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ravixen · 6 months

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hey if its not much may i ask svt and prioritizing their s/o for the rest of the members? i think that's hoshi, dino, vernon and jun thank you so much! btw I love your work its written so well!!

svt + prioritizing their s/o (pt 3)

➔ reaction || requested

➔ warnings: brief food mention || 0.9k words ➔ notes: fluff ; thank you so much for your patience! it's been like two months...I've been so busy lately :') and the stress hasn't been helpful when it comes to writing, but I'm slowly figuring things out at work and I'm excited to wrap up these reactions. thank you for loving my posts—I hope that you'll reblog them :)

JUNHUI: it's his day off, and he should be sleeping...according to you, at least. if you ask him, though, he'd tell you that he's doing exactly what he should be doing, and that's taking care of you. when he crawled into bed—at some ungodly hour that he half paid attention to—you were still on your laptop, typing away at a slideshow that only half of your coworkers will care about. he doesn't know what time you finally slid into bed with him, but it felt like seconds between you accidentally jostling him awake and his alarm blaring beside his ear. time to get up, he thinks to himself, but there's no inward sigh, no lamenting the fact that he's just another cog in the wheel. no, this morning, he wakes up light on his feet and slips out of the blanket as quietly as he can. then he gets to work. plugs in your laptop again because he knows that the battery is old and loses charge overnight. re-organizes your shoes so that the other pairs are put away and your lucky pair is right by the door, ready for you to put on. tucks a granola bar into the side of your bag as a surprise because you always check there first for your pens. jun is a quiet lover, one that melts into the crevices of your life and makes you remember that you are loved.

SOONYOUNG: "pass me your plate," he says, looming over the table with an outstretched hand. "how much do you want?" he keeps his other hand on the rotating turntable, preventing it from moving, and you want to shrink in your seat with how everyone's eyes land on you. there's no judgment, but you still feel the warmth of embarrassment. "just a little bit of everything," you murmur, fiddling with your chopsticks as he obliges. no one makes a fuss about it, and as soon as he sets your plate down, he takes a seat and lets everyone get food before he serves himself. he's the type to put himself last when it comes to these things, preferring to take care of the younger ones before himself, but it'll be a cold day in hell before he lets you do the same. you tried to sit out once, patiently waiting for the boys to get their fill before you dug in. at the time, you didn't realize that they never really stop eating. as soon as soonyoung noticed you hovering at the edge, unsure of how to jump in, he started swatting away hands so that you help yourself. now he's taken it upon himself to always serve you first, even though you tell him that he doesn't have to do it. he doesn't respond. he just plucks food from his plate and puts it on yours, and you realize that you'll never win this argument.

VERNON: he always opens and responds to the links you send in a timely fashion. sometimes it's just a haha, maybe an emoji, and other times it's a quick paragraph of his thoughts. to be honest, this is such an overlooked act of love because it takes a lot of energy to watch something when you're tired and busy—and you know he's tired and busy—but he pushes through for you. "you can watch it later," you tell him once. you just sent him an Instagram reel about cats, and two minutes later, you hear the audio coming from his phone. he just shrugs and reacts to it with a laughing emoji, even though he kept a straight face the whole time. "I might forget later," he says, reaching over to pinch your cheek, and leaves it as his only explanation, as if it's truly as simple as that. you can't bring yourself to do the same, though, and he's understanding when you finally respond to his links a week later, spamming his notifications. "sorry for the late response," you say at the very end, but he doesn't let you feel bad about it. when your thoughts and emotions are preoccupied, even a thirty second meme feels like an energy sapper and he gets it. he just does things because they're no big deal to him, but he doesn't want you to feel obligated to reciprocate.

CHAN: he's on his feet as soon as you need something. sometimes, it seems like he's his group's little errand boy, but no, he loves doing things for the important people in his life. (honestly, the entire group is if "acts of service" were people.) regardless of where you are—be it beside him or across the room—he always keeps an eye on your expressions and body language. "hey, chan, have you seen my—" you glance around your feet. "water?" in moments, he's at the table, pouring you another glass. "you put your cup away earlier." it's little things like this that make you feel appreciated, but you wonder if it's too much at times. not for you, but for him—is he really enjoying himself if he's always trying to take care of you? "of course," he says when you ask. he's in the middle of rolling up your sleeves since he noticed them dropping. when he's earnest like this, you can see the adoration in his gaze. if you address this in public, though, he just hides a chuckle, swiping his nose with his thumb. a confident hair flick as he says, "all in a day's work for the world's best boyfriend." the fake smugness all crumbles when you agree with him, though. he'll just sink his face into his hands with a few wait a minute's between giggles.

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utilitycaster · 1 month

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@notstinglesstoo replied to your post “The thing is, and I haven't gotten a chance to...”:

I saw someone not long ago say cr has always felt like a product to them vs D20 feeling organic and I protected my peace but I did want to ask them if they were brain dead

Oh man I wanted to address this at length because I feel this. My posts have been centered, again, specifically on published journalists picking Daggerheart aprt critically and applauding themselves for doing so despite it being within a couple of hours of its release and therefore any analysis is necessarily going to be based on at best, a skim, when they just as frequently will claim D20 seasons/Kollok are flawless works of genius based on only a partial read, but man D20's got a fandom problem too. (and all of the following comes with the caveat of "I really enjoy D20, and Dropout, and while we're at it WBN and NADDPod which both are half D20 Intrepid Heroes cast, and think Brennan is a particularly brilliant GM, and also it's obvious that the D20 and CR casts are on great terms, and wish the fandom for D20 were more welcoming and enjoyable because I feel it wasn't like this when I first started watching, as a CR fan, in late 2019 and has since curdled into something really weird and bad.")

The first point is the obvious one: technically speaking these are both products. These are performers doing an art form; it is also a portion of how they make their money with which they can buy goods and services. Believing that art is inauthentic when the artist gets paid and acknowledges that is a thing that happens is a fucking libertarian position at best. Like cool, you think only people who are independently wealthy by other means can make art, because it's not real labor, my kid could paint that, etc etc.

The second point is also pretty obvious. I have pushed back pretty hard on the "uwu CR is just watching friends! it's like we're in their living room" mentality among the fandom, which has decreased, thankfully, but like...it did in fact start organically as a private home game, and they decided, when invited, to make it A Show For An Audience. D20 was created on purpose as a show for an audience. This doesn't make it bad or fake - reread the previous paragraph - but in terms of "this is an group of people who really played D&D in this world together even before the cameras were rolling," Critical Role literally is that, and D20 is not.

I think beyond that...my biggest issues with the D20 fandom are first, the level of discourse is abominable. The tag is almost always just shrieking praise and the most surface-level readings possible. I keep bringing up the "Capitalism is the BBEG" mug but it genuinely sums up so much of how I feel; people who want their existing beliefs fed to them as surface-level no-nuance takes. I mean capitalism is fucking terrible but I do not need every work I watch to have a character turn to the camera and say "capitalism is bad" to enjoy myself, and indeed it makes it harder due to the lack of subtlety and grace. For all D20 fans complain about how unhealthily parasocial CR fans can be (and some can be), I find that a lot of the most unhealthily parasocial "how dare they BETRAY my TRUST by having a ship I don't like or not speaking up about every single societal ill" ex-CR fans move over to D20 and then pull the exact same shit; it simply doesn't get called out. Every time D20 fans are like "we don't want to become the CR fandom" it's like "your toxic positivity and unhealthy parasocial behavior exceeds the HEIGHT of what I've seen in CR; the main difference is that CR started in 2015 when D&D was still shaking off the raging bigot dudebros and so in the early days it acquired more of those fans, whereas by the time D20 came around the landscape of who played D&D and watched Actual Play had shifted wildly, and you need to judge September 2018 D20 fans in parallel to September 2018 CR fans, not September 2015 CR fans."

I also feel, and I alluded to this in the post about journalism, and other people have said this better than I have, but the pedestal people have put D20 on does feel like a single...not even misstep, but just, difficult choice that doesn't capitulate to the loudest fans will bring a good chunk of that fandom crashing to the ground. And that includes the journalists. For all the fans of CR can still be obsessed with the cast to an unhealthy degree? The cast and company have put up pretty strong boundaries and have not budged. D20 hasn't, and I think the second they do - and I think it will be for their benefit as a company and a channel - a big chunk of their most vitriolic CR-hating portion of the fandom will viciously turn on them.

#notstinglesstoo #nonrebloggable bc god it's hell week for me i know i've been shooting off opinions bc that is how i blow off steam #but like. i can't have this break containment i got shit to do

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taboo-delusion · 1 month

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So, I just discovered something interesting.

This is a bit of a long one, so bear with me. It's important. Seriously.

I just woke up a few hours ago. My meds are starting to kick in. I was having a very serious and genuine, deep conversation (in-head) and it was... beautiful. It wasn't happy, but it was beautiful. Not the point.

Point is:

I had not had a single fucking intrusive thought today until someone made a noise in the other room.

I am so fucking PISSED OFF

Why my brain refuses to realize that intrusive thoughts CAUSED the good feeling to go away, I have no fucking idea. I've known that for almost a year now, yet my stupid fucking subconscious refuses to change anything it's doing

Before I snap my fucking android phone in half and yeet somebody's face into neptune, I thought I'd share the discovery!!!!

Basically:

MY INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS DID NOT START UNTIL SOMETHING STARTLED ME OUT OF FOCUS

AS I TYPE THIS, I REALIZE THAT INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS -AT LEAST FOR ADHDERS- ARE A SURVIVAL TACTIC.

Elaborating:

When you fall asleep and your heart slows too much, your body does the falling thing to make sure you're still alive.

It's not that intrusive thoughts are *Just* because your brain gets too quiet, It's because your life has never been completely quite before, or -like me- the few times it is quiet, something interrupts. And even if it doesn't piss you off, even if you don't jump like I do, your brain still registers it as not safe.

Falling asleep, heart slows a lot-

Body: *Sends adrenaline just to make sure it still actually works.*

Drowning, even mostly unconscious-

Body and brain: *Hold onto that last half-breath even if it feels like you're head is going to explode.*

Going grocery shopping or talking to someone you think is cool-

Brain: *Remembers what it felt like the first time your guardian was indifferent or mean about something that made you happy or calm.*

Things around you actually get quiet-

Brain *Sends a thought you hate just to make sure you're prepared for a sudden problem.*

TDLR 1: Your brain isn't mean on purpose, It's just paranoid and still has a will to live.

Listen. I know I'm just some random dude from a weird blog. But I'm trying to translate, to assist. Maybe somebody else needs this realization as much as I do. I apologize for the yelling earlier. I'm still just as upset, but only at my dumbass subconscious. Now some time has passed, and I have regained self-control.

(I also apologize for the above paragraph, my brain nags for me to do this, but I can't remember why. So:)

I am no psychologist. Here are my qualifications (why you should listen to me):

As my friends call it- "Disturbingly self-aware at all times."

Paranoid Schizophrenic with actual (unrelated) OCD, with years of experience dealing with it- more healthily in recent years.

Philosophy and deep thinking is simply my default. I use metaphors, but everything in this post is entirely literal, ...except the angry threat. (*begrudgingly accepts disappointment*)

I am a fiction writer. I don't know about healing people/first aid, but I know a LOT about how anatomy works, with many deep-dives on the psychology/evolution side.

People irl generally consider me a genius? Idk how to gauge that, IQ tests are irrelevant with this type of... smart?. I've been compared to both Da Vinci and Einstein. So, ...actually that's pretty fuckin' cool- (I AM NOT TRYING TO BRAG! I APOLOGIZE IF IT COMES OFF THAT WAY! I've never put it all down like this, and I'm just surprised and questioning my reputation.)

(Also, I love playing detective, so naturally I call myself Batman XD.)

Autistic; I experience the world, and every situation, from a view without any context.

ADHD: My brain automatically -As a guardian I hate describes- "Can watch three different movies at the same time, all in fast forward, and can keep up with all of them." ... Well, yes, but technically no. Idk if other ADHD people do this, but my brain "connects the dots" so quickly, I end up laughing at jokes I've never heard before the 'punchline', because I've already figured out what you're going to say next.

Now combine all that. I am kicking depression's ass and now I want to help you do the same.

I have only mentioned the relevant things. Please keep in mind that ALL of these have both advantages and disasters. Thank you for your patience and understanding. I am running on four hours of sleep. For the love of whatever, I hope this actually helps someone other than me.

Qualifications are noted because: This is all stuff (and stuff like this) that I am just always casually aware of.

TLDR2: Even if I wasn't trying to help people feel better, Apparently I was born with a nat 20 perception/insight check, so please don't argue that I truly understand what I'm talking about here.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 29 days

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WIBTA if I refuse to do anymore work on the group project we already missed the deadline for, but can still submit?

I am extremely tired of being walked over and doing all the work. I'm a 3rd year uni student and multiple times I've been the main person doing group project work. The latest example is what prompted this ask. Our task was to do a discussion and then write an essay based on it, the group consists of 4 people including me. We talked for 10 minutes at the end of last week and a little bit yesterday. We did the majority of the work yesterday as well.

There are 14 points/questions we need to cover. Multiple people not only are advised to, but must cover the same questions so there's substance to be worked with. While the rest of the group covered some, it's insufficient and I did the majority of the work on the first half of the questions and all of the second half. A worked on 4/14 questions (pretty short answers), B also did 4/14 questions (one longer answer, three pretty short answers), C wrote 2.5/14 questions (2 medium length answers, one single sentence answer) and D, me, did 11/14 (mainly long answers with a couple of shorter ones).

After I made a Google Doc to make communication easier, they submitted their answers and basically ghosted me. I asked multiple times for help but was met with silence or jokes about checking the grammar and typos later for me. Again, we don't have enough substances to work with, the essay CANNOT be completed with what we have so far.

And here's where the issues get deeper. I asked for someone to at least look at what I've written down so far multiple times, proofread it if you will. Silence. I know for a fact A and C were FREE and could've continued working on the project, while B might or might not have been at work. Finally C said they'll do it. We were left with less than an hour to wrap it up and submit it before the deadline at this point.

2 minutes after saying that they'll read it, they sent me a "it's great" message. They shameless lied to my face.

I was inside the Doc the whole time and no other users were shown to be viewing the page, let alone reading 3 lengthy paragraphs in 2 minutes.

At some point during the day I was so desperate, I was ready to delete all I've written, comments, intro and first few paragraphs of the essay, everything and beg to join a different group. But a friend managed to calm me down and I didn't go that route.

I can't write to the professor and explain the situation to him, it's just not an option, that's not a practice in my country when the subject only consists of lectures and the professor has to look after 100+ students. My last hope is tomorrow morning those 3 will see the newest messages of me asking for help to finish it and will help me. If that doesn't happen, well...

What I can do is say fuck it and give them the same treatment they've given me – ghost them, don't do additional work on the questions and essay and take all of us down for not finishing and submitting the final project. I don't really want to do it and fuck up our grades (we have no idea how important this homework is for the final grade) but I genuinely see no other way. So WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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etirabys · 10 months

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The only China-related blog I read posted something that deviates from its usual "just translate the top posts on Weibo" post format. It's about the position of women in China:

https://weibo.substack.com/p/feminism-and-the-position-of-women

It and the (extremely fucking dark) post it links to in its second paragraph have been on my mind for several days. I've kept the browser tabs open despite having finished reading & having no desire to reread them.

I found the feminism post illuminating – things I'd 80% understood about the CCP's "strategy" wrt gender snapped into place, and I feel foolish for not having clearly seen that angle before:

The problem, of course, is that the gender ratio in China has been off for a very long time now. Inevitably, there are going to be a lot of men who will never find a wife. And inevitably, those men are going to be precisely the most unstable elements of society—the poorest, working the most menial of jobs, with the least hopes of ever getting promoted, with the least education. Under these circumstances, relying on market forces is not an option. Women would never willingly marry those people when they have perfectly good careers of their own. So the first step, then, is to fuck women out of careers. ...

China is in an equilibrium that it cannot coordinate to get out of: if you have a daughter, you don't want to invest in her when the norms are that her husband will provide for her / that she won't have a career after marriage. If you have a son, you need to to invest in him, because his marital/reproductive prospects aren't great unless he has a job, a car, and an internal passport that lets him live/work in a city, where he can have a future.

It might be a little unbelievable to you, that a country can just sacrifice half its population to stabilise the other half. ... China doesn’t pass laws or enforce laws to protect women for the same reason they don’t pass or enforce laws to protect sweat shop workers. China is competitive on the international stage precisely because it is willing to look the other way while you make a sweat shop of people work unpaid overtime 80 hours a week while you pay them a quarter of minimum wage and don’t give health insurance or retirement benefits. China is competitive on the international stage because it’s willing to look the other way while you dump industrial waste right into the ocean.

#rambl #// china

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minniiaa · 22 days

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It is currently 5am and I woke up like 20 minutes ago, let's go lol

You know why I'm here, I kinda know why I'm here but that's besides the point anyways, thought of the day: Law becomes confident in their relationship and makes it exclusively Luffy's problem. Luffy thought that Law being confident about them would mean more PDA, more getting to tell their friends about the cute/hot things Law did that week, but no, Law only now doesn't push Luffy away when he kisses his cheek in public and if he asks, a proper kiss on the lips. A win is a win to Luffy though and he knows better by now than to try tearing down Law's metaphorical privacy screen in one go.

What DOES change, however, is that Law has become… insatiable when it's just the two of them. They definitely share a living space by now if you're thinking a modern au setting, which I am so that's all you're getting, and Law is a MENACE compared to before. Sure they would cuddle and Luffy was given free rein to kiss Law when and wherever in the confines of their home, but now Law's dragging Luffy into cuddling on the couch or back into bed while mumbling about 10 more minutes. Luffy thinks Law is sick when he pouts about Luffy not getting home at the time he said he would (he was 7 minutes late). While Luffy wishes he could get Law to put up with his PDA more, he's still over the moon about Law initiating intimacy more than before, makes him feel a lot more appreciated than he expected.

Now the sex. It almost scares Luffy, which has little differences to arousal for him, when Law starts being more vocal and outgoing during sex. Usually he had to fight Law on pulling his face away from pillows or teasing himself until he used his words to tell Luffy what he wanted, now Law was openly crying out for Luffy like he's reciting gospel and at the same time begging for him defile the temple Luffy worships. A week ago Law gave Luffy the dirtiest look for smacking his ass after Law refused to say Luffy's name, only calling him Mugiwara/Straw Hat out of spite, while like an hour ago Luffy found Law fingering himself while shamelessly moaning his name loud enough to hear from the doorway.

I'll be so real right now, I knocked out halfway through that last paragraph, what you see now is heavily edited because I was on some shit while half awake typing it the first time… the last one though I kept mostly original cause wtf was I on when I wrote “Now the sex.” 😭

-💫💀💫

NO BC YOU COOKED WITH THIS ONE ANON! I totally relate to the GRIPPING 5am thoughts.

I've been dying to write a one-shot with this premise, I started down this road of brainrot when I made a post about Law becoming a puppy boyfriend after years of dating Luffy and you just took it and RAN. The neurons are firing in my brain. I live for stories about them getting into relationships but one that they're already in a relationship and something changes is so fun.

I love this. Like Luffy is so used to being the one to seek out Law for affection when they're alone and Law has always given it to him, not overly so though, he always acts a little annoyed when Luffy throws himself at him or begs for cuddles when he's busy reading but he doesn't push him away. Law's just not a glutton for physical affection like him and Luffy accepts that. Law's an amazing boyfriend and it's enough for Luffy.

However, now the roles are reserved and Luffy is CONFUSED. Like don't get it twisted he is over the moon and would spend all day cuddled up with Law on the couch if he could. It's just such a drastic change, especially in bed. Luffy loves this new Law that is showing him his face and is so vocal and needy begging him for more and more until even Luffy is tired and that's saying something, it's what he's always hoped for. I think Luffy would faint from happiness if he discovered Law fingering himself and saying his name no joke.

Luffy is thrilled, albeit a bit confused and it feels so not like his Law, the one he's grown to love more than anyone in the world. He's not perfect, but he's perfect in Luffy's eyes. He wants to know why Law is suddenly so different from his normal self. Does he think he's more attractive? He looks in the mirror to see if maybe he looks different but no, he's just the same old Luffy. Maybe he just loves him more? It's great and all but why now?

I'm torn on the reasoning behind this (you should let me know your thoughts). I like the idea that Law just woke up and decided he doesn't care anymore. He knows better than anyone that life is too short and he wants to love Luffy the way that he's been wanting too deep down but he's been held back by his own insecurities even after all this time.

Maybe he had a nightmare after years of not having them and he dreams that Luffy died and there was nothing he could do. His patients are suddenly dying more than usual and Law is terrified that he's going to lose Luffy even though it's illogical. The only thing he can think to do is give him his body and soul (he already had it, but he wants to make sure Luffy knows he has it).

Whatever it is, they both like it a lot. Luffy gets all the physical affection he's ever wanted from Law and Law gets to finally be open and honest about his adoration for Luffy. They're more in love with each other than ever and everyone can see it even if Law still hasn't let up on his PDA barriers to the point they're asking if something happened. Both Law and Luffy reply "nothing" with stupid little smiles because nothing and something happened all at the same time.

Thanks for another fun ask, I love this odd anonymous brainrot sharing thing we have developed here. <3

(ps "Now the sex." is great and I would have loved to see your 5am brain chaos but the edited version is just as amazing!)

#one piece #lawlu #lulaw #lawlu headcanon #law #luffy #anon ask #asks #minni headcanons

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bettsfic · 27 days

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goooood morning betts! do you have any advice for developing a better grasp of syntax and comfort with sentence complexity? like, REALLY long sentences. i admire the prose of writers that can enfold clause after clause without sounding structurally repetitive; one of my writing pet peeves is when the same sentence structures are used over and over. a lot of my own sentences tend to be shorter and "to the point", and i think getting better at longer ones would help my prose to be more flexible.

in very loose rhetorical terms, this is called hypotaxis (compared to parataxis). what i would do is pick up Lydia Davis's translation of Swann's Way (Proust), open it up to any random page, and pick a really long, meaty paragraph. read it. read it again. then transcribe it either by handwriting it or typing it out. give yourself the physical sensation of creating the sentences you admire most.

repeat with Woolf, Nabokov, Henry James. any book, any paragraph. you don't even have to read the whole book, in fact it's probably better if you don't, if you read it divorced of the tension of the plot.

i actually did this recently with a passage from The Ambassadors:

“What I hate is myself—when I think that one has to take so much, to be happy, out of the lives of others, and that one isn’t happy even then. One does it to cheat one’s self and to stop one’s mouth—but that’s only at the best for a little. The wretched self is always there, always making one somehow a fresh anxiety. What it comes to is that it’s not, that it’s never, a happiness, any happiness at all, to take. The only safe thing is to give. It’s what plays you least false.” Interesting, touching, strikingly sincere as she let these things come from her, she yet puzzled and troubled him—so fine was the quaver of her quietness. He felt what he had felt before with her, that there was always more behind what she showed, and more and more again behind that. “You know so, at least,” she added, “where you are!” “You ought to know it indeed then; for isn’t what you’ve been giving exactly what has brought us together this way? You’ve been making, as I’ve so fully let you know I’ve felt,” Strether said, “the most precious present I’ve ever seen made, and if you can’t sit down peacefully on that performance you are, no doubt, born to torment yourself. But you ought,” he wound up, “to be easy.”

the first time i did an exercise like this was in a workshop with Claire Messud, who printed out a copy of a single paragraph of Sebald, from The Emigrants i think. and we spent an hour and a half dissecting it word by word. at the time i was irritated by it; i thought it was a pedantic exercise. but it wasn't. it helped me learn how to close read, and i've more or less made a career out of my ability to do that.

for those who don't subvocalize when they read, i think reading aloud is important so you can internalize the rhythm of sentences. if you do subvocalize (most of us who learned to read via phonetics subvocalize when we read, which means we "hear" the words in our heads; those who learned to read without phonetics or before phonetics had been introduced to them can just take the meaning of the words in mental silence), start snapping out the rhythm when you find a good phrase or clause. i mean physically snapping. using the above example, "interesting, touching, strikingly sincere" -- find the emphasis of each word: INteresting, TOUCHing, STRIKingly sinCERE. if you repeat it over and over, it starts to become a song. you can hear the drumbeat in it.

and then you have the alliteration of "quaver of her quietness" and "the most precious present." and the paratactic "that it's not, that it's never, a happiness, any happiness at all, to take." and then there's "the wretched self." i don't have a rhetorical device for why that's such a banger, it just is.

if you transcribe a couple hundred sentences that you really admire, then take the time to comb through them and pick out what's beautiful about them, your writing will definitely improve. it's worth it to develop the habit of close reading everything you find beautiful.

#writing advice #prose #style #voice #rhetoric

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icarus-does-fall · 13 days

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The actual cod fic I've been meaning to write 💪

Aka I wrote the first paragraph like... two weeks ago, then did other things and then wrote the rest of it in two hours ^_^

Anyway it's a poly fic, Ghost, Roach and Soap- it's also fluffy as hell an super sweet

Please enjoy <3

.𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤..𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤.

Ghost, a cold man, un-emotional, harsh, hostile, a killer. Those that saw him walking the halls moved out of his way, people walked on eggshells around him.

Simon, a warm man, a man kept hidden from everyone except a select few. One who smiled, laughed, had a home and melted at his lovers’ touches. Simon who carried in all the groceries and demanded morning cuddles even if it made him and others late.

So how did a man as harsh as Ghost, find the people that broke past his walls, to make his two sides collide?

.𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤. .𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤.

“MacTavish!” Price shouted, and it was in that moment Soap knew he fucked up.

Soap wasn’t stupid by any means, he was the 141s demolitions expert, a little bit of a maths genius and he knew multiple languages. Yet he was also a child at heart and he couldn’t resist the occasional prank.

“Capt'n! Is a pleasure, whit kin I do ye fur?”

Price scowled. “Ya bloody nearly blew half of the barracks, an’ now the other half is covered in glitter- What exactly were you trying to achieve there?”

“Jist a wee bit o’fun Cap’ naethin’ too serious… Ah might've gaen a bit o’erborard but naebody ‘round here seems to ken how to lighten up- ‘cept maybe Gaz an’ Roach. Place jist needed some colour is aw Cap.”

Price's scowl deepened before he simply shook his head and sighed. “You're on clean up duty till the barracks are back to normal- Ghost is supervising you and the rest of ya muppets to make sure nothing else breaks.”

“Shite- Ghost? Why can't… uh… literally anyone else keep an eye oan us? Swear that man hates our guts, he’d raither shoot us than listen tae us talk.”

At that Price let out a gruff laugh and clapped Soap on the shoulder before sending him on his way towards the rest of the so-called detention group. “That's the exact reason, Ghost will keep ya muppets in line cause I got other stuff to take care of instead of babysittin’.”

Soap merely sighed he knew there was no getting out of the punishment that Price had set up for him and the rest of the “troublemakers” on base. He marched his way towards the barracks, as he ran into Gaz, Nikolai and Alex all marching towards their doom as well.

“How’d ye lot pish off Price tae end up wae Ghost in detention?”

Nik simply rolled his eyes as Soap joined in with the little group walking towards the barracks for clean up. “It's all your fault that we’re in this mess MacTavish.”

Soap baulked, “My fault? Whit gies ye that idea?”

“Because we were helping cover your ass- And now John is pissed at me so I’ve been kicked out of bed-”

Gaz cut in before Nik could keep talking. “I'm here cause I was stupid enough to think we wouldn’t get found out, so not really on ya, its more of uh mutual screw up but still, we could’ve done better we’re stuck with fuckin Ghost of all people now… I know he's on our team ‘n all but he scares the shit out of me sometimes.”

Alex however just rolled his eyes and continued on walking, while he loved his team and the occasional chaos they all could get up to, he knew the punishment they were facing was all their faults in the same faction or another and there wasn't any true reason to argue (or blame) it all on Soap. No matter how much Nikolai wanted to simply cause Price kicked the poor guy out of bed.

Soap tsked and walked ahead of the group, slinging his arm around Gazs shoulders with a grin. “You lot worry tae much, surely a wee Ghosty can't be tae harsh.”

The rest of them exchanged glances and laughed at how optimistic Soap was, for an intelligent guy, sometimes he was kinda stupid. But of course that's what made him ever so loveable, by the lads and the ladies.

Not long after their short chat in the hall they made it to the barracks and there was Ghost, standing at the entrance clad in his uniform and mask. The group immediately sobered up and waited for Ghost to speak. He didn't. He merely grunted with a nod and made sure each of the four walked into the barracks. “Price put in charge. You lot are gonna clean, and there won't be any games- Get to it.”

The four grumbled up, picked up the brooms and dustpans that had been laid out and began to clean. Ghost leaned against a nearby wall and supervised the clean up. Soap would make an odd joke here or there causing Gaz or Alex to throw something in his direction leading Ghost to bark orders in their direction to knock it off- For the most part Nikolai kept his head down and did what he was told, merely grumbling about how it was unfair and was a rookies job, not for him.

And the four cleaned until well past dusk, other soldiers on the base working their way around them to make their way towards their beds, all casting pitiful glances in their directions as the rest of base headed off to bed. At one point even Price stopped by to collect Nik, leaving just three left to keep cleaning.

“Aye Ghost, keep them muppets on task till this place is spotless- but I am taking Nik back, beds getting lonely. Kicked ‘em out for nearly a week now.”

Ghost nodded at the order. If nothing else the man was loyal and followed orders like a well trained dog- Which Soap of course made a comment on.

“Like a dog aren't ye Ghost? Trained for on an’ aff the field are ye?”

Ghost scowled underneath his mask and in a low grumble, one that spent shivers down people's spines as he spoke. “You think you're any better ‘cause ya make noise? You're just as much of a bloody dog as I am MacTavish, so quit your yapping ‘for we muzzle ya.”

Soap flushed and chuckled nervously as he for once did as he was told and stopped talking. He went back to cleaning and Gaz and Alex exchanged semi-nervous glances, it was suddenly very tense and heated where they all stood.

At least it was until Gaz spoke up. “Sooo- If we muzzle Soap that mean he gets a leash too? Cause the pet store has these ones with bells on ‘em, got one for my cat cause I kept losing her in all the pillows back home.”

Alex laughed and shook his head, “Nah mate Soap looks more like the type of guy to wear the muzzle and still keep growling… Unless of course he’s secretly into that sort of that thing~”

Soap huffed and with his cheeks still a slight red threw his arms over the twos shoulders, turning his growl into a cheeky grin and playful wink. “Ye ken ye just have tae dae is ask if ye wanna find oot whit kinda beastie I am in bed~”

Gaz scowled playfully and lightly shoved Soap off of him with a laugh. “Yeah right, my girl would have my ass if I took you to bed Soap and we both know it- My ass and your dick would be hanging on her wall for trying to mess with her.”

Soap grinned and then poked Alex in the cheek. “Sooo whit’s that saying aboot ye then?”

Alex shook his head as he chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Yaknow for being so smart, you're a terrible flirt sometimes Soap, honestly I’ve heard my abuela do better than that and she's almost 95.”

Soap pouted and his eyes flickered towards Ghost before he laughed and shook his head, sure he was goofing off but he wasn't going to try and test his luck that much- Not while the mans already pissed off at them all anyway. He knew Ghost could have a laugh every once and a while but it was a hard achievement to get.

.𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤. .𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤.

It was nearly 4 in the morning by the time the four- turned tree of them finished cleaning while under the supervision of Ghost who stood as still a stone the entire time. A couple times it was brought into question if he was still awake, or was blinking. In which he scared them with a response and coincidentally shut them up at the same time.

Once they were allowed to depart they were nearly sleep deprived for all the cleaning. Staying up 48, even 72 hours for a mission was no problem but to make them clean and they were whipped out after just a few hours of work.

Gaz and Alex went to bed almost immediately, but Soap in his sleepy and ever intelligent state decided to be a menace to Ghost just a bit longer. So as Ghost was turning to walk away Soap caught up with him and swung his arm over his shoulder with a cheeky grin. “Aye Ghosty! Ye never answered the question of seein’ me in bed ye ken.”

Ghost scowled slightly and shoved Soap off of him with a growl. “Because it was a stupid question. How can you be so smart and yet so bloody stupid all at once?”

Soap rolled his eyes as he kept pace with Ghost and huffed slightly. “Not stupid, just know how to have fun unlike some people around here- I might need a muzzle but I’m not kept on a leash like you are.”

Ghost stopped walking. Dead in the middle of the hallway he stopped walking and turned to Soap with a glare, it was a dangerous and deadly look. “On a leash? What, want me to prove I think for myself?”

Soaps grin came back in a flash and he laughed, “obviously.”

It was almost sunrise, but for now the base was quiet, it was just the two of them in the halls and so Ghost did something unexpected. He pinned Soap up against a nearby wall, one hand on his waist and the other tugging up his mask just slightly so it sat on the bridge of his nose before his lips crashed down onto Soaps leaving him in shock as a slight gasp and whine slipped past his lips.

The kiss only lasted for a moment, less than a second even before he pulled away and tugged his mask back down but not before Soap caught a glance of a grin playing on Ghost's lips. “How’s that for thinkin’ for myself eh Johnny?”

And then he began to walk away.

Soap was left agape and blushing redder than a firetruck when Ghost walked away from him. “Bloody hell- Naeb’dys luck that that just happened right? Fuck meh.”

Ghost grinned from underneath his mask, the crinkle by his eyes gave that away as he looked over his shoulder and back towards Soap for a moment. “Ask nicely and I might.” And with that Ghost turned the corner and disappeared from Soap's sight, leaving the Scotsman more flustered than he was to begin with.

So of course once Soap was able to calm down and gather his thoughts he rushed into the nearest room- He simply needed someone to tell all of this to and at this point he didn't care who it was.

It was Roaches room that he ended up barging into at dark thirty in the morning, not that Soap cared what time it was anymore either. He was wide awake now and there wasn’t any chance that he was going to go to bed any time soon either.

Soaps accept was thicker than it had ever been as he took a spot on Roches bed and shook him awake. “Roach- Roach mate- Mo ghràidh!! gie yirsel a shake, bloody hell! I need somebody tae gab wi here mate, ah might juist explode otherwise! Come oan, please.”

Groggily Roach woke up after Soap shook him awake. His voice raspy and hair all a mess from just having been woken up as well. The sight caused another blush to rise to Soap's face but he quickly pushed it aside. “Fuckin hell man, what is it? People are still trying to sleep, not getting caught up in your schemes.”

Soap pouted and rolled his eyes. “Nae, nae that, nae schemes either- The lieutenant, thon wee bawbag kissed meh!”

At that Roach was sitting up in bed and seemed a lot more interested in what Soap was saying. “Wait- wait… You're talking crazy Johnny, I can barely understand ya mate… You're saying Ghost kissed ya?”

“Aye!!”

Roach chuckled, and shook his head as the sleep began to leave his body. “Well I’ll be damned- Is he any good?”

Soap openly blushed at that, which Roach noticed. “Aww the mighty MacTavish is blushing~ You like him then huh?”

“Oh shut ii Roach! I’m being serious here, the man kissed me! I didn't know he could do that-”

“What kiss people? He might be a killin’ machine but he’s still human, he’s still a guy.”

“Bloody hell, Gary! That's not the ficken point, I'm in crisis over here and you're having a laugh about it.”

“Course I am, you freaked out like this when I kissed ya drunk on new years- You're a decent kisser Johnny, expect the guy to come round for another one.”

Soap once again flushed red and then playfully pushed Roach away with a light glare and a huff. “You're an arse sometimes Roach, hope ye ken that.”

“Course I know that, I gotta be if i wanna be friends with you.”

Soap raised a teasing and mischievous eyebrow as he spoke next. “With all we do an’ we’re only friends? Here I thought we had something more going on than that~”

This time it was Roaches turn to blush, “Oh shut up! We can be friends and still something more at the same time- Now go chase after that lieutenant for us ye hear me?~ Somebody has to make the guy loosen up a bit and who better and a loose cannon and his boyfriend.”

A loud chuckle burst out of Soap's chest as he stole a quick kiss from Roach before moving to walk out of the room. “Aye sounds like the perfect plan.”

Yet as Soap moved to leave Roach pulled him back into his bed and it was obvious the two weren't going anywhere for quite awhile.

.𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤. .𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤.

While Soap was having his time with Roach, Ghost on the other hand was having a slight breakdown. He kissed someone- Furthermore he kissed a guy, and not just any guy, a guy with a known boyfriend. Man did he have problems.

Yes, it was also known around base that Soap and Roach weren't in a closed relationship and Ghost never thought he was that type of guy. But damn him and damn Soap, the lad was a good kisser.

With a sigh he collapsed onto his bed, throwing his mask off onto his bedside table and tried for at least a few minutes of shuteye before it was time to be back on duty and training the rookies. Until it was time to be Ghost again. That short exchange in the hall with Soap was the most relaxed he’d been in months since his last leave and he was almost aching for it again.

Before he knew it though the sun was rising and it was time to be awake, it felt like he barely got any sleep as he dragged himself out of bed and pulled his mask back on before heading into the mess hall. He found a spot tucked away into a corner by himself with just a simple cuppa coffee before Johnny bound into the mess hall with his usual grin, his neck covered in illy hidden hickies.

The sight caused an unusual heat to rise to Ghosts face which caused him to scowl and tuck away further into his corner, he couldn’t decide if he wanted to punch something or drag Soap down by his collar and make him go dumb around him like he'd done with a few of his one night stands.

With a low growl he sipped on his coffee and sighed, he was at war with himself and didn't want to do anything to fix it.- Well that's not entirely true, he wanted to fix it, he just wasn't entirely sure how to, or even if the how was possible.

Yey of course as the fates would have it, Soap noticed him tucked away in his corner of solitude. So Soap and his ever boyish attitude he made his way over to Ghost and took the seat across from him, grinning mischievously and propped his head onto his hands, his elbows resting on the table. “Hey there lover boy”

Ghost blue screened for a moment and nearly choked on his coffee mid sip causing Soap to burst out into laughter.. “I- what??”

“Naethin but a joke, just thought it’d be fun to see your reaction after that stunt ye played earlier.”

Ghost blinked. And then blinked again before trying to focus his attention back onto his coffee. “I was out of line for that- Shouldn't have done it, was just tryin’ to prove a point, more than a dog on a leash an’ all.”

Soap merely shrugged, unbothered by Ghost's dismissal. “Ye got naethin tae worry aboot, been tryin to egg ye on fur ages now an’ Roach dinnae mind any about it no aen, lad was all jokes aboot it when I was freaking out this mornin’, want to compare note an’ what nae.”

A slight blush rose to Ghost face no matter how hard he tried to fight it as he simply stared at Soap, words almost failing to form. “You- Roach wanted to do what? Wait… You talked about me kissin ya? Didn’t think it was that big of a deal, wasn’t even my best work.”

Soap chuckled and shook his head slightly, “Nae naethin like that- Well, kinda actually… ye terrifying and if ye didnt already know it everybody thinks ye attractive juist naebody has the balls to make a move on ye.”

Ghost sat there mouth agape, and his blush darkened to the point it was finally noticeable and before he could respond Soap spoke up once more. “Meh and Roach are havin a movie night tonight, naething serious, just a bit o’fun, time to relax an’ all- ye mair than welcome to join us”

Ghost paused and swirled his coffee around in his mug for a moment or so, the two simply sat in silence for a couple minutes as Ghost thought before he spoke up. “What movie did you two pick?”

Soap grinned, “The Princess Bride, it's a timeless classic that ye cannae go wrong with- Got a projector fur the room an’ everything.”

Ghost nodded, placing down a now empty mug and then nugging down his mask once again. “We’ll see about it.” And with that he stood and quickly vanished from view, being the ghost he was known to be.

Soap rolled his eyes at the dramatics but he was giddy at the thought of Ghost possibly, maybe, showing up for movie night. He knew there was a slim chance that something would actually happen between him, Ghost and Roach but there was always that one percent of possibility and that's what Soap decided to focus on. He loved Roach but damn was Ghost enthralling.

.𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤. .𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤.

The hours passed and the day went by as usual, Ghost was outside working the recruits half to death, terrorising another generation of soldiers. Soap wasn’t being a menace for once, he was working with Price on the logistics of certain types of explosions and trying to explain the maths of how each of them worked. And Roach, Roach was tucked away somewhere doing who knows what but at least everyone was staying out of trouble.

As the sun began to set on the day Soap ended up back in Roaches bed, tucked into his side (so sue the man if he liked being the little spoon on occasion) and the movie played on the wall. About 30 minutes or 45, neither were sure there was a slight knock on the door.

“Doors open!”

There was a pause, it seemed like a moment of hesitation but then the door opened and there stood Ghost. Instead of being dressed in his usual tactical gear he was wearing a black hoodie and a matching pair of sweatpants. Even his mask was more casual, this one only covered about half his face, showing off his hair- which was a dirty blonde and messier than you'd think possible.

“I’m still invited, yeah? Not too late am I? Couldn’t decide if I should show up or not-”

“Aye! Of course Ghosty! Plenty of room in the bed, come on in.”

Roach laughed softly at his boyfriend's excitement yet shifted slightly to accommodate for another person joining in their not so large bed. Ghost ended up nestled in between the two, Soaps legs were draped over his and Roach was nestled into the crook of his arm. It was… warm, comfortable even and the movie held a nice ambiance to the background.

The movie played and the three laid there cuddled together, a few teases and jabs here and there were exchanged but overall everything was peaceful and Ghost felt context for the first time in a very long time. As the credits began to roll Roach was falling asleep on Ghost, and Ghost had found himself absentmindedly playing with Soaps hair- No one dared mention that in case he’d stop upon being called out for being soft.

“Simon”

The other two looked up at Ghost as he spoke, the rumble of his chest when he talked rosing Roach enough to light a confused spark in their eyes. “Huh?”

“My name- It’s Simon… Don't use it too much though- Or in front of the rest of the team, but my name's Simon.”

Soap grinned, and Roach simply nestled back into Ghost's side but that didn't mean he didn't kiss Ghost's cheek first. “Pleasure tae meet ye then Simon~”

#cod #simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost cod #fluff #gaz cod #roach cod #poly 141 #gaz call of duty #gary roach sanderson #ghoap #ghoaproach #price #price x nikolai

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aresrambles · 2 years

Text

A Little Quiet

morpheus x gn!reader - fluff turned implied nsfw, fwb vibes, reader (18+) is in college, morpheus maybe a little ooc, deadlines (1203 words)

a/n: i've been wanting to write smth abt morpheus since finishing s1 but i've hit a writing block. hopefully this gets me going.

Read Part 2 Here

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

"Is this what has been keeping you from me?"

You head shoots up from your desk, startled by the rumbling voice behind you.

Your head whips around only to met with none other than the King of Dreams and Nightmares, who is seemingly peering at your laptop from over your shoulder. Your cheeks heat up at the sudden proximity between you both, before you hurriedly divert your attention back to the screen, lest he catch sight of your discomposure. In this moment, your room had never felt so confining.

"Hello, Dream." You croak, pretending to scan over that same shitty paragraph you had been stuck on for the last half hour. When he doesn't reply, you carefully continue, acutely aware of the fact that he has yet to move away from you. "What are you doing here?"

"You haven't visited the Dreaming in two nights. You haven't slept at all, in three."

Oh. You had not expected the King of Dreams to have noticed your absence, let alone find you here so he could question it. The fact of the matter was that the crunch time for this assignment had rolled around far quicker than you had anticipated, resulting in a few all-nighters and barely-there naps that you managed to sprinkle in to prevent hallucinating- though, that last part may be up for debate. Dream of the Endless has never visited you in the waking world, before.

"So now you're here?" You continue, faking casual disinterest.

He pauses at this, suddenly moving away from you. You almost wished you had kept your mouth shut if it meant that he would have remained closer for a while longer.

"I am simply doing a welfare check. It is a... responsibility I carry."

Despite knowing your place in Dream's life, you couldn't help but deflate at his statement. Of course, he was only here to carry out his duty, nothing more. You fail to see the rigid posture that he adopted; adam's apple bobbing nervously in his throat.

"Will you be returning any time soon?" He asks somewhat sarcastically, although it feels like an accusation. Where have you been? When are you coming back?

"That's the plan. Just after I submit this stupid paper, and then I could sleep for an eternity."

Dream's fingers twitch, steel gaze redirected to your hands as they mindlessly work to fill the word-count. "An eternity." He hums under his breath, "That is a long time, even for one such as myself." You chuckle in reply to his deep grumbling behind you, and come to realise that his presence has provided you with some sort of inspiration. The words were coming naturally to your brain, flowing through you like some sort of spirit had taken over your body. You silently muse over whether this is Dream's doing, but continue with your assignment nonetheless. Wherever this was coming from, as long as you submit the damn thing and free yourself from this torment, it was fine by you.

He remains silent until the last tap of your keyboard indicates that you had sent off your work, and then swivel around in your chair to face him.

Dream stares back at you owlishly, and it's only then that you begin to process the gravity of his being in your room, perched on the edge of your tiny bed like some sort of well-trained house cat. You force yourself to keep a straight face whilst nervously speaking up, "Well, it seems that I'm done."

"Indeed."

"I can sleep now."

"You can."

Dream does not move from your bed, infact he does not move at all, simply eyeing you as you awkwardly clamber around him and settle down on top of the sheets. You can't help but breathe a sigh of relief as your head hits the pillow, every joint in your body beginning to voice its previous discomfort. The Lord of Dreams simply readjusts his position so that he sits parallel, next to you, making no move to leave.

"Sleep. I will see you soon." He murmurs, eyes not meeting your gaze. You feel the dulcet tones of his voice rumble in your bones, and before you know it, you have succumbed to the seductive call of slumber.

When you awaken, you realise your floral cotton sheets had been traded for a more sophisticated black satin, the bedding seeming to go on for what felt like miles. The sheets wrapped you in a soft cocoon, providing an excellent shelter of warmth and quiet, even in a realm as fantastical as the Dreaming. Despite the dark, gloomy interior of the chamber, it did not feel unwelcoming. Infact, rather the opposite.

"I find it quite ironic that one who never sleeps would require such an extravagant bedroom." You murmur, turning over to meet his gaze.

Morpheus looks at you in an expression that remains unreadable, bringing his fingers up to skim your cheek. "Welcome back." He utters in a husky whisper, and it's only then that you become aware of how silent it is here. No white noise from your deskfan, no annoying keyboard clicking, no bed creaking under your weight. Just your combined breaths, and perhaps your rapid heartbeat.

His hair is a sultry mess of charcoal, wild and stark against his skin.

His skin.

Porcelain and gauzy, you had never laid eyes on something so touchable and sheer with streaks of desire. Intense eyes, haughtily good-looking, you find yourself unable to tear your gaze away from the man in front of you.

"Do not deprive me of yourself." He commands, casting a soft echo across the chamber, though it is not harsh. "Do not punish yourself by taking leave of this place," Morpheus brings his lips close to yours, barely skimming against them before hovering just left of them. "Do not put such meaningless tasks before me." Goosebumps prick at your skin as you stare at his lips move, aching to close the gap. Every cell in your body was chanting his name, begging for it even. "Do I make myself clear?"

You can only nod, hypnotised by his every movement.

He's tying you down, smiling like a panther in the dim lighting but you cannot see past his pupils; eyes sleek like two pebbles places upon his face.

"Magnificent, you are magnificent." He's fumbling, hot breath tickling your ear. His saliva is said to have contained medicinal properties: numbing.

You are unable to believe the tales as it seems your skin is scalding; nothing short of aluminium reacting with bromine. How a man who seems so pale and cold, can radiate such a searing heat is beyond you.

You think back to the example of your lab professor had performed back in your last year of high school. She had just burned her index finger and- Agh! Morpheus burns your neck in a similar fashion.

"You are... distracted." He hums.

"If I don't focus on something else other than what you're doing to me right now, I'm scared I'll combust." He huffs through his nose at this, and you at first think it is annoyance. You are unable to see the smirk that graces his lips as he brings them back down to your neck, before moving them against your skin in languid motions.

"It matters not. I will retain your attention through ways of my own."

#the sandman #sandman x reader #sandman x y/n #morpheus #lord morpheus #morpheus x reader #sandman netflix #x reader #ares rambles

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petermorwood · 8 months

Text

Interesting to see this post cross my dash again.

I was watching a movie late last night and, with that post's criticism of unbroken long speeches and suggestions of how to break them, here's an example of how a very famous one was done.

The movie I was watching was "Jaws", and the long speech is The Indianapolis Monologue. There are several YouTube clips, but a couple of them leap straight in at the start of the speech.

The clip below has the lead up to The Speech which, IMO, matters a lot in preparing for what follows; there's not just a Mood Whiplash - cheery drunk to OMG Whut - to make the viewers pay attention, but also what I mentioned in the other post, an entirely legitimate reason for an "As You Know" speech.

One character, Hooper, knows the significance of "USS Indianapolis" - his shocked-almost-sober reaction makes that very plain - but the other character, Brody (and the audience he represents), doesn't know and needs told.

In addition (also as mentioned in the other post) despite being a single-character monologue, the speech is "broken" by cutting away from the speaker, Quint, to reaction shots from the other characters present. Even when Quint is on-screen he isn't centre-screen, Hooper is visible in the background where his silent, apprehensive attention accompanies the story he's hearing.

*****

This can be done in words, too: inserting other actions or reactions by means of paragraph breaks is the equivalent of visual cut-aways, and serve the same functions - making a lot of words from one character into several smaller groups of words, while showing the cumulative effect of all those words on other listeners.

Even a soliloquy with no-one else listening benefits from occasional breaks describing what the speaker is doing, how their emotions show, where they are etc. It's all far better than A Wall Of Text.

youtube

The entire speech is 438 words, and Robert Shaw delivers them over 3 min 34 sec.

I've got three PDF versions of the "Jaws" screenplay, all different, and this speech varies in every one but are never what's in the movie, so I constructed mine as a transcript from several listenings, and have used paragraph breaks to try matching Shaw's delivery.

Also, as an Exercise For The Scholar (me, anyway) I've inserted and timed the cuts where Quint isn't on screen or speaking to show how short they can be.

CUT TO BRODY (3 sec) then BACK TO QUINT WHO TAKES A DRINK (2 sec)

They didn't even list us overdue for a week. Very first light, Chief, sharks come cruisin'. So we formed ourselves into tight groups. You know it’s ... kinda like old squares in a battle, like you see in a calendar, like the Battle of Waterloo, and the idea was, shark comes to the nearest man, that man he start poundin' and hollerin' and screamin’, an’ sometimes the shark go away. Sometimes he wouldn't go away. Sometimes that shark, he looks right into you. Right into your eyes. You know the thing about a shark, he's got lifeless eyes. Black eyes, like a doll's eyes. When he comes at you, doesn't seem to be livin'. Until he bites you, and those black eyes roll over white and then, ah, then you hear that terrible high-pitched screamin'. The ocean turns red, and despite all the poundin' and the hollerin' they all come in an’ they... Rip you to pieces.

CUT TO BRODY (2 sec) then BACK TO QUINT

Y’know, by the end of that first dawn, lost a hundred men. I dunno how many sharks, maybe a thousand. I dunno how many men, they averaged six an hour.

CUT TO BRODY (3 sec) AS QUINT CONTINUES OFFSCREEN

On Thursday mornin', Chief...

BACK TO QUINT

I bumped into a friend of mine, Herbie Robinson from Cleveland. Baseball player. Bosun's mate. An’ I thought he was asleep; reached over to wake him up. Bobbed up an’ down in the water, was like a kinda top. Upended... Well, he'd been bitten in half below the waist.

CUT TO BRODY (2 sec) then CUT TO HOOPER (2 sec) then BACK TO QUINT

Noon the fifth day, Mister Hooper, a Lockheed Ventura saw us, he swung in low and he saw us - a young pilot, a lot younger than Mister Hooper. Anyway he saw us and he come in low, and three hours later a big fat PBY comes down and start to pick us up. You know that was the time I was most frightened. Waitin' for my turn. I'll never put on a lifejacket again. So, eleven hundred men went into the water, three hundred and sixteen men come out, the sharks took the rest, June the 29th, 1945. Anyway, we delivered the bomb.

*****

For comparison, down below is what it looks like without any paragraph breaks, speech instruction (gravely / incredulous etc.) or screen direction (track right / dolly in / close on / match cut etc.).

(BTW, some of these effects can be used when writing prose, to good effect, but that's for another time.)

This is the Wall of Text effect, and it sometimes turns up on the internet, courtesy of people who don't know how to use Enter except when they're sending a post.

I'm not saying this is how the speech would have looked in the real shooting script, but it might. From my own screenwriting experience, actors don't like being told how to deliver their lines and directors don't like being told how to set up their shots.

There's a bit more flexibility when writing animation, but in both cases crafty writers write so that the way they want a thing done works out as the best way to do it.

Sometimes this trick even works... :->

*****

Here's the Wall Of Text:

Japanese submarine slammed two torpedoes into our side, Chief. We was comin' back from the island of Tinian to Leyte. Just delivered the bomb. The Hiroshima bomb. Eleven hundred men went into the water. Vessel went down in twelve minutes. Didn't see the first shark for about half an hour. Tiger. Thirteen-footer. You know how you know that when you’re in the water, Chief? You tell by lookin' from the dorsal to the tail. What we didn't know was our bomb mission had been so secret, no distress signal had been sent. Huh. They didn't even list us overdue for a week. Very first light, Chief, sharks come cruisin'. So we formed ourselves into tight groups. You know it’s kinda like old squares in a battle, like you see in a calendar, like the Battle of Waterloo, and the idea was, shark comes to the nearest man, that man he start poundin' and hollerin' and screamin’, an’ sometimes the shark go away. Sometimes he wouldn't go away. Sometimes that shark, he looks right into you. Right into your eyes. You know the thing about a shark, he's got lifeless eyes. Black eyes, like a doll's eyes. When he comes at you, doesn't seem to be livin'. Until he bites you, and those black eyes roll over white and then, ah, then you hear that terrible high-pitched screamin'. The ocean turns red, and despite all the poundin' and the hollerin' they all come in an’ they rip you to pieces. Y’know, by the end of that first dawn, lost a hundred men. I dunno how many sharks, maybe a thousand. I dunno how many men, they averaged six an hour. On Thursday mornin', Chief I bumped into a friend of mine, Herbie Robinson from Cleveland. Baseball player. Bosun's mate. An’ I thought he was asleep; reached over to wake him up. Bobbed up an’ down in the water, was like a kinda top. Upended. Well, he'd been bitten in half below the waist. Noon the fifth day, Mister Hooper, a Lockheed Ventura saw us, he swung in low and he saw us - a young pilot, a lot younger than Mister Hooper. Anyway he saw us and he come in low, and three hours later a big fat PBY comes down and start to pick us up. You know that was the time I was most frightened. Waitin' for my turn. I'll never put on a lifejacket again. So, eleven hundred men went into the water, three hundred and sixteen men come out, the sharks took the rest, June the 29th, 1945. Anyway, we delivered the bomb.

#writing #writer advice #wall of text #using paragraphs #Jaws #The Indianapolis Speech #Robert Shaw

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oleander-nin · 3 months

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Hi again, I'm that same person that sent that long ask earlier lol

Okay ESPECIALLY after the poll you put up, I wanna say again that WE ALL LOVE YOU STOP BEATING YOURSELF UP /p

I'm stuck between wanting to be heartfelt and encouraging or just shaking you by the shoulders and scream at you /aff /pos

Ollie, genuinely, don't push yourself too hard. Yeah we love what you write, but we understand that you're a person with a life. You do not owe us anything.

Forgive me if I'm wrong, or maybe looking too far into this, but I feel like you're a perfectionist? And that you feel you have to crank things out quickly and it all has to be perfect. Maybe you feel somehow indebted to give us things to read. and lemme tell you, it's very easy to get stuck in a loop of "do the creative thing for your followers or else". That is, if you aren't in that loop already. I'm sorry, know I'm assuming a lot, and I'm not meaning to pry.

I just say this because I recognize the way you talk in your tags or authors notes. I'm not an author, but I used to post art. I kept getting more frustrated with myself, (and I can definitely tell you are too). I lost motivation, and it stopped being fun pretty quickly because I kept thinking "it needs to be perfect" or "I need to create faster" all for the sake of an audience. So when you apologize, or seem to value your writing so little, it just makes me worry that you're in that same loop. Heck, I mean, I still don't make art often, I still have perfectionist issues and worry about how fast I can create. But it's becoming fun again, slowly.

I just hope that writing is still something you like to do. I would hate for your passion for writing to be squandered by the pressure and expectations of an audience. I know you have a lot going on right now, even if you try and act like you should be able to push through it and write, but please take care of yourself. If the February challenge is getting too difficult, please don't feel like there's any shame in limiting your workload. We'll be happy with whatever you make, and I'll be even happier if I know you actually enjoyed writing it. /gen

WOW this is long I'm sorry lmao. I've been at this for like half an hour. (Do asks have a word limit? Oops I hope not ahshjsk)

Oh also, don't worry about responding to this is an "appropriate" way. I know that this would be hard for me to respond to, so don't feel pressured to say anything at all. Even if you delete this, I'll be perfectly fine with it. /gen I just hope you read it and understand that we care about you. Please feel better <3

YOU TOOK THIRTY MINUTES FROM YOUR DAY TO WRITE ME THIS???? THE HONOR???? SOBBING THANK YOU

Breaking this down paragraph by paragraph cuz you deserve it💪(also I'm avoiding responsibilities rn shhh)

Okay first of all, thank you a lot. This entire thing kinda helped me realized just how bad I was letting myself get. In the back of my mind, I know I don't have to write, or that I shouldn't be doing it the way I am, but it felt like an obligation at some point, both from trying to repay you all in the only way I know how, and from trying to catch up with everyone else. Sometimes it feels like I'm falling behind, and if I don't keep going, I'm just going to lose everything.

I forgive you<3/lhj, but you're not technically wrong. While I'm not in the perfectionist in the sense I won't post something unless I deem it perfect and have checked over 8 times(what I used to do), I still tend to pick apart everything I've made and found every flaw. I realize this is a problem, and have been yelled at by many a teachers for it lol. But yeah, a lot of the time I do feel indebted, and I probably am stuck in that loop(Which is why I'm so bad at actually taking breaks). Don't feel bad for assuming, nothing you could say would really offend me, and you've been dead on this whole time.

I've been meaning to stop talking about how much I hate certain parts of what I write in the tags+A/N's, because I know listening to me whine and cry about something that doesn't matter gets annoying, but I'm not good at that either I guess lol.

I'm fairly certain that writing will always be fun for me, as I'm still looking forwards to doing a lot of the requests I got and one set of ideas I have, but finding the will to write it down seems impossible right now. It's like I'm stuck at the bottom of a sheer cliff and I can't start writing until I read the top. The main reason I'm so mad at myself for flopping so bad with this challenge is because I was able to do the Horrortober one just fine, as well as maintain a schedule for a while. It feels like I'm getting worse rather than getting better, and It's just making me frustrated with myself to the point of just wanting to quit(not that I think I'd be able to if I'm honest. I tried once, yet here I am, only 3 years later.)

Anyways, I'm just going to start putting more time into the writing instead of trying to force a deadline. I want to be able to make longer fics again, and to start TWOAL back up(I've been avoiding it because I want the chapters to start being 4000+ to mimic actual books). I want my writing to seem like it has care and quality, and not like it was produced by a factory. I have once headcanon style fic about the Vamp turts in the work I was spending days on to make sure it was decent, and it alone is better than a lot of stuff I've put out recently.

ANYWAYS

Thank you! I appreciate your words, sorry for the vent. I'll probably just delete this half later lol, but I needed to get some stress out.

#asks <3 #tw vent #vent #writing vent #sorry about this

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imagine--if · 2 years

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battinson x reader fluff pls 😩😩😩🙏😓😓

A/N: Of course 🥰 first Battinson imagine, yayyyy I've been doing so many Dano!Riddler and Keoghan!Joker works, so it's nice to do this too 🦇 Requests are still open, and being taken in order of what's been asked first 😊

Pairing: Battinson x reader (The Batman 2022)

Warnings: The Batman spoilers?? And our favourite emo bat being an emo bat 🖤

Words: 799

The familiar sound of heavy, slightly hurried footsteps greets you as you’re about to doze off. A random channel on the large wall TV, opposite the king-sized bed you’re lying on, blares quietly in the background. You’re in one of many bedrooms in Bruce Wayne’s manor, but this is the one you usually go to, for whatever reason. Maybe it’s because it’s one of the first and easiest rooms to find; you’re getting used to the massive place, but there are often times when you think you should draw up a map to help, with Alfred.

Bruce hardly sleeps, especially at night, but he’s insisted that you go to a comfortable room to wait for him instead of staying up for hours or trying to relax in the Cave. It’s an amazing place, but it’s not designed to be comfortable.

Every night, or early morning, he'll come stomping back, taking out the eye lens and rewatching everything while he writes his 'report' in his journal. You've read it a few times - Bruce has willingly, silently and somewhat nervously passed it to you after writing in it before, and whenever he sees the smile on your face from when you've stumbled across a particularly large paragraph about worrying for your safety and his mind wandering back to you, he'll take it back, flustered.

The door opens, and you give Bruce an amused smile as you watch him relax as he catches sight of you, safe and sound, on the bed.

"Hello," you say, sitting up, and Bruce comes in with a small, subtle smile, sitting beside you.

"Are you alright?" His soft voice asks you, and you nod, pulling him in close for a hug.

He returns your embrace immediately, lifting you up with ease as he gently places you in his lap, as if you're a delicate china doll. You often make the first moves, what with Bruce being reluctant to 'invade your personal space' or ruin anything at all. But when you do, he always returns it confidently, strong arms around your waist protectively.

"I was out for too long," he scolds himself in a murmur, before his dark eyes meet yours apologetically, earnestly. "I'm sorry."

You shake your head dismissively. "I don't think Vengeance has a curfew," you say with a smile, and he returns it tiredly, resting his head in the crook of your neck, hiding his face in your hair.

"You have a curfew," you hear his muffled voice, as he nuzzles in further. "You should be asleep, sweetheart."

"No, it's not the same when you're not here," you complain with a small laugh, and you feel his smile grow against the skin of your neck before he looks back up.

You sigh, brushing the skin of his face with your fingers, looking at the black smudges and smears around his eyes as he leans into your touch instinctively.

"You can't sleep with all that around your face," you say with a half-smile, getting up off Bruce's lap and pulling him with you. "C'mon, I'll take it off for you."

He complies quickly, following you into the connecting bathroom as you take dampen some tissues with remover and sit opposite him. You carefully wipe the remains of the smokey, dark eye makeup off as he closes his eyes obediently.

"How was it?" You dare ask, and it takes Bruce a moment to respond.

"Could've been worse. I... I don't like leaving you here for so long..."

"But this is Wayne Manor," you point out with a grin, continuing with the makeup removing. "And there's Alfred. I'm alright here, you know that."

"I know that," he admits, blinking a few times once you take your hands off his face and throw the tissues away. "But I like being with you. Just- just to be sure."

"You can be around me any time," you assure him with a sweet smile. "I don't mind one bit."

Bruce smiles properly then, taking your hand to lead you back to the bedroom, dimming the lights as you both get into the bed. His arms wind around your middle snugly, and he pulls you close to his chest, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. He stops at your face, looking at you hesitantly for approval, and you lean forward to kiss him. He melts into you, dropping his head back down into your neck with a shaky breath once you part, and you run your fingers through his brown locks soothingly.

The lights turn off, and you both relax in each other's arms, matching lazy smiles on your faces.

"I love you," you breathe into the darkness.

"Love you too," he whispers back, and that's all it takes for you to fall asleep, truly safe in Bruce Wayne's hold.

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linc-karo-27 · 6 months

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I've read many people's speculation that hawk will betray tim by outing him deliberately, but if he did, would tim bw able to join the military? bc there are photos of him in the uniform, and synopsis for ep 5 I think implies he makes a life changing decision. I haven't read the book, but I don't mind any spoilers.

Hey Anon! (first one to this account since I rejoined tumblr back in 2021) - right this is where we need to consult the book (and spoilers for Ep1 and 2). SPOILER FOR THE SHOWTIME DESCRIPTIONS/TRAILER.

Sorry this is kinda long but its like the last half of the book. Its messy.

TLDR; According to Showtime we have to wait for it (if it happens) until the last episode.

In the book, a lot of the 1950s happen in a different order. Mary is Hawks Faux GF for longer and Tim running off to the army happens around the time Lucy comes into the picture (there four "sections" in the book, and we have the army life in section 3/4).

The show has already played around with the timeline a bit with a major event of the book that has not happened yet: The Lie Detector Test. This happens about 2-3 months into T&H's relationship. By the looks of it its in episode 4 (and now it could be the reason Tim enlists. If he is not around, he can't get them caught). Then the roadtrip; then Lucy comes along; then Tim enlists; the last few months of him and Hawk; Tim leaves.

right: this is a summary of the book events re: army and onwards to the end of the book.

The night Tim Enlists its after a fight with Hawk over some petty thing (his birthday). This is after someone (whose not present in the show but actions have been merged basically into Hawk and Marcus) phones Tim to snitch on McCarthy and winds Tim up to the point he basically is a mess. When he's in the army Hawk courts Lucy; marries her and gets her pregnant. So when he returns its near the end of Lucy's pregnancy (two years later). He goes to Paris in this time as well (Hawk messes with his enlistment to get him away from any fighting).

During the time he is still in the US he sees Mary a fair bit (and her dad) and she is the one who tells him about Hawk and the wedding, which upsets him so much it basically makes him start to starve himself ("fasting for 36 hours") and into full religious zealotry. Basically most of the time in the army he's kinda depressed imo. Its not a very nice part of the book and i hope the showrunners edited it to make him less.... idk unhappy?

When he returns in 1957 (he leaves in 1955) hawk has found them a secret house (owned by Mary's ex, a brewer called Paul but that isn't important) which is abandoned and falling apart. They move their meet ups to this house and Tim falls basically into worshipping Hawk. At the same time, a job helping the refugees fleeing the Hungarian Revolution comes up and Hawk gets him the job (its basically something he becomes fixated on in the army) and the eve of them about to give it to Tim (and his kid born) Hawk imagines Tim's life post this when Tim mentions he will finally have the money to own his own house (he is living in another character's loft and that character has basically become more fleshed out as Marcus in the show) so after Hawk leaves him for the night he goes to the M Unit and tells them Tim has "security considerations". Tim looses the job (but isnt investigated) and he flees DC; and never sees Hawk again (there's more to the ending told via Mary in the epilogue that is basically Tim has a breakdown and is sent to a place that is basically a mental hospital by his sister and just moves on with his life.

this paragraph from the book summaries this easily (Hawk's reason for dibbing him in)

IN THE SHOW

So Showtime is hinting that Episode 5 ends on Tim being in the army but Episode 6 opens in 1968. So in the show its likely 4 Tim enlists; 5 is his time in the army (so not much of him maybe on screen, but the other 2 stories play out) , ending on him going back to DC OR 5 he enlists and it ends on that. We then have the 1960s and 1970s episodes, with Showtime telling us Episode 8 is 1957 and 1986 (like how the others have gone but a timeskip in the 1950s maybe)

Episode 8 (ignoring the 1986 stuff because rn I have no idea how we are doing that last episode stuff) is the messing with Hawk in the abandon house, but Hawk dibs him in over something (basically close to the book), he leaves and the 1950s end on that.

So yeah......... Hawk being a dick in the 1950s is likely saved until the last episode. Added with the "life changing" of the 1980s (which imo is Tim wanting him and Marcus/Frankie to not be present for those last days and tells Hawk to give him up because he isn't the best person). It would also make sense why every review seems to say ep6 feels weird - its been set up to mirror the 1980s: there is something we the audience don't know that is making everything awkward.

#fellow travelers #ft spoilers #Hawk is a dick in the book you need to understand #but yeah - tim goes really off the rails in the army for lack of better terms #but hawk saves the knife stab of carrot sticking a job over him

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morgenlich · 8 months

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love❤

also gonna tag @council-of-beetroot since she tagged me also lol

going 2 be sharing the ao3 summary + first few paragraphs of each since i've seen ppl doing a few different things with this meme lol

in really no particular order:

1) last light (gen fic w multiple ships, rated E)

just some desperate people trying to survive with (and sometimes in spite of) each other.

The lightbulb overhead flickered almost imperceptibly, emitting a faint hum just at the edge of Tolys’ hearing. Sighing softly to himself, he drummed his fingertips on the windowsill anxiously, ignoring the cup of now-cold tea beside him as he tried to focus on the fat snowflakes tumbling lazily from the sky to the streets below, where they melted almost instantly. The little village slumbered on, cradled to the east by a forest so dark and dense even Tolys was wary of it; its shadow loomed in the gloaming, and he wondered, not for the first time, what creatures might be prowling there. Darkness fell swiftly, the handful of streetlamps doing little against it. There was little threat of an air raid so far east, though there was still an uneasy feeling in Tolys’ stomach. Even so early in December, few people wanted to deal with the cold; those who braved it shuffled quickly toward wherever their business was and otherwise left the streets to the night. Tolys imagined most of the residents would be readying for dinner then, preparing to settle in for the evening…. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. A woman held her child’s hand as they crossed the street. On the corner, a couple of officers stood, lighting their cigarettes. You’d almost be forgiven for forgetting there was a war on, were it not for the tanks lurking in the shadows.

2) like they do in babylon (rusliet, rated E)

for the past several nights, russia has been calling lithuania to his study to talk and drink with him, and lithuania doesn't know why--until russia kisses him.

This is a bad idea, Tolys thought, as though that hadn’t been the appeal of it an hour ago. “Would you like some more wine?” Russia asked as he refilled his own glass. “I—please. Yes.” He bit his lip and held out his still half-full glass, willing his hand to be steady while Russia topped him off. He couldn’t bring himself to sip at it, though it was a vintage certainly deserving of that treatment; he wished only to calm his nerves, he was numb to any sensation but the buzz of anxiety running through his body, and if Russia thought anything of the gulp he managed to swallow, he gave no indication of it. Russia was sitting sideways on the sofa, one foot tucked under his leg, absentmindedly swirling his wineglass as he watched Tolys. His violet eyes were full of some emotion that Tolys couldn’t—or perhaps, simply didn’t want to—name. The deep yellow silk of the cushions glistened faintly, catching the light of the dying fire before them. Tolys focused on the dancing flames and took another drink of wine.

3) plein air (frapol, rated T)

[summary is just part of the same excerpt i'm using here]

Yawning, Feliks rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand and reaching for a grape with the other. Francis, his billowy white shirt hanging off his shoulder, gently brushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “More wine?” he asked. Feliks shook his head; Francis shrugged before pouring himself another glass, and the two lapsed back into comfortable silence, lounging on the old blanket Francis had brought with. The Mediterranean stretched out before them, glittering like a sapphire, the horizon obscured by midday haze. Barely perceptible waves lapped at the brilliant white sand, their murmuring the only sound other than the occasional breeze, hardly strong enough to lift their hair. Pale cliffs sheltered the beach from the rest of the world; earlier, they’d provided shade, too, but the sun was almost directly overhead now, and the only shade offered came from a sun-faded parasol propped up behind them. Feliks didn’t mind; the warmth of the sun on his skin was more than welcome after so many months stuck in the cold, or indoors…. It had been Francis’s idea to head south for a bit, and it had been his suggestion that morning to spend the day at the beach. “You need to rest,” he’d said, “and the warm air will your lungs good.” Feliks hadn’t complained—he was sick of Paris, and the warm air did make it much easier to breathe…he’d missed the sea, too. It’s the wrong sea, though, he thought. It was such a brilliant blue he still wasn’t quite sure he wasn’t hallucinating it, and Francis had brought the sweetest wine he’d ever tasted, grapes and berries and a melon all so ripe they were practically bursting, it was just the two of them…and yet. Vivid memories of searching for shells and amber when he was younger, alongside…. No, it was pointless to dwell on that.

4) heartlines (lietpol, rated M)

feliks learns to be a little more comfortable with himself around tolys.

Feliks took a deep breath, smoothing his skirt—hoping it would wipe the sweat from his hands in the process—before timidly placing his hand on the doorknob. He had been so confident that Tolys wouldn’t judge him until that moment, just before showing him. He was suddenly glad he’d decided against wearing makeup—that would have been far too much, he was sure—or maybe the fake earrings would be where Tolys would draw the line—instinctively, his hands flew to his ears to pull them off— He took another deep breath. He’d seen men in perfectly masculine clothes wearing earrings, this was fine. Anyway, Tolys is the one with hair past his shoulders, he thought. Clenching his jaw, he grabbed the handle, still not turning it. The best thing to do was just get on with it—either Tolys wouldn’t care, and this worrying was for nothing; or he would, and it was best to just get that humiliation over with. He could feel his hands growing slick again; he grimaced. Couldn’t he at least act confident? He’d done all sorts of crazy-ridiculous-stupid things without a second thought, why should this make his lunch want to come back up? He rolled his shoulders to adjust his posture, then opened his bedroom door before he could talk himself out of it.

5) midnight rendezvous (ruspol, rated E)

Feliks wants to blow off some steam, and Ivan is willing to help. Part of my whump/smut combo "bingo," the prompt was "spanking."

Feliks made his way through the darkened halls of Russia’s estate, wrapping his blue satin house robe tightly around himself as though it would stave off the cold. Winter had well and truly come, the oppressive cold leaking into the house through cracks in the walls and gaps in the windows. Had there been lights in the hall, Feliks was sure he’d be able to see his own breath. At least it was a clear night, and still; the nights where the wind shrieked as it hurled itself against the walls were by far the worst, and Feliks was not entirely convinced the old manor house they had all been stuffed into would withstand another winter after this one. The overwhelming smell of cheap perfume clung to him as he walked. It was annoying, to know the house well enough to be able to so easily avoid making the floors creak in his wake. Well, if he was going to be stuck living with Russia, he might as well get something out of it.

#q&a #nopeferatu #hetalia #my writing #thank you!!!#and thank you also beetroot and the two anons who sent me this lol

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dupliciti · 1 month

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KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER.

repost, do not reblog this

NAME: rath, debating on switching alias to terios

PRONOUNS : she/they

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION : discord 100%. i do not just use mine for rp so i don't really mind if from the get go we exchange usernames for it. will be okay chatting in IMs as long as the messages aren't too long since they're a mess to read sometimes

NAME OF MUSE(s) : sampo

BEST EXPERIENCE : honestly this has been my best time. i'm not in school so i don't gotta worry about that and i've made friends with some chill people and also enjoy seeing all my mutuals. i get to talk about sampo in this void it's great asjkdgh uh which i mean is half of the reason i made a blog in the first place, i needed to put my hcs and thoughts into something! and the fact that people are receptive and in turn will write with my sampo is all i could ask for

RP PET PEEVES / DEALBREAKERS : ship collecting. i don't want to feel like you're following me just to ship with me because i'm not into that and sampo in particular is difficult. i do not mind talking about ship potential, but if you're just following and opening up with shipping.. nope

assuming something about my muse, like something personality or motive wise i mean. sure, he's a canon character, but i have thoughts on literally every little thing in the game regarding him. analysis... headcanons... they all have their place and build upon my understanding. this is basically the only muse i write atm so i have the time to spend like this on him and it means a lot to me when people observe my flavor of sampo in the light i've tried to put him in. the same would apply to any other muses i write

ghosting. i've had this issue a couple times already within this rpc which... it's whatever. but idk, i feel like if you've made me put effort into communicating with you and you just take off after gradually putting me in limbo with you or giving weird responses... it's off-putting and makes me feel as if i've wasted my time. what i’m talking about in particular has always resulted in the other person blocking me without a word so yeah. that’s what i mean by that. outside of this context, softblock or hardblock me, no hard feelings.

not cutting posts? i can't think of anything else super pressing

MUSE PREFERENCES: i'm trying to think of the types i've written and it's usually similar to sampo in some manner? so dabbles in crime, mysterious background, hard to trust, doesn't trust others. mostly that stuff??? i think nate drake is the only example of me attempting to write one of my fave character types? which would be golden retriever-esque (but he still does illegal things sooo) but i usually don't end up writing them fsr outside of that asdjkgh

PLOTS OR MEMES : plotting is preferred and accepted for anything. uh memes are fine? sometimes i just get overwhelmed with getting a lot of prompts... like rn.... lol

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES : i prefer a happy medium especially if we have multiple threads. you could write me a one liner and the shortest i might go is a paragraph, so yeah. longer stuff will take me a bit to respond to but sometimes shorter stuff i struggle with if we haven't been plotting idk asdjkgh i prefer writing a couple paragraphs personally

BEST TIME TO WRITE : i am realizing i have more energy in the mornings for writing but i usually don't wake up early enough on work days. evenings are great, nights not so much. after an 11 hour work day i'm typically drained.. it sucks bc that's when i have the most free time

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S) : no not at all LMAO, he's v much the opposite of me in every way possible... well. i don't really trust people easily so maybe that?

Tagged by: i seen many do this, i steal

Tagging: @aventvrina, @crimsonbesotted, @deathsmaidens, @defiedlife, @voidfragments, @sagnaevi, @iiryoku, and whoever wanna !

#( dash game; )#( ◇ ᵐʸ ᵈᵉᵃʳ ᵃᵘᵈⁱᵉⁿᶜᵉ┊ ooc; )#long post

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feiandart · 2 months

Text

This is something people asked me more than a couple times until now in the comments, both in the Italian version of Sugar and in the English one. I often answer this with a couple paragraphs of light explanations, but you know what? Have a seat, I'll actually talk about this in a proper way and this may be a very long ride.

I warn you: I'm writing this from my mobile in my free time. This means early in the morning or late at night after a whole day doing things. My brain is shit in those moments so you could find a lot of errors. I'm sorry if my English will be poor, I'm not really able to correct anything. (Also, I prefer to give you my honest flow without corrections. That may actually help getting the right vibe from all of this? I hope so).

But let's go to the proper answer.

I've been asked: "how much of your life do you process through words?"

There is no easy way to say this, no way to avoid being honest here. The reality is that I put all of my life into this story. There might be a lot of differences in the events, but the feelings, all the traumas I talk about, things the characters say, think or do, all of that is mine. I could literally take pieces from all the chapters and give all of them deep explanations on how those are not just mine, but me. I am between the lines, hidden inside all the metaphors, stuck under the weight of the baddest chapters, trying to breathe after writing the most emotional ones.

I know it's a fanfiction. I know the story is not perfect, that there may be holes in the plot and the characters may seem badly shaped, rough, not real. I know, I am not a professional writer, I might make mistakes. This is no excuse, mind me, but not everything in life is coherent or logical as we often see in the media. We can spend hours or a lifetime creating the perfect story with everything perfectly crafted but that doesn't make it real, because incoherence is a huge part of the human experience. And that is what I want Sugar to be: human, not perfect. Realistic when it comes to emotions and relationships, not necessarily in its plot or events. I want it to be a trip into the deep abyss of an injured mind, trying to hold on with a broken heart, not three unicorns running to Candy Mountain. I want to break you into pieces and slowly help to put everything back together.

Look guys, I get it as much as I get that is not actually a story for everyone. You open it expecting another plot and I give you a bad time instead. You think it's something about a sugar babe and his daddy and I give you traumas and none of that. You come for the smut and I put old wounds and control needs over that too, also denying it for a whole half of the story. Truth is, I am a scammer. You come for a Good Omens fanfiction and I break the characters apart, twisting them to the point they might be the same to the very core, but nothing like it on the outside. You have to dive deep to find them.

My God, what am I even doing?

They asked me, "do you choose your words with care, don't you?"

Oh, dear Lord, I am so sorry because maybe people really think I plot all the metaphors, I think properly of all the dialogues, but what if I don't? Most of the time I don't, really. I just put my hands on the keyboard and let them free to go wherever they want. I type whole pages and emerge right after without having the faintest clue of what I wrote. I need to come back multiple times to check if I got what I wanted in the correct way. Hopefully, it does almost all the time. I know where I start and I know where I want to be in the end, the middle of it is pure instinct and emotions. I know how my characters would behave and play them like a TV show in my mind, while describing scenes on the screen.

( There might be some kind of light spoilers from now on. Mind how you go! )

I know I am using Crowley as the raw essence of a damaged mind and heart. He uses crude metaphors, always talks with anger and uses blood and storms in his speech, because he is instinct, he's a tide, he's greed personified and wants everything he could get cause he truly got nothing in his life. He is the passion who can't be contained, he uses art to process his emotions, he uses music to lose himself in something familiar, hoping someone else could help him find his way back home. He uses gardening to grow things because in his life nothing seems to last long. He can't look at tomorrow without fear, but grows things he hopes will last more than him. Life was not good with him, but he wasn't good with his life either. He did nothing, letting time pass without actually building anything, living the days as they come, drowning his pain in wine or between someone else's legs. He knows most of what he is, most of what he's done, is not healthy. But he never really cared before.

And then there is Aziraphale, which apparently is a walking red flag, traumas personified on two working legs, scared of everything hiding outside his door. He got everything. He has money, a big house, books, some people working with him, and is content. So content his heart yells and cries because he's lonely. So content he can't really control his whole life because he is his own antagonist. So content he's not really scared of what hides outside the door, because what's inside is worst. He uses the softest metaphors, he uses his books to tell stories and talk about himself, he can't really speak is mind and talks, talks, talks so much! He wins arguments because he drags his opponents into exhaustion. He talks them to death, using whole paragraphs of elegant, perfectly crafted phrases and quotes he can shield himself with. He's not like Crowley, just getting started on this new channel of communication, no, Aziraphale is well trained. He has thousands of books he can use to get where he wants and still use his experience poorly because he thinks people are just like the books and guess what? That's not true. People are something else.

It's actually funny how I just condensate two parts of me into two different characters.

Crowley holds my outside, and this is why you have his POV for the entire story. You see the world with his distorted, unreliable vision, you see raw desire to be accepted, the need to be truly seen by someone, big pieces of his mind, his dissociations, his fear, his low self esteem, the thousands of radios turned on in his mind, his incapability to let things truly go, is head full of canvases he never finish. And then you see his rage and you're not sure how much that will last. Yeah, that is me. Welcome to myself.

Aziraphale holds my inside. This is why we never get his POV. Too easy, too deep, too much. He is scared. He needs control. He wants and can't get. He hopes and does nothing. He's stuck in his home, with his books, and finds himself at ease there. He thinks he's safe but he's not. He's a living contradiction and at the same time he's not.

God, what was the question again?

Maybe I wrote too much. Maybe this is not enough. All I can say is that there's something really important in this story, and that is Crowley asking Aziraphale to "look at him", 'cause all he wants is to bee seen.

But in the end, what is happening here is you looking at me. And it's strange to get so naked in front of so many strangers. But it's also good and positive to me to be seen, for once.

So, thank you. Really, thank you. 'cause with every chapter you allow me to express myself in a way I never did in 30 years. Thank you so much.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #sugar #deep down fei's heart #fanfiction #fanfiction writer #there's something deep down you need to understand to be truly free #thank you so much for helping me express myself #this is extremely personal so don't read if you don't care

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