wants to ask you if you know how to embroider something on his guitar strap but he’s too nervous

Elliott

-He looooves embroidery, and there’s something so wonderful about the sentimental value of sewing an old piece of clothing back to it’s original form

-He’s the type of guy to cry over those videos where people have their really old stuffed animals + blankets remade with the old material still inside

-A lot of his clothes are actually really old. He and Leah go thrifting in the city every once in a while (you CANNOT tell me those two don’t go to goodwill..) I think Leah and Emily are pretty good friends, so by extension, Emily has fixed a few of Elliott’s thrifting finds

-If you offer to fix up any scuffs you see or offer to embroider something he’s just like “you would do that?? For me???”

-He loves sentimental things like this so sometimes he’ll just run his fingers along the seam and smile like a dork to himself. He’s soooo *explodes*

#stardew fanfic #stardew valley #stardew headcanon #stardew shane #stardew elliott #stardew sam #my writing

[joshriku]

ages ago i asked for prompts on twitter and i think ava had requested cherik + bodyswap, and i forgot i wrote that til i found it looking at my files so i figured i'd also post it here ages later lol it's too short for ao3! but perfect length for tumblr.

-

“I don't know how you do it,” says Charles. 

His voice—it's Erik's, no doubt. Words coming from his mouth, his body. His body, that Charles is currently inhabiting. 

“Do what?” asks Erik, with—with his voice, God damn it. This whole situation is so strange. 

It's supposed to wear off in a few hours, said the other teachers. Just a mutant learning to control their powers, nothing else. But now Charles is Erik, and Erik is Charles, and it's been the most insanity-inducing hours of his life. They haven't left Charles' room, as they decided to spend this ordeal as quietly as possible: in bed, reading. 

“This. Alone with your thoughts,” Charles says. “I'm miserable. And overstimulated, even though I am not doing anything. It's…” 

So much. His skin is prickly, impossible to touch. He can sense the clock ticking—not just the one inside the mansion, but everyone's. Phones buzzing or vibrating. The kitchen. Jewelry. The televisions. The satellites. The cities further away. The core of the Earth—

Erik takes his hand. Charles takes a moment to note how different his own hand is, when he's being touched—this is not comforting. So many times he's held someone, held a student, tried to comfort them with a gesture. And now that he's being comforted by his body—God, he should never be close to people.

“Breathe in,” Erik tells him. “Narrow your focus to one thing. Try your wheelchair.”

It's such a big power. To narrow it to something so small like his wheelchair feels like an impossible task, but then he notices a little helping hand: it's sloppy and careless, but the undeniable sensation of a telepathic push. Erik’s not good at it—good God, how is he holding up with all those voices?—but he’s good enough to guide Charles to his objective.

His body slumps against the bed, once the world is reduced to just the wheelchair.

“How do you do it?” Charles repeats. “It’s so quiet. It’s so lonely. And this power—it’s too great, I’m afraid. How does your body not fall apart? How does your mind not fall apart? How do you—”

Erik cuts him off. “I am wondering the same thing about you, as we speak. There is so much noise. People cannot stop thinking, not even for one second. How do you not go insane?”

He supposes the same questions he asked have the same answer Charles would give Erik: you get used to it. You settle into it like a second skin, until one day you no longer get to think about it.

“You get used to it,” he says, although he knows Erik must have heard it, anyway. His grip on Charles’ telepathy isn’t that good—Charles presumes he doesn’t know how to leave his mind. Erik hums anyway. “I suppose it’s more impressive right now, to be in a body where—it’s truly yours. Mine, it feels like it shares a bit with every single person. I cannot stop myself from seeing through their lenses, even for a second. I guess being alone right now—truly and well alone, it just… makes me wonder. How you don’t go insane. How you talk to people, how you are such a good judge of character. I can only be one because of my powers, and even then, I can go so wrong.”

Erik raises an eyebrow in his direction. It’s so odd, looking at his face. Does Charles really look like this? No wonder he got into so many arguments. He’s rather annoyed at that face.

“Funny, again. I have been pondering that myself. If I could listen to every thought, every sentiment, and every motivation behind someone’s actions—well, perhaps I’d become a hermit. It takes incredible strength to do this. I admire you.”

Charles smiles a little. “I suppose we are both so exceptional,” he says. He squeezes Erik’s hand again, trying to focus on Erik’s body, wanting to be held by it instead. “Only a few more hours to go.”

“Maybe we won’t go insane in three hours,” Erik smiles back. “Who knows? We have got plenty of time.”

#cherik #writing #occasionally ill be like hii does anyone have prompts and its like the most fun i have at night #i love when i have the taking requests mood. hope it strikes again

[belovedblabber]

I’m so glad to have found other Jod enjoyers on this site. Top John Gaius “makes you want to chew on the furniture” moments?

Okay I can FINALLY take some time to answer this now, huzzah!

I have some other John related asks I'm VERY excited to answer but I have gotten far too sleepy now so I once again have to wait on those because I have a LOT to say and I am incapable of not treating everything like I'm writing an essay and bringing in citations.

But anyway, if I gave all of my top John moments this post would be a thousand miles long so I'm just going to give some of my faves. And this is in no particular order, I'm just putting them down as they come into my head

"Is that the truth, or the truth you tell yourself?" asked Augustine. "What is the difference?" said God. This exchange makes me go INSANE. I can't even be coherent about it right now, I just love how chilling John's response is, and also Muir using God here. I love her very clever choices in terms of what she calls John and when. Calling him God (or by another one of his fancy titles) can either be used for comedy (aka "Thanks," said God) but it can also be used for an absolute wham line like this one and it's just very good. I love it. It's chilling. He's so scary

When Harrow explodes G1deon and everything is going insane and then John just says "Stop" and just freezes everybody. It's such a cool moment. He just STOPS it all, I LOVE it. Also: The Emperor of the Nine houses—the Resurrection—the First Reborn—sat at the end of the table, his plain face splattered with gore, and his eyes were the death of light. Oh my GOD is that such a good line, I am deeply not coherent here but god I love this entire moment, it's such a good reminder of how powerful John is (and then him being like "I did't really want to eat human again Harrow" sdfghj)

The entire section where he reconfigures himself after Mercy exploded him. And then his killing Mercy so casually. But what I really love about it is how stone-cold he is after it all ("I never liked cleaning house all at once") I love how this scene really shows how right Augustine was earlier in the book when he told Mercy "John is never as sentimental as you think." John is so matter-of-fact and it is SO good when we see him turn on a dime like this and start cleaning house (I also love "You acted afraid—" "Acted is operative. But this is not am FAQ.") I am not explaining myself well here but I just love the way that John, who we have seen as this very affable, mellow, often very funny character throughout, turns on a dime and is suddenly so ruthless, right after killing someone who he was begging to forgive him moments before. The absolute callous tone he has ("I didn't offer it to Mercy because Mercy really pissed me off, I'm sorry to say.") is so jarring and it's GREAT. And I've seen people point to this as proof that like, 'oh John doesn't actually love them like he says he does, John is a liar he was faking his affection.' And that is SUCH a boring read. What's much more interesting, and terrifying, is the idea that John can be fully in earnest with his affection, but then just so brutally flip a switch when he's pushed. Idk, it's just a great moment. I am explaining myself poorly here I know asdfghj

"Harrowhark, nobody has the right to know," he said fiercely. "Nobody has the right to blame you. Nobody can judge. What has happened, has happened, and there's no putting it back in the box. They wouldn't understand. They don't have to. I officially relieve you from living in fear. Nobody has to know." I love this line because it's like, John are you talking about Harrow, or yourself? And with the context of NtN this becomes even more clearly John bringing his own baggage to the table. It's so good. I have a whole post brewing in my head on this subject that I am sure I'll inflict on my poor innocent followers at some point

Uhhh, every single John interlude in NtN. I know that's cheating but literally every single one had me going off my rocker.

But even more specifically, John 1:20. That entire section may be my favorite part of the book. I actually had to stop reading for a moment after I finished it (and no joke I did whisper "damn, Tamsyn" out loud and I was, in fact, crying a bit. it was also like, 6am and I had been up all night aserfghj). But seriously I wanted to pick a single part or so from this to highlight but I can't. It's all so good. And heartbreaking. John crying at C— and N— 's wedding, and eating for the first time in ages, the building desperation at the state of the world and how helpless they all feel and that bit of humanity and joy with the wedding, immediately followed by...everything else. "John, your problem is that you care less about being a saviour than you do about meting out punishment." John and Cristabel's final conversation. The absolute heart wrenching stuff with John seeing everyone die and his blurry recollection of it because holy shit it was horrendous. Literally everything else. Also THE MOMENT HE LETS GO, the entire sequence of him trying to take the earth into himself, and then the terrifying description he gives of him eating the solar system and pursuing the departing ships. Also I just really love "All those frightened people. All those run-away rats." I think I just have a very clear uh, 'line read' of that bit in my head, and I love the way he calls them frightened and then the absolute rage in the way he calls them rats. Idk, it's really clear in my head I can't really explain myself better here. But anyway yeah, the ENTIRETY of this interlude makes me go absolutely wild to the point that I cannot be coherent about it.

John 5:4, and everything John says about forgiveness, and what he'll do next, and taking his friend's memories. Again I can't really be coherent about this entire section, but I will give my fave bit from it. "There can be no forgiveness for those who walked away," he said. "Just as there can be no forgiveness for me—even though I rip the very fingers from my hands...throw them into the jaws of the monsters who hunt me...as I run from them across the universe, end to end. Something will satisfy them eventually, but nothing satisfies me. Nothing." I put that last bit in italics because it is maybe my fave line from John. There's just something about it. It's just so tragic and chilling and terrifying and I LOVE it and I love how it is sort of this like, succinct and perfect sum of the tragedy of him. Idk it's just, chef's kiss.

Okay finally, not a direct John moment per se, but this: John loved her. She was John's cavalier. She loved John. For she so loved the world that she had given them John. For the world so loved John that she had been given. For John had so loved her that he had made her she. For John had loved the world. I have so many thoughts and feelings on this that I cannot articulate but oh my goddddd. It's so good. First of all the whole playing off of John 3:16 thing. And just...the wording, the way it all flows. I cannot be coherent about this I just go insane. That ending For John had loved the world hit me like a brick the first time I read it, and continues to do so every time I reread it. There's something so simple and final and heartbreaking about it. I think it sums of the tragedy of the character and his story in one simple line. If that makes any sense whatsoever.

ANYWAY, this is an absolute ramble of an answer I know, but the prompt here was 'makes you want to chew on furniture moments' and I feel like with that vibe in mind the level of not hinged I am here is at least thematically appropriate. Also thank youuuuu for sending me this ask, it has made me very happy

#the locked tomb #john gaius #nona the ninth #nona the ninth spoilers #harrow the ninth #ntn #htn #thank you so much for sending me this ask!

[wooahaes]

on the right track

pairing: non-idol!vernon x gn!reader

word count: 0.7k~

warnings: school stress. senior student reader working on their thesis. also just a smidge of like... implied adhd reader. no proofreading, intentional lowercase, admittedly very self-indulgent.

daisy’s notes: i am terrified of being an adult w a Real-ish Job can someone fund me to get my masters--

four thousand five hundred and sixty-nine words and you were finally fucking done with your rough draft.

despite everything you had once thought about writing, drafting out your senior thesis was far harder than you thought it’d been. one part of it had been your inability to focus, brain flitting to something else that needed doing (or, rather, anything else because revisiting your stupid books for the fifteenth time was boring and there was a reason you’d put off actually typing up excerpts). the other part had just been the frustration of trying to satisfy your professor--who, in all fairness, was encouraging as hell and one of the best women you’d ever met. at least she gave you thesis a fair chance and indulged you in it instead of writing it off because it didn’t contain british literature. your boyfriend had been thankful of that: as much as he liked to hear your passionate rants, he knew it couldn’t be good for you to get so frustrated with one woman.

that brought you to now: three in the morning days after the rough draft was technically due. you told yourself that it was fine, as only one of your classmates had submitted it on time. you were busy with other things, namely other classes, anyway. you were getting some progress on it.

(of course, that progress also came in late nights at your computer until vernon inevitably woke up, reached over to the empty space in bed, and then made his way back to you. his warm arms would wrap around you as he slowly pulled you away when you finished the sentence you were on, mumbling that you needed sleep. with him. he missed having you there to cuddle, and a pouty boyfriend was the easiest way to make you give in to your own desire to curl up in his arms and fall asleep.)

no thoughts, head emptier than earlier, you submitted the damn thing to your class’s discussion board and immediately clicked off. you relaxed into your chair, shutting your eyes with a heavy sigh. sure, there was more to be done after your professor looked it over and gave you feedback: but this was one step. hopefully a final draft wouldn’t require rewriting every damn part of the paper.

“baby?” vernon was lingering near the kitchen at this point, staring at where you’d moved from the dining table to the couch for maximum comfort. “are you done?”

you shut your laptop with a sigh. “for now.”

he perked up, immediately making his way over to flop into the space next to you. “you’re done!”

“for now,” you repeated. “i still have to edit the thing and then do my defense--”

“you’re done,” he said again, “with this part. you’ve got the rest of it, babe. no sweat.” he set aside your laptop, already pulling you into his arms. “i’m proud of you.”

you almost want to make some quip, asking if he suddenly decided to become your dad. yet something about the sentiment made you tear up, breath hitching as your emotions overtake you faster than you expected. one step closer to being done with all of this bullshit. you felt your tears brim up and finally overflow as you began to cry into vernon’s shirt, and he was already starting to rub circles into your back as he pulled you in closer. between the rough draft and every other assignment you had on your plate... this cry was what you needed.

“i mean it, babe,” he said in a softer voice. “i’m really, really proud of you. you came back to it.”

you did. you were supposed to graduate earlier that year. he knew how much you had struggled with having to withdraw from classes and then go back into it after barely two months of down time. and he knew exactly how scared you were of whatever came next, after you actually graduated.

“did you eat?”

you shook your head.

“aw, baby...” he dragged out the term of endearment, and you could hear his smile in his voice. “that’s no good. c’mon, i’ll warm it up for you. you’ve still gotta eat--”

except you wrapped your arms around him a little tighter, taking refuge for a little longer. his arms wound back around you a moment later, thumb tracing hearts into the back of your shirt.

“i love you,” he said quietly, pressing a kiss into the side of your head. “c’mon. it’s self care time.”

at least you had vernon to have your back when you needed it the most.

general taglist: @wonuziex​ @twancingyunhao​ @synthetickitsune​

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #seventeen fluff #vernon x reader #vernon x you #svt vernon x reader #svt vernon x you #chwe vernon x reader #chwe vernon x you #chwe hansol x reader #chwe hansol x you #vernon fluff #chwe vernon fluff #chwe hansol fluff

[do-you-have-a-flag]

little covid rant

one thing that’s really odd about getting covid for the first time 3 years into the pandemic is that i was very careful and did limit social interactions and wore masks indoors and literally would not have gotten it now if i didn’t take a once in a lifetime chance to see my favourite band for the first time like it’s a very clear thing to me that i could have caught covid at any time but the risks would have continued to be low if not for this ONE THING i did.

so aside from the hypothetical series of choices where i was very sad but healthy the fact is that it took about 2 years for me to really start to miss normal life and 3 years for me to miss Doing Activities

like after this i am going to go back to my recluse era because the world was not as cautious as i was and i don’t want to tempt increasing health risks from re-occuring infections so i don’t even have the bandaid rip of OH WELL CAUGHT COVID NOW IT’S NOT SCARY like no.... no this does suck and the potential impact of it is scary and i do not want to knowingly contribute to infecting others

and idk i’m just mad the world moved on because the more people act like the pandemic is over the more pressure there is to put your health at risk. I’m literally going to go back to staying home and going for walks and doing 1 (one) indoor activity with more than 2 people every 6 months while masked and getting booster shots when available

and i miss life in a big way, i really personally felt like i got the momentum knocked out from under me by graduating into a pandemic, it's not a unique sentiment but it's just very frustrating to see exactly how clear cut the price is for being a Normal Person right now. Either I can continue to try to get it together from home and struggle but stay healthy, or i can risk infection after infection and all the health issues that could result to work and go to events again.

it's vindicating to know how much my efforts to social distance and mask up DID WORK and frustrating that one of maybe 3 concessions to having fun i participated in over 3 entire years resulted in catching covid

like obviously i'm very fortunate and lucky and so on and so on but i still feel angry with how this pandemic was given up on on such a broad scale. did you know that for a while mid pandemic there was almost zero cases in my state? We managed that but because of all kinds of factors and prioritising profits over people after the second bigger wave people started acting like vaccination was the only thing needed.

I'm such a risk avoidant person generally and when i take on a situation i am not sure of i accept the consequences. I am now experiencing those consequences. I am not oh woe is me-ing the results i am just startled by the realisation that I was right to be so cautious all this time and that continuing to do so means continuing to actively chose to sacrifice opportunities over and over and over. because it feels like the world is not set up for me to thrive in it

maybe it's that i was too preoccupied with unrelated stress when everyone went through the existential terror of early covid, maybe it's because i never went through the stages of though that lead some people to go "everyone's going to get it anyway!" but as i creep towards recovering from this run of sickness and keep my fingers crossed for no long term side effects i have to figure out how to re-arrange what my outlook for the future is for as long as people act like an ongoing pandemic isn't happening

[vaguely-concerned]

BEHOLD! The list of evidence for my bold claim that Pan and Freddie dislike each other ferociously on sight because they are, in some key ways and despite appearances, very similar people: 

- First instinct upon seeing Grace sad is to try to make her laugh to cheer her up. (See: Freddie’s very first lines in the game starting off as she means to go on, and about half the things Pan ever says or does lol. In the last scene with him before The Trial you can even tell him you’re there just because you wanted to talk to him and have something cheer you up.) General sources of levity and fun and play in Grace’s life if you seek them out. 

- They react with similar anxiety to the idea of Grace being really angry with them (Freddie’s surprised/dismayed “Why are you angry at me?!” in the red route of ‘I Can Teach You’, the millenia-old god of the wild hiding behind a tree for ten minutes because he thinks Grace might be about to yell at him lmao <3)

- Both of them seem to have similar interpersonal insecurities in general, judging by the enforced choice between them in ‘I Can Teach You’ (I love you both so much but oh my god. is this a constructive use of time or energy under the circumstances lol), softened and alleviated by the fact that at the end of the day the most important thing to either of them is that Grace is happy. It isn’t possessiveness, but there is an element of underlying ‘Hey. Hey I am your favorite right?? 🥺’ insecurity there that trips them both up to begin with. Once you play the game and go back to look at this scene again knowing everyone’s real motivations, they’re even coming from the same place deep down — genuine fear for Grace’s safety and wanting to help her. (Freddie uncomplicatedly out of love🥹, and Pan at that stage probably more out of a guilty sense of responsibility, though he does seem to take a shine to Grace herself pretty quickly as well. Also he demonstrably isn’t, uh. Completely wrong in saying Freddie’s involvement in this whole mess is likely to end in tears, even if he is being a real dick about it) 

- If you don’t choose either in ‘I Can Teach You’, they both show up within minutes of each other to watch Grace’s back in the Medusa quest anyway. One brain cell ping pong and no one notices because they keep trying to swat each other with the racquets whenever Grace glances away for a second

Sidenote but flirting with both of them one after the other in that quest is fucking hilarious, they’re just taking turns ‘Really? Right in front of my salad?’-ing directly at the camera (...listen I feel that there is a chance that as long as they kept Grace between them the whole time there could be a thing here. I think a possible universe out there where it happens at least once does exist if one cared to go seek it out. That’s all I’m saying.) 

- Seems a bit obvious but what else am I here for: both very drawn to Grace no matter what main trait you choose. Whether this is true vice versa is of course player-dependent, but it is one way you can play the game. 

- Incredibly similar defensive reactions to being picked on or sniped at (and no hesitation whatsoever in subjecting each other to exactly that immediately anyway haha) 

- A bit dark when you think about it, but they both express the sentiment that it would be better for them to step in and die if it means Grace lives. (Freddie very directly of course ;______; and then in ‘It’s time’, Pan in ‘The Trial’ and the little talk you have with him later in Athena’s office.)  

Matching ‘ride or die’ instincts once awoken, is what I’m getting at. Freddie gets extra points for sheer longevity and constancy, Pan gets extra points for getting there in a week. You’re both unhinged (affectionate) 

- They’re the only ones among the main cast wearing green, right? I think I’ve got that right? Well, Charon does too, I suppose, but he’s a bit more peripheral. (Persephone and Aphrodite wear blue-green, but that seems more associated with death and the underworld and the river of grief everyone keeps using as a metaphor throughout the game.) Somehow I find the idea/metaphor that once you get Pan out from under like three layers of bullshit he’s the same colour as Freddie (who is inarguably The symbol of devotion and steadfastness in this game no matter your choices) quite sweet. 

- Nerds. You know I am right. Slightly different kinds of nerd (Freddie is distinctly geek-flavoured and Pan collects rare books for sport sort of distinction), but still. Oh my god. Freddie should get the whole cast together to play D&D in the Reliquary post-game. It would be absolute carnage. It would be glorious hilarity. *GASP* no wait not the Reliquary, let’s go to the Underworld so Charon gets to play too. For the love of all that is good give this to me now please I need it 

- The only two people who think Freddie losing control of her powers and causing a dance number at a funeral is hilarious

In short this is a recognition of the self through the other (derogatory) situation for both of them and neither of them decides to take that with any dignity or grace (ahaha) in the slightest, I love them very much,  thank you and goodnight 

#stray gods #stray gods freddie #stray gods pan #grace x freddie #grace x pan #grace x freddie x pan #stray gods meta #if you could grace this thing with that word it's mostly for book keeping reasons for myself haha

[sp1rit-realm]

₊‧꒰ა 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ⧿ 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐩𝐬! 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟, 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞!

Happy 900!!!! Ummm Marauders maybe? but if you think someone else fits better I assure you I don’t mind.

Where to start, i’m pretty quiet, like very very soft spoken until im really comfortable in a room. Once I know someone I’m still quiet in volume but then i can talk for at least 15 minutes straight without losing my rhythm and i get very very animated, lots of facial expressions, too many hands waving around. I like reading but I can’t call myself a bookworm because I take too long to finish them and usually give up so i’m more of a book dragon. I love writing and art and being creative and I love to learn but i hate to be graded. My favorite color is burgundy and my favorite season is whatever one it currently is until the very end and i’m sick of it, then i like whichever one is coming next. I like to collect things and i’m way too sentimental. I like rain and leather jackets and i don’t know if you want any physical attributes but im short enough that literally everyone comments when i wear tall shoes (i have platform doc martins with a heel so it’s only like 4 inches which i guess is a lot over all but even then Im only up to like 5’6-‘7 barely) And my hair is stuck an almost auburn color because I dyed it dark plum/burgundy in november and now the final claws of goldish red are dug in and i don’t see it letting go, which is especially annoying because my roots are returning much lighter than i last remember but I’ve been dying my hair since at least last June so i don’t know what I really expected. I have identity crises over my hair at least every other week.

In terms of how I love people it’s very much however it works with that person. I like when people like to pay attention to me and look for me in a room and that kind of thing, I also really like to be held and have my hair played with,,,,i find dogs very relatable (but don’t let that sway your decision in anyway, do what your heart tells you)

I’m sure 900 people leads to a lot of asks, but i have no idea, so please take your time and don’t feel rushed or obligated at all. I am so proud of this milestone for you and i’m so proud of all the people coming to their senses to appreciate such a talented spirit like you 💖💖💖

HI MARA!!!!!! THANK U SO MUCH

if you mean marauders era in general, i say (drumroll please)

you and dorcas!

to me, her character is very laid back, but secretly she's so passionate. like, she pretends she doesn't care, but really secretly does. she would adore all the things you collect, and will listen to anything you have to say about them. she'd still have to lean down to kiss you. she would say, "really? new hair again, mara?" and then she would whisper to you, "it's cute, makes your eyes pop." because nobody can know that she adores anybody, until you become official. then, she can't stop talking about you. she will read books to you as you lay your head on her lap, hair being played with. she would dance with you in the rain. she would steal your jacket because it smells like you, and because it means everybody knows you're hers. she would sit and listen to you rant/ramble/infordump and watch lovingly as your mouth moves a mile a second and your tongue gets all twisted. she would hang up your art, proudly displaying it as to say: "yeah, my girlfriend? they're perfect, and talented, and beautiful, and look at this art they made." she would kick someone's teeth in for you, and she winks at you during her quidditch games, loving how much you blush; stark red in the sea of green.

#mara ✩‧₊˚ #i had so much fun with this #dorcas meadowes #mara and dorcas my new otp #hannah has asks #₊‧꒰ა 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ #₊‧꒰ა 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ #sp1rit realm

[doll-elvis]

How do ya feel about child bride? I think majority of people can't accept some of the things written about elvis and priscilla to be true 'cause it makes their whole world collapse as they see them as the perfect couple which they never really were

sorry just wanted to say I am scheduling asks by the hour today as I have been procrastinating in answering them, so I apologize in advance if I crowd your dashboards😭

anyways- thank you so much for the ask and I would really love to know what others have to say about this so please share your thoughts because I’m super curious myself 🤧

also there is truly nothing like reading Priscilla Presley’s “Elvis and me” and then reading Child Bride and having no idea to what believe anymore (which is exactly what I did and I had to read like 3 other books to make up my mind)

I do agree with your sentiment that Priscilla and Elvis’ relationship was not as perfect as some have been influenced to believe, and I don’t think the 2022 film helped that matter as the film very much had an agenda and that was to sell their love story… which was quite tumultuous at times

But I want to clarify that there is no doubt in my mind that they both loved each other very much and Priscilla was obviously incredibly special to Elvis. There really isn’t another woman he has been with that can say she has experienced something similar to what Priscilla experienced with him. She was with him the longest, she was the only one to get married to him, have his child, etc. etc. Priscilla was just unique in that regard, even if their relationship wasn’t perfect

Plus she is the only one that has ever gotten “It’s Midnight” dedicated to her by him and I feel like that really says something 👀

As for Child Bride… I have many issues with Child Bride, for starters, the name of the book and it’s implications. I was actually embarrassed to buy this book because of the title, and I’ve never read it in public because of it 🤧

My first issue is that Suzanne Finstad is an incredibly biased author, this book’s main purpose is to make Priscilla look bad and I’ve noticed Finstad even has misquoted a few people in order to do so

For example in Joe Esposito’s book this is how he tells this story

And then in Finstad’s book, this is how she misquotes him, to make Priscilla seem aggressive

My second issue with the book, and the biggest, is that Suzanne Finstad uses Currie Grant as her main source. If what he said is true, that he had intercourse with Priscilla prior to her meeting Elvis, then he is an admitted child r*pist

Priscilla said there was an attempt of an assault but has completely denied that she ever had intercourse with Currie Grant

Therefore this book is just the most uncomfortable case of “he said, she said”

Currie Grant and Priscilla Presley are the only ones who really know what happened between them, and therefore I don’t care to speculate on what actually happened and I’m especially not interested in hearing what Currie has to say because he’s just a disgusting man, and Suzanne Finstad is even worse for allowing him to have a platform

So because of that, I am just not interested in what Finstad has to write or say, I’ve only ever read Child Bride once and I haven’t picked it up again

I feel like there are so many other sources on Priscilla and Elvis’ relationship (for example the Memphis Mafia, Elvis’ other girlfriends, his stepbrothers etc. etc) that doesn’t involve a predator like Currie Grant being involved or an incredibly biased author… but anyways what do y’all think?

#Currie deserves jail #and Suzanne deserves the cell next to him #Currie grant #Suzanne Finstad #Priscilla Presley #elvis presley #elvisaaronpresley #elvis #elvis history #Elvis asks #Elvis fans

[astrobei]

hi about to expose myself so hard for being nothing more than a giant sappy ball of sentiment and mush under a suni astrobi mask but ! apparently i’ve written over 250,000 words this year and that + all the positivity on the dash today has got me in a Mood okay!! (continue for proof of me being a Loser ⬇️)

ok yeah so according to my ao3 statistics i wrote over 250,000 words this year alone which is. that’s insane. especially considering i didn’t post anything until august so that’s EXTRA insane. you’re telling me i wrote 250,000 words in FOUR MONTHS? for reference, in all my past fandoms i wrote maybe one or two works and then dipped. mind you, the longest fic i wrote before this was 12k words. (yeah. i know.)

anyways!! not to be gross and mushy and weird on main but i just wanted to thank everyone who follows this blog or has read my writing ever for literally being the Best <3 if you asked january suni what she thought she’d be doing in december, writing fanfiction would not have been anywhere near her list of guesses. so much changed for me so fast this year and i started writing again over the summer as a form of escapism, but i never expected to be welcomed into a community so fast !! coming on here and talking to people has literally been life changing and i’ve made some of my best friends ever in my whole life through this website and i am so thankful for that 🫂 it honestly blows my mind whenever someone tells me they look up to my writing or that they find me intimidating or if they express shock at me following them back or anything like that because i’m just me !! just some gal who cringes writing kiss scenes and can write tens of thousands of words on her phone but not a laptop. for some reason. (?)

i know i would not have been nearly as inspired if i hadn’t met all of you and i literally cannot express how grateful i am for all the friends i’ve made here !! just know that if we’ve ever talked, even just once, or if we’re mutuals or even if you’re here reading this !! i appreciate you all so so much and i can’t wait to go into 2023 with you guys <333 and let’s see if we can hit 500k words next year 🥳🥳🥳

#cheers losers #this got sappy fast #sorry #no one has to read this i just had to get this out there #i’m stone cold sober rn would u believe it #anyways #the byler fandom is insane but my little corner of tumblr has been one of the best parts of my year #if not The #best part of my year #love u all so much can’t wait to deliver another couple hundred thousand words in 2023 #mwah #HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE LOVE U ALL TO THE MOON N BACK #/astro posts

[cloudyyoimiya]

omg hi, i’m the anon who requested the continuation of the yandere ranpo fic! i absolutely loved it!! 💜 i’m so glad i was able to brighten your day, i truly do enjoy your writing a lot :)

i reread your continuation post 3 times to really take in the little details, and i am once again obsessed with the subtle implications and feelings of despair in your dark fics! the bit about the ruined pants being darling’s favorite was such a punch to the gut on top of everything else, you’re so good at setting up little instances of tragedy to further darling’s suffering..i love the way that just one or two lines can carry such a dreadful impact!

ranpo is so well written too, his surface level actions are deceptively sweet, but they drip with selfishness and manipulation. he can’t just comfort his darling, he has to use the opportunity to drag them into codependency little by little, associating loving him with safety. yandere ranpo’s childish words take on a whole new menacing meaning that only his victim can truly understand. it’s so easy to rationalize that he simply really doesn’t like lies, until you realize that he will bend this sentiment in whatever way serves him best. he’ll starve his darling if their lie is something he doesn’t like, but the moment the lie is something he wants to hear, suddenly his attitude completely changes. he may like to make ‘romantic’ gestures, like offering to get food for his darling, but it’s still all about him because he immediately accepts the offer that pleases him, even though he's clearly smart enough to know that it's not his darling's true wish. you just capture the selfish nature of a yandere relationship so well, even beneath the layers of faux romance!

ranpo is my favorite bsd yandere because he’s terrifying and virtually inescapable, but he also does it all while maintaining that eerily innocent appearance. he’s literally the most dangerous person his darling has ever met, but somehow he’s also so immature, and that’s scary as hell in its own way! he reminds me of that meme that’s like “please release the hostages” and then the cat with its tongue out is like “blegh, i’m not doing that!” because that’s literally ranpo with his captive darling 💀

the prison threats also distinctly made me picture a scenario where ranpo’s darling snaps at him early on and calls his home their prison (rightfully so), and he’s just like “oh you think THIS is a prison? because i could easily put you in actual prison with a murder charge 😊”

anyway, this isn't a request and you don't even need to respond if you don't feel like it, I simply wanted to drop by and share more of my thoughts on your work 💜 thanks so much for accepting my original request, I was delighted to see it! i hope you have a great night 💜

i know you said that i don’t need to respond but i wanna let you know this made me really happy!

i’ve never really had anyone step back and analyze my fics, so it really makes me happy oh my lord. when i first read this i had a big goofy grin on my face

thank you so much for enjoying my work. it truly means a lot 😭

i won’t lie to you some of the things you pointed out were unintentional for the most part. i knew what i was writing and i knew that it would affect the story, but it was kinda like my brain was on auto pilot as i was writing those things. i’m unsure if that makes sense though LMAO

anyways i’d like to thank you again. have a good day/night anon!

#cloud speaks☕️ #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs #ranpo edogawa #i’m gonna weep you’re so sweet