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candyflosstoxicity · 3 years

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Wanna Be Your Setting Lotion

Endeavor x Black!Reader

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI. Power imbalance. Unsafe sex. Creampie. Breeding kink. Breath play. Pain play.

Despite the sizable uptick in his popularity after triumphing over the High-End Nomu, Enji still felt that his ability to relate to the everyday civilians was sorely lacking. There was still some doubt amongst the masses that he could be a suitable replacement for All Might. As much as that stung his ego, Enji knew that their misgivings weren’t unfounded.

He had promised his son that he would become a hero that he could be proud to call his father, and that meant more than just saving lives. Enji had to work to build a relationship with the public, and be a hero that was not only powerful, but approachable and relatable.

So, with his secretary’s assistance, Enji reached out to the most highly recommended media relations agency in Musutafu and requested that they pair him with a very particular type of publicist. He made sure to specify that they had to be thick-skinned and prepared to undertake all the work that would come with being the publicist to the number one hero. Though he had certainly made some important changes within himself, he still didn’t know how to talk to people and didn’t want to send the publicist running for the hills.

That was how you ended up standing outside the Endeavor Hero Agency. The glass skyscraper gleamed brightly under the sun, and really impressed upon you that this was happening. You had been assigned your first hero, but not just any run of the mill hero and it honestly had you feeling nervous in a way that you never had before. It’s not as if you doubted your ability to manage and improve the Flame Hero’s public image, but this was a major assignment that could either launch your career into the stratosphere or sink it like a stone.

After taking a few deep breaths to steady yourself, you walked briskly through the front entrance and into the main lobby, where you were greeted by the receptionist. You explained who you were and what you were there for, and she immediately hopped up from her desk in a panic and hastily led you to the elevator. It did nothing to quell your anxiety, because if his receptionist was losing her cool, what chance did you have against the man?

Upon reaching the top floor, the receptionist all but shoved you out of the elevator, giving you a hasty “good luck” while frantically pushing the button to close the door. You stumbled forward and were faced with a large, hardwood door. Having decided that you simply could not delay your assignment any further, you squared your shoulders, took decisive steps forward, and knocked on the door.

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That was several months ago, and you could say with hindsight that you were right to be anxious. While working for Endeavor was the best way to cut your teeth as a publicist, the man himself was...something fucking else.

It wasn’t just that he was physically intimidating, with his towering height and mountains of muscle. Honestly, you were able to quickly get past that and start working towards building a friendly, yet professional relationship with your boss. Except, he was the most tight-lipped, awkward person you had ever dealt with when he wasn’t in the process of saving lives. And when he was actually somewhat talkative, he was so intense that it left you flustered.

However, Enji always treated you with respect and courtesy, and when you did well, he told you as much. Heat would crawl its way from the top of your head to the tips of your toes whenever he would tell you, “You’ve done excellent work this week, (L/N)-san. Your efforts are appreciated.”

To anyone else and coming from anyone else, it might not mean much, but Todoroki Enji wasn’t just anyone. He had high standards for all of his employees, and you were no exception. Praise from him was hard to come by, and when it was directed at you, it made you feel some type of way.

It was obvious to everyone with a pulse that Enji was an incredibly attractive man. Indeed, every interview you scheduled for him with a female journalist found him being inundated with coy smiles, flirting, and pointed questions about his relationship status.

To be fair, you had asked him the same question, but only because it was important for you to know as the person who handled all of his public relations. It definitely wasn’t because you were lusting after your client and hoping that he was free to maybe, someday, knock your walls down.

Still, you had always prided yourself on being the consummate professional, so you refrained from asking any questions that were too personal. Even though you were so often alone with Enji in his penthouse office, with little to no interruption, and a lot of plush furniture he could fuck you on…

You shook your head sharply, your dark, curly hair moving with the motion. ‘Focus, bitch. Don’t be a goofy and try to fuck your boss. He would probably fire your ass before you could ask for a crumb of dick.’

It didn’t matter if you hadn’t gotten laid since you started working as his publicist; you were NOT going to fuck Todoroki Enji.

Little did you know, Enji was enduring his own share of suffering and sexual frustration. And he had no intentions of denying himself. For him, it was simply a matter of opportunity.

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It was finally Friday evening, and Enji was more than ready for the weekend. After a solid week of double patrols, while squeezing in PR appearances that you had set up for him, he just wanted to sit down in his recliner at home and have a stiff drink. He was sitting at his desk with his laptop open, finishing up some last minute paperwork on a report he needed to submit to the Hero Public Safety Commission by Monday.

Just as he put the final signature on the last page, you came bursting through his office door, without knocking, of course. Not that he minded; it was always a treat to see you, even if you were a bit...distracting. Your shapely legs carried you briskly towards his desk and he couldn’t help but admire how enticing they looked sheathed in your sheer stockings. He almost missed what you were trying to tell him, too busy imagining them wrapped around his waist.

“Endeavor-san, I’m sorry to disturb you right before quittin’ time, but I just finalized the details of your appearance on Present Mic’s late night radio show for next weekend,” you chirped with no small amount of satisfaction. Ah, right; Enji had agreed to make time for that, considering Mic was very popular with the young crowd and an appearance on his show would do wonders for his popularity with that demographic.

“He promised to keep it light and casual, and most of the time block will be spent playing some music that you both enjoy. I cross-referenced his playlist with the list you compiled, and y’all have some bangers in common. We’ll need to go over your note cards again, but I’m sure you’ve got that part covered by now.”

Your eyes were focused on the folder in your hands, flipping through the papers there as you went over the last minute details. Enji’s eyes were watching you, though, and he found himself struggling to give a damn about Present Mic or his radio show. Not when you were standing before him, a radiant vision of smooth brown skin and a halo of curls. How badly he wanted to sink his fingers into them and tug your head back, make you submit to him…

“Endeavor-san, are you listening?”

The question coming from your pretty lips, in that sweet, but sharp voice, was enough to finally get his attention. He tore his gaze from your petite frame and looked up to see your dark brown eyes staring at him sternly. Enji coughed and shifted in his chair, trying to subtly adjust his now rock hard dick.

“My apologies, (Y/N), I’m a bit worn out from this week,” he hastily assured you. “If you wouldn’t mind emailing those notes to me, I will look over them again this weekend.”

Your expression softened and you tossed the folder onto his desk before walking around to the side and perching yourself on the edge. Enji could practically feel the blood rush to his dick with you sitting so close to him, the scent of your perfume immediately clouding his mind. Your already short skirt rode up even higher and he had to force himself to look you in the eye, which he regretted shortly after.

“Have I been riding you too hard, sir?”

Enji’s eyes narrowed slightly at you, thinking that you must be toying with him. But, your face was devoid of cunning, and you seemed genuinely concerned for his well-being. He wasn’t used to that kind of consideration from really anyone, especially not one of his employees.

“No, far from it. You probably take it a bit too easy on me, but you still produce amazing results. I would be completely clueless about this public relations crap if I didn’t have someone as bright and clever in my corner,” Enji rumbled, almost bashfully, the tips of his ears still pink from your accidental innuendo.

He had no way of knowing, but the feeling that Enji’s praise gave you was like a shot of adrenaline to you. Warmth bloomed in your cheeks, and you quickly began stuttering and trying to downplay your contribution. However, Enji was having none of it and reached out to grab your anxiously fluttering hands, which had the desired effect of shutting you up.

But, Enji didn’t stop there. He was tired of you not giving yourself enough credit. More than that, he was tired of only being able to show his gratitude in words. So, he took advantage of your size difference and tugged you into his arms and then settled you on his right thigh, forcing you to straddle the muscular appendage.

“E-Endeavor-san?!” you squeaked out. Your tiny hands were encased in his much larger ones and even that small bit of skin to skin contact was enough to set a fire low in your belly.

“Please, call me Enji. It seems a bit formal considering the things I want to do to you.”

“And what exactly do you want to do to me, Enji?” Your voice was low and breathless, but he could see the excitement clearly in your deep brown eyes.

He released your hands and let his own wander down the curve of your sides to settle on your hips. Still maintaining eye contact with you, he engulfed the soft flesh there with a gentle, but firm squeeze. You gasped softly and instinctually ground down against the flexing muscles of his thigh.

Enji growled lowly in his throat and took one hand off your hip, and reached up to bury it in the soft curls that framed your gorgeous face. At first, he gently massaged the scalp with his fingertips, but when he felt you relax, Enji used the curls at your nape to tug your head back.

He loved how small you were in his arms, how easily he towered over you and controlled your movements. And there you were, gasping and squirming in his lap, letting him touch you in such a dominating way. It stoked a fire within him that he hadn’t felt in a long while, urging him to make you fall apart under his touch.

“There are so many things that I want to do to this tight, little body,” Enji whispered against your throat. He placed a heated kiss there, followed by a gentle nip before continuing, “But, for now, I want you to ride my thigh.”

To his delight, you didn’t hesitate to start meekly rolling your hips forward, your skirt bunching up around your waist with the motions. Still, you seemed to be holding yourself back, and he was having none of that. Using the hand that was still gripping your hip, Enji forced you to press down harder and move faster. Getting the message, you braced your palms against his broad, solid chest and began grinding against him in earnest.

The filthy moans you let spill from your plump lips were music to Enji’s ears, and he struggled to refrain from just ripping your stockings off and sliding your down onto his aching dick. There would be plenty of time for that later, but in that moment, he wanted to make you felt just how appreciated you were.

“Come on, little sparrow, I know you’re close. I can feel you soaking my pants leg.”

The desperation and desire in his voice drove your lust even higher. That, combined with the friction of your nylon stockings against your bare pussy, had you teetering on the edge of release.

“Please, sir!” You didn’t know what you were asking for, but he seemed to. And he was going to make you beg for it.

“Please what?”

“I...I want you to fuck me, sir! Please let me cum on your dick,” you pleaded with a breathless whine, never ceasing your wanton grinding.

“Oh, you will be cumming on my dick. But, first, you’re going to make yourself nice and sloppy for me.”

Enji gripped your hair tighter and pulled your head back until your spine arched. Now, your nails were digging into the skin of his pectorals, but he didn’t care because the end result was you humping against him with reckless abandon. No longer needing to guide your movements, he reached up and wrapped his other hand around your delicate throat, squeezing just enough to make the blood rush to your head. That was just enough to tip you right over the edge.

“Oh, oh!” Your hips began to stutter slightly in their movements as your orgasm crept up on you. A scream that surprised you, but made Enji growl in triumph, was ripped from your throat as you bucked wildly through the peak of your release. Letting go of your tresses and throat, Enji pulled you gently into his chest and ran his hands soothingly down your back. As your body trembled and quaked through the vestiges of your orgasm, he murmured soft praises into the crown of your hair.

“You did such a good job for me, baby girl. I’m so proud of you and all your hard work. Are you ready for your reward now?”

Despite the fact that you had just cum your brains out, his words of praise had you moaning wantonly, your head bobbing lazily in consent. Enji wasted no time in standing you up between his legs, supporting your weight effortlessly as he slid his hands up your inner thighs towards the crotch of your stockings. A brief, but loud ripping sound echoed in the spacious office, and then you felt a cool breeze against your soaked lips. Enji took a moment to run a thick finger through your dainty folds, making you shudder and moan.

Enji considered having you ride him again, but a glance at the large sectional he had in the corner of the room gave him other ideas. Picking you up as if you weighed nothing, he carried you to the luxurious piece of furniture and laid you down on your back. He immediately covered your body with his own and locked his lips with yours, the kiss quickly turning heated. While your lips moved together with unrestrained passion, he busied himself with undoing his belt and slacks. Once he got them undone, he freed his aching length from the confines of his underwear, hissing at the sensation of the cool air hitting the too hot skin.

Pulling away from your soft warmth, Enji made you look him in the eye before he asked, “It seems a bit late to ask, but are you sure this is what you want?”

Thinking he was just being considerate, you smiled softly up at him and nodded in affirmation. He kissed you hard, one more time, before looking down to guide his more than impressive dick to your dripping entrance. As soon as he pressed the head in, you knew what he was really asking you before, which was whether you could handle being stretched to your absolute limit.

You threw your head back, pressing into the soft cushion underneath you, and struggled to breathe around the sensation of his girth splitting you open. It was a good thing he made sure you were wet enough beforehand, otherwise, you were sure that you wouldn’t have been able to take all of him.

Enji made sure to take his time pressing in and withdrawing, inch by inch, enraptured by the sight of your pretty pussy stretching around him. It was a couple minutes more before he was fully seated inside you, the head of his dick pressed snugly against your cervix. He paused his movements to press sweet, but rough kisses along your jaw and collarbones. You reached up and buried your fingers in his hair, applying the barest pressure to bring his face closer to yours so you could press your foreheads together.

“I’d really like for you to move now,” you panted softly. Sure, it was quite the stretch having him inside you, but it didn’t hurt and you were still filled with a burning desire to be wrecked by the giant hovering over you.

Withdrawing slowly, so slowly, Enji paused again to watch your face as he gave a quick, experimental thrust. The cry of pleasure you let out snapped his resolve to continue taking it slow, and he began to fuck into you with a vigor. All you could do is tighten your grip on his red locks and hold on for the ride.

“God, you feel so good wrapped around me. Do you have any idea how long I have wanted this? How many times I’ve fantasized about fucking into you like this, making you my little cumdump?”

Enji was actually caught off guard with how visceral your reaction was to his dirty talk. He didn’t think it possible, but you became even tighter around his dick, nails biting into his scalp, as well. You began trying to thrust back up against him, but he was having none of that. Enji pulled back just enough to take your legs and throw them over his shoulders so he could put you in a mating press.

“Oh gods, yes, just like this, Daddy!” you wailed loudly, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. You were overwhelmed with the pleasure from his rigid member rubbing against your velvet walls with the new angle.

A groan that sounded like a snarl rumbled in Enji’s chest at the sound of your fucked out voice calling him ‘Daddy’. It made him want to grind his dick deeper into you, until all you could see, feel, or taste was him and the pleasure he was giving to you.

“Fuck, if you call me that again, I’m going to fucking cum and I’m not going to pull out.” He expected you to object, or something but instead, you attempted to pull him in closer with the strength of your legs alone.

“Please, please, please fill me up, Daddy! I want it all, please, give it to me!”

Pace quickening at your filthy words, Enji leaned forward until you were practically pressed in half and his thrusts had the tip of his dick bumping your womb with every plunge deeper. You were unable to even scream, the air knocked from your lungs and your brain foggy with thought-warping ecstasy.

“Goddammit, you’re gonna make me cum, baby. I’m gonna fill you up to the brim. Gonna make you round with my child. Is that what you want?”

All you could do was nod frantically, incoherent pleas and his name spilling from your drooling mouth in an endless stream. You would do anything, say anything, just to feel his hot cum paint your walls.

From the way you were clenching and pulsing around him, Enji knew that you were close to the precipice again already, and he was ready to tumble over right along with you. Letting go of the last bit of restraint holding him back, Enji captured your lips in a searing kiss and swallowed your cries of passion as he began to piston into your tight heat, chasing his orgasm and hurtling you towards yours.

A shrill scream muffled by his lips and the sharp tightening of your walls around him signaled to Enji that you were cumming, and he quickly followed after you. His powerful hips stuttered once, twice before he drove his entire length fully inside you and stilled, his head pressed to the opening of your womb. Much hotter than you were expecting it to be, spurts of cum that seemed endless gushed deep inside you, prolonging both of your orgasms to the point of over-sensitivity.

When you both finally came down and got your breathing under control, Enji slowly pulled out from you and gently eased your legs off his shoulders. He gathered you up in an embrace and flipped the two of you over so that you were laid on top of him, head resting against his chest. Again, he stroked your back and sides soothingly, murmuring words of praise and comfort.

For your part, you were fucking wiped, your heart still racing and brown skin dewed with sweat. You could feel cum leaking out of your abused hole, but could hardly be bothered to care with exhaustion and satiation weighing so heavily on your eyes.

With strong arms wrapped around you and every bone in your body feeling like marshmallow, you snuggled closer to Enji and fell asleep to the steady pulse of his heart in your ear.

#todoroki enji x reader #endeavor x reader #bnha smut #endeavor smut #todoroki enji smut #black reader

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littleoddwriter · 3 years

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Issues with Reader Fics

Okay, I'm probably going to be a bit controversial here. Yet, I'm asking you to hear us out, please. Fanfic writers, specifically those who write "x Reader" fics, please read this. My dear friend Jack has already made a post, where I and others have contributed our experiences and feelings towards certain issues with these fics. Those issues still prevail and therefore I've decided to make my own post, which is more of a PSA, I think. Anyway. You can and should read Jack's (@mlmxreader) post here, please. It is long, yes, but it is extremely important and will say a lot of things we will not talk about here again. Now, what this is mostly about is the tagging of those fics. Every single time, we (men and non-binary people) come across Reader fics and they're tagged with just "Reader", so, naturally we assume they'll be gender neutral then. Well, they basically never fucking are. Every time, in the first few sentences or in later paragraphs something like "baby girl, girlfriend, wife, she/her" will come up and it is frustrating, can be triggering (for trans people, like myself, especially because it can cause dysphoria), and is honestly just very excluding and rude. By doing that, you show us that you do not consider anyone but women to read those fics. Even though that isn't the case. Men who like men exist and we read fics. And we want to be able to read some that don't make us feel bad or excluded. We're not asking you to suddenly write Male!Reader fics. We're asking you to tag properly. If your reader is female, tag it as "Female!Reader" or "Fem!Reader". It doesn't take more than two seconds to do that. So, please for the love of everything good, take those two seconds and type in that one word, even the abbreviation is enough. But tag it! Please! Also, please, stop tagging "male reader" or "gender neutral reader" when it's a female reader. You won't get more notes from it. All it does is clog the tags and push down fics that are actually targeted towards those groups. So, don't do that, please, thank you. One thing I personally wanted to ask actually. Why do women read "Male!Reader" fics? This is a genuine question. Why do you, if you're a woman, read those fics? They aren't targeted at you, and frankly, I don't understand it. If I were cis and not dysphoric, I still wouldn't read "Fem!Reader" fics. They aren't for me, and I wouldn't be interested in it, even if those were the only fics for a certain character. So, if anyone could answer me this, genuinely, then I'd actually appreciate that a lot, I'm truly just curious, as I have noticed women reading my "Male!Reader" fics, too. Which is cool, as we've said, you may interact, as long as you're not creepy or fetishistic, but I still don't understand why you would read that in the first place. Now, onto what my two wonderful friends have said, when I asked them if they had anything to add to this issue, or perhaps overall, still: @iscariot-rising said, "It's just disrespectful for writers and readers alike to assume that everyone reading their fanfics is inherently female, to the point where for some it has become the standard that any fic has female reader - leading to writers not tagging their fics as female readers or mentioning in their descriptions that reader is female, instead only titeling it as "character x reader", before then three sentences in referring to reader as some sort of female term. This isn't just rude, it can also be triggering for people or make them dysphoric, if not just plain uncomfortable. Fandom spaces are something that is shared across all genders and sexualities and it is only courteous to respect this and tag your fics accordingly, since it doesn't take a long time and saves a lot of trouble for readers." And you know what? He is absolutely right and he should say it. You need to listen to us, please. @mlmxreader said a lot, too. For example, he's mentioned that there is a reluctance to even write Gender Neutral Reader fics, which is true. Even though it would be much easier, to be perfectly honest. Yet, people seem not to do it. Do y'all not want people of different genders to enjoy your fics without feeling excluded? He also said, "oh! yeah! there's also the whole thing about lingerie, too, like putting men in women's lingerie and talkin about panties and stuff, which comes off as extremely fetishising (when it's not written by mlm) as well as just... really gross bc like that stuff can trigger dysphoria and half the time it's not even tagged? Like it wouldn't be so bad if y'all tagged it; on top of that, there's also the whole fact that they assume that all mlm relationships revolve around sex and that that's all that matters. But then also using (m/n) standing for "male name" instead of (y/n), like, what the FUCK is up with that?? /gen" Again, he is absolutely right. Tag your shit, please. I know it can be tiring to pick out everything relevant, but trust me; you'll do a lot of people a big fucking favour when you tag your stuff properly. And frankly, I agree with him. I don't understand the whole '(m/n)' thing because if we're men, our names are automatically male because, well, we're male. It doesn't really make sense. That might just be a thing that personally bugs us, though, I honestly don't know. TLDR; Tag your fics properly, be respectful, don't assume everyone is female and therefore exclude everyone who isn't, just say (y/n)???, and yeah, that's basically it. Just be more considerate, please! That was it. I don't mean to personally attack anybody, but if you do feel attacked, that probably means that you're guilty of doing something I've listed here, and perhaps should consider changing that. I also wanna note that if you consider sending me threats or hate of any kind, I will delete it and not engage with it. If your first response to this post is something rude and hateful, you should take a step back and reconsider why you're about to do something so senseless. Does it help you in any way? No, it doesn't. So, what's the point, other than acting like a complete dick? Anyway, have a lovely morning/day/night; cheers!

#x reader #reader fanfiction #reader fic #reader insert #female reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #fic writing #fanfic writing #fanfic writer #this is genuine and comes from frustration rather than a place of hate #tag properly #same goes for content and trigger warnings #be more considerate #be mindful

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thinkingisadangerouspastime · 3 years

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(pt 1) i really enjoy all your atla analyses & you've done a great job breaking down the usual arguments re how eip shows that kataang shouldn't have happened. i'm curious about your take on one specific argument that i just saw today, in an analysis of the show by a zker that was otherwise quite good and respectful (i know you've already talked about eip a lot, so no problem if you don't feel like rehashing). the premise: aang didn't just pressure katara in eip, he threatened her.

(pt 2) they point to when katara joins aang & asks if he’s alright: “aang: no, i’m not! i hate this play! katara: i know it’s upsetting, but it sounds like you’re overreacting. aang: overreacting? if i hadn’t blocked my chakra, i’d probably be in the avatar state right now!” the suggestion is he’s threatening her when he says ‘i’d probably be in the avatar state right now’ to describe his anger. i think this take exaggerates and oversimplifies it, but interested in your thoughts on it.

Hello my friend!! It is true I am Old inside and don’t like rehashing dhdlksjslks BUT your comments on my posts are always incredibly kind and insightful so I am more than willing to do a bit of rehashing for you 🥰 Besides! I’ve seen this general take before a few times and it’s always irked me for the exact reason you point out - it simultaneously exaggerates and oversimplifies the situation (and honestly that’s an impressive duality since it’s seemingly contradictory, so hats off to them lmaooo) - and now is as good a time as any to address it. So, for starters, let’s go ahead and get the excerpt they love to focus on so much:

Cut to Aang standing alone on a balcony. Katara enters and walks up to him.

Katara: Are you all right?

Aang: [Angered.] No, I’m not! I hate this play! [Yanks his hat off and throws it on the ground.]

Katara: I know it’s upsetting, but it sounds like you’re overreacting.

Aang: Overreacting? If I hadn’t blocked my chakra, I’d probably be in the Avatar State right now!

Here’s the thing about so-called analyses of this excerpt: in a manner extremely convenient to the poster, they never seek to contextualize this moment. (I mean, to do so would deplatform their entire “argument” - perhaps that’s why they avoid performing a full analysis?) So let’s avoid that pitfall from the start.

Firstly, below are some links to related posts; I’m going to do my best to summarize the most relevant parts, but for anyone who desires greater detail, I gotchu 😤

This post explains why EIP (the play, lol) is imperialist propaganda and is intended to belittle the entire Gaang.

This post explains how Aang never acted “entitled” to Katara’s affections, particularly in regard to EIP.

This post breaks down the infamous EIP kiss like Snopes Fact Checker, covering common misconceptions, important perspectives to consider, etc.

Alright. With that out the way, it’s time for some context.

Aang and Katara have this conversation on the balcony after watching 95% of “The Boy in the Iceberg,” a play chock-full of Fire Nation propaganda that demeans the entire Gaang in order to prop up the Fire Nation as superior (hence why the play ends with Ozai’s victory). Here is my general breakdown of Aang and Katara’s treatment in particular from a previous post:

- katara, an indigenous woman, is highly sexualized and portrayed as overly dramatic and tearful, because the fire nation objectifies women not of their own people and views them as less intelligent and less emotionally stable

- aang, the avatar, the sole survivor of the fire nation’s genocide of the air nomads who is incredibly in-touch with his spirituality and femininity, is portrayed as an overly-airy and immature woman. the fire nation portrays him with a female actor to demean him (like, that’s classic imperialistic propagandist tactics) and furthermore writing his character as a childish airhead reinforces the fire nation sentiment that the air nomads were weak, foolish people who did not deserve to exist in their world

In other words, these kids have just watched almost an entire play that preys upon their insecurities and depicts them using racist and sexist stereotypes about their respective nations. It is completely understandable that tensions might run a little high and that their interactions would not be as balanced as usual (Katara and Aang have a great track record of communicating well with each other, as it happens!).

So we have to keep that in mind when examining the aforementioned excerpt. But there are other factors to consider, too! Namely: they are kids. Children. Teens. Aang is 12, Katara is 14.

If we want to be scientific, a person’s brain doesn’t finish developing until they are 25, lmao, and the preteen/teen years are when the prefrontal cortex that controls “rationality,” “judgement,” “forethought,” etc. is still developing. This doesn’t mean Aang and Katara are irrational and make poor decisions 24/7 (obviously not), but it does mean that in an intense, highly emotional situation, like after watching a play that intentionally demeans them and depicts them as inferior, they are more likely to overreact, more likely to be emotional, and more likely to make mistakes. Like, I’m serious, lol. “Teens process information with the amygdala.” That’s part of the brain that helps control emotions! It’s why teens sometimes struggle to articulate what we’re thinking, especially in situations that require instinct/impulse and quick decisions, because we’re really feeling whenever we make those choices. Acting more on emotion. Our brains simply haven’t finished developing the decision-making parts, lmao.

In sum: Aang and Katara are both kids, not adults, and should be interpreted as such. This doesn’t negate their intelligence, because they are both incredibly smart and Aang is arguably the wisest of the Gaang, but they are human. Young humans. They have emotions, and we should not be so cruel as to assume they’d never act on them.

So taking that all together, we can now acknowledge the high stress Aang and Katara are under, understand why they might be upset (*cough* imperialist propaganda is hurtful *cough*), and examine how their youth might play into their emotional reactions. And funny thing - all analyses that come to the conclusion of Aang “threatening” Katara here do not usually bother with this context. I can’t imagine why!

And you know what, let’s add one more piece of context: Sokka states that Aang left the theater “like, ten minutes ago,” which is what cues Katara to go look for him on the balcony. The reason I mention this line is because to me, it suggests Aang knew he was more worked up than usual! He chose to separate himself from his friends so he could process his frustration! He did not take his anger at the play out on them; instead, he purposefully took time and space to be alone.

With that in mind, I don’t understand at all how Aang’s Avatar state quote could be interpreted as a threat? Canonly, Aang is someone who was aware enough of his frustration to separate himself from the others - yet the logical next step is him threatening Katara as a result? He knew his intense emotions were because of the play (which he says himself), so the logical conclusion is that he then pinned the fault on Katara? What?? Sorry, that interpretation has no textual basis, lmao. But I digress!

Aang tells Katara, “If I hadn’t blocked my chakra, I’d probably be in the Avatar State right now!” As you said, this is the line people point to in an attempt to justify their (baseless) conclusion that Aang is “threatening” Katara. So let’s bring in the two key pieces of context: imperialist propaganda and age. Given that Aang is 12, and given that Aang has just watched almost a full play that demeans him and everything his people stood for (and let’s not forget it also mocks his and Katara’s love for each other)…

His reaction is understandable. An exaggeration and needlessly dramatic, but understandable. He feels vulnerable and insecure and Aang is human. He is human and flawed and he overreacts here and I love that A:TLA shows how even our heroes, even people who are truly good at heart and in soul, can get overly upset (especially given the aforementioned circumstances!). Would Aang actually be in the Avatar state at that moment, had it been possible? Of course not! He’s young and he’s hurt and as such he says something dramatic to convey his anxieties and frustrations. The line is not meant to be taken literally, and seeing people do so despite all the factors that should be taken into consideration when analyzing it… Cue a long, tired sigh from me and so many other A:TLA fans.

And to be honest? I cannot fathom how people watch this episode and come to the conclusion that Aang is “threatening” Katara. To me, this episode - besides being a recap episode - is one that humanizes our cast even further. Aang snaps at Katara, kisses her when he shouldn’t (which the story appropriately treats as wrong). Katara pushes down her true feelings and retreats into herself, afraid to start a relationship with the boy she loves because she’s already lost him once before and can’t bear to do so again. Zuko further confronts the hurt he’s enacted upon others, especially upon Iroh. Toph practices being vulnerable and accepting vulnerability from others by conversing with Zuko. Sokka witnesses how others have erased his contributions and labelled him as nothing more than the token nonbender in the group. Even Suki learns that she is not the only person who holds a place in Sokka’s heart and that she can never replace what he has lost.

To watch this episode where our heroes must come to terms with how the Fire Nation deems them inherently inferior, with how they have more fights to overcome in the future with the Fire Nation than a single war, and to come to the conclusion that… that what, Aang is abusive? A monster? Irredeemable? That he would threaten his best friend, someone he loves in every way?

Wow. That says more than enough about the viewer, doesn’t it?

#getting back into the swing of things babey ✌️#aang #katara #kataang #kataangtag #the ember island players #atla #avatar the last airbender #amy answers #dramaticowl #amy analyzes #also i am speaking in GENERAL TERMS here lmaooo this is not a direct response to any one post 😂😂

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theawkwardanglophile · 3 years

Text

The Tolerance Evaluation

Happy Fluff Crawlspace 2021! I was FINALLY able to write a fic for this special day. It’s actually one I’d started probably not long after the finale aired, but never went back to finish it. I always wanted a little more closure after Sheldon and Amy’s argument before their Nobel ceremony, so here it is. Enjoy, my friends. I love you all!

You can also read on FF here.

Sheldon's vision blurred as he watched the feathers on Amy's dress multiply. It had been an amazing but exhausting day. So many handshakes (much to his chagrin), interviews, photos, congratulations, and by the end of it all, so many hugs exchanged with their friends as they said goodnight, and Sheldon apologized for his behavior once more. After his speech earlier this evening, the gang had decided it was all water under the bridge anyway. It wasn't to Sheldon. He realized just how close he had come to losing all of them, and he was determined to appreciate his friends better from here on out.

And his wife.

If he was being honest, the biggest contributing factor to his exhaustion was this nagging fear that things still weren't right between him and Amy. Sure, she was fine during the ceremony, and every time their eyes met during all of the mingling and interviews, she'd given him a smile. But he wasn't convinced. They hadn't gotten a chance to talk alone since they were in their hotel room earlier when Amy had spoken words that had shaken him to his core.

He thought today would be perfect; finally winning the prize he'd sought after his whole life, with his brilliant wife standing proudly beside him sharing the victory. By all accounts, it was one of the best days of his life. But knowing there was a chance Amy might not be as happy in their marriage as he had believed left him rattled. He had to make this right.

They finally were able to return to their hotel room for the night. They were both so tired of talking that neither one said much on the way back.

Once the door was closed they began to change into their pajamas. Sheldon was quite ready to get out of his tuxedo, and he imagined Amy's feet were hurting from her fancy shoes.

They quietly went through their nighttime routines, Sheldon first, then Amy. He got in bed and waited for her to join him. Part of him just wanted to sleep and let this go until morning, but he didn't think he actually would sleep if he put it off.

Amy turned out the lights around the room except for the one by their bed and crawled into the covers. "Wow, we really did it," she said.

"We did," Sheldon agreed cautiously. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired, but I still have so much adrenaline. It might take me a little while to actually fall asleep."

"In that case, can we talk?"

Amy nodded.

"It's about what you said before the ceremony. When you told me sometimes you merely tolerate me."

"I'm sorry I said that. I was just frustrated."

"It scared me, Amy. Am I really that terrible to be around? I don't want to be that way. I don't want you to just tolerate me."

Amy shifted to face him better. "I wasn't trying to scare you, Sheldon. I just wanted you to open your eyes and see what you were doing to those around you."

Sheldon closed his eyes in frustration. "I honestly thought I had made progress with our friends over the past few years. You've helped me become a better friend, but obviously, I haven't mastered it yet. And I am sorry for the way I treated you, and everyone else."

Gently placing her hand on her husband's cheek, Amy said, "Look, you can be difficult to deal with sometimes, but our friends know this and still love you. And I love you, no matter what, remember? That will never diminish. You're the only one I would want to be with on this journey. You're the only one I wanted standing with me on that stage."

Sheldon reached out to wrap his arms around her, pulling her close, needing to feel her against him as relief swept through him. They were going to be ok. "Having you up there with me was the best part of the ceremony."

"And your speech was beautiful, by the way," Amy whispered, her head resting on his chest.

"Thank you. This night would never have even happened if it wasn't for you."

He could feel her smile into his pajamas as she said, "Part of me still doesn't believe it did happen. It hasn't fully registered yet."

"Neither has the fact that Leonard and Penny are having a child."

"I know! I'm so excited," Amy exclaimed. "Did Leonard really say that about their babies being smart and beautiful?"

Sheldon nodded. "He did, and then I added they would be imaginary."

"Sheldon!"

"Well, by all the information I had gathered, it didn't seem possible at the time. But I was…wrong, apparently."

Amy cast him a mischievous smile, as she fingered the hair at the base of his neck. "I was thinking…what if Leonard and Penny's child had a playmate to grow up with?"

"I suppose Halley and Michael will be suitable playmates eventually. Why are you asking this?"

Rolling her eyes, she replied, "I meant, what do you think about starting to try for our own baby?"

"Oh!"

"I mean, we just accomplished probably the biggest milestone of our careers. It seems like a good time, don't you think?"

Sheldon could see it all unfolding in his mind, a baby of their own, growing up with the baby of his best friends. He used to never think he would ever want this, but now it sounded like the most wonderful idea. He'd actually been ready to start their family for some time now but wanted to at least wait until the Nobel was behind them.

"If you're ready, Amy, then so am I."

They both leaned in for a kiss. Sheldon meant for it to be brief, but as soon as their lips met, his overwhelmed emotions took over. He wanted Amy to understand everything he was feeling in that moment, everything he had felt the entire day. His love for her had never been stronger.

They continued to deepen the kiss until Amy pulled back to blurt out, "Want to start now?"

Sheldon paused, trying to gather his thoughts.

Amy rushed on, "I, uh, don't know if you had anything on your schedule, if you're still making a schedule, but I want to be with you tonight if you'll have me."

"Amy, what kind of husband would I be if I didn't schedule celebratory lovemaking on the biggest night of our lives?"

Smiling, Amy leaned back in to kiss him once more. "I love you, Sheldon," she whispered against his mouth.

"I love you, Amy."

Nine months later, little Leonard Cooper arrived to upend their lives in the most wonderful way.

Biggest night of their lives, indeed.

#shamy #fluff crawlspace #sheldon x amy #tbbt #the big bang theory #big bang theory #sheldon cooper #amy farrah fowler #shamy fanfic #my fanfiction

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chockfullofsecrets · 3 years

Text

Critical Role: Waiting For My Mind To Go To Sleep

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Teen & Up for Caleb having a pretty bad day

Summary: He levers himself up from the little nest he’s made of his arms, his sudden suspicion the only thing keeping him from stumbling over the word. “This does not tickle one bit, by the way.”

“Okay,” Caduceus says. “Did you want it to?”

Caleb can't sleep. Caduceus decides to take matters into his own hands.

Wordcount: 5.3k (SAVE ME)

A/N: so this turned into... something... i think it’s safe to say in general that if you ever feel like Caleb, please take a deep breath and do something nice for yourself <3

For anyone who's trying to keep track - set after Difficult, with a bit of reference to Staying Warm.

---

Caleb has not possessed a desk in a long time, so it is a shame that he is currently wasting his new one as a place to rest his head while he waits for exhaustion to take him.

He’s counting off the end of twelve minutes, growing increasingly frustrated as the simplicity of the numbers fails to stop his brain from running itself in ragged circles, when slow footsteps sound out from the hallway. “Oh, you’re still up.”

It’s Caduceus. Caleb peels himself off long-dried sheets of spellwork and tries to make himself look a little less like an empty shell of a person. “Ja, I am up, what can I do for you.”

The slight downward tilt to Caduceus’ eyebrows in an otherwise placid expression radiates disappointment. “You said you were going to sleep, earlier.”

Earlier being an hour and forty minutes ago, when Caduceus passed by him with a full teapot on his way to the roof. Strange, given that the kitchen is just next to the staircase and his study is on the opposite side of the house. He sighs and rubs at his face - there is a chance, however slight, that this time pressing at his temples will actually help with the headache even if he deserves the fucking thing for getting them here in the first place. “I am working on ah, a new spell, I am a little distracted.”

It’s not a lie, exactly. Studying is distracting him from sleep, and the cold comfort of possessing a house and certain debt gifted to them by a major political faction of the Kryn dynasty is distracting him from studying, no matter how nice his desk is. The last time his life took such a turn, he was a young man recently arrived in Rexxentrum with his two best friends in the entire world - he can think of many, many good reasons to prise the jaw of this particular gift horse open.

The problem, then, is stopping. Easy enough, when he can turn himself into a bat, but his distracted attempts at study and the resulting failures have removed even that avenue from him today. It is lucky that the Dynasty has yet to ask a new favor from them that would require him to cast.

But then, he has never held much hope for luck - and, oh, Caduceus has moved much nearer at some point.

“I will sleep,” he acquiesces, nodding in the vague direction of a flowing sleeve, and refrains from adding any sort of incriminating time frame. “You should get some rest as well, mein freund.”

Caduceus clears his throat, somewhere miles overhead. “Your arms are going to get sore, if you keep doing that.”

He looks down. Takes a deep breath and lets it out as he pulls his hands away from the scars and lays them flat against the fine wooden grain of the desk. “Thank you.”

That should be the end of it, he thinks, and he can go back to counting miserably, but the smudge of pink in his peripheral vision stays stubbornly present. “Is… is there something else?”

“You know,” Caduceus says with that unruffled serenity of his, “I think I’m going to make some more tea. I’ll bring you a cup, and we’ll sit for a while.”

Caleb winces.

He is fond of Caduceus, very much so, as he is of all his friends. It is just - it is not that he doesn’t know he is terrible, anymore, he has revealed all but the worst of it in Felderwin and their group has decided that his contributions are worth the trouble of associating with him anyway. But Caduceus, who cares so naturally and unselfishly, who operates with a faith in everything around him that Caleb cannot begin to understand - something about his knowing gaze is unsettling, when Caleb cannot tell what he knows or how he is judging him.

The part of him that is tired would welcome a friendly presence to lull him to sleep, instinctively knowing by now that they are safer here than nearly anywhere else in the world. The other part, bitter and exhausted, trusts no one. Least of all himself, when he cannot even think through political machinations.

He’s waited too long to respond - he can feel Caduceus’ gaze now, prickling at the side of his head. “I can bring some of this to the kitchen, if that is where you are going.”

“Oh, I was thinking we could use your bed,” Caduceus says. The visual of Jester waggling her eyebrows suggestively springs to mind, and he bites the inside of his cheek before he can smile. “Why don’t you go lie down, and I’ll be there in a minute with the tea.”

It sounds more like a command, really - Caduceus wanders off, and there’s nothing to do after that but to retreat to his room. He begins the rote process of shucking his boots and socks in deference to the warm night and reaches up for his holsters.

His fingers close around the buckles, and suddenly he is frozen, possibilities of disaster everywhere. It will be safer if they stay on him, even though they are in the middle of a residential neighborhood, he has to keep them close-

He breathes out, slowly, through his nose and strips them off as well. It feels like a punishment, but then, maybe that is how he can stop himself from thinking too much. Not that it has ever worked before, piling discomfort upon discomfort like a stone wall, but if it is what he has to hand at the moment then so be it.

Next, the bed. He takes a step towards the bed, knowing that is where Caduceus will expect to find him - but his mind is still spinning with a dozen different threads, spells and spycraft and a sudden curiosity as to what the Kryn stuff their mattresses with, surely they do not grow hay or cotton here-

He’s still standing there when Caduceus ducks through the doorframe, large fingers wrapped with delicate care around the handles of two mugs, and shuffles one of them forcefully into his hands. “There we go. It’s not too hot, is it?”

He gulps the first sip down inelegantly. It’s the perfect temperature to warm his throat without burning his tongue, as Caduceus’ tea always is, but it feels - wrong, somehow - “Is there something in this?”

Caduceus blinks down at him. “Oh, did some of the tea leaves get through the strainer? I mean, they’re probably pretty tiny if they can do that, but I can try to pick ‘em out if they’re bugging you.”

“Ah - I mean - it tastes-” He pauses, proceeds more delicately. “There is not anything in this meant to put me to sleep?”

Caduceus looks surprised, for a moment, before patient amusement washes over his face - Caleb glances down, awkwardly, and hopes that the gentle steaming of the cup in his hands hides the way his face flushes. “It’s not drugged, if that’s what you’re asking. But with how tired you look, I’m not surprised that’s what it feels like.”

“Oh,” he says. Maybe if he downs the entire thing in one shot, it will do him the mercy of knocking him out here and now anyway.

Suddenly Caduceus’ hands are on his, gently pulling the empty cup away from his fingers and setting it down next to his holsters. “Mind if I sit?”

“No,” Caleb says, and then “Uh-” as Caduceus takes him by the elbow and starts leading him in the direction of the bed. “Wait, what are we doing?”

“C’mere,” Caduceus tells him, easing himself down at the edge of the mattress and folding his legs up beneath him.

He stares stupidly. “Where?”

“On the bed, ideally.” Caduceus says, and tugs him a little closer. “Didn’t seem like you were gonna make it there yourself.”

He should walk around to the other side and lay down there, he knows, but months of travel with these people have ruined him - he sits automatically next to Caduceus and leans into his side as he might if they were stopping for an hour of rest before realizing what he’s done.

He jerks away. “Ah - you meant to lay down, of course, I will just-”

“Nope,” Caduceus says, and promptly snakes his arm around Caleb and pulls him over into his lap.

His back hits Caduceus’ knee with a solid thump - he flounders for a moment, trying to figure out where all his limbs are among the tangle of long firbolg legs, and then he realizes that Caduceus is watching him.

Their eyes meet. Caduceus smiles down at him, seemingly unbothered by the presence of an idiot in his lap. “There, you’re laying down,” he says. “Comfy?”

“Hnnnng,” Caleb whimpers. He rolls over as best he can and buries his face in his arms, unwilling to bear the eye contact - how many more things can he do wrong today?

Caduceus hums thoughtfully.

The next thing he feels is softness as gentle fingers undo his ponytail, combing through the strands, and arrange his hair to lay loosely around him - they smooth the last of it down and start massaging the back of his head, rubbing gently behind his ears.

It is so completely unexpected that it undoes him; he spares a single moment of thankfulness that he’s washed his hair recently and succumbs to the simple bliss. “Oh, Scheisse, that feels good.”

Caduceus’ belly, pressed warm against his side, shakes in quiet amusement. “Thought it might,” he says. “You’re not easy to calm down, are you.”

“No,” Caleb says, honestly regretful. Even as the rush of tingles from having his scalp scratched washes down his back, he still cannot make himself stop thinking - about whether he has manipulated Caduceus into doing this by being too lazy to take himself to bed earlier, about what he can do to return the favor-

“I know you think that I am neglecting myself,” he says finally, groaning a little as Caduceus drags a thumb firmly down the back of his neck. “I know I need to rest so that I can cast, I just - ah - it is tricky-”

Caduceus pauses, rubbing at the edge of his shoulder blade for a moment. “Of course you can take care of yourself.” He punctuates the statement by untwisting Caleb’s spine with a loud crack that leaves him gasping in sudden relief as a good amount of the tension in his back disappears. “Doesn’t hurt to have a little help, though.”

He scratches lightly at the backs of Caleb’s ribs. It’s pleasantly sharp, little pinpricks of sensation rushing up and down, and Caleb squirms happily for a moment into his hands before he realizes.

He levers himself up from the little nest he’s made of his arms, his sudden suspicion the only thing keeping him from stumbling over the word. “This does not tickle one bit, by the way.”

“Okay,” Caduceus says. “Did you want it to?”

Squirming a little more, he bites back the traitorous yes, please that forms on the back of his tongue. “No.”

“Then be good and stay still,” Caduceus says, and keeps scratching.

Caleb huffs and sticks his nose back into the crook of his elbow. “You are very bossy sometimes, you know that?”

He tenses as soon as he says it - there is a reason he keeps these things to himself unless he is talking about Beauregard, who seems to prefer his annoyance to most other things that leave his mouth.

Caduceus just chuckles. “You don’t have any siblings, do you.”

“No,” he says - and then, if only because they have been on his mind of late as he thinks about politics and consequences - “old friends, though, growing up.”

“Shame,” Caduceus hums, hands sliding down to scuff at his sides. “Then I guess you’ve never been in a tickle fight.”

There is the familiar, guilty, sting, thinking of the past - but one more thread of thought could hardly make the tangle any worse, could it? Of course Astrid and Wulf had known he was ticklish, they knew everything about one another. In the beginning, when there was still time for such things, he remembers them abusing the knowledge at times when Ikithon’s clear favoritism rankled a little too much, or, more rarely, to play - it had been much easier, then, to make him smile.

And then Molly, with his infernal grin and equally devilish fingers prodding for every sensitive spot he could find, the teasing - and that night by the fire, just before Hupperdook, his arm blazingly warm around Caleb’s shoulders in the winter chill as he jostled him around and assured him that it was perfectly normal to want such affections.

They are kind memories, even with the bitter regret of his own blame in their ending, and -

Verdammt, his ribs are starting to get sensitive.

He tries to breathe through it, but his lungs are fidgeting as badly as the rest of him would like to, startled and giddy; instead, he presses the edges of his fingernails into his palms and tries to see reason in the dark cradle of his forearms.

This will not help him sleep. He is wasting Caduceus’ time, if he lets this continue. It does not matter what he wants, when he has no right to ask for any of it.

“Caduceus,” he starts. The syllables shiver on his lips, too close to laughter for comfort. He tries again. “Caduceus, I - I am feeling much calmer now-” His heartbeat pounds loudly in his ears. “-if you would let me up-”

“Hey,” Caduceus says. “You got all tense again, stop doing that.”

“I just-” The path of Caduceus’ ministrations drifts over his sides, sending already-tingling nerves into high alert, and he panics. “Let go of me!”

It is the exact worst thing he could say, made worse in the harsh tone in which he spits it - the hands that have been chasing pleasantly up and down his spine still and lift away, the simple action radiating just as much disappointment as Caduceus’ furrowed eyebrows earlier, and his back arches in a miserable attempt to follow them before he can stop himself.

He bites his lip. He needs to apologize. He needs to crawl away and back to his desk like the worm he is, as heavy as Caduceus’ judgment is weighing down on him. He needs to do something other than lie here-

“Well, you don’t look very calm,” Caduceus says mildly. “You okay?”

“I am fine,” Caleb grits out automatically. He cannot be incapable of even the simplest of thought, he cannot-

“Huh.”

One of Caduceus’ hands makes its reappearance, suddenly, at his neck, two fingers slipping along the stubble under his chin to rest on his racing pulse and catch him in his lie.

The other, even more inconveniently, reappears just by the exposed hollow of his left armpit.

Suddenly, he cannot think of anything at all - he jumps and squeaks and curls away as best he can, fighting back the tremulous ah-ah-ah-! of burgeoning laughter that bubbles up behind his teeth as five fingers flutter merrily against the thin cotton of his sleeve.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Caduceus says placidly. He stops moving his fingers, but they just stay there, just barely touching, as if he is daring Caleb to try and crush them under his arm and see what happens.

Things seem very dangerous in a completely different way than they did seconds ago - if he was at peril of sinking, before, the feather-light presence against tender skin makes him feel like he might float away. He holds as still as he can, waiting.

Still, he shivers all the way down to his toes as Caduceus clears his throat. “You know, I have a sister - had? - uh-”

“May have, if you are uncertain,” Caleb says automatically, decades-old Common grammar lessons rushing to the forefront in lieu of any instinct that might actually be useful, and promptly bites his tongue.

“Sure,” Caduceus concedes, and gives his armpit another good tickle. Caleb squeaks again and tries fruitlessly to wrap his arms more tightly around his head. “She’d swear up and down that she wasn’t ticklish too, when she didn’t want to be. Not that it helped her much if you got a hold of her feet.”

Caleb becomes suddenly, horribly aware of his own exposed soles - he is facedown on the bed, his knees will not even bend the right way to let him hide them against the mattress-

Caduceus must catch the involuntary scrunch of his toes - he laughs, low and pleased, and pats him warmly on the back. “I think your ribs were working out just fine, but if you’re curious-”

“I am not.” Caleb says hastily.

Something swoops, low and excited, in his belly.

It really isn’t fair how tall Caduceus is, especially when it means that he can keep one threatening hand pressed to Caleb’s ribs at the same time he reaches for his feet. Caleb, still bundled facedown in his lap, only realizes what is about to happen when he feels a soft, fuzzy palm close around his heel. “Oh - oh, bitte-”

The first pass is a single fingertip, drawing tiny circles on the calloused ball of his foot. It hardly feels like anything at all, and for one foolish moment Caleb lets himself relax.

Then the fingertip drifts down to the softer arch, wriggling into a crease as his foot curls reflexively, and it tickles like a motherfucker.

“No, no, NO,” he yelps, and scrambles blindly through the next few moments -he jabs something solid with his elbow, cool air rushing on his face as he twists and pulls his knees in, but all that is secondary to the rush of relief as he gets something beneath his feet and jams them against it. He squeezes his eyes shut and pants, clutching his chest as if he can will his lungs into proper behavior.

Something knobbly vibrates against his shoulder.

He freezes. “Um.”

It takes a long moment for him to realize that he is, somehow, still in Caduceus’ lap - his shoulder is pressed to homespun cloth and a bony chest, his feet are crowded up against one of Caduceus’ thighs as the rest of him perches on the other.

His seat shakes a little as Caduceus continues to laugh at him. At this point, Caleb can hardly blame him.

Caduceus lets out a long, happy sigh just above where he’s pressed his face back into his hands in blatant embarrassment. “Oh, we’re going to have to hold you down for that, huh.”

He says it so matter-of-factly, like it is a foregone conclusion that someday Caleb will find himself with his ankles pinned and teasing fingers coming for him, helpless to stop them. It’s far too easy to picture, just now, and despite himself anticipatory giggles start to well up in his chest.

Unacceptable - Caleb presses his lips together, burrows as far into his hands as he can and tries fervently to pretend that he is not still well within range of someone capable of doing all of these things. What is wrong with him? Nothing is happening, no one really wants to tickle him, it is not funny-

Caduceus’ fingers, though, are still moving - one hand is dancing over the tops of his feet now, hardly touching, worrying at his ankles and the sparse hair on his toes. It doesn’t even - it shouldn’t tickle, but he can’t stop thinking that it might, or that Caduceus might reach for his ribs again, and he is too tired to redirect his thoughts anymore, he feels halfway to dreaming already, and - “Hnnmm - heeeh -”

His cheeks are already warm from the desperate effort of not laughing, but they burn even brighter as the giggles start flooding out.

Caduceus can surely hear him, for all that he is hiding his face and never intends to reveal it again, and besides that he is squirming, winching his arms to his sides and scrubbing his feet uselessly against the rough fabric of Caduceus’ trousers to try and get away from his fingers without lifting them. “Heheeeh - ahaha - oh, stop, stop, help, I cahahan’t-”

Curling up in a ball doesn’t seem to help at all - a small part of him knows that he’s more or less tickling himself at this point, but all that means is that there’s nothing to get away from as he twitches and begs, no mercy from his own overtired brain, no one to help him get out-

Just as the panic really starts to choke him, something warm and grounding wraps around his shoulders.

He regains just enough awareness to feel Caduceus’ huge palm cradle the side of his head and pull him into his chest. “Shhhh,” he soothes, so low that it rumbles through the both of them. “I’m here, I’ve got you. Breathe, breathe.”

Caleb comes back to himself slowly, like the tide pulling back from the rocky cliffs of Darktow - the exhaustion is still there, burning behind his eyelids, but the thunderous crash of his heart in his ears slows to a steady echo under Caduceus’ touch. He takes in a tentative breath and nearly buckles from relief as it stays in his lungs.

Caduceus murmurs something to himself, pensive. Caleb hears it more through his chest than his ears. “Better?”

He sucks in a few more breaths before he feels calm enough to answer, slumping further against Caduceus and drawing his hands cautiously away from his face. “I am fairly sure that is not how ti- ah, how that is supposed to work,” he says tiredly. “But at least it is over. Caduceus, I am sorry-”

“Oh, I’m still going to tickle you,” Caduceus says, and Caleb nearly starts choking again.

A thousand startled exclamations catch in his throat. “Why,” is the one he gets out, and oh, he does not even begin to know what to do anymore with the excited little twist in his belly at hearing Caduceus’ words.

Gentle fingers take his chin and tilt it up until he can see Caduceus looking back softly back down at him. “You’re not being very nice to yourself, are you.”

That wrenches a rueful little smirk from him. “And why should I be?”

“Don’t do that,” Caduceus admonishes. He doesn’t - frown, exactly, just looks at Caleb more intensely until he has to fight the urge to wriggle himself loose.

“You were disappointed, earlier, when it didn’t tickle, don’t think I didn’t see it.” He tries to shake his head, but Caduceus holds him still. “I saw how you looked when I said we’d have to hold you down later, too - you want me to tickle you, Caleb, so I’m going to. That’s enough.”

Caleb opens his mouth to tell Caduceus that he doesn’t want it, that he has long since accepted that tickling is a happy and childish thing for those who do not have to try all the time to not be terrible, but he can’t quite get the lie out under his steady gaze. “I shouldn’t,” he says instead. “I should sleep, I am just wasting your time.”

Caduceus huffs, cuddling him impossibly closer and rubbing a thumb over his cheek, and Caleb has to close his eyes - he does not know, sometimes, how these people can be so careful with him, so willing to offer affection, unless he has tricked them somehow. He does not know how to repay it, either. It is hard to tell which piece of his ignorance is worse.

“You’re not. We’re going to talk about that, someday, when I’m not trying to put you to bed,” Caduceus tells his eyelids. “But that night after the dragon, a little tickling put you to sleep just fine - and you were doing all right until you decided you were going to be stubborn.”

Caleb has to smile at that, just a bit - Caduceus sounds openly affectionate, if mildly frustrated, and even though he does not deserve that it is a little funny to think that he might be as much of a troublemaker as Jester or Beauregard simply for refusing to sit still in Caduceus’ lap.

Caduceus pokes lightly at the slight round of his cheek. “There, that’s better.”

He loosens his grip, then, letting go of Caleb for just long enough to loop his arm around his chest. Caleb opens his eyes, curious - Caduceus is smiling at him, slow and mischievous, and his elbows automatically twitch halfway to his sides before he realizes that Caduceus’ arm is in the way and blocking him from getting them all the way down.

That tricky, light feeling takes hold of his chest again. “Ah - Caduceus?”

Caduceus adjusts his grip a little and raises his other hand, wiggling his fingers in a way that might be considered thoughtful if they were not pointed distinctly in Caleb’s direction. “Yeah?”

Despite everything, Caleb finds that he is fairly good at reading people when he needs to be. Which means, in this case, that he can tell - Caduceus is trying to make him more ticklish.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop it from working.

He widens his eyes entreatingly. “I was not being stubborn! I - I just panicked-”

“I told you to be good and stay still, didn’t I?” Caduceus’ arm is more than long enough to wrap all the way around his skinny chest, especially without the holsters - his hand curls carefully under Caleb’s arm, and he has to press his lips together tightly to avoid laughing then and there.

“I couldn’t!” he pleads. “You - you were-” He stumbles over the word itself, half hoping Caduceus will interrupt him again - but he doesn’t, just holding him steady. “I was trying,” he finishes lamely, willing himself not to blush and failing entirely.

Caduceus is grinning at him now, through his beard, smug in that gentle way of his. “And I was trying not to rile you up too much.” he muses, “Suppose we’ll just have to tire you out instead, how’s that sound?”

Caleb gapes. Caduceus is the nicest and gentlest of all of them; surely he is not about to trap Caleb in his lap and tickle him until he cries. And surely he should not want it, the traitorous squirmy feeling in his belly up and fluttering like a live thing.

The long, downy fingers of Caduceus’ free hand pluck his shirt loose from where it’s just barely still tucked in and slip underneath to tease at the fuzz of hair on his tummy, and such logical reassurances suddenly lose much of their weight.

“You - you planned this,” he accuses breathlessly. “You did, I didn’t - hm! - even do anything-”

“I mean, I don’t plan a lot of things. Dinner, mostly.” Caduceus prods at his belly button and he jumps, completely off guard for what comes out of Caduceus’ mouth next.

“You’re just really, really ticklish.”

Caleb whines. Just saying it makes every nerve in his body hum with anticipation, now, and when Caduceus pokes his belly button again he’s sensitive enough that he can’t hope to fight back the peal of laughter. “Don’t.”

Caduceus snickers and just keeps poking at the same spot, sending him into a tumble of frantic laughter as he twists this way and that and fails to escape. “Oh, that helped, huh?”

“No, no, oh nohoho-”

The hand holding him in place tickles gently through his shirt at the softness just above his ribs - usually he is protected by layers of leather and paper there, enough to hold off one of Veth’s crossbow bolts, but all he can do now is whimper.

Caduceus’ free hand sneaks up his other side and repeats the process under his shirt, and he shrieks.

“Heh,” Caduceus chuckles, and eases off for a moment. “You gonna be good if I’m not holding on to you?”

Presumably he wants to get his other hand under Caleb’s shirt and torture him even more, but that’s not the reason Caleb reflexively clings to his arm. “No, no, I need-”

He cuts himself off before he can say that he needs Caduceus to hold him, largely because he does not want to admit it even to himself.

Luckily, he does not need to say more. “Okay, I’ve got you,” Caduceus says easily, and squeezes him a little tighter. “Let me know when you’re done, yeah?”

Before Caleb can ask what that means, Caduceus’s fingers spider under his shirt and start kneading, gentle and merciless, at the top of his ribs.

Caleb breaks instantly. He can’t get his arms far enough down to protect himself, can’t hope to get loose - he tries to bite his lip for a moment to stop himself from laughing, flinging his hands back over his face, but all his breath rushes out in a sudden squeal as the first shock of ticklish sensation hits him in full. “Ahahaaaaa - aaa!”

Caduceus tickles one side of his ribs until he’s sobbing and kicking, completely insensible, and then lazily spiders down over his sides and belly and back up to the other side to tease and tickle as he pleases. He tickles up into his armpits, around the soft curve of his tummy, and rubs his thumbs into the bony outcrop of his hips through the pockets in his pants - he goes back and forth, back and forth, until Caleb loses track of time and numbers and which language he’s begging in and can only measure how much air is left in his lungs before he starts wheezing again.

At some point, he can’t hold himself upright any longer - he sinks down against Caduceus’ bracing arm, but it only stretches the skin over his ribs further. He wails.

It goes on until all he can do is gasp and snicker weakly as Caduceus prods his way back up his side, stopping to trace at each ribin turn. His eyes drift shut, at some point. He doesn’t think he’s ever been tickled so badly in his life.

Still, it seems that there is the possibility for it to tickle even worse - Caduceus’ hand finally, finally slips out from under his shirt, and he just manages to gasp out a sigh of relief before it closes gently around his ankle.

His eyes spring open. “Mein Gott, bitte, bitte, not there,” he hiccups. “I’ll die, I’ll die, please!”

Caduceus hums - held upright, he can just see Caduceus’ wrist pinning down the top of his foot as his index finger traces a light, tickly circle around the thin bone of his ankle. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

Caleb grasps for the threads of his thoughts, heedless of confession in the face of being tickled more, but to his surprise there is little left to worry about - even the exhaustion feels far away now, his whole world narrowed to the warmth of being held here.

“Nothing,” he says honestly. He giggles a little as Caduceus’ fingers keep moving. “Ankles, maybe.”

Caduceus laughs aloud at that, letting go of his foot and untangling their arms as he briefly nuzzles his forehead. Caleb’s seen him do it to the others, before, but never to him. He sighs at the warm, fuzzy pressure against his hairline, the light huff of breath that stirs the mess of his hair. It’s nice.

“Alright. Off to bed with you, Mr. Caleb, come on.”

He’s already dreaming, he thinks - Caduceus has to help him over to the pillows, where he flops out and curls contentedly into the blanket tugged over him. Maybe it’s that he can barely move from exhaustion, cheeks still sore from laughter, but the bed has never felt better.

Drifting off, he allows himself to hope foolishly that this might not have to be the last time.

#tickling #critical role #clayleb #caduceus clay #caleb widogast #chocfic #feel free to tell me how you feel about caleb pov i'm honestly curious how it comes across

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n-blanca-archived · 3 years

Text

↳ CLASS 1-A HC’S TO MAKE YOU SMILE (hopefully)

A/N: i’ve been on class-1a brainrot (yes, all of them. collectively) for SO LONG and honestly? I love it here. romance is all good and dandy but FRIENDSHIP? good shit.

on that note, these pairings are all platonic! just little things i like about their dynamics or things i think they’d do when they hang out :) feel free to see them as romantic though, not like i can stop you :P

p.s sorry for dipping??? for like months???

genre: fluff

warnings: minor situational angst

→ Denki & Izuku

❑ These two boys are the other’s hype-man, totally. Kaminari absolutely does not mind sitting through Izuku’s ravings about the fluctuating hero rankings, or even just the times where Izuku mutters on and on.

❑ Kaminari’s been ignored enough times to know that it doesn’t feel good at all to want to talk to someone and for them to sheepishly tell you they’d long since stopped listening. Izuku does the same for Denki, no question. Sometimes Denki starts talking, and he doesn’t really...stop.

❑ But Izuku finds it’s nice to hang out with the boy, and he doesn’t mind not contributing to the conversation when Denki looks so elated to see someone listening for once.

❑ While I will forever be the number one advocate for Bakugou tutoring Denki and finding different studying strategies that work for Denki instead of giving up on him, I think Izuku’s just as likely to do that for kami!

❑ It’s a frustrating first session, but once Izuku’s brian suggests that Kami might just need another method of studying, he takes that idea and runs with it.

❑ The next week, kami goes to Izuku’s room a little afraid of the freckled boy rejecting him- but to his surprise, Izuku presents him with all types of new study methods, including colored index cards and a home-made sentence reader that covered the entire page except for one line at a time.

❑ (yes, he did tear up for a second.)

❑ They end up going through that week's chapter in half the time it usually took Denki to get a subject, and they got to play video games afterward!

→ Ochako & Katsuki

❑ While I don't think the boys in 1-A look down on the girls in the sense of "but they're girls so they are weaker :(" all that much- Katsuki was the first and only one really to make that clear. He didn't see her as something or someone to pity. She was an opponent and a damn capable one at that.

❑ So, yes. Maybe Ochako and Katsuki aren't exactly best friends who'd die for each other. But they’ve proven to each other that if there's someone who'll bring their all to a fight no matter the circumstance, it's each other.

❑ Ochako’s weariness when it came to Katsuki was short lived. It was kind of hard to be so...afraid of someone who treated you better than others seemed to coddle her when she told them she was a hero-in-training.

❑ It starts small, too. At first it was just teaming up occasionally during class for spars. Then it was going to the gym after school with Katsuki and Eijirou.

❑ Tiny little hang-outs like that then turn into joining the blonde on his morning runs every once in a while, and eventually Ochako found herself seeking out Bakugou every weekend, and the blonde seemed to be on the same mind-track, too. Every Sunday, when Ochako pulled open the front door, she spotted Katsuki, stretching out in the front lawn, waiting for her.

❑ (and if they occasionally have breakfast together after their bi-weekly sunday training sessions, then that's their business.)

→ Shouto & Eijirou

❑ them hanging out wasn't really ever. Expected. Like, at all.

❑ but kirishima's shown that he has a knack for weird, almost hostile awkward boys with low friend counts

❑ so shouto fits right in

❑ really it starts when Kirishima finds Shouto in the common room, staring into space. Usually he'd leave him be, but it was weird to see the boy without his group of friends joining him

❑ in an effort to get to know shouto better, kiri offers to play a few rounds of super smash bros,,, and shouto just. blinks. at him. And kiri blinked back for a second before he realizes shouto didn't know what super smash bros was

❑ and of course, to kiri, that's absolute blasphemy

❑ so kiri abandons his trip to the kitchen in favor of sitting next to shouto on the couch, and teaching him how to play as many video games as they could fit in one night

❑ (the first time kiri sees shouto laugh, he can't help the way his face splits into a grin. Todoroki, while not mean, was someone who came off as cold most of the time, so to see him so relaxed made Eijirou feel warm.)

❑ somehow it becomes a regular thing-- shouto would come downstairs, and eventually Kirishima would show up. Sometimes they were both alone, sometimes they were surrounded by their friend groups. But every time without fail, Kirishima would take his place next to shouto, hand him the blue controller that he favored, and turned on the TV to select the first game they'd be playing

❑ (watching Shouto start to gain some of Kirishima's vernacular was also an interesting - read:hilarious - experience)

→ Mina & Yuga

❑break dancing buddies

❑ like. I'm not kidding these two have moves.

❑ well. Mina does, at least. Aoyama gets it pretty quickly but it took him a second to familiarize himself with how your body moves when your break dancing.

❑ aoyama's danced ballet most of his life, so dancing wasn't new to him

❑ but this particular type of dancing was new to him- so of course he reached out to mina after the UA festival

❑ mina, ever the angel, agreed!!!!! Dancing buddies!!!

❑ Mina's also loved dance for a good amount of time

❑ it started in middle school, and just carried into highschool. The idea of being to express yourself with your /body/ was exciting, plus you looked really cool while doing it too!

❑ so when she gets asked by Aoyama to teach him how to breakdance she's nervous, but completely giddy to be able to be someone else's intro to a hobby that was a big part of her life

❑ it's not an uncommon sight to see mina and Aoyama, in their workout clothes, working through moves Step by step with Mina's phone blasting some random song that was beat heavy

❑ (Aoyama would be an interesting extra add on to the bakusquad. Am I wrong? No 🚗)

→ Hanta & Tsuyu

❑ Sero never really interacted with tsuyu, not to say he didn't like her! she just wasn't in his social circle

❑ so to say he felt awkward when he found her in the corner of the library during free period- curled up and sniveling away - was an understatement

❑ still, he put down the fourth issue of a manga he was /really/ looking forward to catching up on, and sat next to her until she calmed down enough to tell him what's wrong

❑ turns out, winter always sucked and made her tired, which made her sad. Added on to the already existing amphibian instincts in her that hated loud noises or too many people, it could get really overwhelming for her

❑ Sero offered to let her into his room whever she wanted to hang out in the quiet, if she felt embarrassed to do so with her closer friends

❑ she seemed surprised, but quickly agreed.

❑ Sero wouldn't tell her, but he often felt the same in a sense. The only two people in his friend group who could be relatively quiet in more personal settings were Bakugou, ironically, and Kirishima. So he often found himself leaving group hang-outs just a little early, to destress in his quiet room.

❑ tsuyu hadn't expected him to stay with her, and especially not offer his room to her whenever she needed to get away. Still, she agreed, knowing she'd probably never take him up on his offer

❑ she was proven wrong three days later, when Ochako squealed about...something.

❑ tsuyu couldn't say for sure what the floaty girl was yelling about. Normally she was attentive, really! But her head was throbbing and she was on the verge of falling asleep then and there when Ochako burst into a loud yell of excitement, startling the frog-like girl

❑ so tsuyu gathered her stuff as quickly as her sluggish body allowed, rushed out a quick goodbye to her baffled friends and made her way to the dorms

❑ the elevator was a struggle, with the humming of the machinery almost lulling her to sleep. She made it out successfully, though due to her drowsiness and increasingly blurring vision, she realized just a little too late that she had wandered down the wrong hallway

❑ sero's name plate made her stutter in her tracks, but after a moment of deliberation that left her swaying on her feet, she knocked as strongly as she could on the thin door, hoping the lanky boy was in his room

❑ thankfully, he was, and he only offered her a small smile before ushering her into the room and guiding her to his bed. Tsuyu thinks she croaked out a tiny "thanks", but she couldn't really be sure

❑ she slept better in those 39 minutes than she had in weeks

❑ after that, tsuyu somehow got into the habit of wandering down the opposite hallway once she left the elevator, and most of the time Sero would open his door when she knocked, only giving her a smile before letting her wander to his bed or, more commonly, the pile of blankets and bean bags he had in a corner of his room.

❑ (she wouldn't admit it, and neither would he, but the times where they walked back to his dorm together once their free period began were their favorites. and the days where tsuyu wasn't so sleepy and they talked for the hour they had weren't so bad, either)

okokok i’m cutting it here since that last section was super long! who knew i had so much to say about hanta and tsuyu ,,,,

anyway! this was super fun, so i’ll definitely be doing stuff like this more in the future. if you have two characters you’d particularly like to see, don’t be afraid to jump into my ask box!

#class 1a #class 1a headcanons #blanca.txt #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #denki kaminari #izuku midoriya #uraraka ochako #bakugou katsuki #shouto todoroki #kirishima eijirou #mina ashido #yuga aoyama #hanta sero #tsuyu asui

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yoongiseesawmp3 · 3 years

Text

brown piano - yoongi

i’ve never written fic on this account before so bear with me, but here’s a little something about the only man i trust. and no i will not be capitalizing anything xx

summary: friends to lovers. yoongi and y/n have known each other casually for a couple years and never intended to take their friendship further than a few study groups together or the occasional dinner with friends. but being in the same applied piano class has brought them together, and their mutual love for epik high bonds them more than they’d like to admit.

warnings: language, probably. there’s a couple cliches in here too, i couldn’t help it. i probably only refer to yoongi as a honey dumpling twice

word count: 8.3k (its really just a long ass love letter to bv4/in the soop yoongi)

playlist: end of the world - epik high, gsoul / love song - epik high, park sung woong / go - epik high / can you hear my heart - epik high, lee hi / life is good - epik high, jay park

“fuck,” you whisper, nimble fingers slipping over the wrong keys once again. for a music composition major, you’re pretty lousy at practicing your instrument. mostly because you practice and mess up and get so frustrated that you stop for a minute to scroll through your phone and before you know it, your time in the practice room is over.

the time limit on your practice contributes to your stress, but the keyboard you keep tucked in the corner of your apartment just doesn’t do this song justice. a lot of the students in the school of music ignore this room, because the old brown spinet creaks too much for their “high class” performances, but you like it for its personality and the all-encompassing feeling it gives to your songs. when you play this piano, you can’t help but listen to its song. a keyboard or a grand can easily become background music to you, but this one is stubborn. it will not be ignored, so you come back to it when you need to fall in love with a song again.

the pinging of your phone pulls you out of your daydreams about the daunting black and white keys in front of you, and you check the time left on your reservation before opening your messages.

it’s a text from yoongi, who’s been talking to you more often lately. usually you just exchange pleasantries with each other when your big group of friends happens to get together, but you’re both in this applied piano class and it was nice to have a familiar face among the pretentious students you struggle to get through lectures with.

the quiet music technology major never caught your attention before this class, because he never had much to say when you were talking in passing. but this class has taken your friendship from nonexistent to yoongi texting you semi creepy photos of you through the practice room door with the text “your posture is shit, that’s probably why you keep messing up.” you swivel around on the bench to glance at the door and notice a mop of black hair in the distance. he must be finishing up a session in one of the studios because he’s usually your competition for this practice room. the piano reminds him of the one he played growing up, he says, so it’s the easiest for him to practice on. he’s more gifted than you are however, so he doesn’t need to practice for class as much as you do. hell, he could probably think of a song to play on the spot and still ace the performance midterm without another thought.

“where are you headed?” you text back, shuffling your sheet music together as neatly as possible before you start gathering the rest of your things. “i sounded so bad that you’re running away?”

“no,” he replies, and you can picture his shoulders shaking with a silent laugh. “need coffee.”

“omw,” you text quickly, going from tenderly placing things in your bag to slightly shoving them down enough to zip everything up securely. you gaze sadly at the piano before you leave. you really should try and practice some more, you have a few minutes left in the room, but you let out a sigh and head for the door instead. you need coffee and your dumpling shaped friend right now. hopefully the combination will help you get over some of your stress.

you find yoongi just outside, leaning up against a pillar of the building with his hands in his pockets and a bucket hat that he’s produced out of nowhere pulled over his head. he peeks up at you from under the brim when he hears the rickety doors clang shut, and he smiles slightly before pushing himself off the stone column.

“how’s the song coming?” he asks casually, leading the way to your mutual favorite coffeeshop like it’s second nature. which honestly, it’s getting to be like that. how did you go from barely knowing yoongi to spending almost every day with him?

“uh, my fingers don’t work anymore i think,” you explain. “i’ll get it though. i just need to practice more.”

“i could always help you,” he offers. you quirk an eyebrow at him and he continues. “like, i could listen and maybe watch the way you’re playing, and if there’s a spot you’re constantly messing up on i’ll just know to cough a lot during that part of your performance so the professor doesn’t hear it.”

“wow, who would’ve thought that min yoongi would be my knight in shining armor,” you joke. “what were you working on?”

“another song for my mixtape,” he tells you simply. “i want to sample an epik high song, but i can’t find one that fits the vibe yet.”

“hmm,” you think. “you’ll find one. or you can wait for their new album and use something off of that.”

“yeah, but i won’t have the same connection to those songs that i do with the old ones, you know?”

“then just go back to your favorites. have you tried doing something like lesson one?” you ask as you arrive at the coffeeshop. yoongi opens the door for you and ushers you inside, scooting you out of the way so someone zooming by on a bird scooter doesn’t accidentally clip your heel.

“when i first started working on this i tried doing my own version of it, but i don’t think anything i have to say would be better than tablo,” he explains.

“that’s not how you should be thinking when you’re making music,” you scold. “whatever you make will be worth listening to, and whatever you say in those songs will mean something. thinking like that will only limit what you make, min yoongi.”

he pauses and looks at you with an unreadable expression before he pulls his lips into a straight smile and nods.

“huh. you’re right, y/n,” he sighs.

“and for that little nugget of wisdom,” you say, “you owe me a coffee. toffee n-”

“toffee nut latte with no sugar, i remember,” he says, cutting you off as he pulls out his wallet. “what size?”

“considering i’m a little high strung from not nailing my song yet, probably a small,” you tell him. he nods and orders you a medium anyway and gets a muffin for you two to split. you fall into a comfortable silence as you wait for your order, but yoongi breaks it after checking his phone.

“namjoon wants to know if you’re free this weekend,” he deadpans, making it sound like a statement when it’s meant to be a question.

“i don’t know, why?” you ask, pulling the warmed muffin closer to you. you start picking out one of the chocolate chips before you continue. “isn’t it fall break? i’ll probably stay here and practice. it’s too short of a break for me to go home.”

“apparently we’re all staying in a cabin or a box or something up in the mountains,” yoongi says. “it’s supposed to be a combined birthday trip for him and jungkook, i think it might just be the guys but he says you’re welcome to come with us. he says you look stressed.”

“why does he think i look stressed?!”

“because you do,” namjoon says, popping up beside you from one of the couches against the wall. he must have been buried in a book or his laptop, because neither of you noticed him when you first walked in. he gives you a casual side hug, tussling your hair and talking to yoongi above your head. “hey hyung.”

yoongi grunts a hello in response, and you share an eye roll with namjoon before he goes on about the whole mountain thing. he explains where it is, how long you’ll stay, and some of the other specifics that have already been arranged. it sounds nice, so maybe you should go.

“you should really come,” namjoon half pleads. “it’s kind of last minute, so not many of our friends can make it, but we need you to be the dj for the weekend. and i think you deserve a break.”

“you do,” yoongi chimes in, picking up your drinks and leading your small group to a table near the window. “it’ll help you come back to the song later without getting tired of it. you should never be frustrated when you’re playing.”

“i guess i’ll consider it,” you say. “you’re lucky i live too far away to go home for just a couple days, otherwise i would have to turn you down.”

“and i don’t need that kind of rejection on my birthday,” namjoon teases.

“your birthday was last month,” yoongi points out.

“but i’m celebrating it now, hyung. birthday rules still count for the celebration of said birthday.”

“yeah, but it’s not fair that you played the birthday card then and you’re doing it again now...”

sipping your latte, you laugh to yourself as yoongi and namjoon go on with their petty argument. you notice a fleck of chocolate on yoongi’s lip from the muffin, and you involuntarily lift your hand to wipe it off, but you stop yourself before it can be noticeable. you just let your hand fall to your coffee cup and take another sip of your drink, thinking about how many clean sweaters you have that you can wear this weekend.

you end up in the car with jin, hoseok and yoongi on the way to the cabin that they all rented. you’ve been roped into cooking duties for the weekend, and the four of you went grocery shopping before heading up to the mountains to meet everyone else. actually, you begged them to let you cook, bring booze, anything, since they didn’t let you chip in for the weekend at all in the first place.

“i’m not going to invite you last minute and then make you pay for anything,” yoongi told you clearly as you left the coffeeshop after talking to namjoon. “plus, jimin owes me at least $50 for ruining one of my mics, so i’ll just make him pay extra.”

like namjoon said, you are technically the dj for the weekend. you know the guys well enough to know what kind of music they want to listen to, so you crafted the perfect road trip playlist and shared it with hoseok, who’s in the front seat. he’s groaning and skipping each song he doesn’t like while jin calmly drives, complaining every now and then when hoseok skips a song jin knows all the words to.

and yoongi? well, he’s quietly scrolling through his phone beside you in the backseat. jin insisted on you sitting back there, claiming hoseok has some kind of carsickness that only appears when he sits in the back, so that meant you and yoongi were cramped in the tight space together. no biggie, but you keep bumping elbows with him, and you have to pee, and you didn’t sleep enough the night before so you’re already a little testy. you try to situate yourself so you hopefully forget about your need for a restroom and you bump into yoongi once again, and it sets you off. you don’t do anything aside from shoot him an angry glare before huffing a little bit and adjusting yourself so you’re fully looking out the window next to you. a few moments pass in silence save for the sound of go by epik high playing over the speakers.

you’re pulled from your mini rant session in your head to, oh my god, yoongi nudging your arm. you’re ready to give him a piece of your mind when you turn to lock eyes with him, but the delicately peeled tangerine that he’s offering you is so...confusing? and slightly endearing, so you abandon your plan to be mean to him and just graciously take the sweet fruit.

“where’d you get this?” you ask as you pull apart the half he handed to you.

“did he give you a tangerine?” hoseok asks with a smile, peeking at you both in the rearview mirror.

“yeah, like out of nowhere too.”

“if it’s oddly warm y/n, don’t be alarmed. he keeps them in his pockets for safekeeping,” jin explains.

“in your pocket?” you laugh, making yoongi’s cheeks tinge pink. “have you ever sat on one?”

“i don’t wanna talk about it,” he grumbles, bowing his head to focus on peeling off the stringy white skin left on his slices of citrus. the car falls into silence again and you notice everyone bobbing along to the epik high song still playing. you smile to yourself and finally pop a piece of the tangerine into your mouth.

it’s maybe the sweetest thing you’ve ever eaten, and you surprise yourself by thinking for a moment that its sweetness could be due to the fact that it came from yoongi.

“are you still working on your mixtape hyung?” hoseok questions, once again warmly breaking the quiet of the car.

“yeah, why?”

“have you tried doing something like this?” he asks, referring to the last few bars of go that play as jin turns down a road that must be just seconds away from the house, it looks exactly like the pictures the boys have shown you and you let out a sigh of relief at the thought of a bathroom and a bed.

“i have,” yoongi starts, peeking at you without turning his head. “y/n suggested it, actually. we talked about going back to this album for inspiration and it’s helped a lot.”

“it has?” you ask, beaming at the thought of bringing yoongi out of his funk with your mutual love of this group. yoongi simply shrugs and makes some non committal sound as the car comes to a stop.

“alright everybody, thank you for riding jin express. please don’t forget to rate and tip this ride in the app once you exit the vehicle,” jin jokes. everyone shuffles to get out of the car, and as hoseok pops the trunk you’re reminded that you really should start cooking right away. you politely ask hoseok to bring your bag in with his stuff, and he promises not to drop it before you grab some of the groceries and head for the kitchen.

once everything is taken care of and the cars are unloaded, you find yourself in the middle of a crowded kitchen full of ingredients and booze and boys. not a bad place to be.

hoseok did bring your bag in for you, you can see it laying by the couch a few steps away from the kitchen island. you’ll just have to hope there’s a room left for you at the end of the night, because your back won’t do well on a sofa.

“so what are we making, chef min?” you ask, washing your hands after playfully pushing jimin out of the way.

“carbonara,” he says simply. “namjoon’s request.”

“and did you get what i asked for hyung?” jungkook asks, several beer bottles distributed evenly between both his hands. as he waits for yoongi’s answer he passes the bottles around until everyone has a drink and he looks satisfied.

“yeah, we got the pizza stuff. we’ll make it tomorrow when we watch the movie.”

“what movie are we watching?” you’re curious, only because the last movie you watched with them was one you’ve all seen hundreds of times collectively so it was less watching and more reciting the movie line for line.

“that’s a secret,” jungkook says with a glint in his eyes. “my choice.”

“it’s gonna be some sappy love story, i’d bet ten bucks on it,” jin jokes.

“make it twenty and i’m in,” taehyung adds.

“oh you’re on.”

despite never cooking together before, you and yoongi are a well oiled machine. you receive some help from jin in the form of chopping or washing, but for the most part it’s you preparing everything, from the chicken to the sauce and handing it off to yoongi to be finished in the biggest pot of pasta you’ve ever seen. it smells amazing though, and you’ve attracted a park jimin who’s a few drinks ahead of the chefs and he has a mischievous idea in his head.

“so how long have you two known each other?” he starts out innocently, speaking more to you than to yoongi.

“uh, i guess i met yoongi at a party freshman year, when i met all of you. but he was arguing with someone, so i didn’t get to say much. just introduced myself and moved on,” you explain. “we haven’t really been friends, at least i would say, until we took this piano class together.”

“and how’s that going?”

“fine, considering he and i are the most competent out of all of them,” you state matter of factly, earning a chuckle from yoongi.

“most of the kids in there took this class thinking it’d be an easy elective grade.” yoongi adds, sliding beside you and reaching across to grab the colander you just used to drain some vegetables. as he retreats you catch a whiff of his cologne and a hint of tangerine. you smile to yourself and turn back to jimin.

“plus yoongi and i played the same song for our first assignment, so i had to confront him about that to establish dominance.”

jimin laughs maybe too much at this, and yoongi pipes in from the stove to quickly change the subject.

“y/n, i’m gonna need the cheese for the topping soon.”

“yes chef!”

dinner is ready soon after that. jimin had to be removed from the kitchen for tasting things that weren’t quite cooked yet, and jin took his place next to you. it seems that all of the boys are interested in learning more about the person that yoongi insisted on inviting this weekend, but you don’t know that. after a final taste test from the three of you and several approving nods, jin summons everyone from the rest of the house.

“it’s ready!!!” jin yells. it’s too loud for the situation but you’ll soon learn that these boys usually are. it gets their attention though, because one by one they file into the kitchen and grab plates and start serving themselves. you get your own plate and follow behind taehyung, who’s currently wearing a blanket cape. while you wait, you feel a tap on your shoulder and turn around to find yoongi.

“y/n, i already made you a plate,” he tells you, holding up one of the two plates in his hands. “c’mon.”

“oh, thank you,” you reply, returning the plate in your hands and gratefully taking the one yoongi extends to you.

“did you hear that? he made y/n’s plate and not mine,” jungkook pouts.

“yeah, my feelings are hurt,” jimin whines.

“at least it’s not your birthday!”

“i wouldn’t have made you a plate no matter what, jimin,” yoongi defends himself. “but i wanted to be sure y/n sat next to me, i was at the food, i got a second plate. no biggie.”

“leave the man alone,” namjoon cuts in. “he’s being a good host to the outsider.”

“outsider?!” you ask incredulously. “i just made you dinner. be nice to me, birthday boy.”

“y/n, i looooooove you,” jungkook coos, plopping down at the table across from you and yoongi. “it looks delicious.”

“it really does,” namjoon agrees. “thanks for making it. especially you, y/n. you didn’t have to.”

“i don’t mind,” you shrug. “besides, i wasn’t sure how well any of you could cook and i didn’t want to eat shit for the weekend, so...”

your sly remark is met with a chorus of insulted voices, mostly from jin and yoongi, but jimin pipes in that he’s good at everything while namjoon and taehyung insist that they “try their best” in the kitchen, and jungkook just nods and says something about ramen for eight.

“yoongi’s quite the chef, actually,” jin says. “he can make almost anything.”

“that’s impressive,” you say with a nod, peeking at yoongi. his cheeks are turning pink ever so slightly.

“yeah, you should ask him to cook for you sometime,” jin continues. “maybe after one of your late nights in the music building.”

there are knowing glances exchanged all across the table, but you and yoongi are oblivious. he hasn’t looked up from his plate in a few minutes just to be safe, and you really have no clue, you think it’s some best friend inside joke. which it is, depending on how you read the situation. namjoon brings the attention back to what the plan is for tomorrow, and the little tension between you and yoongi dissolves without notice until it’s time for bed.

after dinner, everyone went their separate ways, jin and jungkook flocking to the game console in the living room with hoseok watching on, jimin and taehyung made a mess of the kitchen as they cleaned up after dinner, and you found yourself outside by the fire with namjoon while yoongi shuffled through the cars, mumbling about some bag of producing equipment he couldn’t seem to find. it was easy hanging out with them, which is saying something considering that these boys are basically family. but they’ve welcomed you with open arms, and it isn’t until you’re bundled up with a nice blanket and a crisp cider that you realize how much you needed a break like this.

your eyes start drooping as you stare into the fire, and namjoon seems to have the same idea as you because you both stretch at the same time and mumble something about going to sleep. he says he’ll handle the fire, and you take the blanket from his chair, along with yours, and trudge back into the living room.

“hey, where did you guys put my stuff?” you ask, looking behind the couch where you noticed your bags earlier. jimin and jungkook are the only ones left awake, and jimin glances at you quickly before replying.

“i think jin brought your things upstairs, y/n,” he explains. “first door on the left.”

“oh, thanks,” you reply, gently laying the blankets on the back of the couch before you head to the stairs. “night guys.”

“good niiight,” they both sing-song back, and you laugh as you shuffle up to your room.

the door is closed, so you reach out to open it with no hesitation, but when you see yoongi sprawled out on the bed, you jump a little.

“damn, y/n, you scared me,” he mutters, sitting up and dropping the notebook he had been scribbling in. “do you need something?”

“uh, no?” you reply, looking around. “i just, um, jimin said this was my room, so, i guess i opened the wrong door, is all.”

“wait, are those your bags? i thought they were namjoon’s,” yoongi says, pointing to, yep, your bags, laying at the foot of the bed.

“what?” namjoon asks, poking his head into the room. “i’m with jungkook.”

“are there any rooms left?” you ask, looking between them both. “i don’t want to intrude, so if i have to sleep on the couch-”

“what’s with all the chit chat?!” jin whisper yells, popping his head out of the room across the hall.

“y/n doesn’t have a room,” namjoon answers.

“no, y/n is sleeping with yoongi,” jin says, face twisting into a smile once he realizes his wording. “i mean, the two of you are sharing a room. you have the biggest bed, so i thought it would be more comfortable.”

“are you sure there isn’t another room one of us can sleep in?” yoongi asks with a certain emotion hidden in his voice that you can’t quite place.

“nope, y/n is your friend, so you’re stuck together,” jin says with finality. “now shut up, i already have to listen to hoseok snoring, i don’t want to hear any more bickering about beds.”

“hey, i don’t snore!” a voice, obviously hoseok, shouts from behind jin.

“good night!” jin laughs, shutting his door. namjoon chuckles as well, giving you and yoongi a sympathetic shrug before he heads to his own room. leaving you all alone with yoongi. you slowly turn back to him, quietly shutting the door behind you.

“i, uh-”

“sorry-”

“no, you go.”

“i was just gonna say i could sleep on the floor,” yoongi offers, but before he can even finish his sentence you’re shaking your head.

“no way,” you refuse. “it’ll be no biggie, right?”

“right,” he agrees.

“right,” you nod, convincing yourself that this isn’t as awkward as it seems. “i’m, uh, gonna go change in the bathroom though.”

“that would be smart.”

falling asleep in the same bed as yoongi was no big deal. really, what was the harm? it’s not like this trip has awakened feelings for him that you didn’t know you had...except it absolutely has. which is why you’re so freaked out in the morning when you wake up next to the man you just dreamt about cuddling all night.

wait.

your pillow wasn’t that warm when you went to sleep.

and you weren’t holding onto anything either.

cool, yeah, no big deal, definitely. you’re just latched onto yoongi’s arm while you drool on his shoulder. very attractive and not at all weird friend behavior. as you’re silently freaking out, eyes barely open, you register warm breath hitting the top of your head, and you look up to catch yoongi staring at you.

“oh, shit, sorry,” he stutters, pulling his arm from your grasp too soon. “i’m sorry, i wasn’t, like, i was trying to figure out if you were awake or not-”

“yoongi, it’s fine,” you laugh. “you staring at me is better than me turning you into my personal teddy bear. sorry about that.”

“you’re good,” he mumbles, sitting up. his hand rubs at the back of his neck, something you register as his go to nervous habit, as he keeps speaking. “it was nice actually. uh, because of the cold.”

“right,” you say, smiling to yourself. a layer of silence falls over you both as you lay there and yoongi fumbles for a minute on his phone. now you’re the one staring, looking up at yoongi’s delicate features like someone just took a blindfold off of you and you’re seeing the world in such a clear, sharp image. you’re noticing yoongi like you’ve never noticed him before.

to stop yourself from memorizing the outline of yoongi’s profile, you pull the covers off and get out of bed, groaning at the cold. you throw on an extra hoodie and some wool socks, noticing yoongi doing the same. once you’re both dressed, you’re staring at each other again, and the silence returns. it’s not awkward, just heavy, and you break it with a simple, “yoongi?”

“yeah?”

“don’t tell the guys i drooled on you, please.”

“as long as you don’t tell them i was staring at you.”

the kitchen is buzzing more than you thought it’d be, cups of coffee already poured and the stove sizzling with eggs, sausage and some sad attempt at pancakes. last night when taehyung said he tries to cook, this must be what he meant, because the finished plate of “pancakes” looks like...a good try.

you beeline for the coffee, inhaling the comforting scent and enjoying the warmth it brings to your fingers. as you take your first sip you realize the boys have been quiet since you and yoongi ambled downstairs.

“so,” jungkook begins. “how’d you two sleep?”

“fine,” you both reply simultaneously, raising a few eyebrows from your audience. convincing.

“sorry,” you apologize. “not a morning person.”

“neither is yoongi,” namjoon notes.

“seems like it’s a good thing you’re sharing a room then,” jimin says over the rim of his coffee mug, smug smirk not as clearly hidden as he’d like it to be.

“hyung,” taehyung pouts from the stove. “can you help me with these?”

“i’m not good at flour-based things,” yoongi replies without a glance, deepening the pathetic pout on the chef’s face.

“i can help you, tae,” you offer, sliding past him and taking the spatula. he utters his gratefulness, going as far as kissing your hand, and yoongi finds his ears flaring red at the sight. chill out, he thinks to himself. tae’s just being tae.

but jin notices the change in yoongi’s demeanor after taehyung’s playfulness. it seems that when it comes to the two of you, one of the boys will always notice something before either of you do.

ok, so, something that wasn’t made totally clear to you is the fact that this is a ski trip, the main event of the weekend is skiing, and here you are with nothing thicker than a nice sweater to keep you warm. maybe it was mentioned in passing and you just didn’t pick up on it, but the conversation last night at dinner made you realize how under prepared you were.

that’s how you end up shuffling through the ski lodge down the street, laden in several borrowed layers. an extra pair of pants from jimin, a hoodie from jungkook and a jacket from hoseok. and yoongi’s gloves, which he insists he won’t need because he suddenly has to work on his mixtape before he loses his inspiration. you wonder if it’s the sight of the mountain covered in artificial snow that does it, because you’re even thinking about how you wish you could paint or draw so you can capture the true beauty of this place.

but yoongi knows the reason he has to write these lyrics down now is because of the lingering feeling of you holding onto his arm, head on his shoulder and delicate breaths brushing over his chest as you slept so peacefully. in all honesty, yes, he had been staring at you, for quite some time actually. and it was while he stared that he got the idea for this song.

so, yeah, he needs to write it down now, and he figures the best time to do it without prying eyes is while everyone is occupied with skiing. he hunkers down in the ski lodge, promising to watch everyone’s stuff as the rest of you layer up and carry the rented equipment outside to the slopes. you follow jimin and taehyung to the bunny slope while jin, namjoon and hoseok go toward the snowboard-only trails with jungkook deciding on the competition style ski slope. as you walk out, you look back at yoongi, admiring the concentrated look on his face as he passionately writes down whatever is on his mind, and for the briefest moment, you hope that he’s writing about you.

“i’m never going skiing again,” jimin declares, dropping all of his wet clothes in the living room of the rental as soon as he gets inside. “why did i fall down so much? how did i get so wet because of that?”

“well, jimin, snow is just frozen water, and water is wet, right?” namjoon teases. jimin’s response is to throw a soaking scarf at namjoon, gross ski slope water flinging everywhere in its wake.

“ew, jimin!” you yell, dodging the tail end of the scarf as it makes a terrible sound when it collides with namjoon’s chest.

“he deserved it.”

“yeah well now i’m covered in your gross sweat water too,” you whine. jimin acts like he’s going to throw something else wet and squishy your way, and you shriek before you dodge behind yoongi as protection.

“don’t get me involved in this,” he groans. you mumble an apology, secretly wiping some of the water off on his scarf.

“i’m gonna go change,” you tell him. “so knock before you come in.”

yoongi nods in response, heading toward the kitchen to get out the ingredients for dinner tonight. as per jungkook’s request, you’ll be assembling your own pizzas, which means you’re off the hook for cooking, at least. everything is premade, it just has to be warmed in the oven, and jin has already declared himself the pizza master, so you just get to enjoy.

“wait, y/n!” yoongi semi-shouts, stopping you on the first step of the staircase. “can you take this up with you? you can put it on top of my black bag.”

“which one, you have three,” you playfully dig, taking the bundle from his hands anyway. it’s his jacket from earlier wrapped around something, his journal maybe? and you tuck it under your arm as you continue upstairs.

you drop the bundle on top of yoongi’s things, knowing he’ll grumble about it messing up how neatly he arranged all of his bags and their contents. that’s why you find yourself peeking back at it after you’ve changed. plus the nagging feeling in your brain that maybe, just maybe, there’s something written about you in there has you tip-toeing to the corner of the room before you gingerly pick his jacket up, letting his notebook tumble out. you hold back, neatly folding the jacket and draping it over one bag before you lean down to grab the notebook, which happened to fall face down, pages open.

it’s not a crime that you glance at the words as you pick it up, and you’re reading the whole page before you can stop yourself. you’re about to start on the next group of words when you hear a knock at the door, and you drop the notebook, feeling caught. you scramble to put it neatly with his jacket, but the words inside are running through your head as you call out to yoongi that he can come in.

if he knows that you were snooping, he doesn’t show it. he simply thanks you for folding his things, and you nod at him quickly before you duck out of the room and go back to the kitchen, all the while thinking about the lyrics that made your stomach do backflips while at the same time making your heart feel totally content. what you read on that page was pure comfort embodied in a few words, and it came from the comfort yoongi feels when he’s around you. you recognize that feeling, those words resonating because that’s the same way you feel when you’re around him. you smile to yourself, thinking about how to confront yoongi about this.

except you can’t. because then he’ll know you were looking at his things, his innermost thoughts. you know how personal his lyrics are to him, and you know he’d be upset that you looked without his permission. so you resign yourself to making your sad little pizza, distracting your mind with cheese, cheese and more cheese. hoseok must notice the gloomy look on your face, because there’s suddenly a ball of sunshine at your side. he slides ingredients onto your pizza without you knowing, until you look down and see a smiley face staring back at you. you can’t help but laugh and lean into his warmth, giggling as he makes up some silly voice for the new pizza face he created.

yoongi enters the kitchen at that moment, seeing how you smile at hoseok like that, laughing so easily at his actions, and suddenly the song he was so eager to write, to compose, to pour his heart into, suddenly he wants to go upstairs and burn the pages. he won’t, because he knows he’s just being jealous, but he distances himself immediately, silently helping jin with slicing some fresh onion or prepping the oven for another pizza. yoongi was ready to show the song to you after dinner, but now...maybe he never will.

once you’ve all eaten an unhealthy amount of food, and consumed an impressive amount of alcohol (”we have to finish it before we leave!!” - jimin), you’re all gathered in the living room to watch a movie, another jungkook choice. it’s some sappy love story, and you find yourself looking over at yoongi each time something touching happens onscreen. jin notices as well, nudging yoongi the next time he sees your eyes drift in their direction. yoongi acknowledges jin, who directs yoongi’s attention to you, and when your eyes meet you can see something has changed. you turn away, looking back up at the tv and shivering despite the warm fire just a few feet away. taehyung, sitting next to you on the floor, offers you a corner of his blanket, and you take it, scooting closer to him as you try to focus on the terrible plot of this movie.

the boring movie, the warmth of tae along with the fire, and the two glasses of yoongi’s fancy whiskey you wanted to try now sitting in your stomach all lull you to sleep at some point. tae shuffling around next to you wakes you up, and in your stupor you look around and can’t find who you’re looking for.

“where’s yoongi?” you mumble with a yawn.

“already in bed,” taehyung explains. “he went up a little while ago.”

“hm, ok,” you half-whisper, voice barely returning after your quick nap. you stand up and stretch, alerting everyone to your movements because you’re right in front of the tv. jungkook whines, and you side step out of the way. “m’goin to sleep too.”

“alright,” taehyung says, pushing the blanket out of your way so you don’t trip. “sleep tight!”

“don’t let the lovebugs bite!” jimin chirps out, making some of the boys giggle. you don’t register it as you walk to your room, just barely awake.

for the second night in a row you’re surprised to see yoongi on the bed, still awake, but tonight he’s got his laptop and all of his producing equipment is laid out around him. he doesn’t acknowledge you entering the room and you don’t pay him any mind either, kneeling down to rifle through your bags at the foot of the bed. once you find what you’re looking for, you can’t decide if it’s the sleep or the whiskey, but you unabashedly take your sweater off right in front of yoongi. suddenly he’s jumping out of bed, equipment scattering.

“uh, what- why, what, what are you doing?!” he asks, voice an octave higher than usual as he looks anywhere but down at you. you laugh at how jumpy he is, and quietly apologize.

“sorry, i should’ve warned you,” you explain. “too tired to go to the bathroom.”

“tha-that’s fine,” he replies, still not looking at you. “tell me when you’re ready.”

“good,” you say once you’ve pulled on the shirt you slept in last night. “why’d you come up here so early?”

yoongi risks a glance at you, color coming back to his cheeks once he sees that you’re clothed again. he starts meticulously packing up the tech covering the bed, leaning over his laptop and furiously saving what he was working on before he closes it.

“uh, i just didn’t like that movie,” he lies, not wanting to mention how jealous he was seeing you laughing with hoseok and then sharing a blanket with taehyung. he doesn’t have a right to be jealous, but he is. he wants to tell you how that made him feel, but he doesn’t.

“ugh, me either,” you groan, rolling up one of the stray wires on the bed before passing it to yoongi. “not my favorite genre.”

yoongi notices that you’ve folded the wire the way he likes, without harming it too much and with the ends tucked in just so. the fact that you remember such a small detail has his heart warming again, and suddenly the gloomy thoughts he had about tonight have washed away. he all but forgets why he was in a bad mood in the first place as he looks at you, crawling under the blankets and he has the urge to stop you, to wake you up again so that he can play you what he was working on. but he can do that later, he will. he sees you glance up at him, patting the bed next to you.

“c’mon, i promise i won’t drool on you tonight,” you assure him, and he laughs before pulling the covers back on his side so he can lay down. he turns the lamp off on his bedside table and then settles in, suddenly missing the warmth of you from last night.

“good night,” he mumbles, looking over at you on your phone, setting an alarm for tomorrow. the rental ends in the early afternoon, so there can be no sleeping in.

“night yoongi,” you reply, locking your phone. you keep it on your chest for a moment, contemplating how tired you actually are. before you came in, you could’ve fallen asleep on the floor, but now, laying next to yoongi, you’re reminded of those lyrics and you don’t think your mind can turn off. after a few minutes of silence, you decide it’s probably best to just try to sleep, having your phone on might bother yoongi. you need to charge it anyway, but you groan as you remember you never packed your charger.

“hm?” yoongi hums at your sound of frustration.

“do you have a phone charger plugged in over there?” you ask quietly.

“mhm.”

“can i use it?”

“yep.”

“are you almost asleep?” you ask, even quieter now, moving over so you’re a little closer to him than before.

“trying to be.”

“i’ll plug it in then,” you say, carefully reaching over him to grasp blindly until your fingers reach the cord. you fumble with it for a moment, successfully plugging your phone in eventually, and you start to retreat to your side of the bed. as you pass back over yoongi, you place a quick kiss on his cheek and mumble another good night, not even realizing what you’ve just done.

there’s no way you can fall asleep now, and neither can he. there’s a beat of silence before he speaks up.

“y/n.”

“what.”

“look at me.”

slowly, you turn your head back to him, and his intense gaze has you blushing before he even says anything.

“sorry.”

“don’t apologize.”

“ok. right. sorry,” you quickly reply, voice still barely audible, but with the lack of space between you two it’s not hard for yoongi to hear.

“y/n,” he says again, this time grabbing your hand beneath the blankets.

“yeah?”

“i think i might be in love with you.”

“that’s....nice,” you squeak back, and yoongi lets out a loud laugh. your blush deepens at the sound.

“that’s nice?” he laughs. “that’s all you have to say?”

“yoongi?”

“yeah?”

“can i kiss you?” you ask, propping yourself up on an elbow. it’s dark in the room, but you clearly see him nod, and you don’t even remember moving to connect your lips to his. the moment you do, there’s a spark of electricity flowing through you. it’s a simple kiss, lips moving in sync with each other, both knowing what move the other is going to make before you even make it. yoongi pulls himself up so he can cage you underneath his arms, long fingers brushing your cheek and sending more sparks down your spine. he cups your face as he delicately tries deepening the kiss, your lips opening just slightly to let him in. he tastes like mint, and something else, something....citrus-y. even though you don’t want to, you pull away from his lips, his pout chasing you as you rest your head back on your pillows.

“what, what’s wrong?” he asks, fear slowly creeping in.

“when did you have time to eat a tangerine?”

“seriously? that’s the question you have for me right now?” he asks, laughing again but quieter this time. it still makes you smile at the sound.

“hm, i do have one question,” you say. it’s dark in the room but you can see yoongi encouraging you to go on with a lift of his eyebrow. your smile deepens as you speak. “how long have you been in love with me?”

“okay, good night,” he grumbles, turning over. you let out a sound of frustration and prop yourself up on an elbow, holding onto his shoulder with your other hand.

“this ok?” you ask quietly, slowly melting into his side. he makes a sound of confirmation, and you pull him back towards you slightly. “i still don’t have an answer to my question.”

“when did i fall in love with you?” he asks for confirmation.

“ooh, you fell in love with me, how romantic,” you tease. “i asked how long it’s been, but i’d take either answer.”

“ok, yes, i did fall in love with you,” he begins. “you’re annoying so it took some time.”

“hey.”

“not done.”

“sorry.”

“and how long?” he continues. “mm, when i saw your name on the sign up sheet for the room with the brown piano, that’s when i knew for sure. so i guess a couple months.”

“hm. alright,” you respond, butterflies suddenly in your stomach and fluttering up to your throat. “that’s.....nice.”

that sends you both into a fit of giggles right as jimin and taehyung are passing outside your door, and jimin pulls him toward the sound. but taehyung accidentally bumps his knee on the door, alerting you and yoongi to their unwanted presence.

“go to bed!” yoongi shouts, making you jump while scaring the now snickering boys outside your door. yoongi lays an arm over your waist seeing you jerk at the sudden noise, and you feel a little bit of that comfort that he so perfectly put into words with his lyrics.

“you too!” jimin shouts back, laughing all the way to his room.

“and you called me annoying,” you whisper to yoongi.

“you know they put you in here on purpose,” he tells you.

“huh?”

“they knew i was into you, so they made sure we were sharing a room,” he explains.

“so you knew about it too?”

“i-i knew we might share a room, i didn’t know we’d be sharing a bed,” he stumbles out. “once i saw there was one bed i assumed they gave you your own room. i’m...i’m glad i was wrong.”

“well min yoongi, i never expected this,” you tell him.

“pff, seriously?”

“seriously,” you confirm. “guess i was too busy with my own feelings for you to notice that you were into me.”

“really?” he asks with a smile. you nod, but realize he may not see it in the dark.

“yeah,” you whisper.

“how long?” he whispers back.

“honestly? probably longer than i’d like to admit. you’re really cute, you know.”

“back at ya.”

“not done,” you scold.

“sorry.”

“but i finally accepted it when i...” you trail off, and then you decide it’s best to just tell him. “when i read the lyrics in your journal.”

you can feel him stiffen at your words, but he doesn’t move his arm from its place on your waist.

“which song?”

“the one from today,” you reply. “wait, which song? there’s more than one?!”

“uh, good night!” he exclaims, trying to turn away again. you grab his arm and stop him though, placing your hand over his.

“min yoongi!”

“hey,” he mumbles.

“i hope i get to read the other ones at some point.”

“you will,” he assures you. there’s a beat of silence before he speaks again. “uh, so, you still haven’t used the l word, and that’s totally fine, i swear, but, did i cross a line? by using it already?”

“nah,” you shrug. “i’m just not good at this, so you’ll have to give me a little time. i’ll say it when i’m sure.”

“alright. take your time,” he says with a nod. it’s quiet again, and you think you’re both finally going to fall asleep when you feel yoongi’s lips on your cheek. “good night, for real. feel free to use me as your teddy bear again.”

“you sure?” you ask with a smile.

“i insist.”

the next morning, you keep it chill, trying not to tip off the guys and let them know their little plan worked. but damn, how sneaky of them! you’ll have to thank them later though. for now, you’re helping them clean the house so you don’t get charged for leaving the rental a total mess. yoongi is in the living room clearing bottles from last night and you’re washing dishes with hoseok. yoongi keeps stealing glances at you, and you stick your tongue out at him whenever he catches your eye. once everything is clean, and the bags are in the car, you’re ready to head back to the city to enjoy the last bit of break.

you’re the car dj again, next to yoongi in the backseat again, but this time you have a new playlist. epik high’s new album came out this morning, so you queue that up for your intimate little listening party in the car. everyone is in a good mood from the trip, so you’re talking over most of the songs in the beginning, just noting quickly when you like a lyric or a beat. yoongi scribbles things down when the inspiration strikes him, and your mind starts drifting back to your performance midterm. you’re starting to think you may be playing the wrong song, but the question is, what song will you play instead?

as you get to the end of the album, and the end of your weekend, one song catches your attention. you check your phone, noting the title as you turn the volume up slightly. you listen extra hard to this song, trying to memorize the chord progressions as they come. you start composing the song in your mind, tapping out the melody on your lap as you decide: end of the world will be your performance song. you glance over at yoongi, still focused on his notebook, and you reach out to lightly tap his hand. he looks up at you, hair falling into his eyes, dewy cheeks shining and mouth slightly open, questioning your actions with a quiet “hm?”

“i’m sure now.”

#min yoongi #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi one shot #min yoongi fanfic #min yoongi blurb #min yoongi headcannon #bts fic #min yoong fluff #bts fluff #bts imagine #bts one shot #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction

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wayward-wren · 3 years

Text

What up lads new Philza Lore dropped

Been thinking about this since it's been revealed that c!Phil is immortal, or at least centuries old. I like analysing things, and my brain has been chugging away analysing c!Phil since this new revelation and I finally found time to sit down and get my thoughts out.

Unless specified, I'll be talking about the character Philza from now on! Let's get into it. Putting a cut in because it gets long. Also most of this is gonna be from memory because it's getting late and I'm not digging through 4+ months of vods!

remind me to never use the new Beta posting layout it gave me a word limit and then yeeted like 800 words i hate it here lets see if i can remember what I wrote

I’ve moved a lot in my life. I think on average about one new city every four years. This has meant a lot of goodbyes, a lot of meeting new people and breaking into new circles. When this new information was revealed, I instantly felt things click - I could relate to Phil suddenly.

Being centuries-old would create similar emotions, I think. Constantly being around people you know you will outlive, constantly finding yourself in new circles and groups. It takes a toll.

Being centuries old effects how Phil views relationships, people and countries.

Because I’ve moved a lot, I’ve noticed that I’m starting to get the attitude of ‘I can’t be bothered.’ I can’t be bothered going out of my way to meet new people, to make new friends I’m likely to move away from in a few years.

I’d imagine Phil would feel much the same way. Making close connections to people is impossible for him, really. He knows he’s going to outlive those around him and so the effort to put into growing relationships seems pointless.

I think this is most seen in his and Wilbur’s relationship. Wilbur clearly wants his attention - his pride - and clearly hasn’t gotten it to the extent he wants. (“I wonder if Phil would be proud of me” comes to mind. Plus I’m sure there’s something there with his relationship with Fundy and that cycle of bad parenting. And yes, it likely contributed to his spiral into madness, but this post is about Phil, not Wilbur.) But from Phil’s perspective, he knows Wilbur isn’t going to live as long as he is.

It explains why he’s so quick to kill Wilbur as well. Wilbur is too far gone, and Phil makes the decision to kill him before he does more harm. He’s long ago accepted the fact that his son will die before him, and so he is able to kill him.

Likewise, his relationship with Tommy reflects this. He doesn’t reach out to Tommy because there’s no point in making a new bond with someone who he will outlive. (especially with Wilbur’s death so fresh). However, he does make it clear that if Tommy reached out to him, he would have answered - more on that later.

His age also means he’s always looking at the big picture. He’s likely seen countless countries and empires and kingdoms rise and fall and he knows that they’re all temporary. He doesn’t see the importance in them like those who live and die within the lifespan of a nation.

He doesn’t see the small details. He doesn’t understand why Ghostbur is so upset about a simple sheep’s death - one with unlimited lives as well. In his mind, it’s just an animal. In Ghostbur’s mind, Friend is a friend, an important small thing. Phil is so used to moving on from things, he doesn’t understand the importance of pets and nations and a home.

This is all temporary in his mind, and lives are more important to him than a country. L’manberg was corrupting people (Tubbo, quite possible Wilbur in his mind) and thus it didn’t serve its purpose and needed to go before it hurt more people. (plus I wonder if there were some underlying anger and frustration towards L’manberg for the loss of his wings. It’s basically canon now (everyone say thank you Sadist!) that Phil’s wings were damaged during the explosion, and I would imagine for someone so old, losing limbs like wings and being grounded would be a shock and some of that may have been projected onto L’manberg)

(I also want to talk briefly about his and Techno’s relationship. While we haven’t had any canon confirmation, I don’t think Techno is fully mortal and it makes sense for Phil to gravitate towards other ancient beings. Plus my friend pointed out another theory in that Phil could be a patron of some kind for Techno, something Blood God related, I don’t know we need more information Techno please give us character lore I beg of you)

OKAY! I rewrote what I already had sometimes I hate Tumblr anyway onward let’s write this out before I pass out I’m tired.

Phil is willing to create relationships - but on his terms.

I said Phil is distant and hesitate to create bonds with people but this isn’t necessarily true. I want to point out Fundy and Ranboo and talk about his interactions with them and then talk about Tommy.

At the start of season two, Fundy, Ghostbur and Phil were really driving the lore. Phil seemed to be trying to bond with Fundy, and I think a lot of that likely had to do with guilt from what happened to Wilbur but there’s something deeper to it. He makes an effort to be there for Fundy and to help him.

Likewise, he went out of his way to save Ranboo from lava (though the overlap for in character and ooc is large there, I think it still applies), and brought him home after Doomsday, saving him from his own mind.

Phil seems himself as a benevolent being. He sees himself as right, and part of that is being there for his grandson, or helping out a hybrid in trouble.

However, it’s important to note - this is on his terms. He’s lived so long, he doesn’t want to put energy into relationships that won’t give him back something. For Fundy, I think a lot of it was making up for what happened with Wilbur and family responsibility, but he enjoyed spending time with Fundy (it’s been a while I need to rewatch some of those vods I think).

With Ranboo, again I feel like there’s a small part in fulfilling some need of Phil’s to feel like he’s being ‘good’ and plucking this kid out of a warzone makes him feel good. But at the same time, Ranboo is polite, quiet, generous - the perfect kind of person to put energy into building a relationship with. Plus, I would not be surprised if Ranboo reminds him of Techno.

If a relationship takes too much, or isn’t worth it - Phil drops it and doesn’t bother trying to fix what is broken. Why would he? He’s just going to outlive whatever the problem is. He lived in L’manberg, but he was never a part of it. He dismissed Tubbo so quickly when he saw Tubbo was being corrupted by his power and position. He didn’t follow up on Fundy or check that he was okay or make any effort to reach out to him when things started to go down.

And that brings us to Tommy. We’re all upset at how Phil reacted to Tommy’s exile and the following, but I think it makes so much sense. Like I said before, he doesn’t put the effort into reaching out to Tommy, but he would have gone to the Beach Party if Tommy had reached out to him. He was happy to see Tommy at Techno’s place, he was willing to create that relationship and bond.

But from Phil’s pov, Tommy was thrown aside by his home, found shelter with Techno, and then betrayed Techno by siding with the people who threw him aside. (and Techno is loyal to the few he trusts, so a betrayal like that will hit hard and Phil can see that). It makes sense that Phil decides that isn’t a relationship he wants to put energy into fixing.

(Also to clarify, I’m not saying Tommy was wrong to side with L’manberg and Tubbo, or that Techno was right in lashing out like he did. I’m just saying it’s a complex issue, and seeing all sides of it is important - they were both betrayed that day).

Living so long means Phil only cares to put effort and energy into relationships that benefit him, in whatever way. If someone is too difficult or needs too much effort, then in Phil’s mind there’s no reason to pursue that relationship.

Being so old makes Phil overly confident in himself.

Philza is always in the right. Full stop. End of story.

He’s lived so long and has so much more experience than anyone else that he thinks he is in the right all the time. His fatal flaw is his pride and - much like Techno - he refuses to see anything from anyone else’s point of view.

He saw L’manberg’s corruption, saw that it as a nation was hurting people and made the decision that it was doing more hurt than good so of course he joined Techno and Dream in destroying it.

He sees the big picture and so of course Friend’s death doesn’t matter, Friend was just an animal. Ghostbur is too naive and foolish to understand that now.

Unless he learns to listen and see someone else’s point of view - which will be very hard, because he’s so old and connecting with people is hard for him - he’s going to continue to think he’s always in the right.

Conclusion

There’s a few things I want to see/think might happen with Phil’s character, one more likely than the other.

First off - Karl.

If anyone knows how to look at the big picture, if anyone knows how insignificant the simple things are and how pointless it can be sometimes it’s the server’s resident time traveller. But where Karl differs from Phil is that he cares.

Karl goes out of his way to help, risks his memory and sanity to make things better for his friends. Pours time and effort and energy into relationships that may be onesided or temporary - heck, have you seen how much effort he goes to to be liked by everyone? Sometimes too much.

I’d love to see some Karl and Phil interaction. Maybe in a Tales episode (young Phil? Backstory? Maybe?) or even in regular canon. It’s unlikely probably, but I think it could be an interesting discussion. Someone write a fic.

Secondly - death.

CC!Phil has made it no secret that his character is probably going to die at some point (if only for ghost WINGSSSS). Honestly? I think it could be a great direction to take the character.

If Phil could find something worth dying for, could find the joys in the small things, could focus on the little details enough to realize - ‘oh. This does matter’ I honestly think that would be cool. A sacrificial death, maybe even for something as ‘insignificant’ as a pet (although pets can be important on this server). I’m not sure, but I think making peace with death would be a great way to take an immortal character’s arc.

There’s more I could talk about - for instance, I haven’t even mentioned the ‘not as painful as what I inflicted on their enemies’ comment and Phil’s whole ‘angel of death’ vibe, or the fact that he’s always only had one life. But it’s getting late and I’ve been writing this for like an hour and a half and I’m really tired. Feel free to add on!

#dream smp #dsmp #mcyt #philza #philza minecraft #this was fun #please reblog i put a lot of effort into this and i'd love people to see it!#let me know what you think ^-^#i'm going to have to find some songs and write something at some point probably #anyway sleep time #this is nearly 2000 words guys #im putting my highschool english essay skills to very good use

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zehecatl · 3 years

Note

ive noticed that you and shae really dislike sans. im not here to argue with you or disagree, but i was wondering why you think so? :0 its been awhile since i was seriously into ut so im not up to date... did people decide hes Problematic or something the way they did with Asgore? honestly just curious.

OH BOY... SANS, HUH?

so uh. there’s a lot of history behind The Sans thing, so i apologize if this runs kind of long, but, well. you did ask. and i do like talking about The Sans Thing

so, some background: back in the day, i was a very, very, big Papyrus fan

like, i loved that skeleton. i thought about him basically 24/7, i ran a discord server dedicated to him, i wrote fics, i wrote meta posts, i did the whole nine yard. and this is crucial to why i, and Shae, both have such A Beef with Sans

and, just to make one thing clear: neither of us really have any problems with Sans the character. just like the other UT characters, he’s well-written, he’s engaging, he’s likeable. he has flaws, yeah, and i’ve talked about them plenty in this past, and this ain’t really about any of that, but none of that is why i dislike him. so he’s not problematic! you did not, in fact, miss some huge UT drama

now, back on track, the thing about being a Papyrus fan back in the day: there was no content

like, genuinely, there was no content. i think i was one of the first people to write Papyrus centric content back then, and even then, it was mostly me. this has gotten better, and it did get better back then, but i want you to understand that, because that’s crucial

and the thing is, if there just wasn’t a lot of UT content, this would be fine- but UT took off. like, it was HUGE almost immediately, and i think when i got into it, it was like? a year later maybe? i was a bit late to the whole thing, really

so when i come in, a year late, to a tag BURSTING with content, and find nothing for my fave? a bit disgruntled, but eh, Papyrus isn’t a main, and it’s pretty common for that to happen, so, whatever, right?

except

Sans

Sans was absolutely everywhere. like, you went into the tag, you saw Sans. and you didn’t just see like, a few bits and pieces, oh no. the majority of content was, and still is, Sans centric

now, lemme make something extra clear here: i don’t think people should stop any of this. i don’t have anything against anyone who participated, or participates, in the Sans stuff. people are having fun, and that’s really all that needs to be said

but as a Papyrus fan? as someone who could not just block the Sans tag and find the bits of content there was? it was. frustrating

and that’s not all, because if that was all, i don’t think either of us would have such a Problem with Sans

the thing about Sans, the reason why i dislike him, why Shae dislikes him, is the way the fandom portrays him

now, if you were around back in the day, you might be aware that Papyrus was, back then, mostly just portrayed as ‘Sans’ little brother’. he was portrayed as a naïve, good-hearted idiot, and that’s not me oversimplifying- that was genuinely how people portrayed him, back then

Papyrus, back then, wasn’t a character. he was a prop

i’m sure you’ve seen the Sans angst around; the pictures where Papyrus is dead, and Sans is very, very, distressed about it

the relationship between Papyrus and Sans was portrayed, quite simply, as Sans The Tortured Soul, and Papyrus The One Thing Sans Cares About

and as a Papyrus fan? god, that was beyond infuriating

here was this character, my favourite character, who had SO many layers, who was so clever and good and powerful, and people just. absolutely ignored that. they absolutely shat on him; everything Papyrus had done, they took away. he was, genuinely, seen as a child. no one acknowledged how smart he was, or how powerful he was, because people didn’t care

people didn’t care about Papyrus beyond the fact that he was Sans’ little brother

and as someone who loved Papyrus? that was just. it was so, so, angering

writing it out now, i still feel bitter. i’m still mad about it, to this day

the fandom treated, and still treats, Sans like he is Everything

every little thing in UT was tied back to Sans. stuff that we knew had nothing to do with him, was contributed to Sans. he became, and still is, the literal center-piece of the fandom

people made him this powerful character, the strongest in the Underground- they made him aware of Resets, made him so smart and clever and just-

they took Sans as i knew him, and twisted him out of shape

Sans is a guy trying his best. he’s a guy dealing with the knowledge that life is, inherently, pointless, and he’s dealing with that badly. he’s tired and he’s apathetic, and if you kill Papyrus, he does not care

and the fandom did not care about any of that

there’s a lot of things to be said about how the fandom portrays Sans; i’m sure i could write a thousand more words, but really, the bottom line is that i don’t dislike Sans

i hate Snas. i hate the fandom version of Sans that’s absolutely overtaken the canon, i hate the way Papyrus was, is, treated as nothing more than a prop

i don’t really dislike Sans; i like him, in fact, and there’s a lot of things that could be said about his character, about his relationship with Papyrus- and i’m sure i said a lot of those things back in the day; but the fandom doesn’t care about the canon Sans

there’s a fic Shae’s written, that doesn’t particularly show Sans in the best of lights- that touches on some of these canon failings he has

and people took issue with that. took issue with Shae playing with canon traits he had portrayed, calling them out of character, and, well

i think that really sums up how twisted Sans’ character has gotten

to me, now and then, it was like the whole fandom had collectively made an OC that just. took Sans place. and whenever i pointed it out, whenever anyone pointed it out, no one agreed. they all insisted that, no, this was the canon Sans

and don’t get me wrong, some of these things were based in canon- the Sans fight is cool, is this magnificent display of Sans’ skills, but it was never this huge display of power

i won’t say i’m not being bitter about it, because oh boy, i absolutely am. i am so, so bitter about Undertale, about the fandom, about Sans and Papyrus- and i always will be. i genuinely hate how the fandom portrays Sans, how everything is about him, and that ain’t ever changing

so that’s why both of us dislike Sans. really, at the end of the day, it’s about flanderization, and about being Bitter Bitter Papyrus stans, but eh. what can you do

hope this was, at the very least, an interesting read! and if someone tries to start an argument, just know: i ain’t reading it <3

#replies #undertale #ut sans #almost tagged this as 'undertale cw' kdsglskdlsdg #also just in case: don't worry about me posting any more stuff in these tags!#i am not touching ut with a ten foot pole #this is the only post i'll ever make in this tag #also if i've missed something shae'll probably reblog and add their own two cents #i feel like i have but i'm also tired so WHO KNOWS #anyway. that's all folks!#hope i didn't come across as angry anon skdjdsg #i love making stupid introspective posts so this was fun

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flameohotfamily · 3 years

Note

I love all your fics and HC’s. After reading Maiko ff for nearly ten years I finally decided to write some of my own and it’s not getting responded to much. Any advice on if I should keep it up or quit while I’m ahead?

OMG, dear anon <3333333333333

I'm... speechless? Thank you so much! Sending you virtual bear hugs!!!!!

I tell you what. I had been writing my first original story a few years ago, in my second language (not English, hah), and it took me around a year to write it, nearly 400 pages (almost a novel). I posted new chapters every week, I replied to every comment, every mention, I researched every drop of information and read a lot to have a good vocabulary. What do you think how many likes or comments I gained?

About a year after finishing it (plus the whole year I've been writing it and it was free to read at any time), I gained 62 likes under my story. A whole year!! Someone gains 62 likes in one day from a first chapter. Do you think I felt inspired, or creative, or talented?

With my first maiko fic it was even harder, my English level is still low and definitely was on the bottom in spring, and I was so so so scared to post it. Perhaps, in my native language my text would float like a river, in English I tried to write it at least grammarly correct (I failed even with this, seriously, my brain slowly breaks every time when I read something harder than Present Perfect) lol. And what do we have? Almost the same story, I mean, none of my fics has at least 100 kudos even now. Maybe you asked a wrong person for advice after all.

I become upset when I notice a mistake in my writing, I get frustrated every time when I read gorgeously written fics or stories (not because they are written gorgeously, but because I cannot write like this and I feel like a complete failure), I'm angry at myself every time when I cannot write at least a line for a new chapter. I guess, I might know how you feel sometimes.

But all of this is... strangely okay. Writing is a process, it's your learning and growth. Your mistakes, your frustration, your critical view of your texts, your insomnia at 4 a.m. when you have weird inspiration, your sitting in front of your notebook or laptop waiting for some creativity from above, your tired amused smile when you see a short comment under your work.

There is a great quote from one Talmudic sage, Hillel the Elder: “The shy man will not learn; the impatient man should not teach.” And I think it describes a lot of things perfectly. I know it takes courage to start, to write, it takes courage to post your work, it takes courage to read a comment from some critic who tears to pieces the text that you've been carefully writing for three weeks or even more. It takes courage. And you already did a good job and made great efforts by writing something and posting it, and I'm very very proud of you!!! You stepped outside from your comfort zone, you stepped over your shyness and insecurity, you're learning and it's... it's awesome!!!

I tell you honestly, yesterday I wanted to delete my modern au fic because I have no inspiration, motivation or power to continue it. Last week I wanted to delete this blog because I felt exhausted and I saw all of it as a useless waste of time (I mean, how many 20 y.o. make a whole blog about two cartoons? In this era of productivity and glowing up and making your own business from everything?). I burned out some time ago, and I'm still recovering from it. Some of my readers ask me when they can expect a new chapter, and I have no answer. Because I literally force myself to write and it doesn't feel right. I still get upset when my text is not smooth and beautiful, when I cannot find the words, or I simply don't know the grammar, I still doubt that I might sound ridiculous and no one talks like that (no one speaks English in my surroundings, so it's a kind of challenge), I still feel an urge to delete all of it. Or start to write in my native language at least, because personally for me it takes so much time to create something in English.

But the whole point of writing is that you should enjoy what you're doing. As long as you love writing in general, your texts and these characters, I think you should continue. Maybe write only for yourself, maybe for those five readers who would read everything that your mind would ever create, maybe for a big audience of your followers. Even if no one ever would appreciate it or comment it, I think you should write.

Take your time, rest some time, don't exhaust yourself, make something you're usually enjoying doing, whether it to listen to your favorite music, or reread your favorite book, or drink your favorite coffee/tea. And open a new page. Maybe you would write only one new line for a whole day or week, maybe you would write a chapter during one evening, who knows. But don't stop writing and don't give up on yourself so easily. Even a small step is progress, and even one kudos/like/comment means that someone somewhere spent their time reading your texts. Maybe you should quit it for some time, but please don't act too harshly and wipe everything out. Take days off, think about it, remind yourself why do you love this ship and why did you feel a desire to write about them, remember which positive emotions maiko or other ships/shows/stories etc. bring personally to you. Maybe you just need a break (I have a break right now, it's okay, it's refreshing).

Our maiko fandom is a tiny island between large oceans of other pairings (you know what I mean, since you're far longer in this fandom than me). We're small and unpopular, and underrated and even bashed sometimes. So I genuinely feel happy and grateful when I see new maiko content!! That's why I'm trying to support everyone who creates something new, or just appreciates it with kind words and positive vibes. What I'm trying to say, you are appreciated and welcomed, and it's great and wonderful that you decided to make a contribution into maiko family/nation/fandom or how you used to call it.

I know that perhaps I sound too motivational and supportive, but when I say it, I truly mean it - I'm ready to support every new maiko creator!! Because that's what some people here did and are doing for me, because that's what we're all supposed to do. Support and encourage each other. I wish I'd known who you are and seen your works, anon. Please feel free to write me here on in messages (don't be scared or embarrassed, I'm just like you!!!), and share your work. Write me, any of you, guys. I'm not a writer, I haven't written a masterpiece, I'm not a good advisor, but I'm ready to support you and help you to spread more maiko and your writings, and even share some of my experience if it might be helpful.

I hope I answered to your question. I feel so so honored and complimented that you've written me, so thank you!! Hope it helped, at least a little.

Send you, dear anon, and all the maiko shippers a lot of inspiration and positive thoughts. I bet you all are super talented and creative and deserve only the best things. Enjoy your writings and the process of creating, and don't be too hard on yourself because you're incredible <33

#flameohotfamily answers #flameohotfamily writing #flameohotfamily opinions #flameohotfamily blog #flameohotfamily maiko #tw writing issues #tw burnout #tw insecurity #maiko fandom #maiko fanfiction #maiko writing #motivational speech lol #hillel

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makeste · 4 years

Note

I was originally going to send this message declaring my undying love for your metas and chapter reviews aND THEN - AND THEN MAKESTE - I READ THE ANSWER WHERE YOU SAID YOU WERE ARO AND THAT MAKES ME SOOOOO HAPPY. I'm aroace and it is SO FRUSTRATING to want to consume platonic or familial interaction between people and CONSTANTLY only get romantic or sexual. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EVERYTHING YOU CONTRIBUTE

woooo up top! solidarity lol.

for me it’s like... I don’t know if ��frustrating” is the word I would use, but I do wish there was more gen out there. and that’s also something I’ve felt awkward about wanting in the past, because my early fandom years took place in a time where slash was much less of an everyday commonplace thing than it is now, and liking it was still a fairly controversial thing. the internet was a much more openly homophobic place than it is now. like, picture the purity police of modern day tumblr, but if they attacked any kind of non-heterosexual relationship as being sick and perverted and wrong. that was pretty much the general vibe. this was before AO3, and people who wrote slash often didn’t post it on ff.net and only posted it to their own private blogs and/or locked and moderated communities instead just so they wouldn’t be harassed. and there was absolutely no canon representation out there at all, or next to none. it was very much a “[rolls eyes] oh the yaoi fangirls are at it again” sort of thing where non-cishet relationships in fiction and fanfiction were at best not taken seriously at all, and at worst were treated with outright scorn and disgust.

and so like, with this being a common attitude at the time, I felt guilty for not always wanting to read slash myself. like, I don’t mind reading about romantic relationships at all, but for me there also has to be some other kind of element in play as well, or else it’s just not going to click for me. if a fic is just romance, just a lot of pining and slow burn stuff without anything else really going on in the plot, I just get bored and disinterested. I almost want to use the word tired, even though I’m not sure that makes much sense. I just can’t connect to the emotions, and so I disengage pretty quickly. and so I tend to steer clear of time-honored fandom staples like coffee shop AUs or And They Were Roommates, just because for me there’s rarely anything there for me to latch onto. I like angst, but I can’t relate to “so and so doesn’t feel the same way about me”, or “I want to be with them so bad but I don’t know how to confess”, or “they’re with someone else and it hurts like crazy every time I see them and know we can’t be together”, because none of those are emotions that I have ever personally felt, and I just can’t make myself feel them. what I can relate to are things like “this person makes me feel safe”, or “I feel a strong connection to this person”, or “I trust this person more than anyone else” because those feelings aren’t exclusively romantic in nature. I can relate to closeness and caring and love and affection and trust, but what I can’t relate to is the feeling of having a single person occupy all of your thoughts all the time, and very badly wanting to be the most important thing in their life as well, and feeling incomplete otherwise.

but anyway I spiraled away from the point I was trying to get to, which is that for a long time I actually felt guilty about feeling this way. because even though it’s rare to find fanworks where gen/platonic relationships are at the center, actual canon is chock full of said relationships. and so it’s like, what right do I even have to complain when I get to read all the time about so and so being friends, but the people who actually want them to be in a relationship in the actual canon so rarely get to see that actually happen. because that much has not changed in the past 20 years, even though society has become far more accepting of LGBTQ+ relationships. most canons are still far more likely to tease a non-hetero ship -- on purpose, even, hence why queerbaiting is a thing -- than actually commit to it. and so I often feel like I have no right to voice my desire for more genfic, because genfic has never faced the same kind of scrutiny as slashfic. gen has always been acceptable, and there is plenty of canon representation of platonic and non-romantic relationships, and so it’s not something I have any business whining about.

and even now I feel fairly uncomfortable voicing this lol. I write almost exclusively genfic myself, and up until very recently, I’ve always defined gen in my head as being just a lack of romantic or sexual content, rather than being its own distinct category. I think that’s one of the reasons it took me so long to realize I was aro (that, and I’d honestly never even come across the term until just a few years ago). for me, my lack of interest in romantic affection always felt more like a lack of identity rather than an identity in and of itself. I always felt like I was missing something. and for a very long time it never occurred to me that this might be a permanent thing; I just figured, okay, I just haven’t had this feeling yet. it just hasn’t happened for me yet. but eventually it would, and I just hadn’t met the right person, or whatever. but it was never anything I particularly wanted, and I never felt like I was missing out on anything by not having it. I never felt any kind of longing for it or felt incomplete without it. I was actually perfectly content!

but because society treats romantic orientation as the norm and places such a huge emphasis on it, I still had the uncomfortable feeling in the back of my head that if I never fell in love with someone and never wound up having a relationship with someone, my life would somehow be less meaningful and whole. like, we’re raised to think that romantic love is basically the pinnacle of the human experience, the purest and truest emotion that anyone can feel. and at the same time, there’s this idea that a life without that kind of love is just sad and unfulfilling and tragic. and so for a very long time my experience with my own aromanticism was characterized by me thinking of it as a lack of something that everyone else said was very important. and it took a long time to realize that that wasn’t the case, and that it was a valid orientation all its own and not just a matter of me being deficient in some way. and that was actually such a relief to finally come to terms with. I can be whole and complete on my own and still have a rich and fulfilling human experience even if I never experience romantic love, and that’s fine. I’m not missing anything. I’m not wrong for feeling like I’m not missing anything. it’s fine to be content with just me as I am. like, holy shit. and that was such a weight off my shoulders to finally get that.

I once wrote a fic which I was and still am very proud of. it was a genfic, and it had a really intricate plot with a big twist at the very end. and there was a ton of emotion in it, and it got very intense at times, because these were two characters who cared a lot about each other and would literally die for each other if they had to, and I’d put them in a situation where that possibility was very much looming over their heads at every turn. and I really put everything I had into trying to convey that kind of bond as strongly as possible. like I poured a ton of my heart and soul into that fic. and the responses were almost universally positive and kind and made me really happy.

there was one response though, that still sticks with me to this day. it was by and large very positive, just like the others. but it ended with a single sentence that, at the time, kind of just lowkey gutted me. Not gonna lie though, would have loved some slash in there.

like, that just cut me. way more than this person actually intended, I think. I’m pretty sure they just meant it as an offhanded comment, not even a concrit or anything. just “haha would have loved it if they’d kissed though lol.” but it stung. because this was something I’d put every ounce of emotion that I could conjure up into. and even though it wasn’t mean to be hurtful in any way, to me that comment read as “this is still missing something.” because there was no romance, the fic was incomplete. the characters’ feelings were incomplete. even though I’d struggled so much to convey all of these complex emotions which to me were so real and powerful, and even though the comment even acknowledged that I had by and large done so effectively, to me the single takeaway that stuck was that the feelings were less meaningful because there was no romance.

and that felt like a failing on my part. I even apologized for it. and here we are, ten years later, and that comment still pops up in my head any time I feel the urge to talk about a popular ship which I support but which I also enjoy as just a friendship. “just” a friendship. I still feel guilt over that. I still feel this urge to overexplain that I’m not trying to invalidate the actual romantic ship. I worry that I’d be perceived as ungrateful and/or a bad ally if I ever just came out and said “I wish there was more gen” like you were able to say so freely, anon. I worry about people getting offended if I were to say “I headcanon so and so as being aroace” because it might be viewed as an attack on their ships, or as latent homophobia, or something. like I have this paranoid fear that people might take it as me being puritanical and all “oh no, icky sex” or whatever, and so I end up just never bringing it up at all.

and that’s the thing about aromanticism, though; it’s so easy to just never talk about it at all, because for so many people it is just defined as a lack of something, rather than a something all on its own. it’s so easy for it to be something you just never bring up, and which just kind of quietly exists as the boring, bland, inoffensive yet uninteresting lack of a relationship; the default blank slate that most everyone is dying to fill in as soon as possible, except for you. and I’ve gone on thinking about it that way myself for so long that I’m still struggling now to sort out how to embrace it as an actual identity. it’s something I still have a lot of work to do on I guess.

anyway! so that all got very long and rambling and personal, far more so than I intended; clearly I have a lot of pent up thoughts and feelings about this lol. I guess I probably could stand to talk about it more, since the evidence would indicate that I clearly want to. but eh, baby steps. but anyways you are super valid anon and thank you so much for the love and comments. <3

#aromanticism #meta #aromanticism in fandom #personal #long post #ask #anon ask #hey um just an addendum this is a pro aroace post NOT an anti-shipping post #just to make that clear #like you can be for one thing without bashing the other #so if you want to reblog this that is awesome and I'm grateful #but please don't use it as a launching pad for any weird toxic 'shipping is bad' takes please and thanks

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