#also not sure if it makes sense and my thoughts were coherent or I got sidetracked completely again

[lieutenantselnia]

I feel like davy would wear something like this, in the 18th century they wore nightshirts while women were nightgowns and sometimes with dressing gowns.

https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=https%3A%2F%2Fi.pinimg.com%2F474x%2F66%2F1a%2Ffc%2F661afc389db4430b88c3b5ba84b308aa.jpg&tbnid=DbiNyBVeu4gvpM&vet=1&imgrefurl=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.pinterest.com%2Fpin%2Fnight-gown--294211788169502499%2F&docid=smntU3MhUAl9EM&w=375&h=500&source=sh%2Fx%2Fim%2Fm4%2F2#vhid=DbiNyBVeu4gvpM&vssid=l

https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=https%3A%2F%2Fi.pinimg.com%2Foriginals%2F91%2F15%2Fcf%2F9115cf9b8290f88ebe08da39f88cd5f9.jpg&tbnid=QuujhbY9n0nJGM&vet=1&imgrefurl=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.pinterest.com%2Fpin%2F545780048571573208%2F&docid=fR468q1bX0K09M&w=236&h=354&source=sh%2Fx%2Fim%2Fm4%2F2#vhid=QuujhbY9n0nJGM&vssid=l

Gonna put the pictures here so people won't have to copy the links:

He might, or at least he likely did when he was still a human. From what it looks like he was keeping on the same garments all the time after becoming cursed, likely because the barnacles and other sea life kept overgrowing the buttons, buckles and clasps to a point where it became nearly impossible to open them. For his own comfort I'll imagine that he was able to partly open them up for the sake of bodily necessities*, but he probably couldn't undress himself completely without any help - at least if he wanted to keep his clothes in one piece.

*This is is a different topic and don't want to open this can of worms right now and only try to brush over it very quickly, but I think it's a reasonable question to ask how a person's metabolism is affected by the Dutchman's curse, or if they even still have one. To me they seem more human than for example Barbossa's crew, who of course had cravings, but didn't actually have physical needs. The crewmen on the Dutchmen however are shown sleeping, including Davy. Of course there could be the possibility that they're just trying to stick to a daily rhythm to retain a last bit of humanity, however I think that is the more unlikely option. I feel like Davy wouldn't allow the crew to rest if they didn't actually need it, nor would he sleep himself. That makes it reasonable to think they have other physical needs like eating and drinking, and in consequence relieving themselves again. Some of them are shown holding bottles (though that could also be rum they consume for enjoyment - or frustration which might be the likelier option).

When he and Selena get closer, she would eventually be able to help him with the overgrown buttons and such, so he could sleep more comfortable without his day clothes again (gonna put the rest of this under a cut since I'm shy and it might be a little suggestive >w<).

I'm not entirely sure, but it probably takes until their first time together for Davy to undress in front of Selena - or rather have her undress him. They've slept in a bed together before - Selena insisted he needed a proper place to sleep, he's been sleeping at the organ for decades, he ended up acquiring a bed for her sake - but Davy is a bit uptight about those things, even though he wants it with her so much. It's probably therefore a bit of an awkward situation when they decide to finally take the step, but then Selena first has to carefully cut barnacles and sea growths for a good amount of time until she can actually gently pull off Davy's clothes and get a view on his bare body.

After they've managed to get there once, Davy would feel more at ease with it. He might even start wearing nightshirts again instead of his usual garments, as it would certainly be more comfortable. Still, it might take him a while to get used to it again.

#I wrote this in the middle of the night so please excuse any mistakes #also not sure if it makes sense and my thoughts were coherent or I got sidetracked completely again #it was fun to answer though! #also I might regret saying this but - #at some point I kinda want to write a Davy x Selena or Davy x reader thing (short story or headcanons) about their first time🫣 #they'd probably both be shy and awkward but they also really want each other and Davy would be so incredibly sweet and gentle with her ahhh #idk if this would turn out any good but as there is pretty much none like it out there I guess I have to write it myself #f/o: 🐙 #davy jones #suggestive #asks for selnia

[randomshyperson]

The Bed Issue - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: Another retake of Wandavision, this time, the scene with the two single beds.

Warnings: (+18) pure smut, enchanted strap, fingering, creampie, wanda is in charge but r tops, dirty talking, some typical Westview angst (brief reality alteration) but purely sinful | Words: 3.284k

A/N-> At this point, I feel I should start a new collection with all the scenes I rewrote. I miss writing series people, where are my ideas. Also, sorry if there are too many spelling errors, I wrote this on my phone (it's hard to be poor and busy). But good reading!

General Masterlist | AO3

-&-

The sign of two single beds in the room made you giggle right away.

Wanda, who walked in first, looked back at you with curiosity. Her gaze scanned your face as she asked: “What's funny, darling?”

Your eyes found her and a deep sigh escaped your lips, the ghost of that giggle still present in your expression. 

“The beds, Wanda.” You replied quickly, almost offended she couldn't see the absurdity of that. Maybe she was playing innocent. Or at least, that's what her confused gaze looked like. Another sign escaped you. “Why would a married couple sleep on different beds, side by side?”

“Well, I…” but she cut herself mid-sentence, her gaze shifted as if she realized that really didn't make any sense. “I guess you're right.”

The bed moved as quickly as her fingers - the wood jumping to the side to connect and transform into one bed. You smile, moving forward to kiss your wife's cheek.

“Lovely tricks as always, darling.” You praise, catching the soft color rising up her skin before you step to the bathroom. But you comment again, giggling: “How odd that was, two beds.”

Distracted by your own joke, you didn't catch Wanda's shoulder tension. And she could only force a smile, giving a quick gaze at your figure brushing your teeth while mentality praying that for the sake of her poor heart, you wouldn't notice any other weirdness tonight.

-&-

A stupid tree.

A stupid tree branch against the window and things got out of hand completely. At least this time, in a good sense of things.

That is because Wanda found herself pressed into the bed, giggling at our bold hands under her clothes.

She remembers this teasing all too well. Beyond the sexual tension, and the teenage hormones, there was intimacy. You could always make her laugh, no matter the situation. Often, you would do that in inappropriate ones that's for sure. Just for the satisfaction of making her blush deeply when apologizing to whoever was around to testify you making a mess out of her. And then when in a situation like tonight, where it was too hard to breathe and too warm for a coherent thought - teasing fingers where she had tickles was the perfect way to ease her anxiety. To anchor her back and remember it's just you. Her best friend. Warming your way around her skin.

But things were a little - a lot - different in Westview. Neither of you knows why or how, or better saying, Wanda knew to a different extent than you.

When she brought the covers up your bodies, taking the lead for the night and expecting to meet your eagerness to kiss her again, she was met with more giggles.

She stared down at your shiny eyes, leaning into the hand you brought to her cheek.

“It's too warm here.” You let her know softy, and yes, Wanda was quite aware. Kissing you was more than enough to heat her entirely, but doing this under the covers was a challenge. She could feel the sweat starting to drip. She was ready to say she didn't mind, maybe even kiss you to change the subject when you added: “Why would you cover us anyway, darling? There's no one watching.”

It was meant to be a joke, obviously. You don't know. You couldn't know. And your eyes were innocent and your smile was sincere and Wanda hesitated.

Your hand remains on her cheek, the caress never stopping.

“Did I say something wrong? Where did you go just now?” 

She went outside. Outside the hex, all the way to monitors transmitting her sitcom of a fake life. But not really. Because she didn't consciously know about any of this. Yet, some part of her mind did know, and all the TVs that once exhibited her little show, now hold a Stand By sign. 

Wanda was the one who threw the covers aside. The fresh air was well welcome but you're now distracted with the gorgeous woman moving to straddle your hips.

“You're right, there's no one watching.” She says with the same urgency she burst open your pajama shirt. You don't understand the rush, but she looks too pretty for you to disagree. And Wanda purrs at the sight of your naked skin, biting her lips like a naughty child. “I missed you.”

You chuckle breathlessly, some confusion in your eyes. “I was with you all day.”

She shook her head, deciding now to control her tongue. If she doesn't want you questioning, she needs to stop saying things like this. So she forces a smile, shifting against your hips in a way that makes your breath catch in your throat. “I always miss my wife, I mean. Whenever she's not touching me.”

Even though you offer her a grin, there's a blush in your cheeks that goes down your chest and Wanda suddenly doesn't feel like talking anymore.

A feeling you two seem to share as you bring a hand to her face only to pull her down at you again. It's a heated kiss. With tongue and breathy whispers that turn her into needy sounds. 

Even without the covers, it's soon too hot to keep clothes on. 

You're the one who takes her nightgown off. Pulling down as your tongues dance together, until the item no longer hides the tits you started to play it. 

Wanda's eyes are tightly closed as your mouth sucks her nipple. Your hand plays with the other while she struggles to breathe. 

Her top needs to go, but so does all the other clothing. The nightgown barely reached the floor and you're already pulling at her soaked panties, eager to feel her inside.

“Need this off you now, witchy.” The nickname makes her gasp. You haven't used it until now and it has been way too long since she heard. Since you- 

No. No thinking about this, not now.

She forces herself back to the present, an easy task when she feels every inch of her skin burning with your touch. She needs to move away to take the item off but your hands hold her tight by the waist at the mere attempt of breaking apart.

She giggles breathlessly, aware of the new wave of wetness that dripped down with the feeling of your strong hands manhandling her back at her position, keeping her restless hips still. “But you said you wanted it off.” She tries to ration, receiving only a growl in return. The next second, when your hands shift, the item is torn off her without ceremony. 

“Hey! It was my favorite.” She pouts in protest but you merely give her a husky chuckle.

“I'm sure you can fix it.” Comes as a teasing answer that Wanda couldn't contradict even if she wanted to - all previous thoughts are gone when your fingers reach her front and penetrate between her warm folds without a warning. You groan at the delirious feeling of her pussy against your fingertips while Wanda whimpers at the ceiling, trying to get used to the sudden invasion.

“Fuck, you're so tight.” Your remark with a sultry voice against her ear. Wanda's arm circles your shoulder for some support while she feels the stretch of your fingers inside her. It's been a while since last time but dear God how she missed this. Her hips move on instinct and you have to chuckle at her impatience with herself. Your free hand moves to her lower back, caressing her skin while your fingers start to press your way inside her.

“Easy darling, I got you.” You guide, too deeply for her to give you any replies other than pleas and whimpers.  The position might not be the most comfortable for you but it's amazing to her. Wanda can grind down and ride your fingers as she pleases and you can feel how close she's coming to her climax so you don't dare to stop. Your thumb moves to her clit, circling the nerve and she nearly loses it. The bedroom lights start to flash with the build of this orgasm and you stare at her in amazement only to be rewarded with her gorgeous flushed face while she grinds into your hand in nearly despair.

“Fuck you're so beautiful.” You gasp, increasing the speed. The depth. Wanda breaks in a sob, her back arching. The first one is a charm. Your name is being screamed at the ceiling while you feel her wetness dripping down your hand. Unfortunately - or fortunately - it only makes you crave her more. She's still recovering from the intensity of this climax, all sweaty and flushed when you shift your hand. You're still inside her tight walls and your fingers start to pick up a pace again. She squeaks at the overstimulation, but her protest dies in your tongue sucking hers when you kiss her again.

Wanda's almost too distracted by the filthy of this kiss to notice how quickly her second climax is building - almost. There's a bite against your bottom lip that makes you groan when she breaks the kiss, unable to keep it up. Her hands grab at you for some grounding when she feels how close she is to come, stronger than the last time. You feel her nails piercing your skin when her orgasm washes over her and it's your time to moan at her ear.

Her body goes limp for a moment after this. It was two intense orgasms in a row after all. She just needs to take a breath. 

You move your fingers out, sucking them clean and murmuring satisfied at her taste while Wanda struggles to recognize her surroundings.

When you can hold her with both hands again, you nuzzle at her cheek.

“Enjoying yourself, witchy?” You dare to tease her when she can feel how she's still leaking in your lap. Honestly, the nerve. Wanda let out a deep breath, pushing her momentarily tiredness away. 

There's an easy smile on her lips when she finds your eyes again. “I am but I've been so selfish.” She starts with a particular accentuation of her ascent that she knows you drive you insane. She also watches as your breath catches and your eyes drift to her lips, mesmerized by every word. “You must be needing me as well.”

But you tense at her nails screeching your belly, a worried frown coming at your expression.

“Wanda… my powers.” The fear in your eyes is like a cold buck of water. Oh, yes, she forgot.

For the whole day, she forgot you had no idea of the life you two shared. Nothing outside Westview and this lovely fantasy. None of the creative ways you two once used to bypass the super strength issue. Your fear and hesitation at hurting her made perfect sense but the fact that she was the only one who could remember the whole history you two shared was still painful. Her expression probably gave her away and confused you even more. “I promise you this is more than enough for me. Bringing you pleasure is enough.” You add gently, but Wanda shakes her head, leaning in to kiss you. She leaves you breathlessly before breaking apart, taking some pride in the way you're blushing.

“Don't be silly, darling, there's plenty of things for us to do together. To please one another.” You gulp at her words and tone of voice, eyes following all of her movements. From the shift of her hips to the teasing of her fingers on the way down your pants. “I wanna try something I think you'll love it. Do you trust me?”

You nod immediately, watching as Wanda's fingers play with the hem of your pants. She giggles naughty at your anticipation and brings one finger up to your chin, to make you look at her eyes again. 

“Can you use your words?”

“Y-yeah.” You swallow, trying to win some composure back. It's not easy when Wanda Maximoff is naked and sitting on your tight. But you smile anyway. “Of course I trust you, witchy.”

She smiles at you, her eyes flashing a glimmer of naughtiness that makes your heart leap. You can't worry too much about that anyway - Wanda leans in to kiss you again. And it's the dirtiest one of the night. She takes the lead, pulling back now and then just to tease your tongue with the tip of hers, reveling at the way you pant and struggle to keep your hips still. 

But suddenly, you feel the new pressure inside your pants. The odd sensation shifts your attention entirely but Wanda brings her hands to your neck and kisses you hard. You moan into her tongue, hands holding her tight by the waist until her spell is complete. She presses down into you and the kiss is broken with your needy awareness.

“F-fuck, is that…?” You open surprised and aroused eyes at her, looking down where your middles connect only to watch Wanda's equal affected state. Her trembling hands reach down at your pants, trying to pull the garment off.

“Yeah, and I really need you inside now, alright baby? Think you're ready for me?” Her words are rushed as her fingers. Your pants and underwear are stuck in an awkward position on your thighs because Wanda is too impatient to wait another second. She grabs the hardness - barely giving you time to get used to the image or more important the feeling - of that scarlet strap magically placed there - before she sinks down.

It's a form of revenge, maybe. For the way you didn't give her time to prepare before, but what a sweet revenge that was.

The nearly animalistic grunt that escaped you when Wanda's cunt squeezed around you was a sound you didn't know you could make. She, on the other hand, rewards your ears with a pleasant deep moan while she adjusts to the fullness. There's also a new stretch. The toy is obviously larger than your fingers and goes deliciously deeper so Wanda needs to take a deep breath while she welcomes you in.

To her delight, not that you can remember this, but just like the first time you two tried, it's too much of a new overwhelming pleasure for you to handle. You came almost the same second you're bottom up. Tensing and shaking at the new feeling. You gasp, hands falling at the sides to grab the sheets that are torn apart while you hide your face into her neck and your climax washes over you.

Wanda giggles in amusement. The hot shot inside her feels as good as she remembers and you haven't changed. But the toy softening causes you to panic.

“S-sorry, god, I'm so sorry. I don't-”

“Shh, it's okay.” She cuts your anxious babbling immediately, firming her legs around you and bringing her hands to hold your cheeks. “I know it feels like a real one, but it's not a real one.” She says and without any warning, grinds down at you, stealing all the air of your lungs. Wanda bites her lip before adding “See? You're hard again already.”

You can't give her words. The only thing that leaves your mouth is a whine that makes her clench around you. 

Suddenly, she's moving. Rough grinding before she's undeniably riding your strap and it's dirty and maddeningly sexy so your hands hold her hips and help her when her body starts to betray her wishes to keep going. 

“Oh, Wanda, you feel so nice.” You moan with your eyes closed, outside the shared grunts and your words, the only sounds of the room are the bed creaking and the soaked toy coming in and out of her. Your lovely wife decides to give you a reason to be louder. Her hands push you back at the bed and now you can see her in all of her glory. Her pretty tits bounce with the hard pace she takes on top of you. “W-wait. Easy, I can't hold it if you-” 

Her hands move yours - trying to slow her by the waist - away, locking your fingers together at each side of your head. Her hair makes a curtain for your faces but Wanda kisses you again. Your tongues are still moving together when you come first. 

Because you're strong - stronger than her that is - scarlet magic holds you still, wrists and ankles when Wanda can't. She holds her climax just a little longer, enough to put on a show for your breathless figure under her when you are able to look up at it. 

It's divine when it occurs - The silent scream, her frown before the blissed worn-out expression. The flags of the light, the room vibrating and her eyes bright red before the dark green meets your gaze again.

She smiles down at you, still shaking but somehow ready for another.

“Enjoying yourself aren't you, Avenger?” she repeats your words from before, but the nickname so often used for teasing makes you frown in confusion.

“What is…? But she changed that before you could finish the question. 

As quickly as it happened, the scene shifted as if the words never left her lips. You were staring at her, with uneven breathing and adoring eyes.

“Is this really necessary?” For a second, her heart leaped in fear. The possibility that you could tell she altered things. But your gaze shifted to the magic holding you still, and you offered her a pleading stare. “Won’t you let me touch you?”

Wanda sighs, adjusting your hips and seeing the way your jaw tenses at the slight movement. You're still inside her, always magically stimulated to be hard no matter how many times you come. It made sense that you might be sensitive.

She bit her bottom lip, hands resting on your chest.

“But you look so pretty like this…” She starts, leaning in as if going for a kiss. You sigh as her lips meet your cheeks instead, closing your eyes when you feel her smiling before moving down. “I like having you at my mercy.”

You hum, somewhat distracted by her soft grind against you. If you're hard again, that's not only the magic to blame but Wanda's warm pussy squeezing you still.

“But I'm like this all the time.” you joke earning a husky giggle before she puts some distance between your faces again.

You let out a deep sigh when she pulls out the next second, catching her own soft groan at the emptiness. But your words fail you when you look down and see the mixed cum leaking from her and dripping down your abs.

Cursing under your breath a single “fuck.” at the image, you are not surprised at Wanda's naughty giggle.

“You made such a mess, babe.” She teases, the toy still vibrating and it occurs to you that it doesn't just answer to your arousal, but hers as well. 

“Me? You're the one who, you know… ride it. I didn't even know I would come through it.” You tried to defend yourself with rosy cheeks but Wanda is clearly teasing you. She giggles again, adjusting herself and causing you to shut up immediately. 

“I think you should stop babbling and start cleaning your mess.”

You swallow hard when you realize she's still moving. Up towards your face. The bed makes a strong crack sound when you use all your strength to pull your hands free from her magic chains.

Wanda allows you to break free. Mainly because she loves to feel your hands holding her thighs open when you eat her out.

Some old habits never die.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagines #wanda maximoff oneshots #wanda maximoff smut

[bosbas]

Chapter 8: no one wanted to play with me as a little kid

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 3.4k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love (sort of. it's like pre idiots in love. on the cusp of idiots in love), fluff (so much fluff)

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: you know what. let's pretend all of the ages/years make sense. kisses to all of you!

December 4, 1809 - Dearest, loveliest, most wonderful Y/I (your initial),

I am so sorry I have not written in almost two weeks, though I did enjoy the very strongly worded letter you sent me reminding me of this fact and demanding a response. I wish I had a better excuse, but truthfully, this term has just been hectic. But to answer the question you so politely asked: yes, I will be home in time for Christmas, and I will be staying for New Year's and your birthday (your birthday is not even two weeks after Christmas, darling, give me some credit!). Though I rather think you owe me a present instead of the other way around after calling me an oblivious toad.

As an apology for my silence, I've attached my reading list for the courses I am taking at Oxford this term so you can also read them. I am sure you will be able to find them in your library but do let my mother know if you cannot find them. We should also have copies in our library. I will be heading back to Aubrey Hall in ten days to see the lot of you, and I will eagerly be awaiting all of your thoughts on this term's reading.

Yours, B

You couldn't help the excited gasp that left your lips as soon as you were finished reading Benedict's letter. You hadn't even managed to leave your entryway before you hastily opened the envelope addressed to you, blurting out a thank you to your slightly startled butler, who had been taken aback by your eager rifling of the mail. 

Now that Benedict was at Oxford, you barely got to see him at all, so you were more than a little excited when you read that you would only have to wait ten more days to see him. The three weeks he was home for the winter holiday were the bulk of your in-person interactions with him for the year, as had been the norm for the past three years he had been at university. 

It wasn't all bad, though. Proof of that lay in a box in your bedroom filled with every single letter or note you had received from Benedict while he was away at Oxford. Even the short ones, when he was studying for an exam and barely had time to write a coherent response, had found a place inside your box. You supposed the box contained most of your friendship with Ben over the past three years, neatly organized by date from oldest to newest and separated by term. 

Sometimes, you found yourself missing Benedict more than usual, and you would read through your favorite of his letters. Often, it ended up being the shortest notes that were the sweetest and ones you would read over and over. Even years after he had sent the letters, you found comfort in his messy scrawl after an afternoon playing Pall Mall without Benedict and his typical banter. But once you saw him at Aubrey Hall every December, it would be like no time had passed at all. You kept him up to date on everything happening at home with your family and his, and he told you wild stories from his time at Oxford. 

And although you enjoyed hearing about his life, it was also bittersweet. You were so jealous of him, wishing more than anything that you could go to university, too. But alas, the pesky issue of your gender prevented you from furthering your education. You got as close as you could, though. Benedict would send you all of his readings every term, and you enjoyed discussing the books you read at length when he returned for the holiday season. 

This is not to say that your conversations about literature and art were limited to your in-person time. In fact, most of your correspondence was about the books you were reading or the galleries you had gone to. Ben could spend pages and pages talking about a particular part of a painting, the way the artist had captured the way light filtered through the trees. And you loved every bit of it, engaging in your usual discussions. In a way, if you ignored how much you missed him, it was lovely to have a physical representation of your friendship. 

However, you would soon stop being constrained to receiving correspondence from Ben every few days, and you could simply knock on his door if you were particularly interested in talking about an aspect of your book. Your time at Aubrey Hall had become your favorite time of year, three weeks of daily interactions with your best friend being the absolute best birthday present you could've ever asked for. 

But this year was different. This was the last time you would have to say goodbye at the end of the holidays, seeing as Benedict was graduating in the spring and returning from Oxford permanently. To say you were over the moon was an understatement. You could barely wait to spend hours in his studio watching him paint again or reading aloud to him under the shade of the tree in your backyard on particularly warm days. 

---

August 12, 1799 - Y/I, I thought you would like this one. Yours, B

Bypassing Alex and Anthony having a heated debate about who was better at billiards, Benedict headed straight in your direction across the garden, ignoring Daphne, Colin, Theo, and Bastian, who had been playing some team game that devolved into an argument. Benedict patted your head as he came by to sit beside you on the grass, momentarily drawing your attention away from the massive book on your lap.

Grabbing the book from your lap and transferring it to his own, he asked, "So, what do you think?"

You let out an excited squeal, shaking Benedict's nearest arm with both hands. "It's amazing, Ben! An entire book about flowers, who knew? I've spent hours looking at it already, and I'm not even halfway through! It's got so much information I could die. It's incredible. Thank you so much." Though it was left unsaid, Ben knew these were hours you would have otherwise spent alone. The twins were especially adamant about not having you play with them, and Alex and Anthony were too caught up in their never-ending competitions to pay any attention to you. With your mother and his being occupied with the toddlers, Francesca, Cass, and Eloise, who had only just begun to walk and talk, you and Ben were truly the only odd ones out. But it was no bother to him. He loved when you read aloud to him, and you would happily listen to him talk about his sketches for hours on end, something he could not say about any other member of the Bridgerton-Beaumont cohort. 

Ben could only laugh fondly at your excitement, internally very proud that he had found a book you really enjoyed. "It's called an encyclopedia. There are loads of them about just about anything and everything in the world," he told you, leafing through the book himself. Gently pushing the book back in your direction, he prodded, "Well, go on then. Show me your favorite flowers so far." 

Grabbing the book, you hastily turned the pages until you reached the flowers, starting with the letter 'd.' Standing up, you rushed to the nearest corner of the garden and dug around for a few seconds, coming back with a bunch of small white flowers clutched in your small hands. 

Ben let out a short laugh, but you quickly shushed him, whining, "Stop it! It'll make sense in a second, I promise."

"I didn't say anything!" responded Ben defensively, putting his hands up in the air but unable to conceal the smile you had elicited from him. 

"Okay. Look at the page. The daisies. They're also called Bellis perennis, but that's in Latin. We have them here in the garden! Isn't that lovely?" you said excitedly, placing the flowers beside Ben.

"Oh, that is quite nice, Y/N," he responded, picking one of the daisies up and placing it behind your ear, eliciting a bright smile from you. "Did you know that a Violet is a type of flower? And so is a Primrose."

"You mean both our mums have flower names? That's so fun. I wish everyone could have a flower name," you responded, excited to have learned new information. 

"You could always give your daughters flower names," Ben suggested, enjoying the pure joy you were getting out of this.

"Well, before I have daughters, I would have to get married. And I don't want to do that! I just want to keep reading books. I want to read every single encyclopedia in the world!" you exclaimed, reaching your arms as high as they could go. 

Ben laughed, highly amused by your antics. "Just like me, then. Except instead of reading it's painting," he responded as he laid down fully on the grass, looking up at the sky and feeling particularly thankful that someone understood how he felt. On the other hand, you took the opportunity to dump all of the flowers you had picked onto his torso, arranging and rearranging them into different designs. He could only laugh, not at all bothered that his shirt would surely be dirty now, just happy to watch you enjoy yourself. 

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, you spoke up as you tried unsuccessfully to stack the flowers on top of each other. "That's perfect, then. We can get married, I can read, and you can paint, and we can have a daughter and give her a flower name."

"That sounds wonderful! I'm glad that's sorted," he laughed, lifting his head to find you flashing a toothy grin. "D'you like the name Daisy for our daughter, then?"

"That's lovely! And you can paint her a painting of a daisy for her room!" you responded eagerly. Benedict hummed in assent, busy imagining the dynamics of a blissful imaginary marriage. 

---

January 3, 1810 - Y/I, Happiest of birthdays, darling. Come downstairs, where I have a proper gift and card waiting for you. Yours, B

As you came downstairs, you already feared the fate that awaited you. Every year, your birthday would begin with a very extreme and frankly excessive snowball fight involving all the Bridgerton-Beaumont children. You could trust no one. Alliances would easily crumble under pressure, and people were just as likely to betray their siblings as they would someone from the other family. You and Benedict, ordinarily inseparable, could become sworn enemies in the span of two snowballs. You couldn't even trust sweet Hyacinth, only seven years old, to be loyal to any team, seeing as she was an outstanding double agent, a lesson you had all learned the hard way. It was absolute chaos, and you loved every second of it. It didn't matter how old you were; this was always the best part of your birthday.

As soon as you stepped outside, a snowball the size of your fist hit your right shoulder. Slowly turning toward the perpetrator, you narrowed your eyes once you saw it was Gregory, who had helped you defeat Bastian and Francesca in one fell swoop last year. Clearly, that alliance was gone, and you would have to find someone else to rely on this year. 

Since it was your birthday, the fight officially started when you threw the first snowball, and this year, you chose to throw it at Cassandra, your own sister, who had annoyed you at dinner yesterday by incessantly flinging peas at you. Once the tightly packed ball left your hand, all hell broke loose. You were hit in the stomach and leg simultaneously as you fired snowballs in every direction you could, laughing as you did. 

You briefly ducked behind a tree trunk, needing a moment to breathe. You took advantage of the fact that you weren't a target to form a massive snowball. You carefully stepped away from behind the trunk, checking that the coast was clear. Without a second thought, you flung the snowball as hard as you could in the direction of the person closest to you. 

Unfortunately, it hit Benedict straight in the face, blinding him for a few moments. Your mouth hung open, trying not to laugh because you knew you had packed quite a bit of force into your throw. You ran to Ben's side, apologizing as much as possible without bursting into laughter. He cleared the snow from his eyes and turned to you slowly, an evil grin forming on his face. 

"I believe you have just declared war, Miss Beaumont," he said finally. 

You screamed and ran in the opposite direction, knowing he would be absolutely merciless. You couldn't even look back, not wanting to slow down. After a few seconds of frantic sprinting, you felt Ben tackling you onto a massive pile of snow. Both of you were laughing hysterically while trying to catch your breath. He turned you over so you were lying down side by side, both of you panting heavily, looking up at the winter sky. 

"I miss you," you said finally, turning your head toward him, only to find that he was already looking at you. He pulled you closer, wrapping both arms around you tightly before he helped you up and brushed the snow off of your coat. 

"I know. I miss you, too. But it'll only be like this for a short while longer, and then you can come round every day and read to me while I paint, yeah?" he said, lifting your chin to look at him. 

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt your heartbeat quicken, his brown eyes not letting yours go. Your eyes flickered to his mouth briefly, your lips parting slightly. Looking back at his eyes, you saw something flash in them that you couldn't quite parse, an expression you hadn't seen before. Finally, you nodded, letting him pull you into him and kiss your forehead, enjoying the warmth and comfort you felt as you were wrapped tightly in his arms.

---

September 17, 1805 - Y/I, I can't believe you had a book about the exact artist I was talking about! I'll pop by yours later to say a proper thank you. Yours, B

Benedict walked into your sitting room, sprawling on the couch before you with his arm behind his head, silently waiting for you to look up from your book. But you had just gotten to an exciting part, and your eyes remained glued to the page, ignoring your best friend's attempt to get your attention. 

You heard him huff and muttered a soft "Just a second, Ben" as your eyes raced across the page, eager to know what happened next. In response, he slid further down the couch and crossed his arms, eliciting a laugh from you and finally drawing you away from your book. 

"You were barely waiting ten seconds, Benedict!" you exclaimed, secretly pleased he was so eager to see you. He was leaving for Oxford in a few weeks, and although you were trying not to think about the reality of him going, you were acutely aware that you would soon be unable to see him every day.

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, responding with a teasing, "It felt like ten years!" 

In recent months, the two of you had become inseparable. Your days were spent reading next to him as he painted, listening to him talk about his most recent artworks, or going for nature walks if you found yourself in Aubrey Hall. Anything to keep him close by before he left for Oxford, you reasoned. Though you couldn't help the growing affection, you were feeling, finding it impossible to look away when he tousled his hair just so and being a bit too pleased every time he complimented you. Every handsome smile or cheeky wink he sent your way lit you up inside, melting your heart just a little bit.

The problem was, and of course, there was a problem, that Benedict was always like this. Nothing about his demeanor had changed; your friendship was still the same as it had always been. Except now you found yourself spending a little too much time in the mornings making sure your hair looked good in case he popped by unannounced. Regardless, you knew Ben did not reciprocate your affections, so you tried to ignore these feelings as best as you could, folding them up very small and tucking them neatly in the corner of your heart for later examination.

Now, you found yourself on a couch against a wall of Benedict's studio, reading Romeo and Juliet as he was quietly sketching. This was quite possibly your favorite thing to do. Spend quiet afternoons together, reading and painting, enjoying each other's company. You took a moment to look at him as he scrunched his nose, unhappy with a certain aspect of the sketch. 

He sighed and looked up at you, nodding toward your book. "What has Shakespeare got to say today?"

"That marriage is a death sentence," you replied, voice deadpan. 

Ben burst into laughter. "Oh, come off it. It can't be that bad in real life. That's only a play! Besides, you've still got a while before you have to think about that," he tried to reason with you.

"Well, maybe. But it just sounds so unappealing. I want to do this. What we're doing now. I want to keep doing it. I don't want to be a wife! I just want to read and study," you argued. 

Benedict stood up, coming to sit beside you and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I know, darling. I'm sorry," but he knew you had more to say.

You groaned, pushing your forehead into his shoulder. "I just don't think I'll ever be happy if I'm forced to marry. And I most likely will be, knowing my mother. She'd rather die than have one of her daughters turn into a spinster," you huffed, missing the sympathetic look you got from Ben. "And who will my husband be? A clueless man with no interest in me beyond my ability to be a good wife? I cannot imagine a worse fate."

---

May 8, 1810 - Y/I, I'll keep this one short, seeing how I'll be properly back in a few days! I've been quite busy with graduation, but I'm excited to come home. Yours, B

You smiled as you placed the last letter you had received from Benedict back in your box. The collection was complete. Three years of correspondence between the two of you finally come to an end. You carefully closed the box and returned downstairs, where a big family gathering was occurring in the garden. 

As soon as you stepped outside, Ben was at your side, chatting your ear off about one thing or another. He had barely left you alone since he had been back, granting you only a few minutes to yourself, but you couldn't complain. You wrapped an arm around his torso as you walked back to the garden table. 

"Oh, you look so darling!" cried Violet, cooing at the two of you. 

"You're proper adults now! Both of you! How the time has passed," your mother added, reaching out to hold Violet's hand. 

Benedict could only smile, too happy to be back at your side to focus on anything else. He had missed you loads while he was at Oxford, but having your arm around him now, he realized just how much he needed you. Ben placed a soft kiss on the top of your head, unable to help himself as you sat down at the table. He sat right next to you, taking one of your hands into his own so he could play with your fingers as you chatted with Primrose and Violet. 

Oxford had been a riot, to be sure, but he was so glad to come home to you.

—

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Tag List (lmk if you want to be added!): @bellahadidnt16 @like-gabriel-and-castiel @riverraingrayworld @5sos-calm @elissanatok @titanicnerd-blog @noonenuts @moonwayne @lilasblogg @mmontgomeryb @fulltacoparadise @joyfullymulti

#bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton fanfic #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton angst #benedict bridgerton x best friend!reader #bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x you #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton angst #love in bloom #love in bloom: writing

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Hi👋. Can you write a oneshot of kappa meeting a very subby and shy reader, flirting with them, realizing that they get flustered very easily. The flirting gets more intense as they go on (he calls them petnames like puppy and kitten) reader gets sooo flustered every time cuz of the pet names and everything he says. Smut ensues.

Pretty please🤭🙏

Hello my dear nonnie! 🖤 I know, this took like forever, but I hope you still like and are okay with the changes I put to it 🫶🏻 It got a bit out of hand and a bit dark 👀

Sugar

Summary: Is it love? Is it lust? Is it grooming? And does it even really matter?

Pairing: cultleader!Kappa x virgin!fem!Reader

Word Count: -1.8k

Content Warnings: Cult Flavoured Smut 18+!, Fingering, Loss Of Virginity, Unprotected P In V, Very Intentional Breeding, Age Gap (Reader is in her early 20s and Kappa somewhere in his late 40s), Strong Hints Towards Grooming, Praising, Kappa Being A Manipulative Piece Of Shit, From Consensual To Non-Con, A Forced Orgasm

A/N: The demonic ovulation hornyness is at it again, folks 🫡

Tagging the horny horde:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @cc-luvr @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @lifelessvessel @doddernix @svgarcaine @amayalul @basementgrl222 @kristennero-wallacewellsver @iiheartsai @fan-goddess @shady-the-simp  

And I know this doesn't make a lot of sense

But do you really wanna think about yourself now?

All I'm asking for's a little bit of faith

You know it's easy to believe

- Mantra By Bring Me The Horizon

Not even the first, just somewhat coherent thought had worked itself through your sleep-drunk synapses as you felt your body buzzing, a certain sense of warmth tingling through every muscle leading you to instinctively press your thighs together to ease the growing pulse between your legs. The sun wasn’t even up yet, a scarce handful of early morning birds were chirping outside in the twilight zone of it not being pitch black outside but also not really daytime already. 

Shuffling a little under your comfortably warm blanket, you arched your back, very offensively pressing your ass into the crotch of the softly snoozing man behind you. To you, he wasn’t just anyone, no, he was the man you’d been looking up to for nearly as long as you could think, from the very moment your mother had joined the commune you’d been infatuated with the sharp-witted man with the curly black hair and intensely blue eyes. At first, it had been a childish, innocent kind of fascination, of course, but over the years and over the inevitable course of you growing into a proper woman, you’d started to feel different, less pure sensations pulling you towards him, sentiments like the one that was holding you in a very tight grip for the past few days now and you couldn’t really piece together just how you’d managed to turn his attention towards you, but somehow it had ended up with him showing up at your little corner of the hideout night after night, presumably stricken with the same need to fulfill his bodily desires. 

Simply thinking about it caused you to bite down on your bottom lip, pushing back a needy whine wanting to emerge from the depths of your ribcage. Vibrant memories of how he’s been touching you night and night again flooded your drowsy train of thought, sending even hotter, more urgent jolts of need amidst your thighs. This man had made you feel things you could hardly put into proper words, all you knew for sure was you couldn’t have made yourself experience any of those sensual hights all on your own. No arousal-covered fingertips of yours, greedily rubbing over your clit, and no pillow, oh so desperately pressed between your legs, had been able to so far.

“G’morning, sugar.”, A hot exhale getting lost in your neck led your head to loll back against his shoulder, “Oh, babe…need me again already, huh? Such a perfectly needy, little thing.”

You nodded vigorously, the tell-tale heat of embarrassment creeping up into your cheeks in no time upon your nonverbal confession.

“ ‘M sorry, Kappa. didn’t mean to wake you.” You muttered, not having yourself in control enough to refrain from rubbing your behind in his lap.

“Issokay, sunshine, everything for you.”, Kappa cooed into your temple, his voice still a little raspy and raw, which sent a wash of goosebumps down your body, “Been such a good girl for me, no? Might just be time to give you all of me, hm? What do you think about that?” 

His words of praise murmured right into your ear like this had your face burning in a mix of hammering embarrassment and aching need for him to finally take you fully, devour you whole, and have his way with you.

“Please…” You mewled out, the heavy pulse between your legs fogging up your mind, intoxicating you with an unbridled desire to eventually feel him inside of you, filling you out as no man before him had.

“There, there…”, The older man behind you hummed, his tone laced with satisfaction as his left hand snaked along the curve of your waist, fingertips stroking across your hips before dipping down following the round your thighs, “Oh, so wet and warm already. Don’t you worry, I’ll help you with that and make you feel so, so good, you just trust me.”

You wanted to answer with just something, but every word got stuck in your throat as you felt his lean, nimble fingers pushing between your fold, gathering your arousal to not rub you sore as they started flicking over your swollen clit, instead, a wanton groan got lost in the dark of the room. Wanting, needing more of him, you tilted your hips a little to the side, sliding your left leg over his to give his hand more room and to simply show Kappa just how much you wanted him right now.

“What an eager girl you are, no?”, His lips brushed over the side of your forehead leaving soft, little pecks, “Always knew you’re the special one in the herd and with that, you get some special treatment, of course.” 

Kappa’s saccharine-sweet endorsements went straight to your head, rendering you plain dumb with his and between your legs, his fingers causing one wash of pleasure after the other to ripple through you. Simply by the sheer amount of unreleased hornyness and pent-up desire for finally being touched, you knew that you wouldn't last long at all if he kept on toying with your clit like that, seemingly knowing the ins and outs of your body already.

“C’mon, breathe for me, sugar. Calm down a little, don’t wanna get you all spent just now. Would much rather wanna feel you cumming all around my cock this time.” Under mewls and whines of your protest, he halted in his movements to adjust himself behind you, making you gasp out as you felt the tip of his pulsing, stiff hard-on prodding against your cunt from behind.

“Please, I want you so bad…don’t care if it hurts, I-” Kappa cut you off right there and then by allowing his hips to snap forward, his full girth spearheading into you, stretching you out unlike anything before.

“Shit…fuck, oh fuck…” It shot out of your mouth in a somewhat pained whimper that got chased by a breathy moan caused by Kappa’s fingertips stroking over your clit again.

With his cock buried deep inside of you, you didn’t really know what you felt. It was too much all at the same time but not necessarily in a bad way, no. Although your senses were reeling, physical sensations burning you from the inside out, you’d never felt more present and in the moment than right now. Pain turned into pleasure with every nudge of his fingers against your aching clit as your walls pulsed and throbbed around him, pulling him in deeper whilst a very distant part of you wanted to get him out to make the intense sensation of getting stretched out to accommodate him stop. It felt good and yet so, so wrong to a degree that had you lost in all kinds of conflicting sensations.

“Shit, good god, you’re such a perfect human, sugar, taking me so well, fuck. Can’t fucking wait to knock you up…” Kappa’s voice turned sinister, almost menacing all of a sudden, praise clashing with the carnal instinct to just rut into you, to fuck you into the mattress underneath until you were nothing but a whimpering, filled up little vessel for his deranged ideology.

“Knock me up?!” It sputtered out of your mouth, feeling how his free hand cupped your hip in a tight, nearly bruising grasp before you could only so much as try to get away from him.

“Oh, of course, sunshine. Why do you think I’ve waited about a week after your period stopped to finally fuck you, claim you, hm? That’s not all just for you, honey, and you better be thinking about the service you are doing for all of us right now.” His words started an avalanche of worry and panic to ignite in your chest, spreading into your breathless lungs whilst he started thrusting into you at a heavy, painful pace.

“No, stop, please…I don’t want to…” You tried scooting away from him but his hold on your waist was too tight.

“What did I just tell you?”, Kappa shushed you with a sharp sneer as he drilled himself inside of you again and again, pain, confusion and build-up arousal thrashing through your system, “Don’t just think about yourself now! It’s not just about you!” 

“It’s gon’ be, I promise.”, He went on, planting a deep kiss to your heated cheek, “Allow yourself to enjoy it, we both know it does, no?” 

With every rut of his hips against your rear, your body betrayed you more and more, your walls tightening around him and what you knew were the first, now unstoppable contractions of an oncoming orgasm he ripped from you.

“There you go, good girl, c’mon, cum for me.” Kappa’s tone rendered a little sore upon feeling your violated cunt clenching down around him, muscles erupting into heavy spasms as you tried to choke back each and every moan that wanted to gush right out of you.

With his fingers still pleasuring your clit, his cock balls deep inside of you, you helplessly fell apart. Your eyes fluttered shut and every nerve ending felt to be in overdrive as he tore the most intense orgasm you’d ever felt right out of you. You wanted to cry out, weasel and squeeze your naked body from his bruising grasp but at the same time, you saw stars flickering up on the black of your eyelids whilst your legs grew numb as the release washed through you. 

“Fuck…pulling me in like a desperate, little slut.” He laughed out, shoving himself into you as deep as he possibly could before spilling his load all the way inside.

You took note of this new sensation, a sticky warmth flooding your insides, filling you up that extra bit which drew a new, softer wave of contractions from your cunt, your body making sure to keep it all in, practically sucking it up.

“See?”, Kappa cooed against your temple, “You did so well, sugar, ‘n I’m gonna breed you again and again until I see your belly swelling up with my child.” 

#tam rambles #asks are appreciated #asks are always open #rory culkin #kappa x reader #kappa smut #kappa #kappa black mirror #kappa x fem!reader #black mirror 6 #black mirror #black mirror: beyond the sea

[gay-dorito-dust]

This just popped into my head. please can i request headcandons of miles, Hobie, Pavitr (separately) and the reader wearing matching shirts like cute couples

Miles would probably either have those goofy couple shirts that you guys got as a joke but you now wear unironically. Ie: don’t go bacon my heart/ I couldn’t if I fried. (This is purely cuz I love shitty puns)

Or couple shirts where they have a matching small heart embroidered somewhere on the pocket of the shirt/hoodie.

Nothing overly drastic about your relationship, just small, minuscule things that you could incorporate in your every day wears. Kinda like this:

Miles is just an awkward dude who’s trying his best to show you how much he love you, and it definitely shows which never fails in making you smile because he does it so effortlessly that pretty sure he doesn’t know it.

Would he get playfully teased by his mates? Yeah, probably but does he care? Not fucking really because he loved the fact that you were matching in subtle ways. It’s just the way you like them because not everyone needs to know but they do due to how painfully obvious Miles was being.

so much so that it doesn’t take much for anyone to assume that you were together, with or without the matching shirts. They only add to what was already crystal clear to everyone.

Your love with Miles is goofy, clumsy as a newborn deer, subtle, sweet, caring, warm, protective and above all; loyal.

Pavitr is a grade a sucker for matching couple shirts that he probably buys them in bulk, so you’d have new ones to wear throughout the entire week.

One day it’ll be the cheesy ‘my head belongs to him/ my heart belongs to her/him/ them’ couple shirts and then the next day it’ll be the ‘I love’ shirts that he defiantly got personalised to add your names in conjunction to the phrase.

He’s also the type of couple shirts where you have to be stood together for the wording on it to make coherent sense to anyone wanting to read it.

Pavitr also has the couple shirts where they point to one another and say shit like ‘born to love her/him/them’ on it because he always tells you on a daily basis that the moment he met you, he felt as though he was born to love you.

He’s just got so much love for you and wants to show it in any way possible, not caring if it earns you the title of sappiest couple or most loved up couple because in all fairness, what they say was a hundred percent true. Pavitr is a sappy and loved up boy but that was because of you and he hoped that you felt the same towards him.

You do, stop denying it.

Pavitr is unashamed in wearing matching shirts with you. He takes great pride in it and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s got a fuck ton of pictures of you two doing cute couple shit in your matching couple T-shirts. One might’ve been made into his home/Lock Screen by the end of the day, but is subjective to change because he loved all of them equally and can’t choose between them.

Hobie isn’t the fondest of couple shirts, he probably finds them ridiculous and cringe inducing but if he were to wear to one, he’d probably only wear it as a pyjama set where less eyes can see.

This ain’t in due to any insecurity he might have because Hobie was the definition of what confident in your own skin looked like, he just doesn’t understand why you needed shirts to proclaim your love when he does that already by draping all his limbs over you, publicly kissing you, touching you and the like.

So he’d like to think he’s making it pretty loud and clear that you two were something to one another that transcends the need for labels but again he ain’t against verbally calling you his.

Even then the shirts you’d have would either be a little on the vulgar side because Hobie thought it funny or shirts that are like ‘I don’t do matching shirts’/ ‘but I do.’ Kind of thing.

An example of the aforementioned couple shirt:

However that don’t mean Hobie doesn’t like being called yours -constancy be damed- he’d just prefer it if it wasn’t so blatantly and unabashedly spread out across a marketable t-shirt that anyone can get and that provides no sentimental meaning for either of you.

Now let’s say you’re a wizard on a sewing machine and all things textiles and had made you both a matching couples t-shirt then that’s a completely different case entirely.

For those shirts held sentimental value because you were the one to go out of your way and make them for the both of you and who’s Hobie to reject the change of wearing something you made with your bare hands?

He’d wear it for you and he’d wear the shit out of it because he’s proud of everything you do and would be damned if he let you think otherwise.

A/n: now me, personally. I can not stand matching couple shirts…it rubs me the wrong way. Sure some are cute but you’d never catch me in one. Ever. I respect myself too much. Also I was probably projecting myself onto Hobie just a little.

#spiderman atsv imagines #spiderman atsv imagine #spiderman atsv #spiderman atsv fic #hobie brown atsv #spiderman: atsv #spiderman atsv x you #spiderman atsv x reader #atsv x reader #atsv x you #spiderverse imagines #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse imagine #spiderverse x you #miles morales imagine #miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #miles morales imagines #pavitr x reader #pavitr prabhakar x you #pavitr prabhakar imagine #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr prabhakar imagines #pavitr prabhakar fic #hobie x reader #hobie brown imagines #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown x you #spiderpunk x reader

[markhoffmans-certified-slut]

hii, i was wondering if you could make a art x reader? i would prefer headcanons but anything is fine!! no rush btw <3

Art the Clown x f!reader 

Word count: 1.5K

Notes: Okay, so I technically will be doing a “What it’s like to date Art the Clown” chapter, but this will sort of be in a similar format, if that makes sense. I hope that you enjoy this!! Sorry for the super long wait, I was digging through my asks and saw this one for the first time and I was like “I should do this” 😂

Also, there wasn’t any specification on if you wanted anything smutty as well, so I just kept this one fluffy! 

<>~<>~<>

You met super unconventionally. It was dark out, you were walking home late, and you were wearing a sparkly dress and pretty heels. You were perfect bait for the clown. He assumed that you were leaving a club, a party, etc., but what he hadn’t expected was for you to be so aware of your surroundings. You had heard him, then you saw him, then you fucking bolted. 

Art was so surprised to see the way you ran in the heels that he almost forgot to chase you. 

Almost. 

By time he had caught you, he thought you’d give up. Instead, he got whammed in the head by a loose brick you saw on the ground. His vision went blurry, but he watched you take the heels off quickly before running again. This time you seemed faster than before. For once, he gave up and looked at the sky through blurred vision and let you go.

A day went by, then a week, then a month, before he saw you again. A similar circumstance, but this time you were a bit more disorientated. You wore flats, had a wristlet-purse on, and jeans this time. You were grasping the wall for support, but you were alone. He watched you for a minute, slowly following behind the bushes across the street, remembering before when you had gotten away. 

Did he hold a grudge? Sort of, but he wanted you. To kill? He was unsure. This was the very first time Art had ever seen a pretty girl walking alone and not immediately gotten the urge to stab until she was dead. He waited a minute, trying to decide what to do with his strange emotions, when he realized that the two of you were at the same spot where you had hit him over the head. Truth be told, the rest of that night was slightly blurry for him, and not just because his vision went wonky. 

He was angry, but there was more inside of him than that. Curiosity, a dreaded sense of interest. Nobody had ever gotten away like you had. He wanted to know more about you. he needed to know more about you. 

You were much more coherent the night before. Tonight you were wobbling on your feet. Part of you thought about going back, but you were already more than halfway home. By time you made it to the spot that you had hit that clown over the head, you were too far gone to turn back. Through your still drunken state, you continued to head in the direction of your apartment, holding onto the wall for support. 

That’s when you heard a second set of footsteps right behind you splash in the water. By time you turned around, it was too late. 

He held you in captivity with him for awhile. Occasionally bringing you back an eyeball or a dead mouse as a gift. Sort of like a cat. You would groan in disgust and scoot back against the wall while he sat cross-legged across from you and sent you a deranged smile while he waited for you to take his gift. When you eventually didn’t, Art would move on. 

Slowly, you started to warm up to the strange clown. Never once did he hurt you. Only did he stand or sit there and watch you. It was creepy, sure, but you had a lot to be thankful for. Eventually Art let you out of the chains and showed you around his little workshop-makeshift sleeping area. Did he ever actually sleep? You weren’t sure. 

Time went by fast with Art. Sooner than you thought, you started to actually like the clown. What came after that, you were certain your younger self would have been afraid of and disgusted by. 

Months went by. Eventually you were free to wander the barred up building while he was out. Of course the door was locked from the outside, but truth be told, you were fine staying around here. He started to bring you actual food instead of just scraps he probably found in the dumpster. 

And then, one day, he just left the door unlocked. A test, maybe? You were almost disgusted with yourself, but when the door creaked open when you tried it (mostly out of old habit), you hesitated. Then, you shut the door and went back to the bed you slept on and went to sleep. When Art came back, you could tell he was surprised. 

After that, the rest was history. 

The little gifts Art brought you back started to be less weird. Instead of body parts, dead mice, or metal scraps, he brought you back real food, a bracelet off a victim (shockingly without the arm attached), even a few books to pass the time. 

One day, instead of a wave goodbye, you kissed him on the cheek. You swore you might have seen a hint of embarrassment in his eyes before he turned to leave. 

Years went by quickly. One day Art returned you to your normal life, however he was quick to sneak into your apartment in the middle of the night and start resting with you. However, he trusted you. He allowed you to go back to work, to resume your life as it was before he kidnapped you. To see your friends again and go to bars, but this time the clown wouldn’t be the one stalking you to hurt you. He would follow you almost everywhere you went, watching, waiting for someone to try and hurt you so he could maim them. 

The longer you were with him, the better his gifts continued to get, until one day he brought you back a shiny diamond ring and told you that you could start wearing it (this wasn’t a request). 

Art understands that everybody can’t know who you belong to, but he wants to make sure everybody knows that you belong to someone. 

He doesn’t care how hard this is to explain to your friends. If he sees you without the ring, he finds it and he puts it back on you. 

There’s no reason to fight with him about anything. Art always gets his way in the end. 

Surprisingly, Art really likes dogs and insists on you getting a puppy, even if you’re the one that will have to do all of the training. Art really wants a dog and he shows you which kind to get. However, if you bring home a different type of dog, he would accept that as well. 

Sometimes when Art is sitting beside you, dressed in normal clothes without his clown makeup on, and he has his arm around you and the other resting on the dog, you feel almost normal. 

You never end up actually getting married. The ring is symbolism enough to the both of you. 

When he’s with you, Art slows down on the killing. Mostly because in order to cause midnight chaos, he has to be away from you. And sometimes all he really wants is to hold you while you’re sleeping. 

He’s not entirely sure how you got to him the way you did, but he can’t say he complains. In a way, you hope that maybe Art will one day stop it all together. That he might end up being a normal husband-like-boyfriend-demon-being-thing. 

At the end of the day, Art would choose you over murdering and you would choose him even if he continued with his old ways. 

He loves horror movies and he will always make you watch them with him. If you ever get scared, he’ll make fun of you a little bit, but he will also keep you close and kiss your head. Art likes to watch bloody, gory horror movies, but his favorite is Nightmare on Elm Street. 

He’s seen it over 75 times. 

He falls asleep during regular movies. 

Art is sort of like a guard dog. Every time that something goes bump in the night, even if he’s snoring louder than the devil, he bolts upright and insists on taking a look around. The dog usually goes with him. Because of this, new environments are harder for him to get used to. 

He is like a bottomless pit. Art eats a lot of food. 

Art is terrible at any form of game. He gets annoyed and swats his hand at the air and starts pouting when it gets too hard. Video game, board game, verbal game— it doesn’t matter. He sucks at all of them and 9 times out of 10 will refuse to play. 

He teaches you sign language because he can’t/doesn’t speak. You think it’s funny how he overdoes everything he does when he mime’s it since he can’t talk. 

He loves it when you play along with his miming. Sometimes he pretends that he’s stuck in a box and he likes it when you pretend like you can’t get to him. 

Overall, Art is a shockingly supportive partner. When you’re having a bad day, he’ll ask if he needs to kill someone. He’s a great listener as well. He’ll sit there and hold you and rub your arm while you explain everything that happened. He’s more than willing to sit there for the whole night with you if it would truly help. 

You’re stuck with him for the rest of your life. You can’t ever leave Art. He won’t let you. 

#art the clown #terrifier #terrifier 2 #terrifier art the clown #art the clown x female reader #art the clown x female reader fluff #art the clown x reader #art the clown x reader fluff

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Hey bestie popping by with a random ask: what have been your favs so far from your old jbl project?

Hi! Thank you for the random ask.

I was actually just working on my monthly breakdown so I was trying to write just a couple of sentences about what I watched this month so this comes at a good time because this month I definitely saw one of my favs.

The Novelist. I don't know if I can coherently convey my thoughts about it but I'll give it a try. I think there were several factors that made me take so long to watch it. I never read full reviews about it, because although I don't mind spoilers in general, I also like to go into some shows as unbiased as possible. That was not easy. I basically went into it thinking it was depressing and it involved a lot of sex that I wasn't sure where it would land of the consent scale. I don't really remember where I got this idea tbh. Anyway.

Although after hearing people like you, @twig-tea and @bengiyo talk about it in different contexts I was less wary about it for sure. So I went into it with a more open mind, even with reservations. I mean I basically went through the lighter parts of the ojbl list first, so part of me was dreading the rest. I don't mind darker stories, or darker bl's. I have way darker ones coming up on the list. But I always feel like I need to be in the right frame of mind for them. Because I can get too emotionally invested and my moods tends to swing easily.

All this to say, I wasn't expecting a story about two lonely people 'using' each other to fight that loneliness. As I was just writing in my breakdown post, Kijima was such an interesting character to me. Because in the beginning I was just curious about him, like there was something odd about him, his demeanor. And when I realized that he was faking part of it and just using Kuzumi I hated him. So much. But, and I have to give major props to the actor, because in episode 4 when Kuzumi leaves and Kijima in on the table just listening to the record and crumpling the pages, I was gone. I fully saw him for the first time. That man is lonely and hopeless and I felt so much for him in that moment. And that of course lasted through to the end and that smile

I was practically clapping. Brilliant. It was such a beautiful ending. I felt like the show broke my heart a bit and it was all healed in this moment.

So to recap, not only was this a wonderful surprise that completely obliterated my expectations, but it's so beautiful. Everything is good. The cinematography, the music, the acting, everything was brilliant. So good. So if everyone that reads this has not yet seen for some reason or another I urge you to do it. I still have yet to see the other installments so I can't speak to all of it but this one is so worth it. I honestly can't believe that Kijima has become such an important character to me.

I think before this one, my favourites were for sure the first two I watched. Ai No Kotodama and No Touching at All.

They were both such great surprises. Let me just quickly look through my notes because my memory might betray me. Oh okay.

Ai no Kotodama I really enjoyed how it was shot and edited. I liked how they used several things to mirror the relationship, the perfume , the stair gazing and the other couple. I felt everything served the story in a really interesting way. I also like that the girl wasn't the usual bl girl and in the end she was actually jealous of their relationship more than in love with either of them. I also really like how the film made me unsure about their relationship almost from the start, because it makes sense in this case. My confusion mirrors Shinya's confusion and fear.

I also really liked No Touching at All's directing. It was really interesting how they used the camera work. For most of the film the couple is usually far away from us, the camera is on the other side of the room or something like that. And it's almost keeping us at a distance. So when the camera finally gets close up, it's during their break up, which I thought was intentional to cause the most emotional impact. Like now you should be invested in this moment because so are they. They are being honest for the first time so there are no more barriers for us because they are being truthful and removing their own. I also think Shima's internal struggle was really well portrayed, I liked the fact that he initiated the break up for self preservation reasons and so Togawa coming back to him at the end is what allows him to trust it. It makes me believe more in their future together.

This got a bit longer than I intended. These three are definitely my favourites but I'm really enjoying this project, even if I don't love everything, I think there's always something positive about all of them. At least the ones I've watched.

Anyway I hope that answers your question. My next one will probably be Mood Indigo and I'll have to look at my list again but I know I have a couple other ones on there still to watch.

Thank you so the question.

#rose answers #Rose Watches OJBL #the novelist #ai no kotodama #no touching at all #apologies if there are any mistakes

[lakesbian]

OH have you finished all of animorphs then? Any general wrap-up thought on the characters n their arcs if so?

oh boy okay that's a big ask because the lack of specificity means i'm inclined to be comprehensive. i'm gonna force myself to be brief

jakey: very coherent arc from "i'm not the leader why are you guys saying i'm the leader stop saying i'm the leader" to "Subhuman. Flush 'em." it's good. i also like the chain where he's like. initially invested for saving his brother > tells marco he can't make calls about his mother because he's too close to the situation and is frankly an ass about it while hypocritically insisting he can handle the yeerk controlling his brother trying to murder his father, relieved when the animorphs take the difficulty of having to make the choice away from him but still views it as an indictment of his leadership capabilities > during the evacuation of the families he almost like...overcompensates w/ under-prioritizing himself and his loved ones, irrationally prioritizes everyone else's families being moved out first despite the fact that it would have made more tactical sense to do his first > he loses his family over this and it breaks him

rachel: problem w/ rachel is that, unbeknownst to me when i started reading, multiple of the books for her just had no idea what the hell or fuck they were doing, and were wildly out of character. ignoring the books that were fake and didn't happen, her arc is good. the thing is that "we might have to do something terrible, too. get rachel" is the crux of her Issues and the ghostwriters didn't need to do any of that other shit. the fake and true rachel books would've been served better by exploring the fundamental divide btwn her and cassie as people i'm sure you know what i mean

marco: probably the most consistent/strong arc? it's good. reading the end part was like

marco: i haven't seen jake in a few months. i still worry about him of course, just...from my hot tub me: that seems not true marco: okay so he hasn't seen ME in a few months but i have been continuously accidentally-on-purpose spying on him, and also sometimes i turn into a lobster in my fountain to cope me: okay yeah that's true

i like his fundamental internal conflict of. Being a person who is very capable of seeing, as per his iconic monologue, the bright line from a to z, and also continuously kicking the part of him that's horrified & upset by how that line impacts himself/the things personal to him under a rug. and despising when people pity him or acknowledge that he's upset/hurt because it reminds him he's got all that shit under the rug and distracts him from the bright clear line. really really good character writing how he's completely okay with constantly yelling and crying about how he's the most scared and afraid boy ever because fear over physical things is pragmatic, but he can't tolerate having it acknowledged when he's upset by something he knows to be necessary, because that's Not pragmatic. it adds flavor

cassie: i think it's funny how some of the other roles on the team are "the leader" "the lieutenant" "the axe-man" (<- not to be confused with the ax-man) etc and she's The One With A Continuously Functioning Moral Compass, Nerd #2, and The Emergency Lisa*. i've been told that the cassie books are either some of the strongest in the series or absolutely nothing but the thing is that i like the absolute nothing ones because i think the shenanigans are fun. so overall she's got great books. the struggle of a character who finds the moral compromises she's forced to make while participating in a war genuinely psychologically intolerable but still keeps being sucked in further is good & a nice sort of foil 2 some of the other morphs. i do have. And this has to be said despite being somewhat tangential. i do have the firm opinion that. rachel and cassie v much come off like they should be the classic "people who were bffs as kids and start becoming distant/incompatible as teens but are ignoring it and will be insisting on hanging out/calling each other bffs for several more years until something causes a bigger schism" dynamic & it would add a lot more if the text was aware of this fact and did something about it. but that's a longer post for a later time

tobias: his stomach flipping over while he tries to deny that the hawk-boy form of himself ellimist is showing him is him is perhaps one of the most stark scenes in the entire series and i think we should all be drawing it more. it's nice they put an abused autistic kid who doesn't feel like a human person in animorphs so that various children reading could have their brains rewired. i like how he's got a very heavy internal life. he's always Pondering. the torture plotline is a bit weakly written i think, his strongest moments are when he's doing an identity crisis thing. his dynamic with rachel is really good and the end of his arc does feel fitting. i think with how aximili is always going on abt how tobias is his shorm aka soulmate it would've been good if we saw more of the convos they were having or they had a more clearly Besties bond going on. although i DO like that aximili almost never shouts, someone (jake?) explicitly notes that when ax Does yell it means you'd better fucking listen, and to my memory the only call-caps moment aximili has is yelling "TOBIAS!" when he thinks tobias is critically wounded. more of that shit please. i would've also liked more tobias books in general bc he has one of the strongest narrative voices out of the gang

aximili: I was so mad about his very last book in the series being a shit ghostwriting moment. So mad you do not even want to know. entire plot of, like, book 8 all over again, except this time he's casually considering endorsing genocide for some reason. anyway i think there's a lot of interesting things going on in his head but his arc doesn't really wrap up well & there are a few ghostwritten books where he feels poorly done w/o having a rachel-type Really Iconic book that makes up for it. he works better early and mid series. he's also just a fundamentally hilarious character concept which is great. i'm sad that people lied to me about him being autistic compared to other andalites (he's not) but i like when he has axtism moments anyway. i would like to see 100 drawings of axmini get cinnamon roll now please

#ask #animorphs lb

[cosmic-navel-gazin]

Finished Felvidek and had a grand time!

Thought I'd do a lil list of things/moments/details I loved off the top of my head:

gave cursed coffee bean to a chicken and it mutated. Did it for science

game's got some twin peaks vibes, some monty python, a tad of hylics, along it a bunch of other ingredients, but it feels very much its own thing with its own identity

pear man and his daughters deserve the world, wish we hung out more

there's a fight with an invisible enemy, all your attacks miss because your guys can't see shit and I was laughing just imagining Pavol and Matej swinging their swords at nothing hoping to slay the forest fiend. Very Don Quixote, I love it.

the PS1 style cutscenes are sooooo beautiful I love them to pieces, they drip with style and charm. I knew I needed to give this game a go the moment I watched the trailer and was greeted by the cinematics. God I love them so much. And not just the syle but the directing itself, the way shots are framed, god...

I love the character portraits for everyone. There's so much detail and everyone feels unique/like an actual person with distinct features. From the Priest's very punchable face, to Pavol's grin to Josef's sexy ass... From main characters to NPCs to enemy sprites, I love everyone's design and colour coding (don't know if it was intentional but the purple for the cultists was neat, seemed to subtly imply early on that they were being funded by rich folk, since pruple is associated with nobility, power and wealth)

speaking of character design, shout-out to this lil guy, look at him please

Numnut the drunkard my beloved, I recruited him and less than a minute later he fell on flat ground into a nearby river (and drowns???). I reloaded a previous save to see if I could have him in my party a lil longer. I took a different path, got into a fight. "yay I get to see him in action!"- I thought. I used his one special move, called: 'good idea', and Numnut proceeds to punch his own face, dealing 90 damage (not even in the endgame did I deal such high numbers!). THE Character of all time, he drowned again after that and I'll never forget him.

BALLOON IN THE MIDDLE AGES! (possible Andrei Rublev reference? I can dream...)

just, the way things are worded:

cutting people's ears after killing them as spoils (and giving the ears to a maiden, as you do)

there's a quest where you have to cut a man's tattooed buttock to give to another guy, and it's all for nothing, you ruined a man's ass for nothing. I love it. The dialogue during this whole section had me dying.

I love that there's just this guy who lives in the castle's well. And our boy Pavol thinks it's a great idea to throw a bomb in there to make him come out.

this:

there's these lil inisghtful and mournfoul comments on the dead bodies you leave behind. Like, expressing regret at all the senseless violence and death or how cheap life is here. And I'm not sure if it's Pavol or Matej making them. It makes more sense for it to be Matej but I kinda like the idea of it being Pavol's comments, these small moments of introspection and realization in the midst of a drunken adventure. You've been engaging in all the violence while pissed drunk but then after you kill your opponents and look at their corpses... and it's like this sobering moment, before you're back at it with all the merry-making (I also like that a lot of these bodies don't disappear and just remain on screen, and you can see the carnage your guys leave behind in their quest)

the whole adventure felt to me like, this series of odd little events in a knight's life before it's passed down, told by and retold by different people, and after many generations it's been touched up and made more coherent and noble than the clusterfuck it actually was. Before it became a narrative I guess is what I mean

it can get a bit wordy and hard to follow but I really like the old timey way the dialogue is written and its dry sense of humour

there's these little subversions of gaming tropes that I found really fun too! Like as soon as Pavol's wife and your falling out with her is introduced you may expect a reconciliation between the two, or a moment where you have to save her and prove your worth and love to her to win her heart. As you would expect from a story with a knight and a damsel. But no she hates his guts lmao tries to murder him too! (tho I do think Pavol took her in that balloon ride at the end). There's also the fact that I am not allowed to play minigames! Josef wants to play tabletop games but your character always replies no. No minigames for you son! And like, this feels especially catered to me as someone who, more often than not, will dread whenever a game will introduce some sort of card game or the like. I was so happy that wasn't forced on me for once! Couldn't believe it. Kinda felt bad for Josef tho, I'm sorry Pavol doesn't wanna play Pexeso wth you.

the battle animations! I'm particularly fond of the eating porridge one, or the chugging down a bucket of sour cream, and the petard

the little *slaps face* animation

Pavol and Matej as a duo and the whole tavern scene with the two exchanging clothes

the lil moments of humanity where Pavol talks about his broken life and sense of self

the rare moments when Pavol stops grinning

it goes without saying but the art is absolutely gorgeous. Its nostalgic monochrome melancholy speaks to me on a deep spiritual level. Inject it directly into my bone marrow please. Shout-out also to the ost, it fucks and has tons of bangers. The Hrad track, the one that plays on Josef's castle... god... love at first listen, and have been listening nonstop for the last few days now while going on walks.

#went in almost completely blind and had a great time. really nice surprise #Felvidek #my ramblings #videogames

[rays-of-fire-and-ice]

To Watch Over You

Rating: K+/General with mild themes

Setting: mostly between the end of the Invasion arc and the beginning of the Arrancar arc.

Synopsis: Momo recalls when she woke up after Aizen’s betrayal, and the guilt that it entailed.

AN: a random drabble I wrote while in the middle of writing the winner of my latest poll. I realised after writing this I’d like to write more about Momo after Aizen left the Soul Society and she recovered in Fourth Division.

It’s a scenario I don’t think is likely to have occurred, but I still wanted to explore it.

Anyhow, hope you enjoy it!

__________________________________

It’s a small memory, one that Momo doesn’t care to recall often.

The first thing she remembers is the smell, a combination of medicinal and sterile scents. Before even she blinked her eyes open, she knew it was Fourth Division.

It was dark, with only a faint ceiling light and the moonlight peaking through the curtained windows illuminating the room. She got lost watching the faint shadows of tree branches dancing across the ceiling, forgetting for a moment she’d just woken up with no memory of what had happened before.

 Slowly, her other senses came back to her. Her mouth was dry and tasted bitter. Her skin was also dry, a sheet came up to her shoulders, and her head rested on a firm pillow. Her toes were cold, but her fingers were warm. Her left arm rested over the sheet, and in her peripheral, there was an IV bag and the tube led to somewhere underneath her sleeve. A drowsy fatigue lingered, making her eyelids head, whispering for her to close them and return to the darkness.

What kept her from doing so was the pain that came from her abdomen. It simmered beneath whatever the officers had administered her with to dull it. She didn’t move a muscle, afraid to flare it up.

When she parted her lips to call out for someone, she couldn’t find her voice. How long had she been here for?

She concentrated on the ceiling, but her head was fuzzy. Her mind swirled around, making coherent thought impossible. Memories wanted to rush forward, but she pushed them back down with what little strength she had. It didn’t stop her from remembering the source of the pain, and without realising, she’d lifted her hand beneath the covers and put it over her abdomen.

She bit hard on the inside of her lip as her eyes stung and clouded with tears. She couldn’t block out the memory of Aizen’s smile. It had been warm and gentle, but suddenly morphed into something cruel and victorious. Then, it vanished, and she’d fallen to the floor. She’d barely felt the pain and could only stare ahead as darkness crept in.

She shook her head, trying not to sob. He couldn't have done it, she must be misremembering. And if he had, it surely wasn't of his own volition. Someone was controlling him somehow.

She should get someone. She opened her mouth again to try and call out, but when she turned her head to the right, she was rendered speechless.

Toshiro sat in the chair beside her bed, his arms loosely folded and his head craned to the right, almost resting on his shoulder. His eyes were shut, and to Momo’s muddled bafflement, he was asleep.

The sight of him is enough to make the memories fall back. The beginnings of a smile twitched on her lips, temporarily forgetting where she is and other painful memories that threatened to surface.

How can anyone sleep like that? she wondered. It’s going to hurt if he stays like that.

She gingerly began to sit up. She cringed at the stiffness of her arms, but still used them to push herself up. She kept her legs still, even as the abdomen pain flared up. She struggled for a moment,and her skin almost broke out in a sweat when the threatened pain became too much.

It was as though she stood on edge of a cliff, with another cliff in front of her she needed to jump to. For a moment she got lost on that idea, imagining the scenario playing out her head. She frowned when a almost a whole minute had passed and she hadn’t done anything else. My head’s a mess.

With a grunt, she forced herself the rest of the way up -- she did this while absently imagining herself jumping to and landing on that other cliff. She caught herself from doubling over, hands flying ahead of her to land on either side of her sheet covered legs. Her hair, tied in a side pony tail, fell over her left shoulder.

The fatigue was stronger, coming crushing over her in a wave. She tried to shake it off, gritting her teeth as she forced herself to lean back until her back was against the pillow and headboard.

She returned her attention to Toshiro. He hadn’t stirred. She isn’t surprised; he’d been able to sleep through loud booms of thunder whenever she slept over at his house when they were children.

He’d been close, his elbow only centimeters from the edge of the bed. She reached across, planning to shake his shoulder. Her hand stilled before she could touch him, her pinkie and ring fingers only a hair’s breadth away from his haori.

Something in her caused her to hesitate. She watched her childhood friend sleep. The light illuminated the side of the face she could see, showing her faint bags under his eye. Why wasn’t he sleeping?

Several heartbeats later, the image of Toshiro staring at her in shock hit her. Her eyes stung anew and she snatched her hand to cover her mouth. Her chest clenched, almost as painful as the abdomen. Tears flowed down over her fingers.

What have I done?

She’d raised her sword against him, had betrayed his trust, and thought him a murderer despite her reservations. She’d been conflicted when she’d confronted him, so determined to believe in Captain Aizen’s final wish but doubting – knowing completely – that Toshiro wouldn’t be capable of such a heinous crime.

She must apologize to him and explain what was going through her mind. She tried to think of where to start. Any ideas or words she began to conjure up were tumbled away by the disorientation in her head and the memories making her chest hurt. The overwhelm her, images flashing of what happened, until she can't take it and buries her head in her hands, almost screaming for them to stop.

The movement of her arm caused the pole the IV was attached to to clatter behind her. With a gasp, she peaked through her fingers at Toshiro. He stirred, falling further to the right, and his elbow shifted into his lap, out of reach. He did not wake.

Slowly, as if her hands were keeping the memories at bay and removing them would cause them to flood her mind, she drew her fingers away. She focused on her breath, trying to catch it.

She was scared to speak with him, but she also needed to. She wanted to seek forgiveness, but he may not give it to her. It’s within his right not to, and that hurts her…and yet some part of her hoped, or perhaps even knew, he might.

It wasn’t enough to make her reach out for him again.

“I’m not ready.” she whispered to herself, a tremor running through her raspy voice. “I’m sorry, Shiro-chan...but I'm not ready.”

Despite the pain in her chest abdomen, the fatigue came rushing back like a wave rapidly crashing in during a high tide. It was stronger this time, enough to convince her to let it ebb her away back to the darkness. Her movements became slow and sloppy when she wiped away her tears and eased herself back down. She tried to lie as she had before, her left arm over the covered, her legs straight, and her head turned to the ceiling.

She couldn't turn her head back to the ceiling, however. She continued to stare at her childhood friend. He's at peace now, and she'd almost disturbed it. But really, hadn't she done so already?

I'll talk to him tomorrow, she thought absently, I'll know to say by then.

The last thing she saw before shutting her eyes was Toshiro, still asleep.

She’s brought out of her reverie when the Captain-Commander gives her the cue to come forward. She finds the strength against the nerves to walk forward, coming past Yamamoto and Chojiro, but only staring at the gigantic screen before them.

Momo's heart palpitates as she watches Toshiro expression change from confusion to shock. He murmurs something she doesn’t hear. As she approaches, more memories come flooding back. They make her raise a hand to chest, as if to ease the squeeze they cause to her heart.

He says her name, and she can only say his back in return.

They stare at each other for what feels like an hour, before Toshiro’s schools his expression and he speaks again, asking if she should be up.

While answering back, she thinks on those memories, ones that she is going to seek forgiveness for, including for that night in the Fourth Division. While it pales in comparison to the other transgressions she’d committed against him, she feels a strange guilt about what happened that night. She'd woken up the next day, this time during the day and alone. The day after she’d awakened, Toshiro had left for the World of the Living. When she’d received news of this from Isane, it occurred to her she hadn’t thought about why he was at her bedside.

Had she expected him to be there for her when her recovery was announced? Isane had said he'd visited her almost twice a week ever since she's been transported to the Fourth Division. But why, after everything that had happened between them, had he come to visit her at all?

She could’ve spoken to him that night, but she hadn’t. She feels as though she had tricked him, and the disorientation of her mind was no excuse, no matter what Isane told her after she confessed what happened to her fellow lieutenant. Or maybe he already knows, had seen the way her head was turned was different from when he'd fallen asleep. Would it be easier if he knew?

A part of her had tried to reason over the last week that if she’d spoken to him that night she might have made things worse, or said something she hadn’t meant. And would he have wanted to speak to her? In the days after leaving the Fourth Division, she vaguely recalled voices sounding through the darkness. She couldn’t make out what they said, but she knew who they belonged to. Renji, Izuru, Isane, Unohana, Rangiku, and some of her subordinates. Toshiro’s hadn’t been among them. 

In the present, a silence has fallen between them as she stares at the floorboards, lost in these thoughts. She tries to both decide where to begin and muster up the courage to speak. First, she’ll discuss the worst of her wrongdoings against him, then the night she woke up. He may not view it was something to feel guilt over, and she may seek forgiveness if only to ease her conscience. She would've laughed to herself if she felt it appropriate; she wishes she were older.

With her plan in mind, she says the words she’d wanted to say to him that night. “Hitsugaya-kun…forgive me.”

#hitsuhina #momo hinamori #toshiro hitsugaya #bleach #fanfiction #angst

[pencileraser1]

u were keatposting in my asks. now i must do the same in yours since my brain is so obviously filled with him. share ur keating thoughts i know theyre hiding in there!!!!!!!!

i'm just gonna thoughtsdump about this it might not be coherent?but here we go

a lot of my keating thoughts are kind of depressing uh

i think the really tragic thing about this movie (or one of them i guess) is that in the end basically everything that happened likely didn't matter enough in the long term. and one of the biggest losses is that i kind of do think that after keating left, almost none of the students would continue to apply what he taught them. the biggest exceptions to this would be todd and sort of half charlie, i do pretty much agree with the post canon idea that it's likely that todd would end up an english teacher. and i think that he's probably the only person who would genuinely continue to actually apply what keating taught him. charlie i think would continue to be rebellious for a bit longer and then eventually sort of fall in line with what his parents wanted from him in the end, the best outcome is probably that he'd go on to be some sort of artist but i don't think it's super likely that that's what he'd do long term/all the time if that makes sense. for the rest of the poets, i think they'd all go back to how they were before pre-keating. i think you mentioned that neil was really the person who understood keatings lessons the best, which i agree with, and him dying likely prevented the rest of the poets from really getting it before keating left. basically my thought about this is that at the end of the movie, todd and keating are both fundamentally changed, but the rest of the poets aren't, and how much they were able to change is not enough to create a lasting impact.

on a lighter note someone said that possibly the most impressive mark of what keating did was that hopkins stood up on the desk at the end. and while i think that the combination of todd being able to stand up on his desk first, and how keating and neil made it possible to do so is more impressive, i think it maybe comes in in close second for me (i know i just went on a tangent about this not mattering that much but it did matter a little bit and this is still very impressive. like the guy shown to be the Most skeptical stood on the desk that's a lot)

i've seen a theory floating around every once in a while that keating's experience with the first dead poets society might have been similar to what happened with neil, like he had a friend in the society who also committed suicide, and i kind of don't like that theory very much? i guess there are a few elements to it, the biggest being that if someone died the first time, i don't think that keating would even entertain the thought of restarting it. and the second is that i honestly think we could come up with something a lot more interesting.

keating went to welton during ww2, (there's a small possible plothole/timeline issue which is that nolan tells keating he taught english "way before you're time," per the annual, keating begun attending welton in 1941, when nolan was probably about 40 and i suspect not principal since there isn't really any familiarity between the two. my personal theory which i actually really like now that i'm thinking about it is that nolan wasn't at welton from 1941-1944 for some reason, probably ww2 related. not sure Exactly how, nolan's old enough that it's unlikely he would've actually fought unless he had been in the military before, but that could also be interesting, idk there's a lot of possibilities) the us joined ww2 at the end of 1941 so for almost the entire time keating was in school, that would have been going on. and i think that would have put a very unique type of stress on the school and i think it would be really interesting to think about the poet's experience during that time. what i do think happened in lieu of someone dying is probably that they got in some significant amount of trouble at some point, or possibly that they didn't exactly get in trouble but that there was some other issue related to the administration.

other interesting details from the annual: keating was varsity soccer captain and editor of the school annual, likely how he got dps under his name. also btw keating was the soccer coach during the movie if that wasn't clear since the soccer team is. just keatings class minus cameron whose doing fencing. and i only realized this after reading the book (which i do not reccomend if you want to read the book just read the old script it's got all the same stuff and i honestly think the writings better in the script)

anyways i think we should come up with more theories about the original dead poets. bc i think that could be interesting.

i think we were kind of talking about the keating/neil parallels a bit and i'm just gonna talk more about that as well bc i'm a bit insane about it. so like as previously mentioned!!! neil is the one who fundamentally understood keating the most probably (todd and charlie also understood keating but in different ways kind of??? and i think you've spoken about this before too) and there's a lot of like; keating likely starting the original dps/neil starting dps 2.0, both being editors of the school annual (sort of), both encouraging people (todd) to express themselves in ways they might not have thought possible

the way keating and neil's storylines end are also similar. they both set out with a specific goal and while they are successful at first, they are both stopped in ways that are ultimately kind of catastrophic. not fully coherent about this yet but. wanted to add it.

also just wanted to briefly mention keating and mcallister bc i really liked their relationship, all of m thoughts have already been said but i just wanted to add that

keating is in a position where he understands what his students are going through in a way that none of the other teachers do and throughout the movie i honestly think his goal was at least partially just to make their lives just a little bit better. like some of his students would get it and some wouldn't, but for all of them they have one class where the teacher is nice and not as strict or exhausting or gives them ridiculous amounts of homework. and even if keating is just. the one class that's a little bit easier. that still probably helps so much with how the environment at welton was. obviously keatings ultimate goal was probably to teach his students to think for themselves and about what they specifically want but i think the smaller impacts of like. ok here's one class where the teacher isn't a hardass is meaningful too.

#i'm obsessed with narritive foils and parallels between characters to like a slightly riddiculous degree #i didn't think i had that much to say but i've written this much so here we are i guess i did have things to say #john keating #neil perry #todd anderson #dps #dead poets society #hopefully coherent

[noemitenshi]

Jake Otto as a brother

so i promised @minimoefoe to write down my thoughts on Jake. I hope I'm being coherent haha, it's all a big jumbled mess in my head that mostly boils down to seethign rage. I definitely hate Jake more than Jeremiah, so make of that what you will.

Jake, to me, seems to have taken on the role of 'the good kid' (you know, the thing that shouldn't happen between siblings, where one takes on the role of the black sheep and by contrast the other is good..) and not only has he taken it on, i mean, you can't really blame a kid for that (as long as the kid is, you know, a kid) but he seems to be have fully embraced that role in s3 where he is all grown up. Which is what really gets to me (he should know better by now).

You see that in all his interactions with Troy. He expects the worst of him, he's annoyed by all that Troy does. In fact, Troy can't win with him (funny how in s3ep8 jake is telling him "Do something!" about the militia being incapacitated etc and then when troy does do something it's still not good enough…). Also note how Troy, in contrast, almost never raises his voice at Jake (except for that one interaction where he's already all irritated/angry about mike leaving). He's mostly mild around Jake and at least I got the sense that he is resigned. Resigned to the fact that Jake will always see the worst in him. He's not even trying to convince him otherwise - so I assume they had several confrontations about that when they were little (actually would have loved to see more of their past relationship, these little hints we get seem so intriguing (eg tell me about the rabbits)).

I think the most hurtful interaction, imho, is when Troy tries to warn him not to go to Taqa to placate him after Troy went and got Alicia back. He seems earnest in his worry over Jake. "Brother, you leave, I don't think you're coming back" Troy tells Jake. And Jake, unable to see anything but confrontation in Troy and all Troy does goes "ask yourself if that would make you happier." Troy doesn't answer, not with words but his face says it all. He closes his mouth, unhappy. Opens it again as if to argue only to - stop. Probably because he knows there's no sense in arguing with Jake about how he sees Troy. He won't get him to change his mind.

Also, since I rewatched the scene, notice how Troy actually does understand Jake. With the "i think you'd be happy if Walker took your scalp." Jake does seem like the self-sacrificing type (they both do haha, they are brothers after all), like he'd want to die for doing the right thing. Troy gets that about him. Whereas Jake does not seem to even start being able to comprehend Troy. There seems to be too much bitterness on Jake's side for empathy.

And sure, yes they've both grown up in an abusive household, yes, probably Jake was told to look after Troy a lot (so Troy was made his responsibility which is super unfair, absolutely), probably also blamed for when Troy behaved in a way deemed unacceptable (which, given the parents were drunks could be literally ANYTHING e.g. drawing too loudly (an example meant to show their unreasonableness). add to that the fact that Troy was shown to be easily upset (in the video tape in s3ep3 he starts crying when his parents fight), they probably didn't want to deal with him upset/crying, demanding he stop it or demanding jake do something abou it…). So yes, all that is horrible also for jake, an impossible -abusive- situation for both brothers.

Jake should've grown out of it though. He's an adult now but he still can't see past these roles they were given. He probably even still blames it on Troy, like if he were a better child to their parents things would've been easier also on Jake. Why can't Troy never do what he's asked to? Etc etc. And all this colors his interaction with Troy as grown ups. All sympathy he has ever felt for Troy eroded over the years...

And I do think as a kid he was also trying to help Troy and protect him, as he says -though I also think Troy protected Jake. Troy seems like he's very used to dealing with pain, so I definitely think he made sure the ire of his parents fell on him. Kinda playing into the black sheep role, too (like kids tend to do once they've got this role)… anyway so Jake tried to protect him/help him though I think with time the bitterness took over. And that's all he has for Troy now, bitterness and disappointment. And Jake gives himself away. When he says "Ask yourself if that [jake not coming back from trying to placate Taqa] would make you happier" that's not troy's thinking at all. It's HIM, Jake, who'd be happier if Troy went off to some kind of mission (exile) and wouldn't come back.

tl;dr Jake is a shit brother to Troy (while playing the white knight to others -or should that be 'and'- fully embracing the 'good kid' role) and I'll never like him

#troy otto #jake otto #ftwd #fear the walking dead #ramblings #analysis #good kid - bad kid

[euphorix-moon]

Full Disclosure

Ellie x Reader

Wc: 1.2k

Synopsis: After the events of Tlou2 your friend Ellie has been on a downward spiral, pushing you away and locking everything she's been feeling up . After a small argument she cracks and finally starts letting it all out

A/N: i've been in an angsty mood idk why, most of it is angsty or awkward but it ends on a happy end

You knew your friend Ellie was going through a really rough patch in her life. Ever since Joel died she's been on a downward spiral to say the least. It's only gotten worse since Ellie came back from California; she's been walking around with more guilt and sorrow than ever. You don't see Ellie as often as you once did, but whenever she would appear walking around Jackson, she was always walking absentmindedly with her head hung low.

Since Ellie had come back, you tried a few times to talk to her, or you would go down to her house to check up on her, but it was pretty obvious she was avoiding you. You understood that what she was going through wasn't easy, but it still hurt a little. You assumed maybe she didn't want your company anymore.

You have known Ellie for awhile now, and although she had her best friends Dina and Jesse,she would always come to you when she felt like she needed to get something off her chest. You were the one person who would listen and understand without trying to put your input in without having to put your two cents in. Even though her family gives her good advice, sometimes she felt more comfortable telling you things and spending time with you as well.

One night, you decided to go to the bar just to loosen yourself up for the week. You found yourself so worried about Ellie that you wound yourself up too tight, but it was nothing a couple shots couldn't fix. You just wanted to drink and relax in the bar in the cool atmosphere it usually had during the evening hours.

Once you got there, though, you were greeted with a different scene, one you'd never thought you'd see: A highly intoxicated Ellie is trying to hop over the bar counter, trying to fight the bartender because she won't get her another drink. You had rushed to the scene, spewing out apologies to everyone in the room.

The walk to Ellie's house was interesting one, not only was she clinging onto you the entire you walk there, she was also talking to you like she once used to. Although none of her sentences made any coherent sense, a few of the ones that came out of her were "I'm sorry", "I don't deserve you", and "don't leave me like everyone else has". You were shocked at the words coming out of her mouth, but your friend wasn't in the right state, so you decided not to push.

When you two finally arrived at Ellie's house, you gently placed her on the bed, and you were about to leave to retreat to your own house, knowing that if you stayed any longer, it would be awkward for the both of you in the morning. All of a sudden, you felt Ellie grip your wrist hard. She looked at you with teary eyes and a weak voice when she asked, Please stay? I don't want you to leave me ". You reluctantly agreed not only because you were tired yourself but her grip on your wrist really left no room for argument. You had slept on the other side of the bed, leaving a noticeable amount of space between the two of you. With that, you had called it a day.

When Ellie awoke the next day,she was greeted with your face nuzzling right into her chest. She was confused as to how you got into her house and was even more confused as to why you were in her bed. She shook you awake and angrily asked you, "What fuck are you doing in my house? You were disappointed but not surprised to be greeted by the aggressiveness of Ellie first thing in the morning. You sat up and answered "Last night you were making a fool of yourself and making an embarrassment out of yourself, so I decided to be the good friend that I am and help you home". You made sure to keep your voice as neutral as possible: I stayed here because you asked me to, but it seems like I should've just minded my business from the start."

Ellie stared, not knowing how to make an argument out of what you said. Ellie croaked out a small "thanks" before quickly telling you to leave.

You understood, and you were getting ready to leave, but you still needed answers. Thinking back to last night, you knew Ellie was bottling up a bunch of things, and you knew this wasn't healthy for her to be acting like this.

Before you reached her door, you turned around and told Ellie, "You know you can tell me anything, right? We're still friends, right?" She stared at you with eyes void of emotion, and that only pushed you to continue asking her, "Last night, you told me that you didn't want me to leave like everyone else has; did you really mean what you said? Her blank stare faltered for a second, going from sad to angry before flashing an angry look. "I was drunk. Anything I said last night was all bullshit; don't take it to heart."

Maybe at that point you should've listened to her, but you still kept deciding to push. Ellie, please tell me what's going on. Like, I know you've been going through shit and I want to be there to help you, but you keep pushing me away." You were confused and on the verge of crying because you never expected Ellie to treat you this way, but still, you had to let all your feelings out if this was how Ellie was going to end the relationship. "I'm sorry for being concerned, but if you don't care for our relationship anymore, I'll leave you alone now."

Ellie was quiet for a second before she just came crashing down, bawling on the floor. You stood there dumbfounded before Ellie continued, " Fuck! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I thought maybe if I pushed you away, it would stop you from leaving me and me having to go through all the pain of being left again. You rushed down to hug Ellie, trying to calm her down. "You mean so much to me, I don't know what I'd do with myself if you ever left me." The words that left Ellie's mouth shocked you, never knowing that Ellie had superseded these feelings for you. "I was scared that if I told you everything that I've done, you would look at me differently and hate me." You swiftly assured Ellie, "I would never leave you or hate you; I care about you so much too. I love you, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay this whole time."

You two looked at each other and decided that it was best for you to start things over. You guys started spending more time together and hanging out like you used to. By spending more time together, Ellie has also been able to open up to you more. When Ellie spent time with you, it felt as if nothing else mattered—as if nobody else mattered. Neither of you would trade this feeling for anything. In a few months, the feelings between you grew, and you ended up getting together. Ellie was so grateful to have someone like you in her life, and you were grateful for her.

A/n : i've been writing so many diff ideas, idk if this one is my best one out of the bunch but i just wanna share it with y'all

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie tlou2 #tlou x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #ellie williams fanfic

[pallisia]

hi! i didnt realize you were back on tumblr but im really happy to see you working on a new project with such passion! if i may ask, and i realize this might be an eclectic and difficult question to answer, but what was the process of realizing this project like? I read mentions of this first being conceptualized 15 years ago or so, and im curious how the story evolved and changed over time. I dont mean content-wise of course (since im pretty sure you cant talk about the specifics of what actually happens in the story) but in a more general sense of like, how an idea germinates and how you build it up over time, and what sort of decisions in the writing process leads you to making it more of what it currently is. sorry if this is really vague.

the earliest idea for what would become soulsov wasn't much. i had been vaguely imagining an rpg adventure starring two characters i was drawing a lot at the time: loic's daughter and another guy i have not reintroduced yet. I remember daydreaming about them fighting monsters in class.

back then, it was more of a "look at my collection of ocs" kind of project. the characters had elaborate profiles and everything, but i didn't have a coherent story to go with any of it. this is less because i wasn't trying and more because i was a kid who thought in terms of what a story "had" to have rather than what i wanted to write about.

i made cq and gained some experience actually writing stories. proto-soulsov had kind of a revival around 2017, where i thought i wanted to write YA fiction. it was going to be set ~in a world where writing is outlawed.~ loic got arrested for owning a library and his daughter had to save him. it was completely stupid, and i later realized i was still writing for imaginary film execs. however, the earliest concept of a language-based magic system started there, so it wasn't all bad.

eventually, i took a good look at these characters and tried to figure out what i (me) (myself) (only) liked about them. this led to the realization that, at this stage of my life, i was simply more interested in writing about a dad in sexually-charged peril than a shy teenager saving the world. this was when i threw out basically everything else and tried to focus on the dynamic between loic and the character that became ysme. (if you are feeling sorry for loic's daughter in all this, don't; she is also a better character for the shift in perspective.)

basically i gained a better understanding of myself over the years. soulsov is, in many respects, a story about being selfish, but i had to look at it selfishly to realize this. it is for me, but i hope you can enjoy it too.

#txt #soulsov

[phoenixyfriend]

Last night I stayed up until about 4 AM rereading @glimmerglanger's fic "Bush League," and then today I got around to gushing about how their Cody characterization is basically one of the best on AO3 in Discord. Since I like to make sure the people whose fics I like actually hear that love, I'm going to share what I said here.

(Also to convince to read some of their stuff even if you haven't already. CodyWan isn't even in my main ships but I still read their stuff because it's just that good, and also because their Cody is so good.)

This goes out to imo one of the best fic writers I've run across in this fandom.

So to kick this off, I jumped into SW fandom right about when CodyWan was ramping up. I joined Feb/Mar of 2020, and that coincided (though I didn't know it) with the S7 release. That means that the ship was basically everywhere, and a lot of my early fic reads were based off of things that other people recced to me, things linked under cool fanart, things by authors I already knew from other fandoms, or niche trope searches.

Among those early longfics I read were a few glimmerglanger pieces, namely "Like Real People Do" (I don't actually remember how I found this one, it was probably fanart), "A Slow Fall Towards Grace" (through omegaverse filtering), "Flotsam and Jetsam" (tumblr fanart), and "Home on the Range" (don't remember how I found it, probably recced, or after I started following them on tumblr).

Bush League came later but it's also one of the best examples.

So this author is, IMO, really good in general. I don't have the same interps of canon across the board (because Star Wars is massive and you pick and choose your canon because it conflicts with itself, so everyone takes a different road for interp), but objectively, their fics are very solid and internally coherent.

They are particularly good at:

- Subtlety and nuance - Unreliable narration - Small hints of outside events that suggest a fuller universe

What canon gives us about Cody is that he's:

- very competent - well-respected - puts high value on loyalty to his brothers - puts high value on loyalty to his ideals (represented by the Republic) - while he has a dry sense of humor, he's also prone to playing personal things close to the chest (that parts a bit YMMV but it's the vibe I got) - he trusts Rex a nearly insane amount

What glimmerglanger does in their Cody POV fics is play those elements against each other in an understated way that feels genuinely human. Bush League has the main conflict embodied through 'loyalty to ideals' hitting cross-purposes with itself, and 'plays it close to the chest' heightening the problem until something snaps. That Cody's ideals are in conflict because there is what he was instilled with (a significant amount of internalized homophobia and toxic masculinity) and his better sense that he can be better, unlearn some of these things, that maybe his parents weren't right, and that Ben is a swell guy, maybe it's not that big of a deal that Ben likes guys, it's not a huge flaw when he can pitch like that, right

Crucially, lot of it isn't presented consciously. Cody doesn't realize he's unlearning some of those things, that he's subconsciously very aware that the things he was taught are wrong, that he's consciously trying to find compromises in those thoughts because the last eighteen years of things he knows can't be wrong, right?

And of course all this balances with the regular, small reminders that, if he is this thing he was taught is bad, if he is friends with someone that is 'bad,' then he will have one of his primary character traits (loyalty and love for brothers) sabotaged. This is even touched on in the epilogue of the fic.

Honestly, IDK how intentional it was to parallel this sort of denial and internal conflict to "Cody starts to question the structure of the army and has to hide his slow realization that they are slaves, is even in denial about it, because to speak out means to have his authority and influence removed, so he can't even try to keep his brothers safe anymore," ...but that is something I also like to see in Cody characterization, and it's definitely a good parallel if so.

glimmerglanger's skill with nuance and subtlety is something I really appreciate in general, because my focus as a reader tends to be short comedy, which often doesn't have the same room for dynamic, developed characterization. (My other focus is time travel, which runs the gamut, but that's a different rec list.)

I think that, on a casual read, some of their writing can come across as a very 'standard' reading of Cody, but it's never actually flat. The flaws and thought patterns tend to be pretty consistent across works, so even in wild AUs, I have the sense that this is the same person. I'm also a huge believer in how denial, especially characters very consciously not thinking something, can inform a character to the reader, and that's a pretty common thread across their Cody and Anakin POVs (for different reasons).

Flotsam and Jetsam is an interesting one on account of how it's Obi-Wan POV with a massive language barrier (human and merman, English and Mando'a). Cody isn't even conscious for the first part. It's also a fic that benefits a lot from having a canon to base off of without actually taking place in that canon. The reader can guess a whole lot about Cody's situation that Obi-Wan cannot, because we know the structures that are informing the original context, and can guess in a few ways at how they take shape in the new, so even when Cody is largely unable to communicate, the reader gets things out of it.

Anyway, glimmerglanger's Cody is one of my favorites because they manage to juggle all the things I consider core to Cody's character without necessarily having to come out and state them, so even when Cody is dry and private and 'standard,' he still feels like his own fully realized person that's consistent with both canon and with what I'd expect someone in his situation to be and do.

Okay, rant over, I have many feelings and I want to pump up this author as much as possible, go read their stuff, it's good.

#phoenix recs #commander cody #star wars #the clone wars #codywan

[cellsshapedlikestars]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @hilarychuff

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

honestly, I'm sometimes embarrassed by how much I've written in the 3 1/2 years since I started posting. Currently 66

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,350,298. yikes.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

at this point, Jonsa. we do not talk about The Prior Fandom

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

a fairytale ending (by a WIDE margin)

the mating game

take me out

moth's wings

ever fallen in love (on national TV)

(shocker, it's all my romcoms lmao. also, let's not talk about how the top 4 are all fake dating fics. I can't help myself)

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

I try to. I used to do it on all fics, but as discussed above, I'm a wordy bitch and at points responding to all comments on, for example, one shot event fics that I would post back-to-back got overwhelming. So I allowed myself to stop responding to comments on one shots. Recently I had quite the mental health dip and didn't respond to any for a while, but I think I'm back.

Part of the reason I like fandom is the sense of community. I started responding to comments on my first fic because I hadn't resurrected my tumblr from the grave yet, so it was the only way to interact with the fandom. Then I continued to because I appreciated the comments, even if they were simple and I had nothing else to say except thank you. I still try to on chaptered fics because, let's face it, without comments and without community, I wouldn't be posting my stories.

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

probably my WWI one-shot

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

I try to write at least *hopeful* endings for all my fics. I don't know if I can quantify "happiest", because I think that's different for everyone.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

of course. I feel like it's a rite of passage on ao3 to get some shitty hate comments

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

*through clenched teeth* I sure do

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I'm not really a fan of crossovers tbh

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that I'm aware of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

not that I'm aware of

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

nope! I don't think I could tbh. I'm sort of a control freak and I even have problems letting people pre-read things, I have no idea why. I think the only people I've let pre-read anything are @hilarychuff (who is my brainstorm buddy) and @greenhikingboots (who is the reason the last chapter of the ghost inside made any coherent sense)

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I mean, Jonsa. I honestly don't ship that often

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

sigh. white knuckles.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm very fast at it lmao. Like, seriously. I type very fast. I'm also somehow really good at starting a fic off with only an inciting incident, no other real plans, and somehow coming up with a full plot/ending that I'm satisfied with, while posting it as I develop the story

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

outlines. smut.

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

I can barely handle English my guy

19. First fandom you wrote for?

hmmm that depends on what the criteria is. First fandom I wrote for was Sailor Moon, I just never posted it anywhere. Harry Potter was technically the first fandom I posted for, but it was one chapter and I never continued it and I genuinely can't even remember what it was called, all I remember is Harry melted Voldemort with a bucket of soapy water like in the Enchanted Forest Chronicles.

The first fandom I was actually active in and wrote more than just a chapter was... A secret. I'm actually a little embarrassed about it and my fics are still floating around out there and some of them make me cringe sooooo hard. I don't think I've ever admitted to it here on tumblr dot com and I don't think I will now

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

help me out of the shape I'm in

I'm always so anxious about tagging people and leaving people out and making them feel bad, but I'll try to do it anyway. @greenhikingboots @sibyldisobedience @thewolvescalledmehome @esther-dot @periwinkle39 @eruherdiriel and anyone else who wants to do this! (also, no pressure to anyone I did tag lol)

#ask game