#and he also gets a free passage to live in my head rent free | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angeart · 5 months

Note

And 29!

--from ao3 wrapped [writers edition]

29: Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

this is a very interesting question! and also very difficult, given the amount of things i've written in combination with my bad memory. so of course i went and dug through things, overthinking this, even though, really, i know exactly what to answer. still, let me take the long route. (because i'm an idiot and there's no other way.)

so first i'll ramble about things i like.

starting with the phrase that always makes me weak, and i don't think i use it enough, but characters just dissipating into giggles—that exact wording. like. c'mon. that. whenever i get to use it, i'm so happy. it's such a lack of control and overflow of joy. the best thing ever.

but if we move into specific passages... (i go on a bit of a tangent, so the rest is under the line-) (dancing scene at the end there and a bit of a hmtb spoiler/sneakpeek/preview for you guys)

i looked over the cursed forest au fic (even with death haunting your footsteps, your flowers will bloom again), looking for pretty sentences, and the problem is, that fic is full of pretty sentences. (i honestly don't know how i did that, but it does make me happy.) something about words like the warzone of his good intentions, you know? (i had more. i'm trying to be concise.) (i promise.)

but really, there's one phrase in that fic that i do think about sometimes still. so it needs to be mentioned. here:

It still hurts, to be treated so gently, but unlike everything else, it hurts in a way he thinks he might be able to survive.

------

i also want to bring up a sentence from Elegy that lives in my head rent-free (this is from chapter 3, which i'm aware is unreleased as of now, but shh):

The grief is a guillotine, and he’s bending forward, hair falling away from his neck, baring skin and bracing for impact.

there's just something about that that refuses to let me go.

------

but! i also enjoyed writing happy things. (shocking)

especially this passage from these flowers will wither (like you and me), but they're not dead yet was very fun to write:

Grian grins at him, something bright and cheeky. “Do you want to try that again?”

There’s a pause when Scar attempts to recalibrate. (He fails.) (He absolutely fails.)

He tries to grab something rational in him, tries to tell himself that Grian means dancing. But his traitorous heart supplies a wholly different answer to him.

Scar pushes himself up and, with fingers sliding along Grian’s jaw, he presses his lips to Grian’s.

(They’re warm. They’re chapped. They’re Grian Grian Grian Grian.)

He feels the vibration of Grian’s laughter against him before he really registers the sound.

“That’s not what I meant,” Grian scolds, but there’s no bite in it; he sounds entirely too pleased and amused, even as he piles a handful of sand on top of Scar’s head in playful revenge.

------

and this honestly now brings me to hmtb. which is where we anchor.

believe it or not, there is a happy scene that i can't stop thinking about (just the sheer power of it, across all the pain and messes and saddness—scar making grian laugh like this.)

------ hmtb chapter 49:

Scar looks at him innocently and presents his question: “What is a romp, Impulse?”

Grian bursts out laughing.

A big, toothy grin spreads across Scar’s face at the sound.

Impulse’s eyes briefly flit to Mumbo and he feels his face get hot. “I— What— That’s not fair!” he whines. “That’s not a truth, that’s a, Scar, I’m not a dictionary!”

At that, Grian laughs harder, bending over. His giggles tip over proper cackling, a bit breathless around the edges, and Scar thinks it’s the most wonderful sound in the whole world.

------ and of course this moment from chapter 47:

Neither of them can help it; their lips treacherously stretch into smiles where they’re pressed against each other, before they both helplessly dissipate into giggles, feeling lightheaded and high.

“What are we doing,” Grian huffs out through his laughter.

“Kissing,” Scar replies cheerfully and demonstratingly places three kisses along Grian’s jaw.

It’s the best thing in the world.

------

bet you didn't expect me to pull out the happy scenes out of this mess of a fic. ha.

but also! one the things i really like and enjoy is throwing anything to do with explosives, tnt, fire, etc, at scar and grian. like this:

Skin tingling and heart feeling like TNT on the verge of explosion, Scar moves to follow him, blindly, willingly, the way he’d follow him anywhere.

and this:

Watching him, Scar laughs quietly. He thinks of the sound the flint and steel makes, of the little click, of the hiss of TNT as it readies itself to cause damage. It sounds like his heart feels. He thinks of sparks that catch on leaves and grass and bark, a tree going up in flames, the catastrophic heat spreading violently to anything it touches, and he wonders if that is how Grian’s heart feels.

------

now, since i'm already rambly. there is one bit of hmtb i keep thinking back to constantly. and it's a particular conversation from chapter 21 (the talk in the middle of a crisis). this bit in particular:

“He wasn’t afraid then. He knew you could kill him, but he wasn’t scared. And you know what, Grian? You didn’t kill him,” he finishes softly.

“I… didn’t kill him?” Grian repeats, dazed and wobbly.

“He wasn’t scared, and you didn’t kill him”

(you guys should keep this in mind too. it might get a callout sometime, uhhhhh, around chapter 100 or so at this rate—)

(don't worry about that, ofc.)

and now for the real answer. (wow.)

because here's the thing. you're asking what's my favourite passage. and really, i love all those other things too, but there's one particular bit of writing that hits closer than any other.

the dancing bits.

the heartachy, complicated, painful dancing bits.

and yes, this ties to the whole fic i wrote about them dancing in the desert, but listen. the purely-hmtb bits? those? those. okay?

here we go:

------ hmtb chapter 37: call of the desert

Scar sighs a little and says: “I miss it.”

“Scar,” Grian’s voice is absolutely unsteady.

They haven’t really talked about the desert, not since it was over.

Nobody ever talks about life games, if they can avoid it.

But now Grian sits here and he has to forcefully remind himself that the skin over his knuckles isn’t torn raw and that Scar’s blood isn’t coating his hands and he has to accept that Scar misses the desert and Grian also misses it, in a way, and it’s all so dizzying, it makes him lightheaded.

“We used to dance,” Scar says thoughtfully. “Why don’t we do it anymore?”

“I forgot how,” Grian barely manages to get out. He didn’t forget. In fact, he remembers every step Scar taught him. He remembers them stumbling together into a fall, a small giggling heap on top of the warm sand, limbs tangled. He remembers the moment when Scar grinned wildly at him, joy bright in his eyes, as they completed a couple of steps without a hitch for the first time. He remembers how they laughed and danced, giddy and high on life in a world that promised nothing but death.

He doesn’t want to remember. It hurts his heart.

“I can teach you again,” Scar suggests softly.

The pain in Grian’s heart just gets worse.

Scar reaches for Grian’s hand, then. Even if they’re both sitting on Grian’s bed and they can’t dance like this, he still slides his fingers underneath Grian’s palm and brings it up, in exactly the same way he held it when they danced. With curved lips, he hums a melody.

Grian looks at him, absolutely wretched. His hand twitches in Scar’s grasp, but he doesn’t pull it away. “Scar,” he half-whispers, in a miserable tone. He meant to say stop, but he can’t bring himself to. So he just pleads, using Scar’s name itself, hoping the other man will get it.

Scar studies Grian for a second, before he lowers their hands. He huffs out a small laugh. “It’s okay. We can leave it for some other time.”

Grian purses his lips. He doesn’t say there won’t be another time. He doesn’t say he doesn’t want this. He doesn’t say that something in him desperately wants this, actually, please Scar please.

------

but, you know what. it isn't over.

this answer has been long enough. i know. i know. (i appreciate and love everyone who bothered to read this far <3 ) but. but there's more.

there is more, and it's so closely related, these scenes are entwined and live snugly side-by-side in my heart. but. here's the thing.

this next bit is 1,2k long, and it's from a chapter that, as of now, hasn't been released yet. for the curious, greedy, hungry souls (love you all to bits), here it is:

------ hmtb chapter [unspecified]

Scar blinks and recalibrates under the scrutiny. His eyes dart to the jukebox and he lets a smile spread across his lips, as he reaches out a hand to Grian. “Hey, G, you wanna dance?”

Grian’s eyes widen a fraction, thrown off by the abrupt suggestion. “I’m… not sure,” he manages to say, eyes dropping to Scar’s invitingly outstretched hand, palm-up and ready for him.

His emotions wrangle in him—a need to be close, to give in, to accept everything Scar’s giving him, pushed violently against the sharp memories of sand and desert, something happy tiding over into blood and pain and misery.

He flexes his fingers, pulls them into a fist and then stretches them out, trying to unknot the tension and release the slight tremble that courses through them. His throat feels dry, all of a sudden.

“It’s okay,” Scar says in the softest tone that never fails to tug at Grian’s heart. “I can lead.”

The music turns mildly cacophonic, askew and sick. It buzzes and pitches and tilts, in a way music isn’t supposed to be able to. And Grian realises that he’s told Scar before that he forgot how to dance.

Scar taught him all the steps, back in the desert. A lot of hours spent in the stifling air upon sun-warmed evening sand, stumbling and laughing and holding onto each other. Their skin was more tanned then. Their eyes were brighter, their souls wilder. They felt unstoppable.

Grian feels anything but right now.

He doesn’t know if he can take it.

But Scar’s reaching out to him and Grian finds that he cannot turn away from it, his body shackled and chained, unable to resist. And so even if everything in him screams no, he still finds himself reaching back, meeting Scar’s hands with his own trembling fingers, trepidation sinking its teeth into him.

Scar’s smile brightens and oh, maybe it’s not trepidation that Grian feels.

He feels Scar’s fingers take hold of his hand, secure and warm; they pull at him, but not in a destabilising way. It’s the opposite: they tell Grian exactly where to be. Scar’s other arm finds Grian torso and seamlessly slides across to his back, sending shivers down Grian’s spine; his wings stretch out and shudder, before they fall back, feathers lightly brushing over Scar’s skin.

Everything about this is electrifying, and it’s driving Grian haywire.

He thinks maybe he needs to stop thinking. Maybe he needs to give in to the part of him that wants to let Scar have control of the two of them now; the part of him that wants to trust and believe that he’s safe; the part of him that craves affection with ugly, hungry desperation.

Scar leans closer and with a rumbling baritone wrapped in velvet, he checks: “Ready?”

Running on nothing but instinct, Grian squeezes at Scar’s hand.

With a low chuckle, Scar lets go of Grian’s back and Grian almost gasps at the abrupt loss—but all Scar does is guide Grian’s free hand to his waist. “Like this,” he murmurs, his voice just a step away from purring, and then his hand slots back against Grian’s spine.

A trembling breath leaves Grian’s lips and he dips his head, leaning forwards, inching closer to Scar. He feels the response in the way Scar’s touch on his back turns firm, accepting the new closeness with reverent neediness. He can’t see Scar’s face, but he can tell Scar’s lips are curved in a smile, cheeks slightly dimpling.

He almost wishes to look, but he can’t, he can’t, it’s too much.

He takes a deep breath though his nose. The air isn’t dry and hot. The ground doesn’t shift underneath his feet.

It hasn’t shifted underneath his feet in ages, but right now in this very moment, a part of Grian distantly thinks that it should. That if they’re going to dance, it should be atop a mountain, feet sinking into sand.

They’re standing on carpeted floor, and the music disc is one they didn’t have in the desert, the sounds of it wrapping around them in a rhythm completely discordant to the fast beating of Grian’s heart.

With gentle and deliberate move, Scar directs them to sway. Their feet shift, steady on the solid floor, something learned and simple. Scar leads them in careful, basic steps, the ones he used at the very beginning to teach Grian. Back when even that was too much, and Grian kept stepping on his feet, and Scar kept catching him.

Scar doesn’t need to catch Grian now, because Grian knows these steps. They’re imbued in his muscle memory, something sunken and anchored, a part of his soul that’s reserved for things that feel like home.

Testingly, Scar throws in something more complex. He pulls Grian along, turning them in circles, every step confident and filled with joy. The music is the background rhythm, but they’re both locked somewhere else, in a fragment of a memory—something that used to be; something that Scar believes could be again.

With a curve to his lips, Scar hums and remarks: “You said you don’t remember.”

Grian’s breath hitches and it’s only now that he lifts his head to meet Scar’s gaze. Despite that, his feet do not stumble; he doesn’t need to watch where he steps, he knows it all by heart. His gaze anchors in green eyes and something rises within him so tidally and overwhelmingly that he feels hot wetness blur his vision all of a sudden. “How could I forget?” he manages past the lump in his throat.

Scar gently lets go of Grian’s hand and instead reaches to touch Grian’s jaw, brushing his thumb soothingly over Grian’s cheek as he takes in the raw, ravaging emotion in Grian’s eyes.

Grian moves his suddenly free arm around Scar, fingers finding purchase in the fabric of Scar’s shirt, digging into it until he has a firm grip. His lungs spasm in his chest, his heart stutters, his wings droop then lift and spread. A loose feather drops to the floor and Scar sidesteps it expertly, as if it was somehow too precious to damage.

“You remember,” Scar murmurs, an odd inflection to his voice.

Grian’s skin buzzes where Scar touches it; a tingling, warm sensation spreads from Scar’s fingertips and robs Grian of breath. “Of course,” he murmurs, quiet, destabilised.

Scar’s eyes crinkle in joy, lips spreading into a bright, toothy smile that ends in dimpled skin as he looks at Grian. He makes no attempt to call out Grian’s earlier lie; he seems content in knowing that this is the truth, warm and alive underneath his fingers, guided by his steps. “Oh, I wouldn’t mind teaching you again, but this makes me so happy!” he admits openly, fractionally heightening their tempo as he leads them in spinning circles, everything in him attuned to the music even as it becomes nothing more than a background noise.

Grian isn’t ready for those words. Nor for the way Scar looks at him.

He feels like he’s drowning, and Scar’s both his sea and his oxygen.

Scar starts humming in tune, the happy expression lingering on his face, and it’s only then that the discordant rhythm of the song disentangles and starts making sense to Grian. It’s only the reverb of Scar’s voice that puts coherency into Grian’s existence; into their steps across the carpet that doesn’t give underneath their weight; into the way the room sways around them, full of warm shadows and flickering flames and muted colours not quite matching sand.

20 notes · View notes

rriavian · 8 months

Note

Dear rriavian, as always your words give me a lot of food for thought!

"perhaps the Corinthian also refuses to let others touch it, refuses to touch others with it on" THIS! One of my favourite headcanons is exactly this: the Corinthian, despite all he has done, is still extremely proud of owning the ring and won't allow it to be touched/taken away/jokes made about how much this old antique ring contrasts with his look (scene: next victim. The Corinthian, being the good predator that he is, is playing a bit before getting the things serious. At one point the guy says something like "why are you wearing this old ring? Was it your grandmother's?" and tries to pull it off. The Corinthian goes from charmingly smiling mode to berserk mode because nobody.touches.his.fucking.ring.

"The Corinthian can divorce it from reality, from the truth of what Dream might really say/do, can have a private fantasy of his creator all his own for whatever scenario he wants" oh this is an extremely refined passage! the ring as a kind of mirror in which the Corinthian's fantasies are reflected and amplified: the fantasies, the stories he would like to tell not as an actor lead by a 'director' but as a 'director' himself. Under this interpretation, I like to think that the ring can almost become a tool for creating stories that may run the risk of turning into parallel worlds.

"Despite all else, or alongside all else, he was convinced that he was still doing what he was made for...just in the Waking World. There's a bit of contrast with the other things he said (wanting to taste what it is to be human) but perhaps that was what the Corinthian was also seeking from his role as a nightmare" and from this point of view the ring becomes the material representation of this contrast that underlies the Corinthian character: wanting to be a creature endowed with free will only then to obey, in the end, banally, at the instincts and drives of his nightmarish, predatory nature (is the 'here on the waking world we are invincible' vs 'I've done my best to be what you made me'). Perhaps he thinks he wears the ring, even after the terrible betrayal, as a brazen demonstration of his will (hey Dream, look: despite this obvious, material bond between us I can do whatever I want) only to realize later, maybe unconsciously, that he has kept that ring on his finger because without it, without that bond, the Corinthian cannot exist.

Your post was just so good! That ring has now been living rent free in my head all day. And combined with another fic idea I already had half mapped out.

(Also my reply got long again I'm so sorry)

To answer your first point - yes!! He is proud to own the ring! The Corinthian’s reverse possessiveness for Dream is one of the things I adore. There’s a strange sort of feedback loop of ownership here, they both lay claim to the other and are claimed in return, and they both enjoy pushing the limits of both. Ahh! New fic idea there too! Anyone touches the ring and it’s instant berserk mode.

Anyone insults the ring and they might just draw the wrong sort of attention.

It's also a way to maintain consistency. The Corinthian changes a lot through the decades in the Waking World, his appearance moves along with the times, aligning with humanity to blend it. But the ring? The ring stays. It remains the same. It’s a cornerstone. If someone knew what it was they’d know exactly what he is. And the Corinthian wears it so openly, wears it and none of these mortals have a clue. Perhaps a little bit of defiance against them too? He has to blend in, hide his eyes, but he doesn’t have to hide the ring.

Identity can still be displayed.

Now for your second point. Thank you!! I spent a little bit of time trying to word what I meant for this point. Your addition is very apt, he can indeed act as a director rather than just an actor, can rewrite the script as he pleases and then play it out. Ooh if it had that power how interesting would that be? Dream somehow hopping through those worlds like flicking through pages of a book finding all the stories the Corinthian created when he was in the Waking World.

Dream would find that very interesting.

Onto the third. There is a lot of contrast there. It's between competing instincts and desires, competing facets of his nature, but there is something else in that too. As much as the Corinthian wants to taste humanity, he doesn’t have the instincts of a human or the nature of one. He says he wants free will, and acts to take it, but he doesn’t want it like a human. Despite what he says about tasting humanity, the Corinthian wants free will like a nightmare. And he takes it like one. He wants to live out the instincts and drives of his nature to the fullest and sees that as the natural extent of how Dream made him.

It links back to the ownership/possessiveness idea in the first point…the Corinthian doesn’t mind being ‘owned’ or wanted. A human might feel dehumanized/objectified but the Corinthian doesn't have a human identity to be stripped away. So yes he wants free will...

But he wants it in a certain way.

It's inevitable for the Corinthian’s identity to be wrapped up in how/why Dream made him, and rejecting it is just rejecting himself, and he can’t do that. There’s nothing to replace it with, nothing he wants to replace it with, because the Corinthian enjoys what he was made for. He didn’t go into the Waking World and settle down peacefully, no, he embraced killing. Again, the ring as a cornerstone for identity can come back into play here. It’s brazen demonstration of the Corinthian’s will, but in a way he still believes (in some ways) aligns with Dream’s. Perhaps he's going a step further…”hey look at me enact your will better”. “Look at how my interpretation is superior to yours.”.

It's "you made me this and I will be it how I want to".

It could be compared to interpretations of religion, how gods are, in many ways, entirely absent from how their will is administered. The divine decisions are left in the hands of man, the law enacted by man, and punishment (in this world at least) decreed by man. The Corinthian could be said to be usurping Dream in a similar way. Except instead of a holy text to preach from, to claim the authority to interpret, the Corinthian has himself. And a ring.

#the corinthian #dream of the endless #I'm so sorry this answer got so so long

24 notes · View notes

historia-vitae-magistras · 4 months

Note

Zee had seen horrors she and Arthur had never been willing or able to put into more words than "I didn't think it would be like that, Dad," and "I know, dear girl," As he held his youngest in a grip like a vice.

Sobbing Arthur and Zee have my entire heart. It's super fucked up because empire-and-colony dynamics, but that softness is still there and it kills me. She's a colony, literally born to enrich him and spill blood for him, but she's also his little girl and he doesn't want her to have gone through that.

Jack had never had a temper that lasted before the war. Zee had never had open disrespect. They had never come to shouting matches.

I'm still hung up on your post about how Jack never truly came back from Gallipoli. Their family was fucked up from the beginning but WWI made it both worse and clearer. Arthur's thinking so much about how much they all suffered but it seems like he can't bring himself to acknowledge that it's his fault.

They had been easier to deal with than Matthew.

That stabbed me. His sunny boy never came home and his darling girl stopped being so (outwardly) sweet... but that was easier than what he turned Matt into.

Whatever about conscription that had snapped him out of place and left him broken was already inherent to the weak nature of the piece of the French empire he had inherited. That's what they had decided a century ago, and that was the end.

There's a lot here that I can't really articulate so I'm just going to kind of list things. Arthur and Matt "deciding" what had broken in Matt. Blaming it on his French-ness, just like they've all blamed everything on forever, even though it's the stiff-upper-lip Anglo Protestant work ethic that gets him a lot of the time. "that was the end." The whole "we decided that's the problem and that's it" being an expression of the Anglo repression and demands that's the real cause even as they're deciding that it's actually the French aspect.

I just... there's a lot of self loathing and go-along-to-get-along on Matt's part, and a lot of unwillingness to face things lest he find himself responsible on Arthur's part wrapped up in that passage.

All of them had suffered the results of conscription. A crisis in Australia resulted in him never passing involuntary service. Zee had, but it did little. The riots in Quebec were no worse or better than any other. And unlike the rest, Matthew had gone home to a peaceful world with access to Alfred's deep pockets. He'd been fine. Fine. Just fine.

The denial is tangible. Arthur has to convince himself that nothing worse than usual happened and Matt recovered fine and most of all that it's not his fault, because Arthur Kirkland does not admit mistakes. But he knows, even if Matt never says it, even if Matt goes along with the "it's the weak Frenchness" narrative, that Matt was not fine, still isn't entirely fine, and it's at least partially because of Arthur.

And now I'm wondering if he has to convince himself Matt came out fine because Jack and Zee didn't - like he can't deal with having traumatized all three of the children still in his care so thoroughly, so Matt has to be fine despite any evidence to the contrary.

Arthur is very much my favorite character because he and his relationships are so complex, and you capture everything so wonderfully. This piece was so amazing and has been living rent-free in my head all month.

ALL OF THIS THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. im just aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh

#the ask box || probis pateo #why i write #naxos

13 notes · View notes

ralphlanyon · 10 months

Note

For the TC ask game: 2, 6, 10, 15, 17, 22, and 24!

2. Scene that lives in your head rent free.

So many! But I'll go with "Come and say goodbye to me," which speaks for itself.

6. Wackiest (but hilarious) Laurie opinion™.

Laurie trying to convince himself that Ralph and Bunny are happily in love despite all evidence to the contrary and that he isn't incredibly jealous and resentful of Bunny!

10. Laurie/Andrew and Laurie/Ralph: discuss.

Obviously I'm a Ralph Lanyon and Ralph/Laurie girlie through and through! I think they are just extremely similar and compatible, in terms of their personalities, their idealism, their values, their sense of humor, their beliefs and attitudes towards queerness and towards the war, their past trauma, their need to be needed, their intense loneliness and desire for intimacy and affection (and of course Renault makes it clear that they are very sexually compatible). They also both understand what it's like to be abandoned by a parent, to become permanently and visibly disabled by war injury, and to not feel a sense of belonging or attachment to anywhere. So many themes and parallels with their relationship - it makes the literature nerd in me happy. 🤩

Laurie/Andrew doesn't have nearly the same emotional pull for me, although intellectually I get its place in the novel and Laurie's development. Part of it is that for most of the book Laurie seems to be unconsciously projecting his fantasy of school-age Ralph onto Andrew (as well as various moral ideals), so I never felt like I got to truly know Andrew as a person (or that Laurie did, for that matter), just what Laurie thinks he is, or ought to be. It's not an accident I think that Andrew is the same age as Ralph when we first meet him (and when Laurie last sees him at school) and that he often feels less a fully fleshed out character than an ideal Laurie carries in his head.

15. At which point did you know TC was going to be One Of Those Books for you?

Haha, I will have you know that the first time I read the book, I was being perfectly normal about it up until the party chapter, and then Ralph showed up again and ruined my life and now I'm here eight years later still totally obsessed! If it had ended unhappily with Ralph dying or Laurie and Ralph not getting back together (which would have been the conventional Queer Novel ending back then), I probably would have just moved on, but it had the temerity to actually end on a hopeful/happy note so I guess I'm just going to be invested forever.

17. Most ??? passage (ambiguous/unclear/etc)

"As Laurie got up he found he was levering himself on a pile of hymn books; some almost submerged tactile memory remarked, Ancient and Modern, not Songs of Praise." I was not Raised In A Christian Home and still do not get why that distinction is at all relevant, lol.

22. What was the soldier at the party about to reveal about Alec/Ralph?

Hmm, I actually didn't interpret it as being about Alec/Ralph specifically, just about Ralph! I thought he was going to drop some salacious gossip about Ralph's sex life or kinks - like "The man acts all uptight and strait-laced, disapproving of everything going on here, but I hear this is how he really behaves when he's in bed..." And then Laurie cuts him off with, "I've known him for years," which the soldier interprets as, "I've slept with him," prompting him to ask Laurie for confirmation if the sex gossip about Ralph is true.

24. Most surprisingly modern aspect of TC.

I guess actually acknowledging that bisexuality exists, even briefly? Ralph rattling off the historical figures he considers bisexuals and Ralph and Laurie talking about Shakespeare being "normal plus, not minus" amusingly remind me of how queer people nowadays discuss their favorite queer historical icons.

#the charioteer #ask #ask meme #mademoiselle-red

17 notes · View notes

majorproblems77 · 6 months

Note

For the commentary ask game this fic from your whumptober Is the latest living rent free in my head

Another bolt of lightning cracked open the sky. Flashing through his eyes as memories surfaced. The shadow of pain exploded through his right arm as he held it. He could feel Fi pulsing calming thoughts on his back. The gentle strumming of the goddess harp flowed through his ears as she tried to soothe him.

He had to stand up. Please. Sky. Stand. Up. Maybe you should breathe. Deep breaths Sky.

He couldn’t, he couldn’t as much as he tried. He couldn’t.

The rain battered him more and more, soaking his clothes, and weighing him down like a boulder was forced on his chest. Lightning flashed across the sky and thunder rolled across the air as the storm continued in intensity. The sky blackened more as lightning continued to flash in his eyes. The scars on his right arm flared as he could feel the burning.

“My hate… never perishes. It is born anew in a cycle with no end.”

No…

No no no no. He was dead. Demise was dead. He couldn’t be speaking. His breathing quickened as his body began to shake. Please. Please.

A sound in the distance. Four feet, running.

“Sky?”

A voice broke through the rain. The sound of Hooves as something galloped across it. There was something else as well, but he couldn’t quite make it out.

“Sky? Where are you?!”

Who could that be? It didn’t sound like Twilight, and he was one of only a few of them who could ride.

“Sky! Sky can you hear me!?”

Time. Time had come looking for him.

“Sky?! Oh, Hylia above! Sky!”

He couldn’t look up, he was so cold. Fear had crept into the deepest depths of his soul. The lightning, the flashes, the pain. Demise would come for him. He felt himself shiver, his hair sticking to his face as the storm continued its never-ending assault on his mind and body.

He heard a transformation, a second form appearing in the rain. Lantern light illuminating the area around them. “Sweet Ordonia…” The rancher's voice was quiet, not usual for him.

Oh man, living rent free huh? Are you thinking how i could continue it? Cause I am.

Stormy Skies, Panicked heart

This is easily one of my faves!!!!!!!! Thanks for your interest, oh I'm excited to get into this one!

Okay, Okay. So I love this piece in general, and it's probably one of my fave if not my fave Whumptober story that I did this year. Like oh man I love it.

This particular passage, I'm gonna explain in the two half's. The bit with Sky on his own. And the bit where he begins to hear Time and Twilight looking for him.

This is a long one again! And is a little all over the place cause its more rambly than my normal answer posts. Because I am chaos. So we go for the feed saver again :)

Alright, We begin!!!

So Sky's section.

We should all know by now how much I love bullying the boy. The sweet Blorbo beloved. And this is another example, yes Sky is a god killer, Yes he's arguably the most powerful of the chain, only possibly matched by Time if someone had to try. But the man is still going to have some form of insecurities. Much the same with Legend. Storms are always a good one to work with generally because you can do a lot with the descriptors to change the feeling. I love working with weather in general, but I don't do it very often cause it's easy to lose your footing. (Or at least I know I can get carried away when using them.)

My thought process went to, how can I make this show how afraid. Something that shows just how afraid he is of what Demise did to him. Just cause demise died and he didn't, the Link that went into that fight was not the same one that left it. The scars on his arms and across his body are clear examples of that.

I am in the camp of Sky's Triforce Symbol being on his right hand, and that also being his main hand in combat. Unlike the others. who all have it on their left. So the scaring on his arm caused by the energy and pure power and hate that he would have had to fight during his fight has left magical scaring on his arm that flares in thunderstorms.

What's going on in Sky's head?

Well, thats in the passage. It makes the writing a little confusing to follow, I've been told in the past, but it shows precisely how muddled this storm has made him. Flipping from what is the narrator to his mind and back again, I hope makes you think more and more.

In the last section, I tried to make the sentences a short as I could. As his panic and fear reach what I would dictate as the peak during this story. He is afraid, he is lost and he needs help.

Now we get Time and Twilight

Fun fact, when I originally drafted this, I had Time and Wild/Warriors looking for Sky. It seemed like a weird combo but it was mainly cause they could all ride horses. I switched to Twilight relatively late in the draft as I felt it just worked better. Wolfie is fast, and Time with Epona would know the field better than anyone else. Wolfie is also a wolf. And you know. Is a good boy and can find things with scent.

It was also changed cause I wanted more interaction with these three. They need more.

This second section is more broken up than the first part, as to distinguish the thoughts to the narrators. Sky's thoughts are also a little more put together. As the voice breaks through the rain which essentially makes a curtain. Then the lamp light to make that break a little clearer.

Now, Sky recognises it's Time. Thats on its own between two patches of dialogue, both of which are from Time. The next form of movement is a shiver. where he was shaking before. It brings him back to his reality. He's cold. Stuck in the storm. As he's on the ground. Weighed down by fear.

Now Sky is still not out of the woods. He is still gripped by panic and fear, but something in him feels a little safer. And so lets them do what they must.

Generally, I've tried to leave this Fic a little open-ended, so I could continue it. (Mainly cause after the shenanigans that were whumptober I need to write me some fluff.) And this fic is the perfect one to do so!

I think thats everything? Any questions please ask!

Oh, this was fun!

Thanks for the ask! I love talking about my works!

#Aj beloved!#Corner answers with major #This was fun!#I'll do it more #i love it #A look into my chaotic thought process while bullying the blorbo #>:)#Stormy skies #writing #creative writing #ask box game #Writers commentary game #ramble corner with major

2 notes · View notes

kanerallels · 1 year

Note

10, 18, and 28 for the writing asks!

10: Has a piece of writing ever "haunted" you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you? I'd say... definitely yes to the first, and maybe to the second one. To me it means it lives rent free in my head, but not in the normal way. It kinda seeps into your bones, and you think about it all the time (for instance, the song "How Do I Say Goodbye" by Dean Lewis. I'm Not Normal about that song)

18: Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Oooh this is a tough one. Oh! I had this scene in "This Is The Story Of How I Died" where Ezra Force Heals Kanan, paralleling where Rapunzel heals Eugene at the end of Tangled. Originally, he used his Force healing a lot earlier, but I decided to save it for a dramatic reveal at the end! As with a lot of scenes in that fic, I came up with it because I wanted something that paralleled a part in Tangled!

28: Who is the most delightful character you've ever written? Why? Honestly, it could be Ezra Bridger. I never get tired of writing that kid. He's funny and snarky, but also so kind and caring. I love him so much. But of my OCs, it's either Jill Archer (my DARLING child. She is so chaotic) or Anton Elliot, because he cracks me up

Writing ask game!!

#thanks for the ask!!#writing ask game #ask game

5 notes · View notes

amethystina · 2 years

Note

have you see this yohan x gaon edit to isak danielson's power?? this has been on loop, rent free in my head, for WEEKS.. truly unparalleled vibes, just like what who holds the devil did to me 🥲

Hello there, Anon! No, I have not had the pleasure of seeing it before! So thank you very much for showing it to me — that was GLORIOUS. I mean, those lyrics, the chosen clips, the tension? Absolutely pitch-perfect. I loved it and I assure you that it’ll be living rent free in my head as well from here on out. BEAUTIFUL.

It also made me think of a passage from chapter 22 (that I might be able to post tomorrow? Maybe?) on the subject of the power they have over each other:

Finally, with stunning clarity, Ga On realized the true depth of the warning Lawyer Ko had given him all those weeks ago.

Lawyer Ko had urged Ga On to be careful not only for his own sake, but Yo Han’s as well. Because if Ga On got hurt, Yo Han wouldn’t hesitate to wreak absolute havoc upon the world. He would lash out with swift, merciless vengeance, heedless of what it might demand out of him — not even caring if he caused himself irrevocable damage.

Ga On still had the power to break Yo Han.

The thought was dizzying — frightening — and more than Ga On knew how to handle. He didn’t want that kind of power — had never asked to be one of Yo Han’s weaknesses — but also knew there was nothing he could do about that now. It was already too late, their lives too entwined. Just like Soo Hyun had been willing to give all that she was to protect Ga On, Yo Han wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice his own humanity to avenge him.

If Ga On got hurt, it would break Yo Han, one way or another.

Because this fic needed to get even more emotional, I guess? But, honestly, I’m in favour of almost anything that makes Ga On realise that taking care of himself and being more cautious is a Good Idea. I don’t even care if I have to use Yo Han’s well-being and humanity as leverage.

All is fair in love and fanfics.

#Amethystina Replies #Anonymous #Who Holds the Devil #Yes #I've finally managed to write the goddamn chapter #Which is no small feat since I'm sick again #Just a common cold but still #I'm hoping to get the last of the edits done so I can post it tomorrow #But we'll see if the fever allows it #Enjoy the small excerpt in the meantime

13 notes · View notes

haeresyys · 1 year

Text

Gonna just rattle off some of my general Dottore thoughts + headcanons here

THIS IS KINDA LONG LMAO I’M SO SORRY IN ADVANCE ENJOY MY FUCKIN... MADDENED RAMBLINGS IG??? This bitch has been living rent free in my fucking head for months now and I don’t know how to evict him

We haven't gotten confirmation either way on how the Segments work I don't think, so I'm headcanoning them as at least partially organic until further notice jgksdjgk

Also I know we got that shot of that weird THING where Dottore's eyes should be when his model got posted, but you can pry red-eyed Dottore from my cold dead hands !!!!

(I personally think they just fucking slapped some textures under there because we're not supposed to see what his eyes look like yet. Think Kaeya's eye under the patch)

The way I draw him, he does have scars around his eyes underneath his mask, though I've probably tweaked how they look about half a dozen times by now. I'll post him later probably

My idea with that oneshot I wrote is that, despite his best efforts not to, Dottore is still capable of feeling emotions. Beyond basic things such as anger though he is... Not very well in touch with them. He insists he doesn't feel guilt in disposing of the other Segments. (If anything he almost sounded happy abt it while talking to Nahida bc it sounds like they never shut the fuck up lmfao) It only starts to sink in that maybe he does have some regrets when he starts having those nightmares.

He had countless pairs of eyes to give himself different views of the world, and now he only has himself. But he keeps pushing onward and shoving it back down, because to accomplish his goals, no length is too far. Dottore is completely and utterly ruthless, I think we all know this by now.

That also lends credence to how he could end up playable as well. I personally see him eventually getting a Cryo Vision, as (iirc) it's been shown that basically every Cryo user we've gotten so far has gotten theirs due to family conflict. And when you think about it, what he did to the Segments could be interpreted as him effectively killing his brethren or maybe some kind of extremely convoluted suicide WHDFHDSF it could honestly go either way

It's still too early to say on the Vision front tho lmfao it'll likely be a good year before he's playable

Moving back onto the Segments for a moment, the reason he gives in-game for creating them is... A lot more understandable than I expected. Giving himself multiple views of the world and effectively stopping time for that version of himself. The lengths he goes to in pursuit of knowledge are genuinely fucking impressive, and also go to show how utterly unhinged he is.

I saw this on Twitter first, but Dottore is extremely focused on preserving the past. Even outside of the Segments, there's lore in artifact descriptions and the like that point back to him as well, and though he keeps it under tight wraps, his conversation with Nahida gives a lot more insight into his mindset + who he is as a person than at first glance.

He says it himself: Humans have a hard time making peace with themselves. Wouldn't that also imply things like the passage of time? Growing older, and one's own mortality?

CHRIST I KNOW THIS IS A LOT BUT I THINK DOTTORE IS THE MOST INVESTED I'VE BEEN IN A CHARACTER IN A LONG FUCKING TIME LOL I AM FILLED WITH THOUGHTS™

There's a lot of potential with his character, and I think that's part of why I love him so much. He's just so fucking fascinating to me. Like. I know I haven't done RP shit in a long ass time (definitely FAR less than I used to), but Dottore is the closest thing I've had to a muse in years. Getting into his head is so unbelievably fucking fun for me

Anyway rant over lmfao back to your regularly scheduled whatever

#babbles #Jace writes #Dottore

7 notes · View notes

plothooksinc · 1 year

Note

7 and 15 for the ask meme! Also you've already said it for yourself, but I want you to know the shaft scene of Underdark lives in my head rent-free. Everything from the moment the train lights pass overhead to the moment Mikey has to climb back out of the shaft with Leo tied to his back. That's like a chapter and a half, I'm sure 50% sure, but I remember like it's been painted on my memory.

me, the author, typing away: oh god this is so STRESSFUL I wonder what happens next

Glad that's someone else's favourite ♥

7. What’s a trope you love to write?

Too many to count. I know I definitely round back to the same ones a lot, but I think the one I love to write (because now that I think about it I do this a lot lmao) it's > take hero and handicap in some way (whether literally or he's just out of his depth) > hero gets underestimated > hero proceeds to think outside the box and kick your ass with whatever improvised tactic comes to hand Because I LOVE ME SOME INTELLIGENT CHARACTERS and I do this in just about everything, and it may be a direct response to being tired of watching otherwise competent characters get damselled and lie around helpless when they really shouldn't be. (The flip side is if I actually do damsel someone they are fucked up to a level where they Literally Cannot and they will probably fight all the way down to that level because it's the only way to stop my brain from going "but they could do this and--")

I first did that with Kenshin in Tanabata Jasmine, where the bad guys broke his collarbone and took his sword away and he proceeded to have a fight with first a chair leg and then a bowl of rice, so. Kaoru was thinking outside the box the entire time when she was being a small time hacker sliding her way into one of the Top 5 Scariest Zaibatsu In Existence in Zaibatsu Project. That was fun. The list continues from there. I guarantee you this is coming in No Rest For The Weary. A lot. I like underdog fights and impossible odds with inspired badassery. (I also do this in RP a lot, boy Nami did a lot of improv fighting in Luceti.)

15. Are there words, phrases, mannerisms or scenes you tend to use a lot?

OH I SEE HOW IT IS, MY BETA CALLING ME OUT-- jkjk. Um, yes. Mostly Said-Bookisms, which I keep a tight eye on these days because I want to describe tone for every piece of dialogue someone writes and it's Not Necessary. But I'm fond of people speaking mildly and dryly and I like injecting life into conversations but boy it's sure easy to go Too Far with that, so. I also abuse the em dash like many authors and because my usual MO is to switch between Third Person Limited, the passages often have a lot of disconnected thoughts as they start thinking about something else or something happens, so. There are a lot of paragraphs that end with -- and then they sidetrack.

I bet there are phrases that I use a lot. One is 'white-knuckled' which is unfortunate because I'm currently talking about a bunch of kids with green skin and I already noticed I just absently used that in the very first chapter of NRFTW whoops. Also, hilariously, I'm pretty sure I've used the sentence 'He Slept' on its own a few times lately, irony of that story title. I often finish chapters/sections with a very short tl;dr sentence, lmao.

And scenes-- I try my best not to repeat on these, but apparently Mikey and Leo snoozing in bed together is gonna be a repeat theme. Characters waking up confused b/c of concussions and/or drugs and/or Bits of Black Ice Programs Trapped In Their Heads. Bizarrely, I have also written two boardroom scenes in which the protag has to face a bunch of murderous capitalists and outwit them on a verbal scale. The fact that that one occurred twice was not intentional and is a source of great amusement to me.

Thank you!

Fanfic Writer Ask game here.

#ask meme #nekotsuki #rottmnt #rurouni kenshin #tmnt #@shadowbends

4 notes · View notes

scenetocause · 2 years

Note

i second nat’s second passage because, god, it lives in my head rent free. your writing’s filled with such casual intimacy and comfort and your words feel like a hug. i love the ways they fall into each other maybe intentionally, maybe not, how in too hard to say where you were coming from “The first time Lando kisses him feels so natural neither of them notice it, almost, for a few seconds.” and how “…Max is thinking about how although he likes kissing Lando, just had the guy’s dick in his mouth for fuck’s sake, it’s been slow and steady realising he actually does fancy him, too.”

i also think a lot about turn my heart into something gold, how max is very brave with “"Fuck off." Max jabs him in the side, sharp. "I'm hotter than bloody Carlos, anyway."” and this time around, it’s lando figuring things out, figuring out how to make it work.

it’s a Little embarrassing for me to admit that i’ve reread your stuff enough to be able to recognize your writing even on anon but i would like you to know that still fjdhskhs. there’s an anon fic i sent to my friend being like i have no proof but i am almost certain this is an emptyhalf fic and she was like yeah…adds up you’re probably right. so, y’know. there’s that too, even if i’m wrong about it.

oh gosh this is so nice i have been like. i had to like get myself ready to reply because i am so skittishly avoidant of praise even though obviously i crave it 24/7 haha why are brains.

this is kind of just psychoanalysis but i think max (fewtrell) generally is very brave? like it's a quality him and lando share. they're both. they can be so anxious? and nervous? but when it's something they need to do they do it even if they're scared. like max leaving f3, like lando getting through that long time alone in his house... they can be really silly and scared of bugs but like. that time lando just caught one because it was freaking max out, even though it probably scared him. when max stays calm through lando being a mess. i'm really sad they got mugged after their nice football date but if they had to, at least they were together. they're both willing to admit they're afraid and find it in them to do whatever they need to anyway.

(i think a lot about, on the pit wall, how it must be hard for max watching lando sometimes. that it must scare him. when there's stuff happening he gets into the quiet voice he uses when he wants to calm lando down, as though he can protect him with it. they're just so.)

13 notes · View notes

winter-came · 2 years

Note

YOU ASKED AND I AM HERE TO DELIVER. For the writer ask:

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end.

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

friend, you are about to get very chaotic and half-coherent answers

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

- I don't think I have a ritual. Ritual is something you repeat right? Well, I have a random burst of writing energy between 11pm and 3am. That's the cursed part. I absolutely demolish my sleeping schedule.

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

- martyr

-gone

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

- a piece of writing 100% haunted me but you could put my hand into a fire rn and I won't tell you a quote

- and my own writing haunted me too. There are two quotes that just live rent-free in my head, you know which one I'm talking about

["take care of the world for me." & "when you look over your shoulder, what do you see? do I haunt you? to haunt. what a terrible word for missing someone."

- what does it mean for me? that no matter how loud my impostor syndrome can get, those pieces of my writing are undeniable proof I have it in me and it's GOOD.

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you to write about? What is easy?

- hard is good family dynamics, or in general writing nice/comfortable scenes [my other friend once said: you can't write about what you never experience and frankly I was speechless]

- I also can't write about romantic/sexual relationships. thas is just beyond my skills and appetite tbh

- easy is a tragedy [wink] and just pure unleashed angst

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end.

- friend? you are literally the first-hand witness to all of my passages and all "how it started, how it's going"

- but for someone who ISN'T...

“But why him?! He had nothing to do with it! ” tears rolled down his cheeks, glittering diamonds.

“Because it’s Hadia. Because it’s personal. All this could’ve been avoided if you just didn't lie.” Marana took out a vial with small orange beads inside of it. She unscrew a lid and reached through the bars. With a firm grip, she forced Roman’s mouth open. Emptying a bottle. “There.'' She let him go.

Roman spat out but the beads already melted. The bitter taste reminded him of cracked black pepper. “Really? A poison? You know that I am already dying!”

“Oh but that wasn't poison. It was an antidote.”

Marana looked straight into his eyes. “Death would be a mercy for you. But to live with a burden of guilt? Far better. More corrupting. Trust me, I know.” she leaned closer. “You will live out your days knowing that you cost them their lives. And for what? A bit of money. But don’t worry, I will secure that for you too.”

“You are a monster.”

“I might be. How do they call me in those rats-filled streets you call home?”

“Marana The Black.”

“Indeed, and there is a reason for it. You had a chance to not find out. And you fucking wasted it.”

this one started widely different. Roman was supposed to die because of the poison, and I held out, insisting on it for a very long time. Then I got an idea of how to keep him alive but make it worse. Marana was supposed to meet him only once and then be done with him. And it ended up looking like this. Honestly, I don't think this answer make sense but-

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

- no organization. I just have one large google doc for each story where I dump quotes, ideas, names, and written-down chapters.

-but I have also a folder in my computer with finished pdf versions

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

- hm I'm not sure what is being asked here. I don't prepare much? When I need to know something (e.g.which wood is durable but also very light) I just google it as I'm writing.

- I do think a lot about the ideas and plot connections, or how the characters move and talk and just what kind of person they are

- but in generally I sit down with very vague idea of what I want to happen in the scene and then I let the chaos reign

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

- Marcus Mercar has a cold allergy.

-Hadia has three cats - Sunny, Pumpkin, and Cleo [fun fact: I asked my very good friend to name those cats]

-Roman Bass HATES cabbage

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

- I will have to get back to you on this one.

but oof, something from the top of my head?

"I like to call myself a wound, but I will answer to a knife."

I saw this one once on Pinterest and just OUCHIE

what it means for me? just that sort of self-view that I pity myself often and think of how much I've been hurt but I fail to see myself as someone who had done damage.

BUT more often than not, it's actually reverse. That I see myself as the knife all the time [bad, cold, merciless, cruel] and refuse to see myself as the wound. ANYWAYS

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

- this bitch was sadistically obsessed with tragedy

#thanks #enjoy this insane chaos answers #literally put no filter

2 notes · View notes

humanpurposes · 3 months

Note

God Daddy!Aemond in your MHBTD fic is so attractive in an infuriatingly smug way, the passages you wrote where he’s dominant and talking down to reader make me unwell cause it’s just so hot, still in my head rent-free 😭 But I also don’t think he and reader end up together in the end due to how it started tbh and the lack of respect they held for other people throughout their tryst makes them unlikable/ difficult to root for as a couple if that makes sense 💀 They didn’t even seem genuinely remorseful or grossed out about the betrayal they caused; they were only focused on themselves and their own needs. I don’t know if that makes for a fruitful or realistic relationship in the long run.

Thanks so much for reading! I can’t believe some of that stuff came out of my brain haha.

I see the ending as very unstable. (I did say I was going to write an epilogue but I kinda like the idea of just leaving it as it is now) but I imagine them living in a little bubble in Oldtown together, and things would seem really great until they have to confront their families about it, especially Alys. I don’t think it’s a secret they could realistically keep forever and I would hope reader would eventually have the sense to realise that she’s better off having her mother in her life, rather than Aemond. But then that conclusion was already reached in chapter 6 (I think?) and she went back to Aemond.

I did reach a bit of a problem with Alys and reader, because how the hell would people react in that situation? That’s why there’s gap in chapter 6, her future seems so set, and this all comes out, and she does regret that she lied to her mum, but how do you even begin to deal with that or rectify that? Which is why she goes panic mode and runs away to Oldtown, to get away from Alys and Aemond and everything.

It’s such an insane scenario, and I didn’t go in with the intention of making them completely likeable, so I’ve loved seeing the different reactions to their relationship. I would hope that there’s a sympathetic element of them liking each other and not being sure about it. Then they make all these bad decisions, but through it all they still feel drawn to each other, which feels like a very ‘real’ experience (minus the “he’s dating your mum” aspect hopefully).

I did drive myself a bit crazy thinking through it, but it was a lot of fun to write!

#inbox

0 notes

clownworld13 · 4 months

Text

A Gift Of Weeds

This literally has been living in my head living rent free, festering and bubbling, and now I’m finally going to let it out. Also sorry it’s been awhile.

TRIGGER WARNING- the following passage contains hints of a toxic relationship, using flirting as a way to get out of a dangerous situation, stalkerish behavior, NSFW themes in one part, and codependency, all played off to somewhat of a comedic effect. Despite that to make this clear, this is not supposed to be taken so light heartedly in real life. This is not behavior to find endearing in real life or funny. Of someone acts this way please get them help and cut ties as fast as you can. And if you are sensitive to any of these topic please leave. You have been warned and have a good day.

———————————————————————

Moxxie was in her trailer reading a book, Who Censored Roger Rabbit, while her girlfriend Dani was telling her other girlfriend Penny a story about something she wasn’t quite paying attention to, something about a movie adaptation of the book she was reading back where they came from or something, she couldn’t quite remember. She sat there for a bit as she continued to read, until she began to get a little hungry. She got her coat and boots and most importantly mask on and left the trailer to get something to eat hopefully in the circus. Moxxie quickly waved her girlfriend’s goodbye and left the trailer into the circus.

The circus Moxxie was working for, Spindles Masked Circus, was hired by the orcs of Moria for a few days. She was a ribbon dancer who would always mix some ballet her auntie Carmen taught her. She lived there with her dad and basically her entire family she grew to love ever since he was adopted into the life. Even though her social skills were hot trash she was good at her job.

She saw a little stand with food already ready in it. Just some popcorn but it was enough. Everything was already set up around the circus since they were already a few days into the performance they were giving the orcs. Moxxie didn’t know exactly why the orcs hired them to begin with because all of them were human, and orcs hate them. So why? Especially since no accidents have been reported about any of the orcs being… weird to any of the performers. But she didn’t really mind at the end of the day.

She was about to leave but when she turned around, almost dropping her entire bag of popcorn, she instantly saw the spawn of Azog himself, Bolg.

He stood in front of her very stiffly holding something behind his back with one hand while the other had a death grip on his leg, and his face was as red as a tomato as he looked down at her with his one good light blue eye. He breathed heavily as if he was… nervous? No he can’t be, he’s probably to tough for that (Moxxie thought to herself).

They stood there staring at each other for a good solid few seconds, Moxxie shaking like a leaf and sweating like a hog as she stairs up at him. She was already bad at talking to (practically) her family, but now shes face to face with her main clients son is simply to much, ESPECIALLY since she’s already had a bad encounter with him before.

A few months or so before this, Moxxie and Dani’s siblings, Mari, Ana B., and Dice, we’re putting up signs in the woods for Spindles Masked Circus. Moxxie sat their awkwardly as she waited for them all to go back but something got in the way, Bolg.

He stalked up behind them pointing his weapon at the four and stared at them with a nasty glare, and asked them what they were doing there. Mari, Ana B., and Dice immediately bolted the fuck out of there but Moxxie stood their almost paralyzed with fear if it wasn’t for her knobby knees about to give out.

Bolg looked even more disgusted at this and walked up to her in long strides trying to size her up, thanking that her staying there meant some sort of challenge. Moxxie panicked even more and felt like she was about to piss herself when he said in a deep raspy tone with a heavy orc accent, “are you trying to prove something here you little maggot”

Moxxie began to tear up under her mask as she backed herself up into a tree as she stuttered out, “n-n-n-no”

Bolg scoffs at this and just goes even closer to her “pathetic. Maggot can’t even hold her own” he held up his knife when a sudden rush went to Moxxie as she blurted out “ITS NOT BECAUSE OF THAT!”

Bolg stoped for a bit and out his hand down, then he said with a less disgusted glare “what do you mean maggot?”

“I-I-I was just, umm… thinking about how… a-a-amazing you are sir, th-that’s why I didn’t l-leave” she stuttered as her heart went a million miles per hour

“What?” Asked the orc befuddled

“I-I just thought you were s-so amazing looking, I-I couldn’t p-possibly leave. And h-handsome t-t-too” she managed to spit out through sweat and tears under her mask.

However, Bolg stood there staring at her completely and utterly baffled as she continued to compliment how he looked and how handsome he was. This NEVER happened to him. Often or not human females would just run away or scream and beg him to not kill him, he still did it but nonetheless. So this girl COMPLIMENTING him of all thing’s weirded him out and confused him. And possibly, somewhere in the tar covered organ he called a heart he even felt a little… flustered? No he couldn’t, this is a human girl we’re talking about.

While Moxxie continues to compliment him and tries her best not to get killed, Mari, Ana B., and Dice were behind a tree not it far away from them.

“… fuck…” Dice said, “… uncle Alex is gonna KILL US now”

“No he’s not, shut up you little shit” Ana. B said pushing Dice’s face away “We just need to find a way to get Moxxie out of their”

“Like what oh genius one?” Dice snapped back

Meanwhile, Mari was making some type of sling shot type of thing to use against Bolg while it’s siblings squabbled. It grabbed a few rocks from the ground and began to walk closer as it was pointing the sling shot at him.

Moxxie was knee deep in complimenting Bolg so she wouldn’t be put on a t-shirt that day. Holding his hand and thinking of any compliments under the sun to use, and if almost seemed like it was working, Bolg just looking down at her as his face was flushed with pink and his breathing got heavier. But before anything else could happen Mari through a rock at his face, making him regain himself again, and also catching Ana B.’s and Dice’s attention.

He looks at Mari with an angry glare, the audacity. He began to chase Mari while Dice and Ana got Moxxie and tried to run away from the situation. Bolg noticed however and tried to grab, Moxxie. He didn’t know why but, he just felt like he should take her. It failed however, he only managed to snag a bit of her dress as the four of them got away.

Bolg held on to the cloth since that day. He still didn’t know why. It kept him up at night, holding it in his hand and to his chest thinking of Moxxie and how she looked and how she complimented him and… held his hand and had the sweetest voice and the softest brown skin, NO! He couldn’t think this way! He’s the son of Azog the Defiler, this is a human women who works at some stupid circus, but he couldn’t help himself.

He couldn’t help but imagine feeling her pretty dark skin against his and running his hand through her dreads. He wanted to kiss her all over while she continued to compliment him and how he looks. Bolg often fingered and pleasured himself to thought of her eating him out or something like that, humping his bed and pillow at the thought of being with Moxxie in that way as he sniffed the cloth he had. He felt so gross and disgusting for doing this that he often ignored it in the beginning, but after a bit he decided to just give in to his fantasies at night or when he was all alone in his bedroom never telling anyone. His father already seemed like hating him, this wouldn’t make it any better.

And the worst part is that Bolg knew Moxxie was just flirting with him to not be killed, he knew but he didn’t care. He felt like he loved her and would do anything for her since at the end of the day, she was the only person who ever treated him like that.

So when he found a poster of her from the same circus he was ecstatic. He didn’t show it of course but he felt it on the inside. It was after another battle that they one, and so to celebrate he suggested it to his father while they were having a victory dinner. Thankfully he agreed and they managed to hire them immediately. The owner didn’t give a shit about them being orcs, none of the performers did, so it all went along really nicely.

Bolg honestly didn’t give a shit about anyone other then Moxxie. He honestly just starred at her most of the time imagining the sweet and wholesome to the opposite. Moxxie didn’t notice however, to focused on trying not to look like an idiot in front of the orc’s and trying to think of other things to not mess up.

So when he stood in front of her with (in his mind) flowers behind his back while staring down at her. He felt like he was about to explode as he sweat and his face was bright red. Even when she’s wearing a creepy doll mask and dirty old coat with big gritty boots on he still saw her as the most beautiful thing in the world, making him feel like shit.

Moxxie continued to stair up at him terrified until Bolg broke the silence, clearing his throat as he said, his voice quivering in his deep gravely tone, “h-here”. He gave her a bouquet of… weeds, to be honest. They looked nice but they were still weeds with the roots and dirt still attached to them as well. His hand was shaking as he gave it to her, Moxxies hand’s shaking as well as she gently took them.

“Th-thank you s-sir” she said holding the flowers close to her. She didn’t know what to think, it was nice yes, but she was still confused. Why would he do this?

“You can call me Bolg… umm…” he clears his throat again, uncomfortable as he looks to the side of himself “w-what is your name again?”

“M-Moxxie” she responded with shakily, holding the weeds to her chest as Bolg nodded, he thought her name was amazing and gorgeous

“I’m afraid I must go now, it was lovely to meet you.. Moxxie” he left immediately after those words. He felt completely and utterly embarrassed and humiliated of himself. He kept his composure though as we walked back toward the mountain of Moria, not looking back for a second.

Moxxies stood there dumb founded as she looked down at the weeds. Why would he did this for her? She walked back to her trailer where she saw Dani and Penny there and opened the door of it, still looking at the weeds as the dirt from the roots dropped to the floor.

“And so basically- oh, hey Cameron!” Dani said as she looked at Moxxie then at the weeds in her hand “where did you get those?”

“Y-you know that one person I-I saw with Mari, Ana, a-and Dice?” Cameron Blake Stuttered out

“Yeah” Dani responded

“W-well he gave these to me when I was getting my popcorn”

“Well why did you take it in here?!” Penny interrupted “they’re probably poisoned or something” Penny instantly grabbed them and took them outside, then after a bit came back “good, now are you okay Cameron Blake?”

Moxxie nods her head yes as Penny instantly hugs her, then goes back to her vanity to put her make up back on. “How come you want tell Marianna about this again?”

“I don’t want to cause any trouble for the circus, y-you know this”

“Sorry I don’t want my GIRLFRIEND to get killed”

“W-we only have a few more days left here, nothing will probably happen, and I-if there is, I-I promise I’ll tell Marianna, okay?”

“Promise?” Dani and Penny collectively said

“Promise” Moxxie responded

Then with that all out of the way, Cameron Blake went to go sit in Dani’s lap as she began to munch on her popcorn as Penny and Dani continued to talk about whatever they were talking about earlier.

The End

__________________________________________

#the hobbit #Bolg #oc

0 notes

madraleen · 6 months

Text

Attack on Titan - Season 4 A rewatch commentary (because of course I have more things to say) Full manga spoilers (including the ending)

-i love aot, i'm tearing up :') top-notch story, top-notch animation throughout.

-aot only benefits from rewatches. they only add to the greatness

-you know. pre-time skip!eren would never in a million years have responded to falco by asking if the candidate that he doesn't want to see become a warrior is a girl. his mind just wasn't working that way- romantically. another clue that now romance is part of his life (or unrequited love. or whatever he has going on with mikasa, idk)

-aot has SUCH good music

-"declaration of war" is SO. GOOD.

-L I S T E N tho, when warhammer titan asks for eren's last words and he says "now, mikasa"... TECHNICALLY this applies to what his actual last words could have been had he spoken them.

-i wonder. if eren knows the future, is there any point when he's genuinely afraid for his life? isn't it a given that he'll live to do the rumbling? his surprised reactions when attacked must be just that, the instinctual reaction of surprise and the fear of pain, right? not fear for his life. i'd say, and that's totally a theory, that in marley he is actually worried, because he's only just starting to go on the offensive. but he makes it out, gets even more jaded and settled in his plan, and by the time pieck threatens him at gunpoint, he's seasoned enough to know she won't kill him. and then gabi does -technically- kill him, which he didn't foresee at all.

-the nerve of using galliard as a nutcracker, i'll never get over that

-yuki kaji is so good. i'm never gonna stop singing his praises.

-but why did shirtless wonder escape from prison shirtless? aesthetics aside

-little-shit-eren is lying to armin and mikasa through his teeth i cannot.

-eren's eyes in close-up look disdainful and pained at the same time, respect to the animators.

-the EMA restaurant scene always hurts me so much. so much. it legit makes me look forward to the ending for its (soft and low-key) resolution.

-i mean, eren's not lying to gabi, he actually thinks he can save falco by luring out pieck and co. avoiding an altercation would mean no scream, which would mean safe falco and a successfully incomplete rumbling, which would also mean a safe falco.

-i've been thinking, eren didn't expect marley to attack so soon. it wasn't part of the plan. so what was the plan? eren's plan for paradis didn't involve violence. shiganshina was evacuated, and arguably no one within the other walls would have to die - arguably they would have been held back by the yeagerists, had they not had to rush to shiganshina to fight. eren's going along with the wine plan was a safe option, because zeke was never supposed to scream in the first place; there weren't supposed to be titans and marleyans to fight, just a passage to shiganshina on the appointed time. no one on paradis was supposed to get hurt, or if they had to, the casualties were supposed to be minimal. this chaos and disaster was never the plan. "sit tight, shut up and wait until the gang stops me," basically.

-the satisfaction i get every time, when yelena tells titan eren to come out and not fight and he ignores her. so much satisfaction.

-i love how everyone in the main cast has so distinctive personalities. they’re not archetypes, they’re just distinctive people

-the last-ish shot of eren screaming in the op with his hair getting loose still lives rent-free in my head. it's so raw.

-i just find it interesting how eren is struggling so much (reiner is straddling him at the moment), and he still gasps and tells zeke to wait when he's about to scream, he still protects his people (or tries to). he's not unfeeling or indifferent, nor careless.

-("brothers" ep) i'm like "it's okay, you know what happens, you've watched it happen, aot can't hurt you anymore,” but this.fucking.hurts! i suffer!

-HOW DID I JUST NOTICE THAT EREN SEES MIKASA AND ARMIN FROM SCHOOL CASTES IN THE PATHS

-ah yes, grisha hugging the zeke-shaped air with the accuracy of... something. you get the point.

-the most unrealistic thing about aot is mikasa's scarf making it in one piece and seemingly unscathed until her old age.

-interesting how falco stabs himself with a nail to turn into a titan. he doesn't have the experience nor the unrelenting tenacity nor the wrath of the others to just chomp on his hand

-the "his and hers" ep hurts. a lot. (i don't even care what 4x28 is actually called, it's such a his-an'-hers ep)

-cool cool cool, baby eren woke up crying from his dream as he saw older eren being killed by mikasa in his founder form. nice. cool. this is fine. this is. great. sure.

-i really like the aot cast, man. everyone is so well-crafted, there's no weak character in this damn story.

-eren the paths!calls spammer

-on a side note, i don’t understand how some still believe that eren didn’t accomplish anything and that it was all meaningless. he accomplished all of his goals. he wiped out the titans, stopped the titan cycle, ensured long lives for (most of) his friends and peace for paradis for about a century at least, and he got to experience what he considered freedom. mission accomplished.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin anime #attack on titan anime #anime commentary #we're in the endgame now :')

1 note · View note

the-consequence-of-imagination · 7 months

Text

Kay absolutely jokes about having been (and being) a shitty wizard. Average intelligence (which is considered low for a wizard) & has a hard time remembering spells (especially remembering *which* somatic component goes with *which* verbal & so on, just so many variables). She relied to heavily on her spellbook to really memorize much, only to lose it when she got stuck on the Astral Plane. And then lost her next spellbook when she *left* the Astral Plane.

But also, after getting close to Gale & meeting Lorroakan, she notes how other wizards tend to have a penchant for hubris (Elminster is much more chill but he does see much of himself in Gale), meanwhile she's... kinda not? Like yeah, part of her hoped that *maybe*, with her time spent in the Crystal Spire she might end up as Kelemvor's apprentice or something & eventually become a god of death herself, but that was more of a "wouldn't that be cool if it eventually happened" kind of thing. She doesn't actively seek out godhood, & she's generally pretty humble (and when she does act confident, it's usually because she thinks that's what will make the situation go smoothly; it's not really genuine confidence, but a part to play), hence her not shying away from jokes at her own expense.

Gale makes a comment after a development with Wyll along the lines of "that's why I would never be a warlock", & Kay kinda internally winces. She knows that most wizards look down on other forms of magic, that warlocks are lazy or foolish or both in their eyes. She feels the need to get defensive about warlocks even though her case, her pact, is a somewhat unusual situation. Kay has been lucky enough that the gods & god-likes she's come across (Kelemvor and The Raven Queen) aren't evil like Shar or Mizora, or jealous & possessive like Mystra. She's incredibly lucky that they've actually been helpful (Kelemvor for allowing her to reside in the Cystal Spire for so long, even if part of it was because her father was a devoted cleric of his; RQ for granting her safe passage to the material plane as well as magic at the "cost" of basically getting to play grim reaper) rather than utterly ignoring her (that one Astarion line lives rent free in my head). It's because of that that she believes that not all warlock patrons are sadistic manipulative fiends (literally or figuratively), & warlocks tend to get a bad rap in general, so she's a little defensive.

On a different note, I'm thinking of respeccing her again & going with her getting a couple levels in warlock before decides to multiclass into cleric (for Kelemvor), & then after another level or two she takes up wizardry again (particularly divination, as there doesn't seem to be any resources on chronurgy on the Sword Coast) but goes back & forth between leveling as a warlock & as a wizard. She also considers dabbling as a bard; she's certainly got the charisma for it, but despite her love for theatre, music is not her forté.

When Gale mentions Sorcerous Sundries, she hopes they might have some materials on chronurgy, but of course only ends up disappointed (especially after she & Gale ran around where they shouldn't have trying to find the Annals of Karsus & stumbling across what they needed to unlock the Necromancy of Thay, & yet NOTHING on chronurgy; sometimes she really does miss the home she made of the crystal spire). After killing Lorroakan, she wonders who will take over the Sundries... and if maybe, *if* all goes well in taking down the Chosen and the Elder Brain, she could possibly step into the position. Surely if so asinine a man as Lorroakan could run the place, then she could?

#[i hear from the witches]#Kay.bg3 #for the record it *does* feel weird talking about a character who is me but also isn't but as if they're just another OC

0 notes