#i cannot say this emphatically enough

[queen-lucy-the-valiant]

On my last rewatch of Prince Caspian, I wondered what it would be like to be one of the Narnian’s in the battle planning scene; watching the supposed High King suggest what is essentially a suicide mission. The fight is really between the High King, the myth come to life, and Prince Caspian, the Telmarine prince they’ve accepted as the leader of their rebellion; both plans offer hope, both plans might work, but both plans also seem like a stretch; the most likely outcome is that they all die. But no one is saying that the most likely outcome is death, they’re all just dancing around it. Caspian and Peter are both saying their plan has the highest chance of success, but neither of them are saying that the rebellion might fail, that everyone in the How might die in a few short days.

And there has to be a disconnect here; how many of the Narnians were like Trumpkin when he first met the Pevensies, how many of them assumed these apparent children wouldn’t be able to help them. They accept them, of course they accept them, Caspian himself is a child, if an old one. So you have this apparent child, claiming to be the high king of legend, suggesting an insane plan, and even though he’s sure the plan will work, maybe you can’t get over the fact he’s young, maybe you can’t get over the fact young usually means inexperienced. And during all of this, his youngest sister, supposedly a queen in her own right, is casually sitting on the stone table itself, and maybe this angers you, because no one has dared to touch the stone table, the place where Aslan died and was born again, because to do so would be to disrespect him; but there she sits, silent until she challenges her brother, silent until she voices the thought everyone is thinking but no one dares to say; “That’s what I’m worried about,” she says after the first pledge of ‘or die trying’ has been made, “You’re all acting like there’s only two options. Dying here, or dying there” she says. “I’m not sure you’ve really been listening, Lu,” the high king says, a little patronizingly, a little dismissively; and it occurs to you that maybe he cannot see past the child to the woman she used to be, as you cannot see past the child he appears to the man he used to be. If he cannot, how can you? Maybe you expect her to back down, this is the high king after all, but she has already been brave enough to voice what everyone else didn’t dare. So she doesn't back down; “No, you’re not listening” she says emphatically, “or have you forgotten who really defeated the white witch, Peter,” and she refers to an event a thousand years past, one so wrapped up in legends and myth that maybe the truth really has been forgotten, maybe everyone in the How has also forgotten who really defeated the White Witch. Or maybe you simply do not expect her to call on Alsan, when she appears to be so casually disrespecting him. “I think we’ve waited for Aslan long enough” the high king says, and then walks away, ending the argument, after all, they’ve already decided to attack the castle, what’s the point in arguing about it more. 

In this moment, Lucy is the only one thinking about Aslan, because everyone else agrees with Peter, they have waited for Aslan long enough, centuries of waiting while the Telmarines hunted them to near extinction, and now the kings and queens of old are here, surely sent in Aslan’s sted; they’ve decided it is time to act and the high king has offered a plan, something they can do, rather than continue to sit around and wait. He’s the high king, he’s so confident the plan will work, and it’s the only plan they have, so of course they do it, (and it seems like it might’ve worked if caspian understood that you can free people from the dungeons and execute miraz after you’ve managed to take the castle, but that’s not what this is about). 

I don’t know, it just seems like this moment would be really strange to see as a bystander; the Pevensies haven’t even been there that long, maybe a couple of days, so even if everyone accepted them as the kings and queens of old, they still don’t really know them, let alone understand them; it’s doubtful that the Pevensies they know from the stories are anything like the real Pevensies that stand before them. They’ve suddenly been confronted with kings and queens of legend who appear in the bodies of children, who look like young ones but behave like old ones, who saw the history of a thousand years ago, who are the history of a thousand years ago. Even if they believed the Pevensies are the kings and queens of old, maybe they’re finding it hard to stop discounting them as children; and then they see the high king himself do it, in the same breath as dismissing Aslan. In this moment they see that the high king is just like them; he to is avoiding the inevitability of death, dancing around it with grand plans and heroic deeds, and he fully believes they will work, after all, he’s never lost a battle before; but he’s avoiding it all the same, casting off Aslan as the rest of them seem to be doing; not intentionally, of course not, but they’ve waited, and waited, and he hasn’t come, so they will follow the high king who acts in Aslan’s name. And maybe in this moment they begin to stop discounting Lucy, as the youngest of the kings and queens, because she has not lost her faith in Aslan, while so many of them have, she is willing to wait for him as the rest of them are not.

I feel like we don’t talk about the point of view of the caspian era narnians enough; we talk about how strange it would be for the Pevensies, to come home and have home be unrecognizable, but we don’t talk about how desperate the caspian era narnian’s must have been to accept that four humans were their kings and queens of old, even with the cave paintings; we see more detailed in Cornelius's office, but how many of the narnian’s would have had access to that art? They put their lives in the hands of the Pevensies, on the faith that they are who they claim to be, on the faith that these children have more experiences than anyone else, and maybe it’s during this scene that the faith begins to become belief. Then they fail and everything falls apart again before they pull it together one last time, but that’s not my point. My point is, how desperate would you have to be to believe four strangers are the heroes out of your myths come to save you; how hard would it be for you to believe it, truly believe it, instead of just following along, hoping they succeed because everyone else has failed you.

this is very disjointed, so I hope you actually made it to the end and I thank you if you did, hope you enjoyed my random mutterings.

#the chronicles of narnia #narnia #narnia meta #my writing #prince caspian movie #the pevensies #lucy pevensie #peter pevensie #susan pevensie #edmund pevensie

[columboscreens]

heya. i was wondering what your favorite columbo episodes are where columbo knows who the killer is really quickly and then spends the rest of the episode putting the thumbscrews on and teasing them to hell and back. any suggestions?

whether you think of columbo as an eldritch supernatural entity or a regular human guy, a lot of people assert that he always knows who the killer is right off the bat.

i'm of the opinion that he forms very strong hunches based on early clues, but doesn't make certain assumptions until more evidence accumulates. there's a lot of boring legwork that we don't see simply because columbo is a good show that tends to avoid unnecessary exposition, and the episodes do have to fit within 70-90 minute timeframes. but there is rigor with which he gathers information, forms hypotheses, and tests them. he can have his convictions shaken, even if only temporarily. he can be led completely astray as seen in columbo cries wolf. he's not perfect.

sometimes though, columbo is indeed so intuitive and the murderer so stupid that the man slam dunks his person of interest in minutes if not seconds. here are a few standouts to me:

rx murder: a baby-faced columbo watches as a man enters his residence after a long trip without his wife and doesn't even say hello to her. columbo, an ardent Wife Lover, cannot comprehend this and immediately skewers the man for it.

oh, you didn't love your wife? couldn't be me

etude in black: local genius alex benedict leaves big fat flower at scene of crime for columbo to spot immediately.

okay this is actually embarrassing. you fucking fool. imbeclie. rube

suitable for framing/double shock/greenhouse jungle/death hits the juckport: how many times can insufferable dickhead nephews kill their rich uncles. and vice versa.

mind over mayhem: ten minutes flat. real know real, cigar smoker know cigar smoker

candidate for crime: columbo rides nelson hayward's ass immediately, emphatically, and unrelentingly merely because the light was off in his garage. especially satisfying episode since hayward is a politician and annoying as fuck

swan song: columbo collects some eyebrow-raising evidence at the crash (cash?) site before he's quite literally told who the murderer is by johnny cash's insane squirrel-munching brother-in-law

when some guy just does your job for you

troubled waters: robert vaughn's errant pillow feather in a sterile sick bay immediately solves the case for columbo, who, funnily enough, met him before he'd even killed anyone. the rest of the episode is just us fawning over columbo sweating in a crisp brown polyester hawaiian shirt while LARPing as sherlock

very nice shading on these warmups sir. but why'd ya drawr em so tiny

try and catch me: columbo has read an agatha christie book

murder under glass: slimy french chef who arrives to the scene immediately when called by police seems wholly unconcerned about having shared a meal with a poisoned man and thus implicates himself expeditiously

#columbo #ask #longpost #prescription murder #etude in black #suitable for framing #double shock #the greenhouse jungle #death hits the jackpot #candidate for crime #swan song #troubled waters #try and catch me #murder under glass

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

On the 15th, as promised! Ngl, I definitely almost forgot this. I have SO many feelings about this one, y’all check the tags if you want my ramblings. Buckle up. Also, happy stabbing Caesar day.

Part 1 | . . . | Part 64 | Part 65 | Part 66

Steve works his jaw, staring at Will. “Yeah,” he whispers. Will looks down. “Hey,” Steve says gently. “That’s not on you, okay? And Jonathan’s a really great guy. He and Nancy both had a lapse in judgement. They got together a while later and they were better for each other than she and I ever were.”

“But they hurt you.”

Steve chuckles. “In the moment, sure. But I’m fine now, I’ve moved on. It surprised me just now because I didn’t expect her to react like that. I know that’s not who she is as a person, and I’m sure as soon as Joyce talks to her about it and she’s had some time to think about it, she’ll come apologize. But none of that is on you, okay?”

Will shrugs, playing with the hem of his pants.

Steve glances at Eddie, who winks and plops down cross-legged next to Will, nudging their shoulders together. “My dad’s in jail.” Will looks up at him, surprised. Eddie shrugs. “I’ve had time to process, but it took me a while to realize he just isn’t a good person. Now, my momma was an angel among women, she just had a disease. It didn’t make her a bad person. But they’re my parents, so that must mean I’m a bad person with a disease, right?”

“No!” Will says emphatically. “Just because they-” he pauses, mouth a perfect circle, before flushing and ducking his head, smiling a little. “Okay. I get it.”

“Good kid,” Eddie says fondly, ruffling his hair. “Now, back to the planning?”

“Probably,” Steve nodded. “First things first, who wants out?”

“Papa hurt El?” Mike asks. Steve nods. “Then let’s kill this fucker.”

“Language,” say all the adults, and Mike rolls his eyes.

“I’m in,” Will adds.

“Me too,” Dustin says, and Lucas nods.

Steve looks around, and all the adults present nod at him. Robin squeezes his hand, and Alli pulls him closer to her by his shoulders. “Alright, little brother,” she says. He elbows her. “What’s the plan?”

Steve sighs and looks to El. “What do you think, Ellie?”

“Everyone else is dead,” she murmurs. “But if I go into the rainbow room, I will see them.”

Steve’s heart breaks. “You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to.”

She smiles sadly at him. “You cannot promise me that, Steve.”

He meets Robin’s eyes above El’s head, watches her heart break. “Watch me.” He looks back to El. “I know what he put you through, El.”

“He loves me.”

Steve takes a breath, shuts his eyes for a moment. “Remember what I told you, last time you said that?”

El nods. “You thought the same thing about your parents.”

“Exactly. It took me a long time to learn, but they don’t love me. And there’s nothing I can do to change that. Even if I was perfect, that wouldn’t be enough for them. Does that make sense?”

She nods. “You love me differently from how Papa loves me.”

“Yeah,” Steve whispers. “Which do you like better?”

“Yours.”

“Do you know why?”

She thinks about it for a minute. “You love me because you see Ellie. He loves me because he sees Eleven.”

Next to him, Alli makes a broken sound. Steve reaches back to hold her hand. “Yeah, Ellie. That’s exactly right.”

“I do not want to only be Eleven anymore,” she decides. “I want to be Ellie.”

“And that’s why I’ll do all of it myself if I have to,” Steve tells her. “So you can be Ellie. You don’t have to go in the rainbow room, okay?”

“Okay,” she nods, wiggling around until she can bury her face in his neck and whisper, “I trust you.”

He blinks quickly. “I’m glad,” he whispers back.

“Ellie,” Wayne says, voice not much steadier than Steve’s. She shifts to look at him from where she’s tucked into Steve. “We all want you t’be just Ellie if you want it. We’re all gonna be right there with you.”

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“I won’t be strong enough. If I see Papa.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Hopper says, checking his gun. She shifts to look at him. “He’s not going to hurt you again.”

She frowns and buries her face back in Steve’s neck. “I’m happy,” she murmurs. “But I’m also very sad.”

Steve sighs and hugs her tightly. “I know how you feel.”

“I don’t like feeling this way.”

“I know, El. I don’t think there’s really any way to get rid of the feeling, though.”

“Just life,” Alli says quietly, scooting closer and laying a comforting hand on El’s upper arm. “I know it’s a cliché, but it’s true.”

El looks up at Alli. “Okay. What’s a cliché?”

Alli meets Steve’s eyes, a smile starting to spread, and Steve thinks everything’s going to be okay.

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @mischivarien @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @inadequatecowboy @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

Fic Taglist: @blondlanfear @do-you-want-something-more @str4wb3rry-guy @paperbackribs @ninjapirateunicorns @bisexualdisastersworld @hiscrimsonangel @lolawonsstuff @xo-r4e @thedragonsaunt @l0st-strawberry

#stranger things #if I should stay #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #robin buckley #Allison Harrington #el hopper #will Byers #ok SO. Will. he’s defensive of Steve not Jon bc Steve helped save him from the UD #this is very near and dear to my heart #also EL #WANTING TO BE ELLIE #NOT ELEVEN #YALL I CRIED WRITING THIS #I BROKE MY HEART EDITING IT #this is the singular best character study I have EVER done #I am. SO in love with her jfc #If Steve had a mean bone in his body THIS would be his villain origin story #fix it #fix it fic #time travel #time travel fic #time travel fix it #time travel fix it fic #starambles

[striving-artist]

If you have created, encouraged, enabled, or spread anything to do with Goncharov, Thank You.

Look, today was my birthday, and Goncharov rose today, and those events are not in anyway related. But, it does mean that I got to spend all day watching this unfold. And I have been on tumblr long enough to know that, even if something fades, it always comes back as an anniversary.

I keep writing things and then deleting them. Cause. Look. I do not have a way to say this emphatically enough without it sounding like I'm being sarcastic. I work in the arts and in entertainment. I am a storyteller by trade and training and passion. I love the way that humans are, and have always been good at their core. I love that when left with nothing else, humans will create something to share with others, just for the joy of doing it.

Watching this today is one of the coolest things I have ever seen experienced, and every time I think about it for more than a few seconds, I start to cry because it is the most pure expression of the goodness of humanity that I have ever seen. There is music, art, fic, meta, ships, discourse, a plot, and bits of screenplay invented out of nothing but the happiness of the people involved. I genuinely cannot communicate how this feels to watch. It's just a dumb thing people took and ran with on this strange blue hellsite, and I know that. But I swear, it is also more. It's a light in the darkness, in a way too vast to put into words right now.

And the best of this is that I know, if nothing else, a year from now, I'll get to see this again, and I'll get a reminder that the best of humanity is found when there are no restrictions or requirements. Which means that I know, right now, that I am going to get an incredible birthday present next year too, because I'll get to relive some of this.

So. Thank you.

#goncharov #and some actual emotions #because this is a thing I want theses written on #I want it to be taught in art schools as a reminder #you cannot force creation to walk a certain path #you set it free #and you watch it travel #through the echoes of others' voices #and their memories #you can encourage it #but we cannot control which seeds will sprout #we only get to celebrate those that do

[bloodygirlhood]

gen v fic(s) ?? (mostly jordan tbh)

the lack of gen v fanfics is actually a crime so i am here to change that. i have a lot of ideas, and thought i could share them here to see if anyone would be interested in any of them.

— SECOND CHANCES (jordan li fic)

Nova Woods' body is made of mistakes and regrets more than flesh and bone.

Ambition is her second name and betrayal is her God.

Not that Jordan Li knew this when they started dating her. No, what Jordan knew was the girl who always wore pink even though people made fun of her, and who brought them a cup of coffee and a sandwich because she knew they tend to skip breakfasts.

Nova Woods was Jordan Li's safe place. Tender touches and soft kisses, the emphatic look in her eyes that made them melt as if she was the sun and they were Icarus' wings, and praises spilling from her lips like sweet honey that they so needed.

Until they learned what kind of a monster was under the masks she was wearing.

The only reason Nova was with them was to get into the top ten on the list.

Nothing about her was real. She was just a perfectly sculpted illusion, showing them what they wanted to see. And Jordan was a fool, who opened their hearts and showed her their most vulnerable parts.

Nova knows she fucked up. She knows that. And she is ready to do whatever is necessary to win them back. She no longer cares about the list - she never actually did; it was her parents' ambitions pressed upon her and she was just a puppet whose strings were in their hands.

Jordan Li does not believe in second chances. But Nova Woods is ready to change their mind.

(I have not yet come up with Nova's powers, super healing for plot armor ofc but maybe animal control or plant control - something that will not overpower her.)

— LAMB TO A SLAUGHTER

Samantha Riordan is nothing if not her twin brother Luke's shadow. He is the Golden Boy, the sun seems to favor him as he bathes in its light while she is just Luke's little sister (despite being two fucking minutes older than him) resting on the shadow he has created for her. She watches her brother wear the crown of glory all the while she seems to have very similar powers to his but never makes it to even the top ten on the list.

Even her name does not just belong to her. Their younger brother was named Sam, which was the nickname she went by. Emphasis on the past tense because her younger brother has killed himself so her fucking name became a taboo in her own house.

It is like the universe and everyone around her acts like her actual ability is being invisible.

That is until her twin brother blows himself up and all the spotlight falls upon her.

Love Interest(s): Jordan Li (main) & Marie Moreau (not poly)

— THE FALL FROM EDEN

tw: homophobia, religious parents/guilt

Eden Rivers cannot stress this enough: just because she kissed a girl one time (okay, maybe three times) does not mean she is bisexual. She likes boys. She is straight. She is normal. She is the way her God wants her to be.

Her knees have bruises due to kneeling on the ground and her throat burns and aches for uttering prayers for hours and asking for forgiveness from God.

Again, her mother says, ignoring the tears that stain Eden's cheeks. She feels no pity toward Eden, she sees no daughter or a teenage girl. She only sees an abomination and is blinded by disgust and hatred.

There is something terribly wrong with Eden: she kissed another girl.

Eden does not argue or fight back. She continues praying and, crying, regretting and hating herself.

Then, she wipes off her tears and cleans the blood on her knees to go back to her job as if nothing happened.

Luke Riordan sees right through his assistant but does not force her to speak. He knows how her parents are and just reminds her that she will always have a place in his house if she ever needs it.

Then, he kills himself.

And Eden is starting to question her God.

Then, she meets Jordan Li — he, no wait, she, but then it is a he again and Eden cannot understand anything. Bi-gender, others explain to her and suggest her to use they/them for Jordan.

Eden needs to know why Luke, a human form of sunshine, decided to blow himself up. Because if she cannot find a reason, it means her God has failed her.

And she has to work with Jordan, whose both forms make Eden forget that her God is watching her, reading her not-so-pure thoughts.

But when Jordan is around, Eden's God does not exist.

And she no longer puts meaning into her prayers - not after kissing them.

She does not regret kissing them. She only regrets not doing it before.

(i am actually v proud of this idea because a lot of people have to hide or fight back their sexuality due to the pressure of their parents and norms placed into their heads. gen v is not just a show about superpowers or heroes/villains, it is also about discovering your real identity and finding who you really are and i feel like this fic would be focusing on both identity search and fun superpower parts.)

— BLOOD & GUTS

In a world full of Supes, being a seer is lame, Isabel Quinn knows. She also knows how fucking pathetic it is to have a girlfriend who can manipulate blood when she faints at the sight of blood.

Isabel does not think she belongs at Godolkin University but she follows her girlfriend Marie Moreau there. She assures herself that everything will be alright if they keep a low profile - but then Marie wants to go out with the "cool" Supes and drags Isabel with her.

And then there is a woman with a split neck in the middle of the club they go to. And the crimson river is all Isabel can see. So much fucking blood and Isabel's vision goes black.

She wakes up in Andre Anderson's bed - the guy who is responsible for almost killing the woman in the club- and learns they left her fucking girlfriend responsible for it and tries to get away from him.

Andre - a hypocrite, hero-wannabe in Isabel's opinion- pulls a cliche when he grabs her wrist in the middle of the yard to justify his actions but then the Golden Boy chases her girlfriend and flies to the sky.

And there is blood again. Everywhere.

Fainting once again and this time waking up with a worried Marie hovering over her, Isabel says a dumb thing. A very dumb and unforgivable thing.

Isabel loses the only reason she came to that university: her girlfriend.

But while Isabel is running after Marie to regain her love, Andre Anderson seems like a tail on her back, desperate to prove to her that he is a good guy.

love interest(s): Marie Moreau & Andre Anderson (love triangle, andre as main love interest)

— KISS & KILL

Camila Dunlap sometimes pretends like the white ceiling above her is actually a bright blue sky that stretches to freedom and the chains on her hands are actually her sister Cate's warm hands.

She is tired of looking at the trees and being trapped inside of a room.

She is tired of waiting for her sister to save her.

Sometimes they let her see Cate. But Camila knows Cate has to do things for them. Bad things, her older sister mumbles when asked, terrible things.

At least, she talks with the guy in the next room through Morse code. Sam is his name, a funny guy who often jokes about how she is not actually real. Communicating with him keeps her remaining sanity.

Until one day, when Sam does more than keep her sane, and actually helps her out of the Woods with the help of a very tiny girl.

But it is never over.

Cate tells her that if she truly wants to be free, she has to do whatever they say. She has to turn Sam in and betray the people who have saved her.

Betrayal has always been a part of love for Dunlap sisters, who can play with the strings of someone's mind as if they were those of a violin.

(as you can see, i don't like sticking to canon so this is based on the theory that cate is a double agent. i am not sure about sam's age but he'll be aged up.)

i think this is it for now. don't question why the summaries are way too long, i tend to do that. i'd appreciate if you stated which one(s) you are interested!

thanks so much for reading this!

#gen v #the boys #the boys gen v #jordan li #gen v fanfic #gen v amazon #gen v prime #marie moreau #gen v fanfic ideas #cate dunlap #sam riordan #luke riordan #andre anderson #wattpad #jordan li fanfic

[newtonsheffield]

Does reading a sex scene written by Author Anthony that was directly inspired by their own sex life ever turn Kate on?

Oh I cannot say emphatically enough 100% it does.

She has occasionally been reading through Anthony’s pages, let out a shuddering sigh, snatched up her phone and handbag and said to her assistant in the way out.

“I’m going to be out for the remainder of today.”

Her assistant peered up at her, “Everything okay?”

“Yep, just need to sort out my Anthony.”

“New pages wild huh?”

“Ludicrous.”

#you never called it what it was #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

[cock-holliday]

I Know What Butch Is

I know what butch is. I know, and I’m going to tell you, so listen up and take notes. First of all, butch is a noun. And an adjective. And a verb.

Butches only ever wear jeans and boots, except if they’re wearing suits, and they keep their hair clipped down to a flattop you could putt off. Except if they have to for work. Or if they want to for sex. Or if they want to for some other reason. But otherwise it’s denim and leather and butch wax, kid, and don’t you forget it. Unless you’re vegan.

Toughness, even at the expense of gentleness, is a butch trait. Butches are outlaws. Also gentlemen. Gentlemen who open doors and pick up checks and say “after you” and hold your umbrella over you in the rain while the water drips down their sleeves. But butches not gentlemen if being a gentleman means imposing on the unsuspecting their sexist modes of acting out the cultural paradigm of the helplessness of women. Except if the unsuspecting are crying and need a handkerchief, or elderly and need a seat to sit down in, then it’s all right. Probably. But butches should never wait for a femme to tell them specifically that it is all right to behave in a gentlemanly fashion, they should just go ahead and do it because femmes like a butch with confidence, unless it turns out that she finds it offensive and feels as though you have imposed your gender fetish on her, you arrogant bastard.

And butches are monosyllabic, until you get to know them, which they will not allow but want, or will allow and want, or will allow but don’t want, or won’t allow and don’t want, so you may or may not get to know them, but you should try, or not. But butches are monosyllabic because all that talking is girl stuff, you know? Butches grunt in answer to questions; they speak sharply and emphatically. They do not share, process, or explain because these are activities that bring nothing but trouble, unless they are bringing relief to the troubled heart of a butch carrying around too much hurt or pain, though butches do not actually feel pain; they’re tough enough to either slough it off like dead skin or deal with all of that themselves. Unless someone wants for them to be emotionally available, in which case they can feel their feelings even though the presence of feelings is suspect in the first place, but they must stop immediately as soon as someone else is having a tough time so that all their resources can be directed to soothing that person.

I know what butch is. Butches are not beginner FTMs, except that sometimes they are, but it’s not a continuum except when it is. Butch is not a trans identity unless the butch in questions says it is, in which case it is, unless the tranny in question says it isn’t, in which case it’s not. There is no such thing as butch flight, no matter what the femmes or elders say, unless saying that invalidates the opinions of femmes in a sexist fashion or the opinions of elders in an ageist fashion. Or if they’re right. But they are not, because butch and transgender are the same thing with different names, except that butch is not a trans identity, unless it is; see above.

Butches are always tops. They always fuck the girls, and, for that matter, their partners are always girls; there is no such thing as a butch who is attracted to men. Well, transmen, but that’s just butch-on-butch repackaged as faggotry. But no non-trans-men. Unless the butch in question is a non-trans-man, then it’s okay. Except that non-trans-men cannot be butches, because butch is a queering of gender that assigned-male people cannot embody, unless they occasionally can, in which case they have to be gay men. Or the partners of femmes. Or not. But no one with an assigned-female body can be a butch and do it with assigned-male men. Unless they’re femmes. Or butches. I’m really putting my foot down on this one.

I know what butch is, and butches definitely, absolutely, do not get fucked, even if it feels so good to have someone slide in sweet and hard and rock them just right. They might eat pussy but they never suck cock, because licking pussy is chivalry without pants, and, of course, any butch would want to do anything to please the femme in hir life, if there is a femme. Which there has to be, in order to be a true butch, except if there does not have to be, but you cannot be a misogynist about it either, which a lack of interest in femmes and their attendant delights may be read as—if there is a lack, which there shouldn’t be. But anyway, cocksucking is about ownership and dominance, so butches must always be the ones having their cocks sucked, unless the owner of the cock being sucked by a butch is tied to something, but if a butch were tying down someone with a cock of some variety then the above rule would quite likely be violated, and I think I’ve been very clear about that, so never mind.

Butch has a lot of privilege because butches pass as men a lot, and butches also have a lot of privilege in the queer community because butch reads as queer and femme doesn’t always, and being able to pass to keep one’s self safe isn’t privilege if you’re a femme but it is if you’re a butch. Unless this is a butch who can pass as a heteronormative woman, in which case ze’s not really a butch anyway because no butch could do such a thing. Except that some of them can and also having kids really helps, even though no butch could have kids because of the rule about not getting fucked and also because that’s a femme’s job, but not everyone really understood their butchness all the way along and also sometimes there are fertility issues and also sometimes there’s not a femme so we’ll grandfather in some children but we’ll be suspicious of those butches. Unless they’re really great butch dads of whatever sex, in which case we’ll think it’s the damn cutest thing in the world and punch them on the arm, or if they’re awesome butch moms we’ll make approving comments about their ability to raise feminist men, but otherwise no children and no heteronormativity for sure, except for assigned male butches who do not exist.

Besides all of that, the butch pays. If there’s only one butch on the date. Unless the femme wants to. If there’s a femme present. If there’s a femme present, the butch pays unless hir paying would upset the femme or unless it creates class issues for the butch or patriarchy issues for the femme. Or if it’s two butches on a date, which they shouldn’t be. Or they should. In any case, they arm-wrestle for it. Except in such situations in which a public display of aggression on the part of butches, or an interaction which may be read as such, could potentially be detrimental to the community, to the mental health of those witnessing the act, to the butches themselves for feeling compelled to act out normative masculine-gendered conflict-resolution tactics, or to the glassware of the dining establishment, which so often gets broken. But otherwise, the butch always pays, and there’s just no getting around that.

I know what butch is. Butches are a brotherhood, or possibly a sisterhood, which would be a marvelous way to reclaim butch’s roots in the lesbian community except some butches were never part of the lesbian community and some were but aren’t any more, but placing masculine identities on butches is disrespectful, except when it’s desirable, but anyway, butches are a tribe, a tribe of people who have been maligned endlessly for, and in fact forged an identity in part out of, not fitting the gendered expectations of the culture in which they exist (until or unless they work to pass as men, which always or never or sometimes happens and is absolutely a great or problematic thing), so butches are very open to gendered variations in others and would never, ever try to make another butch feel like shit for having displayed a behavior which does not fit the microculture’s standard of what it means to be a butch, which is a useful or idealized or ridiculous or just plain complicated standard, so it should be adhered to, or critiqued, or aspired to, or not. Butches would also certainly never try to school younger butches in ways that are angry and dangerous because they feel like the process of toughening has disappeared from modern culture and butches need to be tough, dammit. Butches who do those sorts of things either are Real Butches or are Not Real Butches, depending who you ask.

There, that should be perfectly clear.

—S. Bear Bergman, Butch Is A Noun

#s. bear bergman #butch is a noun #butch #butch books #queer books #reposting as its own post #I tell people all the time to read it and link it everywhere #but HERE it is! in print! not images! no pdf screenshots no book scans! you’ve got no excuse now!

[aethersea]

📓!

There’s an atla au of star wars that I have tried so hard to bend into a shape that I can actually write, but alas, all I have are ideas. This is the one that’s in the wips folder as Everything Changed when the Clones Attacked, which is ironic bc I cannot for the life of me figure out what to do with the clones. Maybe they’re being brainwashed at Lake Laogai? Or something???

Anyway. The story has two parts, prequels and sequels. Details under the cut, because this got a bit long.

In the prequels, the elderly Master Yoda of the airbenders is Avatar, and in his old age he’s stopped traveling the world and instead dispenses his wisdom from one of the great Air Nomad temples, nestled deep in the mountains where only Air Nomads can reach. He’s unofficial leader of the council of Air Nomad elders, which is….not great, really, not how things should be, but it’s mostly been okay. He’s been a good avatar overall, and it’s only in later years that he’s leaned so heavily toward the Air Nomads, and really none of this is enough to push the four peoples truly out of balance. 

Our story starts with Qui-gon Jinn, an airbending master traveling with his apprentice, helping a besieged queen from a minor Earth Kingdom escape her city. (I saw a post once asserting that the Earth Kingdom is actually a collection of largely autonomous kingdoms that all loosely recognize the authority of the Earth King in Ba Sing Se, and I like that a lot, so that’s the worldbuilding I’m going with here.) Qui-gon agrees to take Queen Amidala to the Avatar’s council to beg their aid. 

Along the way, they encounter a young boy living with his mother. The boy can do a bit of earthbending—and also a bit of waterbending, and a bit of airbending, and a bit of firebending. Which is impossible, because Avatar Yoda isn’t dead, but there he is, bending all the elements anyway.

I don’t think there’s slavery in the atla universe, but we could probably get away with indentured servitude of some kind, and Qui-gon acquires Ani in much the same way as he does in canon. He takes him to Avatar Yoda—and Yoda rejects him. Says, essentially, “This is weird as hell but it’s also not my problem.” (Frankly I can’t come up with an actual good reason for Yoda to do that, but just go with me here.) So Qui-gon angrily responds that if the Avatar won’t take responsibility, he will, and then gets himself enmeshed in Amidala’s political problems to boot. 

And then he dies.

Something something evil emperor, yadda yadda you know the drill. (Though I think the empire isn’t going to be the Fire Nation, despite the thematic appropriateness of fire spreading unchecked to consume all in its path. Palpatine is gonna usurp the Earth King, I think, and I do feel the prequels’ themes around entrenched systems with deep flaws, which are too big to fight as individuals and too implacable to change, will fit well with atla themes around earth.)

The sequels portion of things is even less plotted out. All I know is that Luke grows up in the same nameless patch of Earth territory his father grew up in, and he doesn’t actually discover he can waterbend until he’s practically an adult. It’s a shock to everyone—except, somehow, weird Old Ben who lives in the desert, who tells him that the next Avatar is supposed to be a waterbender, and won’t explain why he’s so convinced Luke is that Avatar given that he’s pretty emphatically not from the Water Tribes. 

Luke is finally convinced when he manages to airbend, under Old Ben’s suspiciously skilled tutelage. He can’t pull off any other elements, though, so they go off on a road trip to that swamp where you see spirits, to try to reach the past Avatars and get some guidance.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to both of them, Leia has grown up knowing she can firebend. This is kind of an alarming skill for the princess of an Earth Kingdom to have, and even more alarming given that she’s already an earthbender. So she’s kept it secret, and no one but her parents has ever known.

They can meet in some way analogous to the Death Star raid in A New Hope, idk I have zero plot in mind here. The point, as far as I’m concerned, is that the Skywalkers have fundamentally broken the Avatar cycle. Anakin shouldn’t exist, and yet he does, and he was born while Yoda was still alive. If he hadn’t existed, the next Avatar would be a waterbender, and that’s Luke—except he’s from the Earth Kingdom. If Anakin is a true Avatar, then the next one would be an earthbender, and that’s Leia—only then she shouldn’t have been born until after Anakin’s death. Nothing makes sense! Even Yoda and all the other past Avatars together have no goddamn clue what is going on!

Imagine their consternation when they discover that neither Luke nor Leia is the Avatar: it’s actually both of them together. Luke has air and water, Leia has earth and fire; Luke can visit the spirit world and be the bridge between humans and spirits, and Leia can speak to kings and maintain the balance between the four nations. The two of them, together, can defeat their father, defeat the emperor, and restore harmony to the world.

#finx writes #finx has friends on the internet #star wars #why yes I do still have an ask from you from a long-ago wip wednesday for this fic #I stared at that google doc for SO LONG trying to come up with something I liked even a little #I just have no clue what to write! can't make the words happen! #so here instead have this

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Azul Ashengrotto Tsumsitter Personal Story: Part 2

"A Moment with Azultsum II"

(Part 1) Part 2 (Part 3)

[Mostro Lounge]

Azul: You wish to see the Tsum as the Lounge's owner? What do you think you're saying, Jade?

Floyd: An owner takeover bid. Basically, you're being let go, Azul.

Azul: Don't be ridiculous. There's no way I would let that happen.

Jade: You may say that, but in the business world, the only thing that matters is results…

Jade: Are you saying that you would be able to generate even more profit than the Tsum has in this short period of time?

Azul: Of course. Besides, I cannot allow such a pushy and classless method to continue.

Floyd: Huuuh? You sure you can call someone else pushy and classless?

Jade: If anything, I do believe that is entirely your brand, wouldn't you say?

Azul: I don't understand how you could possibly think that thing could resemble me…

[Azultsum presses a menu against another student]

[Azultsum continues pressing more menus]

Floyd: Seeeee? The way it just keeps on pressuring them with that shady grin,

Floyd: It's just like you usually are.

Azul: I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about.

Jade: Returning to the point at hand, I see no issue with the method it uses.

Jade: The most important aspect to keep in mind is that the Tsum has garnered more sales than Azul.

Jade: As someone who has the Mostro Lounge's best interests at heart…

Jade: I have no choice but to propose a refresh by transferring the ownership to new hands.

Azul: You say you have the Mostro Lounge's best interests at heart? Of course you would lie so brazenly about that.

Azul: You've just found something to tease me about and are simply thoroughly enjoying yourselves.

Azul: You brushed it off as "only" a suggestion earlier, but essentially you two seem to be asking me to leave.

Azul: I emphatically refuse. I have no intention of going along with your tasteless games.

Jade: We aren't playing any sort of game. We simply made this suggestion after serious consideration.

Azul: Oh, is that so… I see.

Azul: Well, if you are going to insist that much, then allow me to show you why I am the more suitable owner.

Azul: I challenge you, Tsum. We shall compete for ownership of the Mostro Lounge!

[Azultsum gives serious look]

Floyd: Oooh, looks like the Tsum's raring to go. So, how're you gonna do this?

Azul: We'll split the Lounge into two, and I shall be the owner of one half.

Azul: The Tsum will take ownership of the other half, and we will see who makes more sales.

Azul: The winner is the undisputed superior owner and will take over Mostro Lounge from there on out.

Azul: Well, I'll be the one to win, of course.

Jade: So you plan on settling things once and for all with a head-to-head battle, I see. What an interesting concept you've concocted.

Azul: Jade, Floyd, you can join the Tsum's side. I have no need for your assistance.

Jade: Oh, are you sure? Do you truly think you will be able to garner more sales than the Tsum without our help?

Floyd: If you reeeeally beg for it, I'll help you～ C'mon, c'mon, y'don't wanna grovel for me even a little bit?

Azul: Don't make me repeat myself. Even if I were to keep you by my side, you would only get in my way.

Jade: So untrusting of your employees, what a horrid manager… Ah, my mistake, former manager…

Floyd: Guess that kind and charming Tsum really is more suited to be the owner of the Mostro Lounge, huh.

Azul: Yes, yes, alright. Then please, go ahead and play manservants to that Tsum.

Jade: Now then, we shall call the side where the Tsum is the owner the "Mostro Lounge First Branch."

Jade: And the side where Azul is the owner can be the "Mostro Lounge Second Branch."

Azul: Wait a moment! Why am I the second branch?

Floyd: 'Cause me n' Jade're over here, and it's just you over there.

Floyd: If you think about what's closer to the original Lounge structure, that's totally this side.

Azul: … Well, whatever. Everything will be made clear soon enough.

Azul: I shall show you that no one other than me is capable of being the owner of the Mostro Lounge.

[Azultsum jumps for joy]

Floyd: Looks like the Tsum's all excited too.

Azul: I hold no grudges against the Tsum, but I shall have no mercy. Allow me to show you all the proper way to run a Lounge like this.

(Part 1) Part 2 (Part 3)

#twisted wonderland #twst #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech #twst azul #twst jade #twst floyd #twst translation #twst tsum tsum

[lilpunkrock]

Remember Me

Status: Drabble

Pairing: Jack Russell x Fem!Reader

Find my other Jack Russell works here and here.

AN: When I learned that Gael sang this song from Coco, there was no way this wasn't happening. I don't own the rights to "Remember Me" from Coco, but this song definitely owns me. Enjoy. x

Translations:

“Por qué?” — “Why?”

“Mi amada” — “My darling,” “My love”

“Ten piedad de mí, mi amor” — “Have mercy on me, my love”

“Mi amor” — “My love”

. . .

“I love this song.”

The darkness of your living room is cast in a soft shade of blush pink as Coco plays on the TV screen. When you had asked Jack if he wanted to watch a Halloween movie tonight, Coco wasn’t exactly what you’d been expecting. Still, the suggestion made sense to you. You imagined he had seen enough horror to last a  lifetime in his line of work, and he knew you were always eager to learn more about his heritage. With him leaving for a work trip in the morning, you were just grateful for the opportunity to hold him a little tighter tonight. Sure, the truth of Jack’s nature had been a little…challenging to process at first, but you had quickly learned that love opened the mind and heart to all possibilities. 

And really, you couldn’t make a single complaint about his choice of film. The scene of Héctor singing to his daughter, the one currently playing on the screen, melted your heart every time.

Your beloved wolf boy turns his head from where it lays in your lap to look up at you. The baby pink glow of the TV screen makes his warm-toned skin look like it’s shining from within. “Really? This one? Por qué?”

You smile down at him sweetly. “It’s the lyrics. The meaning behind it. There’s something so wonderful and precious about the thought of someone you love carrying you with them always. Parted in miles, but close in heart.” You smile wider, that cherished feeling of warmth that you only ever felt in his presence spreading from your heart, to your bones, to the tips of your toes and fingers. The feeling you never want to let go of, the one that leaves you feeling dizzy and love-drunk. “It reminds me of a certain someone I know.”

Jack beams up at you, his teeth a brilliant white in the dark of the room. The adorable crook in the upper left side of his teeth smiles at you, too. Your heart melts instantaneously. “Your heart makes me smile, mi amada,” he says softly, his olive eyes glimmering in the low light. He lifts one hand to cup your cheek, his thumb finding rest at the corner of your mouth. You lean into his touch instinctively. “I always carry you with me, wherever I go.”

The request comes to you unbidden. “Sing it to me?” you ask quietly, weaving your fingers through his. 

A slight crease forms between Jack’s brows as he gazes up at you, confused. When understanding finally dawns on his expression, he gives a small, nervous chuckle. “Ah, I don’t know, mi amada. I’m not much of a singer.”

You shake your head emphatically. “It’s not about how it sounds. It’s about the feeling behind it.” You gaze down at him with wide eyes. “Won’t you please?”

Jack’s eyes search your pleading face for a long moment. When he realizes you’re not giving up, he heaves a sigh. “Ten piedad de mí, mi amor,” he says. In spite of his sigh, his face is not exasperated, but amused. “You know I cannot refuse you.” 

You flash him a dazzling grin and readjust to get a better view of his face. When you touch your hand to his cheek, he gazes up at you like you hung the moon and the stars. With a deep breath, he begins to softly sing, “Remember me…”

His salt-and-pepper hair parts like waves between your fingers. Soft as silk, rich with the aroma of his pine-scented shampoo. Jack’s eyes fall closed at your touch.

“Though I have to say goodbye, remember me…”

Your fingers slip from his hair to thoughtfully explore the faint lines of his forehead, the dark hair of his brow. When had this crease cleaved his brow? Year One Hundred? Two Hundred? You trace it with adoration, grateful for those years that led him here to you. 

“Don’t let it make you cry. For even if I’m far away, I hold you in my heart…”

Your thumb sweeps over the dark circles under his eyes tenderly. Perpetually in place, and yet he’s the most energetic person you know. His smile always bright, his eyes ever alert, attentive. When they’re on you, you feel as if you could scale a mountain, conquer any obstacle. Limitless.

“I sing a secret song to you each night we are apart. Remember me…”

Your finger traces the strong line of his nose, the soft swell at its end. Your mind buzzes with the memories of kissing that very spot time and time again.

“Though I have to travel far, remember me…”

You graze the gentle dip of his Cupid’s bow, the plush curve of his bottom lip with adoration. Heavens, his lips. The tender way they caress your name, the way they guard that beloved crooked smile, the warmth they’ve spilled across your skin as they’ve trailed from your forehead, to your lips, to your ear, your collarbone…

“Each time you hear a sad guitar. Know that I’m with you the only way that I can be…”

The pad of your thumb sweeps over the soft grit of shadow along his jaw. The memory of that stubble lovingly brushing against your cheek, the hollow of your throat, the flesh of your wrist, the inside of your thighs, sets your skin alight. Your heart flutters in your chest, giddy and breathless. 

“Until you’re in my arms again…Remember me.”

As the last note slips from his lips, he opens his eyes, gazing up at you with an endearment that makes your heart ache. The quiet sounds of the movie in the background feel far from you now. The only thing that matters in this moment is him, the adoration in his olive eyes, the peace in his brow, that beloved smile on his handsome face.

“That was beautiful,” you whisper, voice thick with emotion. You trace his jawline again, thumb lingering just below the swell of his bottom lip. “And you said you’re not a singer.”

Jack’s chest rumbles with a warm chuckle. He places the lightest of kisses to the pad of your thumb, soft as a feather. “If you believe in me, mi amor, I suspect I can be anything.”

It’s the nail in the coffin for you, the final straw. You dip down toward him in a rush, palms cradling his grinning cheeks as you press your lips to his. Warm and eager, his touch envelopes you, never-ending, all consuming. The way his lips glide against yours feels like worship. The way his thumb caresses the tender hollow just below your earlobe, a spot that only he knows, feels like a sin. Above all, the way you can feel every emotion he’s ever felt, every thought he’s ever pondered, every word said and unsaid in the press of his lips, feels like a drug. The way you can feel just how dearly he loves you.

When you finally part for breath, he presses his forehead to yours, nuzzling his nose against you. When you look into his olive eyes, you know that this is it. This is everything.

“I love you.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Tags (since y’all liked the first one :) - @h0wv3ry @the-ginger-draws @howlingco @ratisshortforratalia @safeikik @russell-ed @emilynightshade89 @mobiusismyfav @thepjofanqueen

#jack russell #jack russell x reader #jack russell x fem!reader #werewolf by night #marvel #mcu #mcu phase 4 #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #werewolf #werewolf by night x reader #gael garcia bernal #marvel phase 4

[izvmimi]

WSB (and WSHB) - Chapter I

cw: pregnancy mention, abortion mention.

Masterlist

It’s the middle of the night and as Bakugou turns over in his bed to glance at the digital clock at his end table, he groans, realizing whatever the fuck has his phone vibrating at this time of night will keep him up for at least half of the four hours he has left before his shift.

He slips out from underneath the sheets as quietly as possible, making sure not to disturb his sleeping fiance besides him who has managed not to be roused from all the commotion. Resisting the urge to plant a kiss on her forehead in fear that it might wake her, he leaves the room.

Izuku, as expected from the frantic series of texts, is at his front door, and from what Katsuki can tell from his quick peek into the keyhole before he opens it, his friend’s scarred hands are shaking. The dark hoodie that obscures his features makes it hard for Katsuki to discern exactly what he’s feeling, but the fact that Izuku trembles like a leaf is enough for him to realize that whatever is going on is quite bad. It better be bad if he’s being woken up for this.

As soon as the door swings open, Izuku says without hesitation,

“Kacchan, I fucked up. I fucked up so bad.”

Katsuki wrinkles his nose, but he listens.

…

“She’s what?”

The difference between the two pro Heroes is usually obvious - Deku often smiling and bright, the type of man who kisses babies and helps old ladies across the street, while Katsuki has the scowling energy of an anti-hero, the bad boy with a heart of gold and diamond that headlines the wet dreams of many a civilian. However, today, it cannot possibly be more stark.

Katsuki’s eyes are wide with shock and his eyebrows are knit together at his forehead; his arms cross close to his bare chest, and he’s nearly naked as he stands perfectly still in nothing but a pair of boxers, while Izuku looks for all the world like a man who is close to toppling over any second, covered in stress and far too many layers between a hat, sweatshirt and baggy pants. You would think he was worried about being recognized, although both he and Katsuki live in the same part of the city where most Heroes reside, known for a nearly impenetrable privacy.

Izuku opens his mouth in defense but the words barely come out. Katsuki grits his teeth.

“You fucking idiot!”

He lets out a loud sigh after the exclamation, then leans his back against the front door. It occurs to him that maybe he should let his friend in but he knows he risks the chance of waking his partner up if they talk inside the house and once she’s involved… well, things might just go even further off the rails.

“I know… I know,” Izuku repeats. “I… I don’t even know why I came here, I just… I couldn’t sleep and I can’t tell her the truth-”

“What do you mean you can’t tell the truth?” Katsuki hisses. “You think you can hide the fact that you and Uraraka are having an entire child?”

Izuku seems to pale even further, and Katsuki wonders if this is the first time he’s hearing the reality in black and white, in all of its messy glory.

“Did she tell you today?” He presses, disregarding Izuku’s shock.

“Yes.”

“How long ago?”

“Around 8pm she showed up and told me.” Izuku finally lowers his hoodie to run his hand through his hair and Katsuki can now clearly see the frazzled and matted locks that stick to his forehead. He looks an absolute mess, more of a mess than Katsuki has ever seen him before, and part of this annoys Katsuki because he warned him that things could turn out this way.

Well, not exactly this way… but Katsuki had clearly told Izuku he was playing with fire the moment he had picked up on Ochaco coming around just a little more often just mere weeks after his breakup.

He couldn’t figure out what Izuku’s endgame was. His friend was always kind and almost nauseatingly considerate, and he’d always had the impression that Izuku actually loved his ex just a little bit more than she loved him (although she’d emphatically disagree), so when he’d appeared to be moving on just a little too quickly with his blushy old flame, Katsuki had found it suspicious. A rebound maybe? Maybe a way to lie to himself and prove that he wasn’t lost without her?

But a baby?

“Your dumb ass never heard of condoms?” Katsuki snaps, and Izuku swallows hard then mutters something mostly unintelligible about a pill and pulling out and he rolls his eyes. Then he considers that maybe that was a bit harsh and rubs his chin.

A heavy wind picks up in between them as though adding gravity to the situation. Gravity. Uravity. The free word association is starting to get on Katsuki’s nerves.

“How far along?”

“9 weeks, maybe 10.” Izuku’s hands won’t stop fidgeting.

Bakugou winces. He probably shouldn’t have asked.

“What’s your plan? Aside from showing up at my doorstep with your problems?” He finally asks.

“I- I don’t have one,” Izuku says, and the realization hits both of them at the same time. He usually has a plan, no matter how stupid or idealistic it can sound. Katsuki prides himself on thinking that his plans are better , but even he is at a loss right now.

When you find out, it will break you, even if you’re pretending you’ve left Hero society behind in the conversations he overhears between you and his fiancé. Even if you are avoiding any situation that will involve you and Izuku being in the same room.

It’s been close to five months since the two of you have broken up and everyone knows that you’re still in love with each other, even if the tabloids continue to push Deku and Uravity as the it couple of the year.

But a baby can’t be ignored.

“Start by telling her, not me,” Bakugou says, and Izuku immediately resists.

“I can’t.”

Katsuki blows air from his nose in a derisive snort but Izuku looks directly at him now, as opposed to lowered in distress, eyes red-rimmed from tears but still somehow ferocious.

“Do not tell her.” Izuku says.

It’s as much as a plea as it is a threat by the way his fingers clench so tightly into fists, irregular knuckles jutting against pale, roughened skin. Katsuki considers the benefit of pointing out that if he really wanted to keep this secret a secret, he probably should not have barged in at 3 am and told him everything but decides he’s not in the mood for a fight for once.

“Fine.”

It’s a promise he’ll regret later in the morning.

Bakugou scratches his chin, then rolls his neck that’s somehow stiffened in the process of active listening. He goes to shove his hands in his pockets, then remembers he doesn’t have any pockets. Izuku wrings his hands, then rubs up and down his face. He looks like he’ll pull out his hair any second, then lets out a sigh.

“I don’t know why I came here, Kacchan.”

However, the two of them do know, and they remain silent in the acceptance of their ability to confide in each other.

“I don’t either,” Bakugou replies. The two pause and look at each other. Bakugou folds, unsure how to offer support but twists his mouth to the side.

“I won’t talk but you have to talk. Let me know how it goes.”

Katsuki means to turn abruptly and return back to his sleeping partner in desperate hopes of salvaging what’s left of his sleep. Izuku whispers a word of thanks, and Bakugou stops as he opens the door, and glances back at him.

He thinks for a moment what it would be like, if it were him, standing outside Izuku’s home at 4 in the morning, knowing that he fucked it up irrevocably with the love of his life. His stomach twists.

“Yeah, no problem.”

---

Izuku is not sure when or how he fell asleep.

What he is sure of however, is that today is the first free Sunday he’s spent in an empty bed since the week you broke up. No you and no Uraraka laying beside him either (although in his heart of hearts he knows he would have always much rather it be you); just him and a swamp of damp, rustled bedsheets.

He has no nightmares because he is living one. One where he can clearly remember your smile and how he managed to dim its light time and time again, and wondering if this is what will dull even the shine in your teeth.

Perhaps he’s being dramatic, he wonders, as he sits up slowly, the soles of his feet pressed against each other. His throat is dry and his head pounds as though he were hungover and he considers how tired his friend might be, having dealt with his caprices in the middle of the night.

A child isn’t an awful thing on its own. He’s good with children. He’s not too young to be a father and he knows a little about responsibility. He can provide for a child.

His mother will be confused, but delighted. A child is a good thing.

Your child would be the best thing, what he’s always wanted, however good cannot always be the enemy of the perfect.

The word ‘fuck’ comes out of his lips effortlessly as he rises to start the day with some stretches.

According to his phone, it’s a little past noon, far too late for a man who rarely sleeps in. Ochaco has sent him a couple messages, as has Bakugou, and there are a few calendar reminders for things that are thankfully scheduled later in the week.

Bakugou’s text is brief and disturbingly considerate.

You okay?

No, Izuku thinks, but he’s already bothered him enough. He texts back a brief ‘yea’ which Bakugou will see through instantly, then his heart races as he opens Ochaco’s messages.

I’m sorry I showed up so abruptly, but I couldn’t think of a better time.

I’ll come by later tonight, if that’s okay?

Izuku swallows hard.

Of course it’s okay. What other choice does he have?

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #thoughts: izuku #daydreams: bnha #mimi's notes #mimi writes: wsbwshb

[yusuke-of-valla]

I am having late night sleepover thoughts but like.

The thing about Naoto's arc is that if you insist on reading it solely as a story about sexism and Naoto only presents as male to avoid workplace sexism...

Then it's a shitty arc that fails at that goal? Because you'd like. Expect as part of that arc to have Naoto embrace feminity, say "I'm good enough on my own I don't need to present as male to get what I want" and in general be the most generic 90s-mid 2000s baby's first feminism arc but it ISN'T

Like. Ok sure some of the spin offs that take place post game give Naoto a more feminine design but the base game itself? Getting Naoto to dress in a skirt is like pulling teeth.

I cannot stress this enough guys, Disney's Mulan does not have Mulan continue to present as Ping once she is found out (and I don't say this to deny a trans reading of Mulan. I'm saying this as a basic point of comparison for a cis reading of Naoto)

Like what is Cis Naoto's story? "She presents as a dude to gain more respect. When she is in a peer group that doesn't care about her gender... she still presents as male because she can never really overcome the sexism of broader society by being herself?"

Yeah, what a great thing to implicitly tell your female players, and yet it never comes up?

Almost like people who are emphatically against a queer reading of Naoto's arc haven't really thought through the implications of a straight/cis reading either, they just say "it's about sexism, idiot" and leave it at that

#persona 4 critical #ALSO I WANNA SAY #IF YOU IDENTIFY WITH AND LIKE NAOTO'S STORY AS BEING ABOUT SEXISM #THAT'S FINE! ENGAGE WITH THE TEXT HOW YOU WANT #this is SPECIFCALLY about people who are ADAMANTLY AGAINST trans Naoto as a reading at all and acts like the gays are crazy #for reading into it #at the end of the day naoto isn't real use whatever pronouns you want #I'm just like. shooting the shit at people who are transphobic #fandom salt

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME ⟶ THE OUTER WORLDS / PART TWO always feel free to tweak the sentence to fit your muse.

"Every now and then a virulent plague sweeps through our town."

"Hang on, I'm doing some math in my head."

"I'm contractually prohibited from saying anything that might reflect poorly on the company."

"I appreciate the company and all, but you really ought to leave."

"You don't want to be seen around me."

"That kind of talk is bound to put sights on the both of us."

"I'm in about as much trouble as I can be."

"What I need is to understand my own folly."

"Weak spirits lead to weak bodies."

"I really wish you wouldn't say those sorts of things."

"Try using small words for me."

"I was given. no forewarning of your arrival."

"Seems I allowed my excitement to run away with my wits."

"I am most emphatically not keen on any such thing."

"My proposition benefits the both of us."

"I cannot deny that she is talented."

"I got my wrenches and diagnositicators and hairpins and engine tape, so I'm all set."

"He ain't a liar. He believes every word he says."

"I just think, when you gotta make a decision that'll hurt somebody, you gotta see the right and the wrong of it."

"I've always felt weird in here. It's too clean."

"I so rarely get new people to talk to."

"True exhaustion awaits idle hands."

"Doesn't sound like a very motivational religious philosophy."

"Pretty weak religion you got there."

"Every time I've tried to engage you in conversation, you look at the floor, answer in single words, and slink away."

"[Name] has a soft heart. Always has."

"Does that strike you as a responsible life choice?"

"If it were as easy as a few soothing words in the right ears, I'm sure it would have been done already."

"If you don't mind a bit of unsolicited advice, be cautious."

"It's not as safe as you might assume."

"It wouldn't do for such information to fall into public consumption."

"I am one of the few legally allowed to possess such items."

"Whatever you're looking for, it ain't here."

"You must be one of those philosophicals."

"Enough with the questions."

"Explain why you're still yammering on to me."

"I got yelled at for snooping once already."

"She was always obsessing over her serial dramas."

"You seem so personable. Can't imagine how you didn't get on with them."

"She was lazy and thoughtless."

"It's a home for those of us with nowhere left to go."

"I have always believed that freedom is more important than comfort."

"You here on behalf of that cold-eyed reptile?"

"He is positively soporific."

"Seems the sort of thing a hero would do."

"You've seen the miserable excuse of a town."

"I ain't so fragile."

"That was unkind of me."

"I trust you will listen to your conscience."

"I think there's something higher and greater than us."

#memes #rp meme #rp starters #meme #roleplay meme #roleplay #rpc #sentence meme #sentence starters #ask meme

[crimson-roots]

[a mermaid who has given up his tail, and i, who cannot love him enough to make it all worth it.] // [<- happy ending! niamh is just dramatic <3]

He takes a few wobbly steps, wide eyes fixed on his feet. Still unsteady, still unbalanced, he looks slowly up to meet my eyes; everything in me says to shoo him back, but there's delight, clean and simple, that has overtook his face. Flushed excitement as he stumbles his way to me.

"Your tail," I breathe, because it's the only thing I can think to say. He nods, once, emphatically; the smile does not move, even as he throws out his long arms, trying to stay upright on the uneven sand.

"Yeah," he responds, relaxing as I catch his arm and pull him to my side to keep him from falling. "Yeah. For you."

How can I tell him that the gift he has given me is priceless? How am I to look him in those eyes and cut away that excitement like a hot knife to butter? God, he's beaming, but all I can think is that he hasn't thought this through: he's still soaking wet, still warm, and for me.

For me. Christ. This is a debt that can't be repaid; something given so freely that my chest aches at the notion.

He hasn't looked back to the ocean yet. I wonder how long it will take. (When he looks, will he break? Will he run back to the waves, beg for a second chance from whoever gave him these legs? Shit, shit, shit - is this even reversible?)

"Av," I say softly, and his head snaps up to face mine, so enthusiastic that I stumble from the force. "Ave, have you really thought this through?"

"Do I look unsure?" (Fuck, there's that pout again.)

"No, but--"

"No." He has not stopped smiling, the bastard, but it slips into something more gentle, and suddenly he is looking at me as if the stars live in my eyes, gaze so full of love that I think I will break with it. (Fuck. I mean it - how am I to repay a debt so wordlessly massive?)

There is silence as we stumble to my beat-up red car, me looking forward, him looking down. It's comfortable, because Avalon (of course) does know what he's doing, and the chirping of seagulls is foreground at best. He had liked their song. (He is losing it with a smile.)

We get to the pavement, the stone wall corroded by sand, and I help him climb over to sit on its top, swinging his legs like a child in the sun. Follow him up there. Slip to the floor.

I hate him, and I hate how perfect this moment is, hot with summer and mixed with sharp sea-spray. My hand reaches up to pull him down, and when he hesitates it's because he's taking in the moment, slow not with regret but with wonder. (Christ. Christ. I can't repay this debt.)

The car is behind us, but we stay on the pavement. He's holding my hand. My feet burn with the heat. "Avalon," I say quietly, and I can't meet his gaze. "...you know I can't give you--. I can't love you in the way that you want."

"Then give me friendship," he says in turn, like it's the easiest solution in the world, and not that I'm watching, but he still hasn't looked back. "You're here with me, aren't you? That's more than I need."

There's a longer silence, broken by crashing waves and cars on the highway. He pulls my hand until I'm closer, falling back into the wall, and I am pressed against his chest looking up into his eyes. (They're blue, only less so. Less yellow. Less full. (They're warm, and round, and glowing with admiration. Who the hell am I to be looked at like that?))

I still don't speak, but he squeezes my hand. (The stone is surely uncomfortable by now. He doesn't move. just holds me.) "I am here any way you need me," he says, so softly it rumbles like a hymn. "By your side, or not at all. If you do not want me here, I am gone; if you wish it so, you will never see me again." Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck am I to say to that?

"Do I go?"

I hesitate, because of course I do, but he does not interrupt but to wait for my response. At length, it comes: "...Can you? ..go back?"

"I can leave." It's not an answer.

"...are you stuck like this?" for me?

And of all things - of all reactions, breaking or silent or angry, he has the gall to look fucking confused. For his face to pinch in indignity, so unsettled on his features. "You think I am stuck?"

"You can't go back."

"I am here because I want to be," he tells me, and I have to close my eyes at the way his face lights up, flushed red with tiredness and unwavering affection. To me. For me. (There's no way I can repay this.) "I'm here because I love you, and I'm here because there's so much to see, and I'm here because I would rather be nowhere but by your side."

"And you're stuck."

His muscles bunch under me as he tries to straighten up, but he can't quite manage it; stumbles back into into the wall. I don't have the energy to help him up again. Almost as if he can feel my disbelief -- fuck that, it's Avalon, I know that he can -- he takes my other hand in his.

"Niamh." A pause. "Did you know that the water's blue?"

My brain stops, my heart with it. Restarts. "What?"

"The water's blue," he repeats. "And it moves like fabric, and the waves make a sound, and the spray burns a bit when it gets into your eyes." Another pause, this one longer. My eyes open to find his staring into them, furrowed and determined and stubborn and warm.

"The water's blue, and green, and white. I'm here because I have never seen it from the top, and I wanted to know what it looked like. I wanted to-- I want to know everything. There's so much I haven't seen, and you've seen it all."

"Not all of it," I say reflexively, but I barely mean the words. He's here because of me; he's here because he wants to be. Both are true. How am I to argue for him to go back when he's so excited? So curious? Fuck. (Fuck.) This is a debt that can't be repaid.

"Hey," he says, "look at me: I'm not going to regret this."

"I can't love you," I whisper, as if he hadn't already known, and he smiles so patiently it feels like pure indulgence. "Not romantically. Not properly."

"You're here," he whispers back, still looking in my eyes. "You're here, and you love me. You're here and you're my friend. I'm not asking for any more than that. That's enough for me."

...Fuck. He's going to regret this so bad. He's giving all this to me, and for nothing in return; I can't repay this debt. He'll regret this. He will.

But I tug on his warm hand and he stumbles giddily to my car, his legs (his legs!) trying to buckle underneath him, and despite all of it - the regret, the indignation, the stubbornness, all of it - all I can think is that it's nice to have him here. With me.

By my side.

And I'll try my damned hardest to make it last as long as it can.

#crimson-writing #writing #mermaid #fairytales #fantasy #uhhhh #hell yeah <3 #urban fantasy

[tgrailwar-zero]

She didn't introduce herself. Just appeared, with the authority of someone who needed no proper introduction. The space grew cold as she spoke, her voice artificial and unfeeling.

"Satisfied with your 'happy ending'? It was a truly quaint sort of thing. Hugs. Kisses. Fine enough for a test run of the THGW."

Her tone was sharp and concise, like needle gently finding its way into one's pressure points, each syllable weaseling their way into your ears as her voice dripped with mechanical saccharinity.

"You've gotten rather used to fighting against one another, yes? I'm sorry, but things have changed. Cooperation will key towards your success. If you choose to actively participate, at least. You'll all be sharing one Servant, at least for now, and the more disjointed you are will make your commands more difficult to them to follow. I'd call it a challenge, but you can do it. You're all rather talented Wizards, aren't you? I mean, you snipped apart a small simulacrum of a Holy Grail."

"Of course, if you'd simply want to stick with your 'happy ending', then that's fine. Perhaps you don't have a wish or desires. If you enjoy lying to yourself, then simply hold tight to your ending. The Grail is destroyed. The two main terminals disappear without argument. You've forever lost your Rider, failed to grant the wishes of the Servants you didn't permanently delete, but had the strength to stand by your convictions. Truly, a 'happy ending'. Or at least 'an ending'."

"But you can do better, can't you? You have wishes you'd want granted. Questions you'd like answered. Curiosities to be sated. So, take my hand and make your vow. We'll talk more once you've finalized a contract with your Servant. The process will take a while. Consider it your first attempt at 'teamwork'. Of course, that isn't the only 'contract' for you to sign."

"Not much choice, is there? Don't worry, you'll have more real choices later. This is more to see how on-board you all can get with one another. Your Servant will only suffer if their Masters cannot agree on even the simplest of tasks after all. Besides, 'Prospective Masters'. You've already agreed to this contract a long time ago."

With that, she simply turned and left, leaving you to continue the process of establishing a Servant Contract.

#administrator's declaration

[ecosystem-administrator]

Envoy

Timeline: 4.2-4.3, Stormblood MSQ spoilers

A few journal entries from one Maxima quo Priscus, illuminating the course of an ill-fated diplomatic mission.

Journal of Maxima quo Priscus, 18 medihiems, 57 IE

I can scarcely believe how swiftly our fortunes have shifted. The uprisings in the provinces have set the Optimates back immensely, all their rhetoric now ringing hollow in the face of our recent losses. As we have long warned, the policies of brutal repression have inspired backlash, not dutiful submission to their so-called betters. Though the majority opinion is still in favor of expansion and subjugation, reports from the soldiers who have returned from the field are vividly illustrating the need for a more nuanced and considerate approach to treating with other lands and nations.

The Crown Prince himself, Zenos yae Galvus, reached out to us a week or so past, still in recuperation from the injuries he took in Ala Mhigo, and to all accounts the near-death experience has seen his attitude quite altered. The rumors of his actions in the field carry a tone of shocking brutality, but when he met with us he seemed calm and erudite, if notably distant and calculating. After hearing out our priorities and planned initiatives, he agreed to offer his support, and told us he would speak with his father about making overtures of peace to the provinces which have so emphatically declined to remain under direct rule.

Today, the official word arrived that Emperor Varis himself has approved, tentatively, a mission to go to Doma. We will attempt to secure a treaty of mutual non-aggression, under the condition that they forswear the summoning of Eikons and do as much as they can to keep the local beastmen in line, to be sealed with an exchange of prisoners-of-war. Of course, the prince insisted on appointing an ambassador of his own choosing; Asahi sas Brutus, a young man of much ambition and wealth and little actual accomplishment, will be leading the negotiations.

I can’t say I’m deeply impressed with his character, but he seems competent enough to present our case, and we would be fools to reject such immense progress on a technicality of leadership. The young lord will be allowed to advance his career on the coattails of our cause; we have put in too many years of work not to seize this opportunity for everything it’s worth.

12 finis-hiems, 57 IE

By any standard, our mission is going well; and yet I cannot help but find myself ill at ease with our ambassador.

We approached Doma from the air, offering a signal of peace that Asahi assured us the locals would understand, and indeed after some delay they reciprocated our overture and allowed us to land. Lord Hien met us personally, and while he treated us with an entirely justifiable suspicion, he was cordial enough and open to negotiation. We remain his guests while the official treaty’s language is drafted and agreed upon.

Asahi sas Brutus… I knew, of course, that he was the brother of the former viceroy of Doma when we took up this mission. He speaks often of his sister; our spies in Kugane spotted her in the company of one of Lord Hien’s retainers months ago, and it’s understandable that he should be eager to have her returned. …But I can sense no true care or sentiment behind his words, about her or about our mission. I did not survive the long hard years of political repression and upheaval by being unable to interpret the intentions that underly a person’s speech. Asahi speaks well and offers all of the Populares’ arguments smoothly, without fault, and he believes not a word of what he’s saying. Why join us, then? He is not undermining us, save perhaps that our counterparts may espy his insincerity; but even so, there is nothing in his demeanor that they could seize upon to offer a concrete objection to.

It may well be that he witnessed Prince Zenos’ change of heart and decided to tie his political ambitions to whatever the Empire’s heir is currently supporting. That’s probably the most sensible explanation, as he certainly doesn’t lack for ambition generally, and this is a venue that offers one of his ilk little enough competition. And the way he speaks of the Crown Prince generally…well. If he were more pleasant personally, I might offer when we return home to show him the venues where a man of his proclivities can find like-minded company. So it’s unsurprising, on the whole, that he would simply chase at Prince Zenos’ heel without a care for what he needs to say in order to remain there.

Still, I can’t help but feel uneasily as if there’s something more at work. Something I’ve missed seeing. All I can do for now is stay on my guard, to intervene if the negotiations begin to turn.

23 finis-ver, 57 IE

Months, years of postulating and theorizing could not have allowed me to predict this end. This mission was a sham from the beginning, and I’m ashamed to have been so taken in. The Populares have been used, and it is only by the grace and prowess of those we have looked down on that the situation is remotely salvageable.

I should explain, if I can calm myself enough to find the words. Lay out what happened, what must have transpired outside of my view. Crown Prince Zenos devised this plan to undermine our faction, or…perhaps the being possessing him? I’m still not sure I believe it’s possible, but the Eorzeans are quite confident that Zenos yae Galvus died in Ala Mhigo and was buried there. The plan was devised, nonetheless, and brought to the Emperor for approval, which was then duly given. It was always the collapse of the Populares that they sought to support; they had not “seen reason” as I had dared to hope. They selected Asahi and gave him his orders, sent us with a plausible excuse of an overture, and set it all up to fail.

Asahi’s true mission was to trigger a summoning from the Domans or their allies, fueled by boxes of crystals he claimed were brought as trade goods. Such a summoning would of course cause the negotiations to collapse, and we who chose to sue for peace would be shown up as fools for attempting to treat with “savages” who could never give up their gods.

In hindsight, the manipulation is plain as day. I was a fool to think that our views would ever be taken up in good faith; but even saying so, I cannot bring myself to condemn the path that brought me here. It cannot be a crime to have hope, to believe that one’s own countrymen can act like the reasonable and upstanding citizens they claim to be. If only they would stop proving me wrong.

For what it may be worth, though, thanks to the Eorzeans and particularly their champion who was in attendance at the negotiations, we have gained something from this mission after all. Up to this point, they were largely unaware that any faction within the Empire would be willing to negotiate with them at all; even by setting us up to fall so dramatically, our enemies have given us the opportunity to be seen.

And it would seem that they are as interested in peaceful negotiation as we are. One of their own, a young Elezen named Alphinaud, has volunteered to return to Garlemald with us, to bear personal witness and offer an outsider’s perspective. He seems quite politically insightful for a boy so young; I can hardly wait to introduce him to the core membership of the Populares and see what an actual Eorzean’s views can do to shape and reinforce our ideals. Despite the disaster that spurred it, this thin line of contact with the world outside the Empire’s borders may yet be of great benefit to our cause.

#ffxiv #maxima quo priscus #ffxivwrite2023 #stormblood spoilers #I put too much work into figuring out how Garleans would date journal entries #please enjoy bad latin for seasonal phases #IE is Imperial Era of course