#which honestly thinking on it now i feel like sort of helps me articulate why i'm usually like 'her?'

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

idk if this is still the case but when i was really In It in animorphs feelings a couple years ago because i was unemployed for the first time in my adult life / temporarily living alone in the last house my family lived in / freaking out about climate change / generally Going Through It, and like poking around the animorphs scene on tumblr, there was this notion commonly expressed that rachel and tobias were "toxic," the major piece of evidence for which was the scene in 33 where she "tries to trap him in human morph." which like first of all i'm SOOOOOO SORRRY that the fucking fifteen-year-olds secretly fighting a guerrilla war in which their greatest threat is the mind-controlling slugs they're trying to save humanity from but their second greatest threat is the diminishing hourglass of their collective sanity as they all have to work steadily harder and more desperately to not just completely lose their shit entirely from all the violence and literal 24/7 constant threat and murder that is happening, like i'm sorry two literal children who have managed in this ongoing horror show to forge a bond of loyalty and affection and care and attraction and understanding that can act as a kind of solace neither of them have any other way to access, sorry those actual murder babies sometimes have some communication problems. lmao. but also it's insane to me that people read that scene (in which they're dancing to, i'm not making this up, iris by the goo goo dolls - i mean they don't tell us the song but it's a slow goo goo dolls number that even tobias knows, so - they're dancing to iris by the goo goo dolls at a school dance that is not going well because they are both awkward about the newfound public Officialness of their relationship and rachel who is the only one of them who has ever been capable of socializing like a normal person is in a particularly bad mood because of the emotional hangover of her starfish adventure [great concept executed terribly in the previous book], and then like after two entire minutes of letting himself feel some nice emotions tobias spots the clock and starts leaving to go demorph and then rachel runs after to him to awkwardly attempt to share that she is very fucked up about how insane she has become and she wants to hold on to things like school dances and also this is all happening in a hallway by a student poster on red tailed hawks that states their lifespan of a handful of years in the wild, it's so good) as rachel trying to trap tobias in morph, when like, first of all, "good thing happening -> time to punish myself for feeling nice for 5 whole seconds " is like THEE tobias thought pattern because he's the number one kidlit trauma baby of all time, like truly the first time i dove back into the series i was struck by how well his narrative voice captures Child Of Insane Family Dysfunctionality, he is NOT a reliable narrator on this, but also second, and more saliently, like, believing this scene is rachel attempting to trap tobias in morph requires that you believe rachel, all by herself, made a plan in advance and then attempted to execute it, which is a skill we literally never see her demonstrate even one fucking time outside of the comfortingly familiar hunting ground of the mall

#animorphs #i have a hard visceral aversion to personally adopting ADHD headcanons in general #(you do you idc about people's headcanons but like #this is one that reliably does not do it for me [person with ADHD] and which also often makes me feel weird for vague reasons #but again like this is not an Argument or a Criticism have your fun it's simply not for me) #BUT. someone once said they headcanon rachel as ADHD. #and that is... the ONLY time i have ever read that and been like 'oh wow no okay yeah that tracks' #which honestly thinking on it now i feel like sort of helps me articulate why i'm usually like 'her?' #bc i feel like i tend to see it as like 'this would be cute/relatable/fun to project on to' (you do you not for me) #or i see it based on like... a perception of general ADHD Vibes #which like. on the one hand i get. there can be Vibes. there's a reason the set of people i Enjoy A Lot has ADHD overrepresented on it. #but personally i am like. but where are the scenes of them ruining their own life for reasons attributable to ADHD traits #i don't personally get anything out of lumping people into a DSM category with me if they are not also constantly ruining their own lives #like i can just relate to them because we have similar Vibes. that's plenty. #but rachel................. #the scenes of rachel constantly ruining her own life because of her inability to think for 5 seconds before speaking or acting ever. like. #that's in every book rachel ever has #she literally has a line at one point like 'i don't know why i say these things. they just pop out of my stupid mouth.' girl same... #anyway. speaking of ADHD. i have GOT to stop letting myself 'just check tumblr a little bit' while i'm waiting for the adderall to hit

[veliseraptor]

Top 5 animated movies?

I see asks like this one for this meme and I'm like "lise what if you just wrote a short and simple response listing movies, then maybe you would actually end up answering all your meme asks" and then my brain goes "nope <3" and I end up with five paragraphs. I'm just not very good at shutting up.

anyway!

1. The Last Unicorn. This is the "no-brainer" one for me because I always feel like this is just...such an important piece of media, and it's one of those things where when I show it to new people I feel very vulnerable about it and kind of go "please understand that in sharing this with you I am showing you my vulnerable underbelly and if you hate it don't tell me." I don't even know that I could articulate why exactly, but it occupies a very particular place in my heart that few other pieces of media can claim to have. I have watched it so many times and here I am going "maybe I should rewatch it today, actually. plug in my external cd drive and pull out the dvd and everything." It's like that.

2. Princess Mononoke. Another one that came to me immediately as I was coming up with this list. I'm pretty sure I watched it a little too young and the opening scene with the boar creature vs. Ashitaka kind of scarred me a little bit but...lord, what a movie. It's beautiful visually and as a story I also love it. I feel like chronologically Spirited Away was my first Studio Ghibli I remember, but this was the one I latched onto. ngl, the fact that there are wolves in it probably helped.

3. Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron. It started to get a little harder here, but then I remember how I felt when I saw a caption referencing a song from this movie's soundtrack (thanks for the bangers, Bryan Adams! unexpected but I'm grateful) and went "!!!!" like my brain was lighting up like a lightbulb. So yeah, I'm going to say this is an important one. You can take the horses away from the horsegirl but you can't take the horsegirl out of the girl. or something like that. And this was one of my horsegirl movies. I also just now remembered the paint by numbers extras that were on the dvd that I was weirdly obsessed with, so that's cool.

4. Watership Down. Actually this one should've been third and I don't know how I forgot it! I joke that the fact that the animated movies I rewatched most as a kid were this one and The Last Unicorn and that probably explains a lot of things, but honestly it might. This movie has a reputation that's in some ways bigger than it deserves (though the destruction of the warren segment is pretty much as awful as everybody says it is), but it is also just legit a really good story and well-adapted into a movie, in my opinion. I watched the remake and was profoundly disappointed mostly because I felt like the animation style was boring, and one thing this movie definitely had going for it was the style.

5. Atlantis: the Lost Empire. I almost went with The Lion King but then I remembered this movie, and, yeah. What a film. Truly everyone who has talked about the brief period where things were very weird and therefore very interesting at Disney were right. Also Helga probably turned me gay (and specifically gay for female villains), I just didn't notice until later.

Honorable mentions to The Lion King, The Rescuers Down Under, and Mulan. And probably several others I'm forgetting that I'll think of as soon as I hit post.

There are definitely the animated movies I want to see, most notably Song of the Sea, because I suspect I would really like them. I am just terminally bad at watching movies, you know.

shout out to The Secret of the Seal though, which was a movie where I sort of thought one of my sisters and I shared a collective hallucination until finally I managed to track it down with something like "seal macaroni penguin animated movie." not to be confused with the 1992 anime film Tottoi, mind you.

...though considering now that I'm looking again all I can find to prove its existence is a cover, I'm beginning to wonder again. The Rotten Tomatoes page I thought was going to take me to it returns a 404 not found.

IT WAS REAL she screamed as they dragged her away. I SWEAR IT WAS A REAL MOVIE

#conversating #anonymous #top five meme

[trickstercaptain]

Can you elaborate on the "Disney Princess" Jack? Cuz I honestly feel he is one but I can't articulate in words how or why he is one, but I firmly believe the title fits him xD

       ahhhhh anon i ABSOLUTELY WILL elaborate on my Jack is a disney princess agenda, i adore you so much for asking as it gives me the perfect excuse to wax lyrical about this whole topic for a bit. because admittedly disney princess Jack is a sort of crack type thing, if we're being technical he's nothing like a disney princess — however i feel like there is a genuine argument to be made that he is disney princess coded, at least within his own narrative. you are right, he gives off those vibes. ( and we're not the only ones who think this — tumblr will not let me hyperlink the video but https://www.tiktok.com/@some.emmagination.huh/video/6961180862117367045 — the fact that Jack is so often seen with or around the princesses in the disney parks says a lot i think lmao ).

       it's possibly because he's assuredly not your classic white knight disney prince, he's not "bad" enough in own his narrative to be villain-coded, and his effeminate characteristics ( the famous story about disney execs thinking that JD was playing Jack as gay in the first film and absolutely freaking out about it ) play into that whole idea. I also think it's always fun to take a character like Jack, who belongs in a hyper masculine environment but consistently challenges those stereotypes, and consider him occasionally in terms of the feminine. Jack being a trickster archetype also helps with this; gender expression is inherently very fluid to him. plus potc plays with this too — Elizabeth is made the Pirate King, after all.

       but he does also fit some classic disney princess tropes! defining a disney princess is kinda tricky now because over the past twenty years or so that definition has (quite rightly) diversified from the more traditional princesses of older disney movies, but i wanna highlight some of the fun ways in which Jack fits into that vague category.

       he talks to animals! maybe not uhhhh... in the nice way that princesses generally do lmao, but he has his god-tier rivalry with Jack the monkey, openly admits that he'll have Cotton's parrot on board the Black Pearl in AWE because "at least I'll have someone to talk to," and in TPOF starts telling his new horse Caesar sea stories because he gets bored waiting for Ayisha. as a child, I am sure he also had very animated conversations with Tim the dog, too. he also sings, canonically. Elizabeth teaches him the song from the ride in CotBP and Jack continues to sing or hum that on two more occasions in the trilogy. he descends from almost literal pirate royalty, effectively already making him a princess. Jack might be the black sheep of the family but he comes from a familial line of very rich, very influential pirates within the Brethren Court. and calling him a prince just feels wrong, so princess it is. also if he gets together with Elizabeth post-AWE he "marries" into royalty and becomes the queen of the Brethren Court, true facts.

       another is that he has the most fairytale esque, romantic dynamic in the entire franchise with the Black Pearl. I've said it again and again, but if Jack's ship were a human and Jack still talked about her the way he does, he'd be the most romantic bastard in the fucking movies lmao. in TPOF, it was literally love at first sight, Jack stared at her on the dock when he first saw her ( and she didn't look her best, she was a ship that had been neglected for a while and Jack spent weeks sprucing her up and getting her shipshape ) and completely fell head over heels. he gets an entire paragraph in that novel about what it is to finally know what love is after hearing sailors talk about it for so long. he dies for her, gives up his immortal soul for her.... Jack is motivated by love in the trilogy ( no matter how difficult, or twisted, or toxic that love becomes ), I won't accept any arguments.

       Jack is surrounded by loveable sidekick type characters. potc is a great franchise for this anyway just in general, but Jack's crew fit a lot of those archetypes that you find in many disney princess movies. from the mice in Cinderella, to Scuttle/Sebastian/Flounder in the Little Mermaid, to the furniture/servants in Beauty and the Beast, there's a lot of overlap — and while you can also say that Jack, being a side character, also fits that role, as he becomes subject to main character syndrome in the franchise, he gradually becomes more and more at the centre of it instead of being with them on the sidelines. disney princesses, particularly from the older movies, are also frequently in need of rescue, and rescuing Jack from the Locker is the major plot point of the first hour of AWE. he might mockingly call Elizabeth the damsel to Will, but he is in fact the damsel put in distress in that movie.

       then there are the somewhat more angsty ones. disney is renowned for its absent mothers, particularly within its fairytales, and Jack is no different. I may have my well-developed headcanons about Jack's mother but in terms of the strict canon, we know nothing about her ( beside the shrunken head ) and that is on purpose, considering that the house of mouse would not let anyone, including the author of TPOF, write about Jack's mother or even hint as to her existence. Jack is also subject to the controlling influence of his single parental figure, Teague, in his early life, which is a classic plight disney princesses find themselves in, whether the dynamic is outright abusive like Jack and Teague's is, or less so. Jack — at least earlier in his life, less so in the trilogy itself — is easily manipulated by the "villains." the plot of TPOF hinges on Jack being manipulated and betrayed by Christophe, and then the plot of CotBP hinges on Jack being betrayed by Barbossa during the mutiny on the Black Pearl ten years prior.

       lastly and, a bit of an odd one maybe, but something I want to include, is that Jack is often coveted by others. it's most obvious in Jack's dynamic with Beckett which, whether you read into it sexually or not on Beckett's side, I personally think it's entirely up for interpretation, is very driven by Beckett's desire to possess Jack. he wants to control him and use him in the same way that he uses all material things, and is pushed to very extreme lengths when Jack resists that control and tries to assert his autonomy. I think Jack being such a free spirit, as well as the fact that he's a pretty boy and is unapologetically sexual ( the second not being a disney princess trait lmao ) he invites that kind of attitude from other people. he invites people to try to challenge that aspect of his character and put him in a box, or control him, or break him.

#anonymous. #&. depths few had ever begun to glimpse ( meta tag. ) #&. don’t ever insult captain jack sparrow in front of me ( ooc. ) #this is unhinged. there is no question about it #but also some of my proudest work on this blog lmaooo #this is what my blog is all about #arguing in nine paragraphs why jack is a disney princess :')

[theharrowing]

Thoughts on the interaction discourse: I think we’re on the same page in how we feel. Whereas, I know I’m not entitled to an interaction in any shape or form, I also can’t help if—as a person—I need words of affirmation. The need for approval is such an integral part of who I am as a human being and I honestly hate it. I don’t want to have to need approval or constantly seek approval but life isn’t always about what we want (case in point, I want interaction but I know it’s not always about me). I wish my brain was wired differently so I didn’t need these things or have any sort of expectation. Yes, I do write for my own enjoyment and will continue to write regardless of the numbers, but I also can empathize with people wanting to lessen their presence in a space they don’t feel as welcomed or needed in. As someone who posts on several different platforms, it’s a big task to prepare works with different formats. It’s not crazy to think people might migrate away from a platform that receives little interaction (because we don’t know who is and who isn’t a silent reader) and just divert their energy to other platforms that might offer a bit more. I don’t feel as if the posts about needing/wanting/desiring feedback and interactions have been meant in any way, shape, or form as a finger wag toward silent readers. I can see it from both sides, and whereas the original interaction posts might make silent readers feel guilty and called out, the same—I think—is now happening with the counter posts. I wish we could all just get along 😔

listen: Same.

and no matter how much i insist that i value the likes, it is so hard to keep pushing without the comments and feedback. i live for the interaction. even if it's via chat rather than publicly, or like this, via anon messages. there are so many ways to convey how we feel to others. and i am not one who writes for myself. i totally and completely write for others, which is why this experience is maddening, at times. the writing i do for myself is very different; this i do as a gift.

I wish my brain was wired differently so I didn’t need these things or have any sort of expectation.

i feel this in my soul.

I don’t feel as if the posts about needing/wanting/desiring feedback and interactions have been meant in any way, shape, or form as a finger wag toward silent readers.

i don't either, and perhaps i should have worded my post a little differently? i was only trying to say that in addition to the comments and reblogs, i value the likes. because, as a small account, that's mostly all i get, and i don't want the very little interaction i already get to diminish more.

i'm not sure that the initial posts make readers feel guilty? my hope is that they do not. but i did add my two cents because there is a part of me that feared that those posts might scare off more timid writers? it's hard to articulate. at the end of the day, we are all just trying to do our best and figure it out.

anyway, thank you for telling me all of this. i agree and i really value your insight! i hope i articulated myself well, but it's been a bit of a frazzled day, so i apologize if i haven't, or if i have misunderstood you in any way.

#lovely anon #you've got mail 💌

[arriving-hell-on-heels]

We need to bring the old tumblr traditions back.

I don't really know why, maybe because this is the only thing similar to a home I have ever had, or because the most intelligent and beautiful person I currently know seems to be as fascinated with the concept of this hellsite as I have been for the past ten years -- even as he has no idea of all the negative aspects of it--, but I've been feeling a lot of nostalgia lately for what this site used to be to me, and for what I was when I was active and nearly addicted to scrolling through the endless streaming of bullshit that i could find throughout it. I miss it, I miss the community that we used to have in here even if it could get extremely dangerous and toxic at times it still was the place where I met some of my oldest friends, it was the place where I could express myself or at least where I felt I could express myself the best at some point. Even if I don't really know what that means to me, or if I ever knew at all.

Right now I honestly don't know what's real. I'm trying to survive in the "real world" but I have absolutely no idea what that entails and I feel like a failure every single day of my life. The people around me also don't help, I thought I had found someone who understood me, or who at least would make an effort to, but later I realized I was wrong. I have no idea what makes me happy anymore, but I know I miss this hellhole every single day of my life because at least here I could find some kind of relief and inspiration to do things for myself, at least then I could identify if I liked something and I'd reblog it or if I didn't and then I'd just ignore it. At least then I could think of things I wanted to say, and express from time to time, and I could find some sort of inspiration for what I wanted to do. When this was my life, when I used it as a guideline I at least felt like a part of me was alive and I wasn't only trying to copy people to stop feeling so empty all the time.

This maybe has become more of a diary entry than an actual post about how the site has changed, but honestly, I don't care, not like anyone is gonna read it anyways. I just want to think of things I'm able to articulate as even that has become impossible to me in the past few years. I don't even know if I've ever been able to do so and when I have I honestly have no idea how I managed to do so.

I don't feel as hopeless as I felt at some point. I don't feel as a strong desire to end everything as I had at some point but at the same time I don't feel a drive to live and do things either. I can't identify what I would want to do if I even attempted to do the things I like. I know I'm passionate, I know a lot about random stuff and I know that when I start on one of the things I know about I pretty much lecture on the topic but at the same time I feel like I've changed a lot of those passions to try to fit into what is "functional" or "useful" because all I know about are random topics like the history of the internet, very old and useless memes that no one remembers. I'm supposed to know how to write, made a whole career on that, but I can't bring myself to do so most of the time, cuz I can't find a topic, or I procrastinate and get distracted and not even the topics I enjoy help me concentrate enough to finish something.

So I'm working on my mental health to try to work something out, but feeling so empty and useless doesn't help out. I finally got my ADHD diagnosed which is pretty much a milestone to me, I always have known that's something I needed, but at the same time I can't find things that seem enjoyable enough to get me out of bed or the house most days.

I also feel like I have no friends, and the few friends I have never have time to spend with me so I should just focus on myself but who is that? what do I want? what do I enjoy? how do I do things when nothing seems worth it? I feel so exhausted all the time and I've lost all the people I love because they expect me to get out of my slump, to get out of my depression but nothing seems to motivate me enough to stand up and live.

I know I want to live, but I don't know how. and I want to stop trying to do it because other people seem to expect me to, I even stopped drinking and smoking weed to let my medicine work as it should but now it only seems as if I have no way out of the shitty places of my brain.

I want to stop blaming others, stop expecting people to help me get out of the places my brain drives me to, but I feel as if doing so would only drive me further into being desolate, because if the only person I'm left with is myself... and I've been the one driving myself into all of these messes how am I supposed to trust that I'll be able to handle it without someone telling me they'll help me.

I'm tired of my own incompetence. Been trying to learn things, but then again there's a lot I can't seem to memorize or understand, and that frustrates me. It frustrates me to no end to be unable to just know.

#personal #my trash

[fakecrfan]

Well if I screenshot the take instead of arguing on the post--that’s better, right?

[Image ID: post that says “Thinking about jon sims in s4 of the magnus archives and how he went out of his comfort zone to trust people around him and show them he cared for them, only to receive death threats and be directly told he wasn’t liked by those same people. not to mention the isolation from martin which is it’s own thing to dissect. and, love her or hate her, it’s genuinely kind of devastating that the only person to show any real outward affection towards jon in season 4 was Daisy.]

This! This encapsulates a variety of fandom takes that are... well, honestly not horrible. But confusing to me??? And I think I can finally articulate why I find this stance on friendship and love is so fucking bizarre.

Jon did basically nothing to make friends with people until season 4, and in season 4... he still didn’t!

He spends 2.5 seasons pushing people away. One of his assistants is his friend and he stalks him for months until the guy snaps. The other assistant wants to be his friend and Jon shouts at him. Then, when Jon comes to the realization he needs allies, he is... gone most of the time. 

We get clips of Melanie and Basira going out for drinks with Martin and talking about casual things. Those are gestures of friendship, trying to get to know each other and do something nice for each other. When does Jon do that? The closest he gets in season 3 when he finally tries to check in with Martin for a hot second before flying off to America. We don’t see him ever ask Basira if she’s doing alright as a hostage, or how Melanie is feeling now that she’s found herself trapped in this place. We don’t see him bringing either of them coffee, or offering get takeout, what do you want? We don’t see him throwing a surprise birthday party for anyone else, the way his entire staff does for him.

Those are actions you have to take to get people to be your friends. And we generally don’t see him initiate any interaction with Melanie or Basira outside of “hey I need something from you guys.” Would you like a guy who only shows up when he needs you to do something? Yeah that’s what I thought.

He’s nice in season 4. But being passively nice isn’t enough to make people bond with you. He helps people in a big way a few times (which IMO is more important, but we’re talking about friendship here, not whether Jon is morally a good person) but friendship is more than just the occasional grand gesture. He still isn’t going out and doing the friendship things to win people over! He doesn’t understand that he has to! 

Daisy is the one who does that to everyone in season 4! Daisy! Fucking DAISY has Jon beat for prosocial behavior!

Posts like this frame love and why people get it this way: “Person is a good person inside and is sad” → “Person deserves love and friendship” → “Other people are SUPPOSED to give the love and friendship why are they not dispensing comfort from their emotional vending machines??? Unfair! Unfair and cruel!” 

But that is not how it works. People don’t grant love and friendship because you’re a good person inside in some sort of essential sense. People react to give you love and friendship when you do friendship things for/with them. It’s not that it’s earned as  1-1 transactional exchange, but it takes a person actually doing the things, not just Being Good Inside. 

So people get angry at Basira and Melanie for Not Being Good Friends. But why are they being held to this standard? Did they say they were Jon’s friends? Has Jon done anything ever to try and befriend them? Why is it their responsibility to initiate friendship and give comfort, and not Jon’s?

#salt tag #though less salty and more 'ah HA I can articulate my disagreement!' #discourse #thoughts on: building allyship and friendship

[shotosprincess]

what if... — shoto todoroki

“ what if we kissed then? just to prove that we don’t have feelings for each other. “

summary: ever since you and todoroki started working together as pro heroes, your friends simply wouldn’t let up on teasing you two, suspecting that there was something between you—something that extended past the bounds of business.

notes: fluff ,, todoroki being flustered ( aaaa he’s so cute bye ) the bakusquad teasing and egging ya’ll on ( their dialogue is color coded so it’s easier to read ! ) ,, denki being a little bit of a busybody <3

“ ooooh look who it is! the power coupleeee! “ the sing-song tone of denki’s teasing rung through the hall as he spotted you and todoroki entering the building from a long day of pro hero work.

grey streaks of dust and ash littered your bodies, streaks of sweat and diluted stripes of dried crimson staining multiple sides on both your faces. his hair was tattered and slightly singed from the discord of an especially-messy battle, yours was tangled in a hopeless mess. a heavy sigh leaves you. that would be a pain to brush through later.

your numbed fingers, body exhausted and worn out, run through your hair in a wordless frustration. shoto tenses up noticeably at denki’s playful comment. “ denki. we’re not a couple. “

his lips raise into a cheeky, if not mildly-irritating smirk as he leans further into the velvet couch, draping his arms round the back. “ oh yeah? take your arm off their shoulder then, shoto. “

your partner’s face lights up with a rose so brilliant, it almost even matched with the rubied strands of his hair. his lips tightly purse together, sliding his arm, which was, in fact, casually resting on your shoulder, off with a hurried swoop.

“ shut it, kaminari. “ he huffs in a low, almost even threatening tone as he walks past the energetic blonde at an increased pace. you frown. he seemed so worked up over it, and for what? it’s not as if this was the first time someone had poked at you for being a “ couple “—which you were not, but you were never the one to readily disprove their remarks, though delivered in a joking manner. it’s not as if you felt anything of the sort for him...right?

so then why was it so hard to admit that you weren’t anything more than what you were on the field? it was the truth, after all.

“ jeez, what’s with him? i was just kidding. “ sticking a lollipop into his mouth, he turns to lay down fully on the couch, stretching his back out with such leisure.

your eyes followed him as he disappeared past a corner, shaking your head in confusion. “ no clue. “

it was just one of the countless circumstances in which people had poked at the two of you for your not-so-platonic habits with one another, habits which, admittedly, hinted at something...more than friendship. more than a partnership. this was nothing new.

but of course, you pushed it all away, allowing the rumours and silly hashtags and fanmade edits and youtube compilations to completely ricochet off of you. however, the same couldn’t exactly be said for todoroki. shame.

you didn’t quite know why, but he always got so unexplainably tense about it whenever someone brought the topic up. he’d curl up his fists so aggressively it’d leave crescent marks the next day, rearrange his face into a scowl—it was clear that he hated it, joke or not. honestly, you didn’t have the guts to attempt to make them stop, for you knew that if you had, you just knew that the public would somehow find a way to turn it into “ proof “ that you were dating, all because he got so riled up and flustered. which was silly, really, since it was a perfectly normal human reaction to something like this.

though you can’t help but wonder if, perhaps, he did feel that way about you, and maybe that was the reason he—

no, no, what were you thinking? he couldn’t possibly...right? you were just partners. nothing more, nothing less.

but if he did think of you like that, would you want something more?

“ oh come on, just admit it! if not to the public, then to us at least. aren’t we friends? “

“ yeah, icy hot. i mean, seriously, have more guts— “

“ ...how many fucking times do i have to tell you, bakugou...we’re not a couple. denki, stop playing around. you’re egging him on. “ shoto’s harsh tone cuts sharply through the banter between denki and the overly-intense ashen blonde, bringing it to an abrupt end. it didn’t exactly last very long, though.

“ yeah, yeah. that’s what i said about that dumbass deku, and look where we are now. “ he rasps, a knowing smirk playing on his face as he pulls his now-blushing boyfriend close.

“ not everything is about love, bakugou. “ he smirks.

“ yeah, who knew you’d be the one to turn out to be such a romantic? “ denki laughs, earning a solid punch to his arm.

“ owww! that actually hurt. “ his lips jut out in a pout, rubbing over the blooming patch of light purple.

“ oh, shut up, idiot! “

“ you know what? fine. y/n? “

you pause, perfectly still and unmoving as the coldness of his eyes burned his unknown intent into you.

“ y-yeah? “

he strides over to you, appearing only inches away within the briefest of seconds. one of his hands quickly finds a home against your cheek, tilting it to look up at him. your heart pulsates at a nearly impossible rate.

“ kiss me. “

“ what? “

“ just this once. to prove that we don’t have feelings for each other. “ he says, rolling his eyes at denki and bakugou, who were futilely trying to cover their smirks.

heat rises to your cheeks, cauterizing them with an unfamiliar flame. “ oh! uh! i—sure.“

what other choice did you have? after all, you did want to prove to everyone that there really was nothing between you and shoto. or maybe, just maybe, you were also trying to prove it to yourself?

no, no. that couldn’t be. it couldn’t.

he wastes no time. his skin, cold and smooth, fingers like porcelain streams, grasp your chin with a fast-paced elegance which sends a prominent shudder down your back. his lips hover just above yours, and the tension buzzing between you is ridiculously electric. he’s so close, your heartbeat rings in your ears and his breath shallowly fans upon your face as he peers into your eyes with his own. you allow them to fall closed.

as if on cue, his lips meet yours with a gentle, albeit fairly aggressive peck. but as soon as they do, your chest spurns with the fibres of your heartstrings, embroidering them tightly into the knots of his own tangled past. you know what he said. you know what you said—it was all to prove that you didn’t feel anything for one another.

but then why did it feel so oddly...right?

he pulls away, and your lips suddenly feel empty, deserted. the electric thrum still prickles at your lips, wanting, no—needing, more. you hate how much your body craved him, how desperately you wanted for his arms around you again. there’s too much emotion, an overwhelming influx. it is near impossible to even articulate it, at least not in a way which could ever hope to properly encapsulate the undeniable magic of the moment. you were being so damn melancholic, and that was saying something, even for you.

when his lips leave yours, you cannot help but be frozen in your simple state of bliss, utterly dazed with hazy remnants of how annoyingly addicting it was. your eyes gloss over with a sense of want, sparkling with the same glitters his icy eyes met yours with. his hand remains on your cheek, but his touch softens against yours.

your silent stare prolongs for more than just the fleeting moment, as if you were subconsciously grabbing at it with invisible arms, reaching desperately to bring each other back. that was when it hit you; the blinding realization that you did, in fact, want this. want him. and yet, you couldn’t help but hesitate. what about him? did he want this? no, no, he couldn’t possibly. after all, this whole kiss situation was only because he wanted to prove that explosive idiot wrong, that there was nothing between you two but teamwork and good quirk compatibility.

your heart stings at the minor epiphany, the thoughts piercing at your head in an endless swirl of emotions. second-guessing yourself, wondering why you even cared whether or not he thought of you that way. or at least, how he didn’t think of you that way. the tiniest shine of a tear begins to coat your lashes when—

his lips crash against yours for a second time, his hand now trailing towards your scalp, weaving through the fibres as his lips danced upon yours. your guard, your hesitation fully melting away in his arms.

but alas, you made the mistake of allowing yourself to forget that people were watching too.

“ ha! i knew it! i fucking knew it! “ kaminari’s playful voice rings like the most annoying song ( in this moment, i mean come on, you loved the guy, but right now? not exactly helping your stance of “ we don’t see each other like that “ ) as his head peaks out from the halls.

instantly you break away, pulling from each other as your hand flies to clamp over your mouth, eyes bulging wide at what you had just done. you had just kissed shoto. in front of, well, practically everyone! since when did mina and kirishima even get here?!

“ shit. “ shoto mutters deeply, thrashing his hands into his two-toned hair in frustration.

“ shoto, i—i’m so sorry, i didn’t know they would— “

“ no, no. don’t apologize. it’s my fault. i...i shouldn’t have gone for a second ki— “

“ honestly, i think i would’ve been more mad at you if you haven’t. “

“ WHAT?! “ your little audience shrieked. your palms clasped right over your mouth after the admission, face burning with embarrassment. the words left you before you could even think them through. had you really just said that? in front of everyone? how carefree can you be?

you stare into the ground, focusing on literally anything but him.

“ hey. look at me. “

you refused.

“ y/n. “ his hand goes up to your chin, making you look up at him. the pout on your face is so plainly obvious, it makes his heart twitch in a slight pain. you could almost swear you heard mina squeal faintly at the boldness of his action, considering the predicament you two were currently stuck in.

“ what? “

“ i...i think i would’ve regretted it more if i hadn’t kissed you again. “

“ you—what? “

“ i...i didn’t want to pull away. “

“ holy shit. “

“ shut up bakugou! “

“ i wanted...i wanted it to last a little longer. “

“ jeez, and i thought i was bad at confessing my feelings. pft. this is just embarrassing to watch. “

“ same here. i mean you did ask midoriya out by yelling ‘ i love you, dumbass! ‘ from outside his dorm window. “

“ hey, idiot! we don’t talk about that! “

“ shhhh both of you! shut up! we are witnessing an important romantic moment here! “

“ i...seriously? “

“ seriously. and i—i don’t know what the hell this feeling....is. but i....i just— “

“ it’s okay. “ you shoot him a reassuring smile, the same kind you always did in the midst of battle, that comforting smile that let him know you had his back. you communicated with your eyes, though usually they were bloodshot with adrenaline and smudged with ash, there truly was no need for words. not with him.

“ y/n...i— “

“ awwwww aren’t they the cutest? now kiss again! “

“ mina. “ he shoots her a lightly cold stare.

“oh come on! let us have our fun, yeah, icy hot? “ bakugou slings his arm over kaminari’s shoulder, whose grin matches that of his blonde-haired counterpart.

“ i thought i told you not to call me— “

“ shoto. “

he immediately turns to you, slipping into serenity at the sound of your voice.

“ ah shit, here they go again. we get it, you’re a cute couple! “

“ mina, i told you. we’re not a co- “ his eyes snap to yours, lips parting in a hesitant pause.

“ not a what, icy hot? “ the smirk exuding of utter smugness upon bakugou’s face only spreads all the wider.

he allows his hands to fall, taking yours within his. there is a brief, yet definite moment of silence before he speaks again. “ i mean... “

your gaze is focused on the way his hands fully envelope yours, and the unexplainable, tingly feeling you’re getting from it all. despite that, you could still very well see mina and kaminari excitedly waving and bouncing in all sorts of directions, as if they were...cheering you on? it was almost as if they were more fired up about all this than you were.

keyword; almost.

“ shoto, i— “

and suddenly his composure and poise breaks, and all that’s left is the rare sight of shoto todoroki, stuttered in a blushing, shaky mess. “ i mean, i wouldn’t be opposed to it. not—not like i desperately want to or anything, but at the same time i—i just—fuck, why is this so har— “

you rise onto your tip toes, hands encircling his neck as you kiss him. what unknown spirit possessed you with the guts to make the first move, it was fully unbeknownst to you. but you weren’t complaining, no. not in the slightest.

“ HOLY SHIT?? “

“ my baby’s all grown up now— “

“ dumbass, they’re not your bab— “

“ they’re mine. “

“ i— “

“ that is, if you want to b— “

“ well no shit, dumbass! “ you jump into his arms, squealing as you squeeze him tight.

“ good. because...so do i. “

“ i told you! “

“ shut up idiot! “

“ hey, so now can we start a fan account for you two on instagram? i’m sure it’d totally blow up! “ mina squealed with a wink, holding up her phone, already halfway through the sign up process.

“ mina! “ everyone groaned in a laughter-filled unison.

so that was it, you supposed.

you did have feelings for each other.

#todoroki fluff #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto x reader #bnha shoto #shoto x y/n #mha fanfiction #mha writing #mha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x gender neutral reader #bnha fluff #bnha fic #bnha x reader #todoroki shouto #bnha todoroki #shoto x you #mha x y/n #mha fluff #mha imagines #bnha imagines

[dontcallmecarrie]

Hey, I vicariously live in my imagination to escape from the reality.

So, I have been wondering about the Rogues reaction to Tony defeating thanos, the IronSmaug, taking over the world etc...

Have a go at it, if you are interested.

It's also fine if you dont.

thanks, I really, really needed the distraction. it's been. an interesting week. not in a good way.

.

tbh, the whole 'what does Team Cap think about this mess?' thing in TWiFFON is...something I had originally been torn about, and everything that's been happening ever since means I keep finding myself going "do I have the energy to tackle this? lol no".

For some context, because you probably know my stance on this sort of thing but I prefer redundancy just to make sure we're on the same page: once upon a time, I honestly, genuinely did like the Avengers. All of them, and yes, that included Wanda [...for less than an hour, but still].

Back when I still had faith in the writers, I was constantly going "...okay, so when are these guys going to stop acting so OOC? Where tf are they planning on taking these character arcs?" and just being disappointed at each turn— but I stuck around because I liked the potential. Steve "what do you mean punching fascists isn't cool anymore?" Rogers, Natasha "my past is a tire fire and I'll just leave it at that" Romanov, Clint "where's Loki? Let me at him!" Barton and the rest of the group had their good points, and I gave myself a headache trying to figure out wtf was their thought process when the time came for them to do their thing in TWiFFON.

It wasn't fun, I only did it because it was absolutely necessary... and I still ended up receiving complaints.

Look: for me, character bashing is exhausting. I have enough going down in my life that I don't have any interest in writing it, and over the past few years I've seen more than one of the fandoms I follow/lurk in become salt mines that have me going "...okay, if you hate it so much, why are you even here?"

When I write, I try my best to emphasize the 'actions have consequences' thing I learned long before I hit puberty; but that doesn't mean I'm up for anything beyond that. Again, I used to like these characters, so seeing the levels of suffering canon— and some writers— put them through just has me stepping back for a moment.

But TWiFFON attracted a lot of people who were pretty far out there in terms of what they wanted, some of whom got very very pissy when it wasn't the story I wanted to write, which is...probably like 99% of the reason I'm still burned out on that AU. Apart from the recent personal life bs that means I am Not Up To Dealing With any hypothetical rando that shows up in my inbox, because normally I could not care less about what people think but my energy levels are. Um. Not great atm. Not sure I wouldn't bite anyone's head off if they wanted to start something right now, tbh, or just ragequit writing for a while because I have way better things to do with my time than deal with random internet assholes.

...apologies for the tangent, but now you know why that situation is one I'm normally kinda reluctant on tackling.

As for what I'd originally headcanoned:

Back before things hit the fan, I'd originally planned to have some little interlude snippets of what Team Cap's been dealing with. Mostly, it would've forced them to acknowledge that for all none of them liked or trusted Tony, he was basically just the personification of what the rest of the world thought of them.

Nobody respects them, anymore, or trusts them; Clint'd be in very hot water and sleeping on the couch for a while, and Hank Pym would never let Scott hear the end of his involvement in this whole thing because Hank hates the Stark name and the English language cannot concisely articulate just how pissed off he was that he had to publicly thank Tony.

Team Cap overall would also start to fall apart at the seams as more and more stuff came out and ey, turns out the leader they'd trusted and broken international laws for had lied to them.

By omission, sure, but honestly— do you think that'd go down well? The "oh yeah, I've known my brainwashed friend killed his parents since DC but I am not going to tell him unless I'm forced to" thing?

I don't know about you, but I for one highly doubt Sam Wilson would be okay with that. Or Clint, for that matter, and the list goes on because the more time passes, the more stuff keeps coming out of the woodwork and for the first time in years, they're forced to deal with it.

One of the things I planned to include in the sidefic can basically be summed up as "the curious case of Bucky Barnes": that is to say, what'd happen after he's taken into custody, and poke lightly at the clusterfuck we're unpacking here. Tony, feeling bad for losing control in the bunker, would basically go "shit I fucked up but I also never want to see him again but he's an even bigger mess than I am, that's a whole lot to unpack so you know what? I'm just throwing out the suitcase entirely here, have all the resources for support and help and if I ever see you again, it'll be too soon".

...to sum up, it's messy af. SI Legal would feature heavily because his particular case means he needs a team of lawyers, what with the 'former POW who's trying to recover from All The Trauma' thing, and the 'so I literally was just trying to buy some damn groceries when you guys dragged me into this', and Tony basically went "hey, so if anyone wants to help him, uh, I kinda have some interest in this one. Fair warning, dude probably killed Kennedy while mind-controlled, with our luck".

And along the way, there'd also be some of that one subplot I'd cut due to pacing issues: specifically, the one dealing with prosthetics.

Remember how Miriam Sharpe said her son would never walk again? Yeah, we'd be revisiting that: her family'd get a letter or something inviting them for clinical trials, and meet Rhodey in passing as he's using his own leg braces to get around because he's still healing. Bucky would get a few design offers for a free replacement for his arm, and it'd probably end up being a collab with Wakanda because T'Challa feels bad for his role in that mess as well.

So Team Cap would be seeing this, seeing how everyone's acting and reacting, and the way one of their own is getting all the help and support Stark Industries has to offer and realizing that yeah, they messed up. Big time.

...depending on my salt levels and how close we're sticking to canon, I was thinking this'd go one of two ways.

Either they'd double down and just go "ugh, Tony is a supervillain and we can't do anything about it!" while TWiFFON marches on and then later go "...you mean he did it by accident?!", or...

Well, canon's proven character development and continuity isn't really in their writers' vocabulary. So my original idea of 'they're forced to deal with the reality of the situation, acknowledge they messed up and slowly move on with their lives' would've been very unrealistic.

Again, most of this is intentionally vague, I had not been keen to tackle that mess in TWiFFON in the first place and the way things exploded on me means I really, really don't have the energy to do so now. Not when there's far better things I could do with my time, like mess around with AUs where people actually get along, or knit, or— well, the list goes on.

#The War is Far From Over Now #From the Other Side [A Terror To Behold] #thinking aloud #I got an ask! #Naught replies #replies #behind the scenes

[iamnotawomanimagod]

If I Can’t Have Love, I Want Power - A Reluctant Ranking of Every Track

Disclaimer: This entire album is incredible, truly no skips, and I also think it’s an album that is hard to separate into individual tracks, because it all goes so well together. But I still wanted to try! This is just my personal opinion, and it’s subject to change. (Also I surprised myself. And I bet I’ll change my mind by tonight.)

Please feel free to do your own and tag me in it!! I wanna see!!

13. Girl is a Gun

It’s not that I dislike this song, it’s just a sound that I didn’t expect on this album. I think it would’ve fit in better on Manic. I don’t love how it kind of just repeats over and over again, especially on an album so full of complex, intricate lyrics. But it’s a really upbeat, sexy song and I bet it’s going to be so fun live.

Favorite lyric: 

Time is a blessin', to me, it's a lesson And I can't be stressin' to give you attention 'Cause, oh, it's never enough, so I'm givin' you up And you'll be better with a nice girl, darlin'

12. Lilith

Similar to “Girl is a Gun,” I simply wasn’t expecting this kind of sound on this album - could’ve seen it on Hopeless Fountain Kingdom though! The bass is amazing and I love the rhythm.

Favorite lyric:

You know I get too caught up in a moment I can't call it love if I show it I just fuck things up, if you noticed Have you noticed? Tell me have you noticed?

11. Darling

This song is so sweet and charming, especially if you compare it to “More,” which I think it acts as a sort of sequel to. Something about the melody hits me just a little wrong. When they start singing, I can’t help but hear the verses of “Hopeless.” That might’ve been intentional, but I can’t get past it to hear this song as its own thing.

Favorite lyric:

Never knew the feeling of a stable home Been a couple years of living on the road Couldn't really tell you where they'd leave a stone To visit me when I am dead and gone

10. The Tradition

I love the haunting piano and vocals. It feels like a song that was written for the film specifically. (Was it even in the film, lol?) I really love the sound of it, but the lyrics don’t do very much for me.

Favorite lyric:

And I hope what's left will last all summer long And they said that, "Boys were boys", but they were wrong

9. The Lighthouse

This song reminds me the most of a Nine Inch Nails song - fitting that Trent Reznor provides backing vocals on the final verse. I love the grimy guitars, and and discordant beat, and the way it builds up. The melody is cool and liquid. The final verse really feels like waves crashing. It’s a well-written song that really shows off Halsey’s alternative side.

Favorite lyric:

Well, that should teach a man to mess with me He was never seen again And I'm still wandering the beach And I'm glad I met the devil 'Cause he showed me I was weak And a little piece of him is in a little piece of me

8.  Ya’aburnee

This song makes me really emotional. It makes me think of all the people I love the most and it makes me want to cherish my time with them even more. That’s an incredible feeling for an artist to create. It’s such a bittersweet song. I wanna cry but it also makes me smile.

Favorite lyric:

But what's worse? Telling you my feelings or to die without revealing That you crawled inside my head and set a fire there, instead Letting all my insecurity Devour me with certainty

7. honey

If you’ve ever felt this way for someone, this song stings in the best way possible. I love the rhythm and the drums and the guitars - this is peak pop punk and Halsey fits right in. I love the honey imagery, especially that she included some imagery about bees and the way honey clings.

Favorite lyric:

And now she's impatient and I'm complacent With just a little taste of wasting time Looking for honey But she stings like she means it She's mean and she's mine

6. 1121

Now this is the sound I expected from this album. Cinematic, dark, dramatic. The piano is so haunting and so beautiful. It evokes so much imagery through sound alone, even with the lyrics being relatively simple. And their voice is so incredible. The song overall reminds me a lot of Evanescence, which is high praise. And I really appreciate the “self-loathing in love” theme, I can relate to it a lot. I’ve already been singing the chorus at the top of my lungs whenever I play this song.

Favorite lyric:

Take one in the temple My tongue is a vessel I try to be careful with The thing inside my chest You shoot for the memory So you can forget me I'd leave if you let me, oh

5. Bells in Santa Fe

Ever since we heard a snippet of this song in the first film trailer, I’ve been desperate to hear the rest of it. It didn’t disappoint. I love her lower register vocals, the tinkling piano and the frantic rhythm. And I relate too much to the message of the song - loving someone so much but refusing to accept that they want forever with you, insisting that they’re better off without you, warning them that you could slip away at any moment. It hits me where I live.

Favorite lyric:

Jesus needed a three day weekend To sort out all his bullshit, figure out the treason I've been searching for a fortified defense Four to five reasons But, Jesus, you've got better lips than Judas I could keep your bed warm, otherwise I'm useless I don't really mean it, 'cause who the fuck would choose this?

4. I am not a woman, I’m a god

This song fucks. Claiming their power to create life - recognizing that as godly and divine, while also insisting this is not a power that makes them a woman. I can’t wait for it to become a smash hit and for people to be singing about a nonbinary/trans experience without even knowing it. I honestly have trouble even articulating why this song is so awesome, it just is. I’m pumped every time I hear it.

Favorite lyric:

Oh, I just wanna feel something, tell me where to go 'Cause everybody knows something I don't wanna know So I'll stay right here cause I'm better all alone Yeah, I'm better all alone

3. You asked for this

I really like the 90s alternative sound of this one, it reminds me of Alanis Morrissette and certain No Doubt songs. I think it’s a very realistic depiction of how settling down in life can be very bittersweet, and the things that we ask for are sometimes not what they seem to be. But we also come to realize that settling is a part of growing up. Still, Halsey sings about wanting everything, knowing there are contradictions in that. The chorus is fun and easy to sing to, and the final verse is so amazing.

Favorite lyric:

I want a beautiful boy's despondent laughter I want to ruin all my plans I want a fist around my throat I want to cry so hard I choke I want everything I asked for

2. Whispers

This one hits hard, but god, it’s so good. The way they whisper certain phrases. The simple piano under the first verse, the way it becomes more complex, the way the beat comes in. You want to dance and cry at the same time. The lyrics - I know so many of us can relate to them. The themes of self-sabotage and self-loathing are so strong in this album, which definitely hits me right in the chest.

Favorite lyric:

I've got a monster inside me That eats personality types She is constantly changing her mind on the daily Think that she hates me I'm feeling it lately Might have to trick her and treat her To 70 capsules or fly to a castle So at least we could say that we died being traveled

1. Easier than Lying

I’ve had this one on repeat since the album came out, and that surprised me at first, but god, this song is addictive. The crunchy guitar at the beginning, the driving rhythm, the way her voice contrasts with that. The scream-singing on the chorus. It’s the kind of song you want to drive way too fast to. The bridge!! Aaah! It’s just so badass and listening to it now gets me too hyped!! Also the way it can kind of be seen as a sequel to “Lie,” - the growth of going “if you don’t love me no more, then lie” to “losing you is easier than lying to myself” is so meaningful and so empowering.

My heart is massive but it's empty A permanent part of me, that innocent artery Is gasping for some real attention Some undivided hypertension I tell it "quiet down, you're being loud" But it beats harder every time you come around But do you love the sound?

I’m gonna tag some mutuals, just to share, and also to see if anyone else wants to do this! Also you don’t need to go as in-depth as I did if that’s intimidating or too much, I’m just wordy.

@demonzplay @easiersthanlying @ttpane @yoursalwaysleo @anarkyandmadness @feelingsiwontforget @tolerateit @tommyhardyx @elysiems @imacreepygirl @finallybeautifulstranger @inthenameofloveforthesakeofpower and I know I’m forgetting some folks, I’m sorry! Please feel free to steal this and also tag me in yours!

#stephspeaks #halsey #iichliwp #if i can't have love i want power #suicide tw #for some of the lyrics

[shesawriter39049]

|FEVER| M|

Pairing: Namjoon X Reader

About- Namjoon just has a kink for letting you do whatever the hell you want with him...Whether that be putting him in a hot pink suit shirtless! Or, telling him he’s a good boy as he fucks you into oblivion!

OR- Namjoon and yourself hooked up 5 months ago when the boys were in London on Tour, and you were the creative director for there British GQ & Harper’s Bazzar Cover! Now, months later he’s prepping to release his second mixtape “RM vs Rap Monster”. Opting to go a complete 360 from his first release Mono in all realms. So, with that being said BigHit thinks he needs someone with a little more... “umph” Take a wild guess as to who they call...

WC:1.2k (Sneak peek)

WARNINGS: Switch OC (Top & Bottom...but there's no real dom/sub tones here) Service top/power bottom Namjoon, praise kink, Fingering, Unprotected sex(Back shot), come play, dirty talk, light choking, light overstimulation, (This is lowkey a little softer than it sounds) The OC kinda leads this, but Joon isin’t the cliché “sub” he just likes letting her take control.

NOTE- Just my take on the OG cliché Artist X Stylist AU (Though she’s more of a full package, Art Director/Stylist/Photographer ETC) I have tried to add some minor elements to make it a little more realistic. I will say I typically stray from “Idol-verse” just because if we’re being real, the cultural difference alone sometimes stunts my creativity...BUT I just had a little fun with this one...so I hope you all enjoy it. Also, I don’t go into much physical details but in my mind regardless of race, aesthetic wise the OC is a huge contrast to what he’s use to which is part of her appeal. I picture a tatted Barbie of some sorts...

SIDE NOTE: No shade, but shade, I was lowkey inspired to write this bc I have very strong opinions about the creative team at BH....

*** Let me know if you guys want the full thing or not...I kidna flaked on posting because it is such a cliché lol

SONG- FEVER DUA LIPA  FT ANGELE

~~~~~~~

“Well, it’s a yes for me” Eyeing him in this Hot pink-fitted Burliti suit, which you paired with a very sheer black Arnar Mar turtle neck. The minute you saw the piece on the runway you’d been dying to get it on someone with melanated skin, and it just so happens, the boys are fresh off the US leg of their stadium tour! So, lucky for you, baby boy’s been in the sun a lot, and Namjoon’s currently a sinful shade of brown and you're totally here for it…

Then to top it off, the mesh material of the turtle neck creates the perfect silhouette around his offensively toned chest, outlining the muscles sinfully. Eternally snorting at the way the fans are gonna thank and curse you out all at the same damn time once they see the looks you’ve pulled for this man!

And yes, you had your crew bring extended shades of foundation and concealer, because his face and neck will match if your name is going to be attached to these damn photos! 

Head tilted to the side as you silently observe the way he rakes over his reflection in the mirror, it’s a sixth sense you’ve acquired as a stylist at this point. Half of your job is essentially being a hype man/self love coach, real shit, a lot of these artist aren't always as...confident as one may think!

And just like clockwork Namjoon runs his palm down his thighs, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles on his pants for the umpteenth time in the span of oh I don’t know 30 seconds? Which in turn prompts you to say….

“You look good Joonie...” Musing over your second glass of Don, the compliment was genuine, tone warm, soothing even, not a hint flirtation insight because that wasn’t your motive. You weren’t trying to get him flustered you’re just trying to gas him up a little, you wanted to see Namjoon get alittle cocky and feel himself!

Ears perking up like an overgrown puppy, head whipping in your direction “Yeah?” The way this man’s eyes just lit up like the soul skyline. I just-goddamn, an almost bashful smile toys on those plush lips of his, and you can’t help the way your chest flutters with nothing but fondness.

“So fuckin cute” Flutters off your lips, as you hide a smile of your own behind a half empty whine glass. The delivery was so faint it almost go lost in the background music floating through the air. However the slight flush hitting his cheeks let you know Namjoon heard you whether he wanted to admit it or not!

”Mmmhmm, the color looks fuckin insane against your skin, not to mention, the way everything's going to pop once we tone your hair a little! “ Eyes drinking him in from head to toe, though there was nothing suggestive playing within your iris. Very much aware of time and place and right now your genuinely looking respectfully! Seeing if any alterations are needed, making sure you like where everything sits along his frame. Making notes in your phone of places you want to pin and adjust later...snapping a couple shots here and there. 

Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the lapels on the blazer “But like-I mean-I- dont’-It doesn’t look like I’m... trying too hard or anything?” Brows furrowed in the center of his face, jaw tight, wincing slightly at his own words, almost as if he was afraid of your response. The vulnerability within his delivery was more than evident, and no matter how common this is with artist, it’s still just as devastating! Regardless of how much he tried to play it off as if he was just making casual conversation, you can see how blatantly uncomfortable he is . Gazing back at you wide eyed, and uncannily exposed, pointing at the outfit in question. Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the the blazer, switching posses subtlety trying to get a better feel for the suit.  

You stayed silent for a minute, taking the time to actually process before speaking which is rare, not gonna lie. Gaze piercing as you hop off the bed, wine, and accessories in hand, swaying closer. “It’s fashion”. The baited pause almost implied that’s all you had to say, as if one-word was self-sufficient, and in your mind it was...but you knew better than to just leave it at that.

“Art at its finest Mr. Kim” You smile something a little devious, and he flushes even deeper as you slowly start to invade his space eyes locked with him meaningfully. You can physically see the shift, the closer you get, Namjoon starts fidgeting slightly under your gaze but he doesn't back down.

“It gives you room to play, create...it’s something that let’s us connect to people without saying a damn thing.” Suddenly the hand that wasn’t holding your alcohol has become a prop, flailing around haphazardly as you spoke, pointing at the various pieces hanging on clothes racks in your suite! The penthouse has essentially been transformed into your own personal walk in closet for the next 5 or so days! “It’s a statement. A opportunity to tap into a side of yourself that maybe you can’t always verbally articulate to the world around you! More importantly, it’s supposed to be fun, it’s literally something that can be removed within seconds! I mean we all have to wear clothes so why not just enjoy it?”  Head cocked to the side as you appraise him, brow quirked, eyes warm, yet there's a clear challenge playing within your gaze.

Namjoon’s watching you intently, almost as if he’s taking mental notes as you speak...the heaviness within those dangerously honed eyes of his could almost be unsettling to some, but you quite like it. Made you feel as though he actually gives a flying fuck about what you’re saying.

“In my opinion the only time it looks like someone’s “Trying too hard” Making little air bunnies with your spare hand “Is if they look uncomfortable in what they’re wearing, confidence is key, and I know you know that better than anyone RM!” You muse batting your lashes in Namjoon’s direction, and he dimples back at you, eyes sinking into tiny crescents, face rivaling the color of his suit, trying to hide said smile behind his own glass of champagne.  

“I could put you in a damn clown suit...” Words trailing off your tongue lackadaisically as you grow distracted searching the bar for a specific chain from John Hardy. “Which” Focus snapping back in his direction making the later splutter a little “Would be fire as fuck if I did by the way, but-”  Namjoon ended up cackling midsentence, almost choking on his drink in the process, fist pounding against his sternum.

Yeah..killing the leader of Bangtan wasn’t really high on your list tonight....

“Ayee, none of that shit...” Smacking him in the back a little more so just to be an ass because he wasn’t even choking anymore “Don’t die on me until we at least get this damn photoshoot done, I had to cancel my trip to Jamaica for this shit!”

Now he’s damn near choking and his laugh was contagious, it’s just.. loud, carefree so yes, your cackling, and there's nothing cute about it. But you honestly don’t care, you let yourself get lost in it! Finally able to feel the atmosphere in the room start to shift to something a little less scripted and a little more organic...

Throwing his hands in the air as If he’s waving a nonexistent white flag “I’m sorry, noona” There’s a pout playing in his lips, not exactly aegyo per say, but it’s fuckin adorable “Blame PD-nim, it’s his fault we had to do this so last minute” Wheezes from his throat, in the form of a slight whine, almost rivaling Jimin if I’m honest.

You already know he was laughing more so due to your delivery, specifically, your casual use of profanity over anything else. This is actually something you use to be self-conscious about, especially at your first shoot with the boys, at the shoot for GQ . Well aware it wasn’t as common in Asia for people especially women to use “fuck” like a comma. So you were hoping they wouldn’t be offended, or uncomfortable by your dialect, and, thankfully they didn’t seem to mind. Much like Joonie over here, they found it entertaining over anything.

“Yeah, a huh, sureee...” Eyes rolling to the back of your head playfully as you start lightly altering the suit in question with clips and pens. “Stay still babe” The pet name slipped off your tongue effortlessly, honestly, that's what you call most people in your life. However you were far too focused to notice how wide eyed and flustered the man before you became upon hearing it directed at him so casually.

A faint little “Sorry” muses off his lips as he gnaws on his inner cheek, trying to stay still as you ghetto-rig hems into place until you can get this under your sewing needle.

“ No, but real shit…” You sigh, taking on a slightly more serious tone “If you step in front of that camera like you own the bitch, regardless of what your wearing..., then they can’t tell you shit! If your comfortable there’s no such thing as trying too hard” You shrug nonchalantly like that was the simplest concept known to man, downing the rest of your drink “Alright, that’s all, thanks for coming to my Ted talk” Waving him off as if you’re about to leave the room and he pouted playfully, jokingly begging you not to leave him yet...it felt good to be able to banter like this. The shift continuous shift within the atmosphere was more than welcomed…

Hesitantly you watch his eyes find their way back to the full length mirror, which promptly smacks you back to reality!

Unfortunately you didn't fly all the way to Seoul just to drink,  and shoot shit with Namjoon for hours on end,  your actually here to work…

Sooo...

“Alright” Placing your arms on his shoulders, giving him a reassuring squeeze as you peer over his shoulder. Meeting his gaze through the glass, chin resting gently against the blade. “Back to the reason you came Mr. “I’m sooo anxiously” Shooting him a teasing little smirk in the process “The suit, yay or nay”

So, here’s the thing technically the official fitting is tomorrow, and as far as his team knows he’s in the studio with Yoongi and Hoseok finishing up a song!

Which of course raises the question as to why he’s here..alone..mind you..no staff or security in site.

Just Kim Namjoon and yourself.....

~~~~

Heyyyy, Lemme know if you guys want this or not, it will leave kinda open ended because it was supposed to kinda be a 3 part mini series initially. Part 1 ends the morning of the shoot, the full thing is set to be around 6/7k! Spoiler, the company is going to want to keep her around for more than just Namjoon’s solo project....

Also, YES...I did see that they actually put Tae in that Burliti suit (I wrote this long before that shoot was released)...I actually hated the way it was styled it though...I never thought I’d say this but MGK’s team did a better job than BH....

#Namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon x you #kim namjoon #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon smut #bts #bts smut #bts au #kpop #kpop smut #kim namjoon x you

[secretshinigami]

All Noble Things

Author: @kiranatrix For: @resilicns Pairings/Characters: Near and Gevanni Rating/Warnings: Gen, no warnings Prompt: Near reflecting on his relationship with Wammy’s and L’s reputation Author’s notes: In How to Read, it says that Gevanni’s hobby is building ships in a bottle. So I imagined a scene where Near is observing Gevanni, now in the role of Watari, building a special ship. The time period is flexible but I imagined it after the C-Kira case and before the case with Minoru. This is a loose interpretation of your prompt but I hope you enjoy it!

—

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, Gevanni.” Near didn’t look up as he carefully laid out another domino on the floor, perfectly spaced from its neighbor and approximately two centimeters from chaos. Pinched fingers pulled back carefully and twisted around a strand of white hair. “Two things, really.”

Gevanni looked up from his workbench as the long but comfortable silence between them was broken. Since Roger had died and he’d taken on the role of Watari, he was usually the question-asker. Would you like lunch now? Have you heard back about this or that piece of evidence? Did you have another nightmare last night? 

He’d gotten used to it, to Near. To being the bedrock that an island could rest upon. “Two questions?”

No, he was more of a species imported to Near’s world and being gradually altered by the isolation, evolving to fill his niche. But he had no complaints–it was a quiet, stable life and Near paid him well. He didn’t mind the solitude. “You’re exceeding your daily allotment. I’ll have to demand a raise if this keeps up.”

“I believe I gave you a raise just three months ago. If these demands keep up, I’ll have to find another Watari.” Near deadpanned it but his eyes flicked up briefly, and Rester knew he was joking. Another domino clinked against the terrazzo floors, this one with hand-carved scrimshaw detailing a breaching whale.

Gevanni snorted and turned back to the ship in a bottle he was working on. “Good luck finding someone else to source those pajamas with the specific blend of Pima cotton you prefer. I’ve kept that a secret. Iron-clad job security.” He grinned as he carefully reached a long wire into the bottle to pat down blue and white putty mimicking ocean waves. “So, what’s question number one?”

“Can you tie back my hair? It keeps getting in the way.” Near flicked a long strand over his shoulder but it fell again, dangling dangerously close to his creation. “Mind the–”

“Dominos? Yeah, I’m practically a ninja at this point.” Gevanni pushed his loupe glasses to the top of his head before carefully making his way over spiraling lines of set-up dominos to Near at the center. He knelt and pulled a hair-tie from his pocket, holding it between his teeth as he gathered up all the silvery strands. “Holf spill,” he murmured around the band. Near was stone-still as he made a quick and slightly messy ponytail, leaving some loose hair around the face for twirling. “Better?”

“Much. Thank you.” Near very briefly made eye contact as Gevanni went back to his workbench before looking back to his pile of dominos. He sorted through them for another scrimshaw piece. Gevanni had made a special set for him on his last birthday but he always saved them for the end. 

“Mmhm.” Gevanni slid back into his chair and picked up the little ship, a model of a 19th-century whaler. “So what was the second question?” 

“I was curious what you were working on.” Near let a domino tumble across his knuckles, back and forth, back and forth. “You’ve never spent that much time on just one ship before.” He caught the domino with his thumb and placed it next in line. 

“Oh, so you noticed?” Gevanni held up the little whaler on his palm, clearly proud of the highly detailed craftsmanship. All the masts were down and tied with an array of strings that could be pulled up once it was in the bottle to raise them. “I guess this one’s special since it doesn’t really exist. Thought I’d challenge myself. It’s…well, it’s how I imagine the Pequod to look, the whaling ship in–“

“Moby Dick?” Near stared at the miniature vessel, head slightly cocked as he smoothed a loose strand of hair. “The ship Captain Ahab used to chase his white whale.”

Gevanni smiled. “That’s right. It’s one of my favorite books. Have you read it?” 

“Years ago. I remember not liking it very much. The whale killed him in the end.” Near placed the last couple of dominos and let out a long sigh. The moments before flicking the first piece were the ones he both cherished and dreaded. The satisfaction of creation could be drawn out like a  monotone note, but when it was finished, the spectacular destruction was often over too soon. So, he hesitated and stood up instead, padding to Gevanni’s workbench to watch more creation. 

“I bet you’d like the book more these days. Single-minded obsession to defeat a power past human control? Throwing all caution and sense of self-preservation to the wind? The thrill of the chase?” Gevanni arched a brow. “Can’t tell me that doesn’t sound familiar.”

Near frowned slightly and hunched in on himself. “I suppose you mean L. Or do you characterize me as so foolish?”

“You’re L now.” Gevanni disliked that he had to remind Near of that even now, years after the first L had died. “But yes, it reminds me of what Matsuda told us about your predecessor’s obsession with Kira. I never met the first L, but maybe I can understand him, in a way.” He quoted Melville, "All my means are sane, my motive and my object mad.’ You’re L but you’re not him, and I’m glad for it.”

Near wasn’t sure if he was glad for it or not. So many times over the years he’d compared himself to that avatar and wondered if he could measure up. Drily, “I guess that makes me Ishmael." 

"You survived, didn’t you? Lived to tell the tale and learn what he couldn’t." 

Gevanni turned back to the little ship, carefully threading another string through the rear-most mast. He worked quietly for a while, cognizant of Near’s focused attention and feeling sorry for bringing up the Kira case. It wasn’t often that Near took such an interest in his own projects, or perhaps the man was merely thinking about what he’d said. “Sit down, if you want to. I’m about to get to the exciting part.”

Near pulled a chair closer and slinked into it, one leg pulled tight to his chest and the other dangling off the end. “Which is the exciting part? Stuffing it into the bottle?”

“That’s part of it. The thrilling part for me is raising the masts and sails inside the bottle.” Gevanni pointed to the flat masts and the multiple lines of string leading from them. “If anything goes wrong or a string gets tangled…or some bit of glue doesn’t hold, well–”

“You’re screwed.” Near smiled faintly and rested his chin on his knee. “Hours of planning for one moment of glory. Or disaster.” It also sounded familiar, so familiar.

“Exactly.” Gevanni chuckled and looked over at Near, pleased to see that small, rare smile. That in itself was the product of so much patience, of hours spent in understanding and the slow building of confidence and trust. “Once I get the ship in, would you like to raise the sails?”

Near’s eyes widened and he rocked slightly in the chair. That was Gevanni’s moment of glory and he deserved it after so much time and hard work. The inlaid wood, the meticulous paint, the delicately carved and articulated ship’s wheel capped in brass. The hand-sewn sails and gold script that read Pequod on the ship’s side. Each detail was evidence that someone else had built this and he would only be stealing the best part, swooping in for the end of the trick.

“You built it so you should do it.” It didn’t help that he was worried about making a mistake and ruining it at the last moment. How would it even fit? Despite the masts lying flat, it seemed impossible that the ship would make it inside the bottle. “I don’t know how.”

Gevanni sensed Near’s hesitation and uncertainty, recognizing the subtle tics of anxiety. “I can show you. You’re great at stuff like this.” He motioned to the vast lines and towers of dominos filling the room. “Plus, I trust you.” 

When Near didn’t answer, he turned back to the ship, placing a small line of glue at the bottom and oh-so-carefully maneuvering it into the narrow mouth of the glass bottle and onto the ‘waves’ of translucent blue putty. It was a very tight fit and when it stuck down in the right position, he let out a sigh of relief.

“Not bad, huh?” The strings dangled from the bottle’s mouth as he held it up to show Near. “Offer still stands.”

Near wanted to do it, to try. Honestly, he wanted to ask Gevanni to show him how to build one of his own, how to trump the rigid enclosure and build something impossible inside. To raise it up not by magic but by human ingenuity and patience. A creation not to destroy but to keep.

“Alright.” His fingers moved from his hair to tentatively touch the white strings hanging from the bottle’s mouth. “All of them?”

“Just these.” Gevanni pointed out several lines connected to the three masts. “Don’t yank, just pull slowly until you feel resistance and I’ll tape them up.”

“If it works.”

Gevanni laughed quietly. “It’ll work. Stop stalling.”

Near mumbled, “I’m not stalling,” but stalled a moment more before gently tugging the strings. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat when all three masts raised in unison, perfectly aligned and straight. He smiled as Gevanni secured the strings, then slid off the chair to gaze at the bottle from the side. This floating world, this impossible thing that’s bottled the sea. “I can see why you like these so much.” 

“It passes the time.” Gevanni felt warm inside since it was rare that they connected like this, despite all the time spent in each other’s company. He glued the strings to the ship with a long wire and then cut them, leaving no trace of how it had really been made. Setting it on the bench to dry, he said, “Would you like to have it? I have about a dozen. I mean, if you want it.”

“As a warning against white whales?” Near smirked and climbed back into the chair. He fingered the hem of his specially-ordered Pima cotton pajamas, the exact blend he preferred. “Or for the memory of Ahab?”

“Neither? Or…maybe both.” Gevanni knew that so much had changed for Near when Kira died. Monster or not, that moment of destruction had ultimately felt unsatisfying. He knew Near struggled with assuming the name and reputation of L, a legacy that had become so confused in the mind of a world that would never know two L’s had died and a third now had to make peace with that. It was easier to bottle ships than emotions.

Mildly, “Or maybe just because it’s something we built together.” It was odd, but somehow it would mean a lot to him for Near to have it. “How about it?” 

Near found a loose string at the hem of his pants and yanked it, snapping the thread. He got up and crouched beside the winding, spiraling rows of dominos and pressed a slender finger against the first one. That catalyst set off the reaction, the staccato clack clack clack! that echoed in the high-ceilinged room. It was over in seconds and silence crept in again. 

“I’d like that.”

-End-

[The title comes from a quote in Moby Dick: "A noble craft, but somehow a most melancholy. All noble things are touched with that.” It reminded me of  Gevanni’s rather solitary hobby as well as the occupation of solving cases as L.]

#fanfiction #death note #submission #near #gevanni #ratings: general #kiranatrix #resilicns #Near's Bday Finale 2k21

[kjack89]

An Agreement Between Gentlemen (Chapter 3/?)

Continuation of the E/R Bridgerton AU that’s honestly more aptly described as a regency-ish era fake marriage fic. Because ~shenanigans~ (Chapter 1 tumblr | AO3, chapter 2 tumblr | AO3)

It appears to this Author that the most discussed couple of this season will end up not being a couple at all. And no, this refers not to Baron Pontmercy and his latest object of obsession, a handkerchief that he claims belongs to the woman he met at the Thenardier’s ball, though it is perhaps as unlikely a pairing.

The Marquess of Enjolras and Mr. Grantaire have continued spending an inordinate amount of time in each other’s company, and no one, it would seem, is as surprised as their mutual friends and acquaintances. Mr. Combeferre was overheard in discussion with the Earl of Courfeyrac on more than one occasion lamenting the unlikely union. He seems to be skeptical on the nature of this deepening friendship, a skepticism one can only assume he shares with the other important people in the marquess’s life.

Namely, his mother, who has been keeping a low profile after their shouting match was recorded in this paper. Alas, her efforts will almost certainly be in vain if her son continues cavorting with the most unlikely of allies. And it appears he shall, as he is apparently set to accompany Mr. Grantaire on a visit to his country estate this week.

One can certainly speak of the restorative benefits of country air and time spent away from the city and the season. But proceed with caution, Lord Enjolras – scandal is not confined by geography. 

Nor, for that matter, is this Author. LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 2 MAY 1831

“I still cannot believe that I agreed to this,” Enjolras grumbled as he followed Grantaire into the carriage set to take them out to the country to visit Grantaire’s home.

“Honestly?” Grantaire said cheerfully, settling in the far corner of the carriage and stretching out luxuriously across the bench. “I am as well. I half-expected you not to show up this morning.”

Enjolras scowled slightly as he sat down across from him. “When I make a promise, I usually see it through,” he said stiffly.

Grantaire just laughed. “Leave it to you to take it as an impingement on your honor to suggest that you might have had misgivings about this particularly harebrained idea. And before you somehow take umbrage on my own behalf, surely if anyone is allowed to call this endeavor harebrained, it is myself.”

“Then am I allowed to take umbrage at the idea that you cannot even bring yourself to believe in your own schemes?” Enjolras snapped.

The carriage jolted suddenly as the driver spurred the horses into motion, and Enjolras pitched forward, reaching out to brace himself against the far wall of the carriage. Instead, his hands landed squarely on Grantaire’s chest. “Careful,” Grantaire said, his voice pitched low, and Enjolras flushed as he struggled to right himself.

“It seems this venture may very well be cursed,” he managed when he was finally settled back in his own seat, still flushed and avoiding Grantaire’s eyes. “Or at the very least, off to the most inauspicious start in most of human history.”

Grantaire shrugged, glancing out the window of the carriage. “I don’t know about that,” he said. “It’s not every day one finds oneself in a compromising position with a marquess, after all.” He smirked at Enjolras. “Pity one of us isn’t the proper sex, or this entire thing would be settled already.” 

“Be serious,” Enjolras snapped, but Grantaire ignored him.

“I mean, caught in a scandalous embrace with a marquess, unchaperoned in the back of a carriage…it would be the scandal of the season, if not the decade.”

Grantaire sounded strangely wistful, and Enjolras gave him a look. “Forgive me,” he said curtly, “but I have the mental capacity for only one fictional scandal at a time, and I believe what we’re planning with your deceased sister takes precedence.”

His tone brooked no argument, not that this had ever once stopped Grantaire, but for once, Grantaire let the topic drop. “Very well,” he said instead, settling back into his corner and rapping his knuckles in a staccato rhythm against the side of the carriage. “But it is a long trip, and if I don’t have fantasy to entertain myself with, you’ll need to provide a more suitable topic.”

Enjolras blinked. “I assumed you would spend the trip sketching or painting or something,” he said, a little awkwardly.

“In a moving carriage?” Grantaire asked, a little incredulous, and as if to prove his point, the carriage swayed dangerously before righting itself.

Enjolras shrugged, feeling himself blush again. “You just seem to have the ability to sketch through anything,” he muttered. “Namely my every speech.” 

Grantaire smirked. “Can you blame me?”

“For not paying attention to a word I’m saying?”

“Now, that’s not entirely fair,” Grantaire said mildly. “I almost certainly catch about every fourth or fifth word.”

“Perhaps that’s the reason you can’t find it in yourself to believe in anything,” Enjolras said sourly.

Grantaire just laughed. “Perhaps,” he agreed with a lazy smirk.

Enjolras rolled his eyes and glanced out the window, dismayed to see that they had not even left the city yet. “Fine,” he said abruptly. “Then tell me about your sister.”

To his surprise, Grantaire’s smile disappeared and his shook his head. “No,” he said. “While I certainly cannot blame you for curiosity about your bride to be, now is not the time to speak of her.”

Enjolras looked closely at him. “You must have loved her very much,” he said quietly.

Grantaire shrugged again, looking uncomfortable. “She was my best – and for longer than I care to think about my only – friend. And that is all that I will say on the topic.”

He said it quite firmly and Enjolras inclined his head. “Very well,” he said. “Your father, then – if Lady Whistledown is to be believed, he is out of the country, correct?”

Grantaire had made a face as soon as Enjolras mentioned his father, and he shook his head. “Must we ruin this sojourn with talk of my father?” he asked plaintively. “Certainly you would not wish to speak of your mother, would you?”

Enjolras scowled. “Indeed I would not,” he said. “But need I remind you before you bring my mother into this, it was you who demanded conversation, so forgive me for trying to start one.”

Grantaire sighed, and to Enjolras’s continued surprise, actually managed an expression that at least resembled genuine contrition. “No, it is I who must ask your forgiveness,” he said. “I am not used to speaking of my family.” He managed a wan smile. “One of the benefits of not being noble – no one much cares to whom I am related.”

“They’ll certainly care a bit more after this,” Enjolras murmured.

“Well, you’re probably not wrong there,” Grantaire said with a snort. “But that is a problem for the future, so do not think you will somehow use my hesitation to get out of this arrangement.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good,” Grantaire said, hesitating before adding, “But I apologize for stymying your attempts at conversation, so to make up for it, a promise: ask me any question, and I swear I will answer it.”

“Anything?”

“On my honor,” Grantaire said solemnly with a nod.

Enjolras considered it for a moment. “Fine,” he said. “Then answer this: why are you doing this?”

“Anything but that.”

Enjolras frowned. “Grantaire—”

“Anything but that,” Grantaire repeated, his expression and tone both as serious as Enjolras had ever witnessed. He paused and seemed to force his expression into something more approximating his normal jovial appearance. “Come now, you out of everyone should know that my honor is worth very little.”

“To you, perhaps,” Enjolras muttered. “Very well, then…” He trailed off, casting around for a somewhat neutral topic. “Tell me about your home, I suppose. After all, I should know something about where we are traveling, and besides, it’s not every day that I get to visit a new money estate.”

He said the last words teasingly, and it had his desired effect: Grantaire half-smiled and shook his head. “I always knew you were a secret snob, looking down your nose on the landed gentry,” he said, equally teasing, and Enjolras relaxed, glad for reasons he could not quite articulate that they were back on their usual footing. “But there’s not much to tell. It’s a nice enough manor, just outside a small village. My sister and I were discouraged from going to the village much as children, so I doubt any there would even remember us, which works to our advantage, of course. But there was a wood on the other side of the house, and that’s where she and I spent most of our time…”

His words washed over Enjolras like a warm blanket. Despite usually being the one giving long speeches, Enjolras was quite surprised to find that for once, he was content just to sit back and listen as the carriage ride continued, bearing them both towards the house that Grantaire was describing with considerable enthusiasm.

So vividly did he describe it that Enjolras knew without Grantaire saying anything when they approached, the winding stone drive just as he had described it. But Grantaire had perhaps undersold the manor itself, which was massive, towering over them as they disembarked from the carriage. 

“Impressed?” Grantaire asked, with a sort of put-upon boredom, shooing the driver away and offering Enjolras his hand instead to help him down.

Enjolras just made a small, neutral noise. “As my mother would say, you have done well for yourself.”

Grantaire barked a laugh. “High words, coming from her,” he said with a grin. “Though don’t think that I’m so new of money that I didn’t recognize the veiled insult in there.”

Enjolras laughed lightly. “Like I said, it’s what my mother would say,” he reminded him. “As for myself, it looks as noble a house as most I have seen in my life.”

“A mighty compliment,” Grantaire said, making a mocking leg. “Now please, my lord, let me offer the finest hospitality in at least the surrounding several acres.”

Together, they crossed to the door, where a man and a woman waited for them. Grantaire greeted both as if they were family, kissing the woman on the cheek and shaking the man’s hand. “My lord, if I may present my butler, Le Cabuc, and my housekeeper, Madame Hucheloup.”

Madame Hucheloup bobbed an awkward curtsy, her eyes wide. “Lord Marquess,” she said, and Enjolras couldn’t find it in himself to correct her on the title.

Le Cabuc gave him a stiff nod, clearly not as impressed as the housekeeper. “My lord,” he said. “You must forgive us, we are not used to entertaining gentlemen of your standing.”

“I am certain whatever arrangements you have made will more than suffice,” Enjolras assured him with a tight smile.

“In more ways that one,” Grantaire murmured in an undertone. “I have already filled Le Cabuc in on our plan, and intend on letting Madame Hucheloup know this evening.” He nudged Enjolras in the ribs, smirking again. “She shall likely stand in for my sister during the fake wedding.”

Enjolras frowned. “I didn’t realize there was going to be an actual wedding,” he hissed, following Grantaire inside. “Surely the town vicar will realize that Madame Hucheloup is not your sister!”

“The town vicar drinks more wine and whiskey than I do,” Grantaire informed him. “He will not recognize anyone, I promise you that. And we need this to look real, do we not?”

“I suppose,” Enjolras said reluctantly.

Grantaire clapped him on the shoulder in what he clearly thought was a bracing kind of way. “Chin up,” he said. “It will all be over soon enough. In the meantime, I am certain that Madame Hucheloup will have laid enough food to feed a small army. Do you wish to change before dinner?”

Enjolras looked down at his clothes, which were rumpled and dusty from the trip. “I won’t if you won’t,” he said, and Grantaire grinned.

“Deal.”

----------

After dinner, Grantaire showed Enjolras to his room, a large, airy chamber that was adjacent to Grantaire’s, and Enjolras went to bed early, determined to get a good night’s rest.

Instead, he woke early the next morning, a force of habit that was not helped by tossing and turning for most of the night at the thought of what they were about to do. He and Grantaire had not yet discussed exactly how the scandal was to unfold, but he imagined that they would figure that out sometime that day.

He woke so early that most of the staff was not up yet, and rather than inconvenience anyone by ringing them ahead of their usual wake up time, he instead slipped out the front door, taking the well-worn path down to the nearby village. It was a beautiful spring day, and despite himself, he found himself enjoying the walk.

Even though he tried to spend at least a little time in the villages that part of his family’s lands each time he visited, he could not imagine any time that he spent there would ever be like this, slipping down the winding streets as an anonymous stranger, watching the comings and goings of the townfolk.

He had just purchased a delicious-looking handheld pie from the baker when he felt a hand on his shoulder and immediately tensed. He turned, relaxing when he saw it was Grantaire. “Oh,” he said, relieved. “I thought—”

Out of nowhere, Grantaire’s fist connected with his jaw, sending him reeling backwards, his pie splattering to the ground. “What in the bleeding—”

“I do not know who you think you are,” Grantaire shouted, “but if you think that you can take advantage of my sister, sir, you have another think coming.”

Enjolras rubbed his jaw, blinking up at him as he tried to piece together what the hell was happening. “I don’t know—”  he started, but Grantaire cut him off.

“You know perfectly well,” he growled. “Meeting with her in the middle of the night with no chaperone? Impugning her honor, with nary a marriage proposal in sight? I will not stand for it, my lord – on that, you have my word.”

The passersby had all stopped to stare, some openly gaping, others whispering to each other as they watched. “Your sister’s honor remains intact,” Enjolras said, slowly catching on to where this was going, but wondering why Grantaire was doing this here and now. “I give you my word—”

“Your word means nothing to me,” Grantaire said coldly, his expression flinty, and for the first time, Enjolras realized what it must be like for any who had crossed Grantaire. It was a formidable sight, and one he hoped not to be on the wrong side of for real anytime soon. “You will marry my sister, and before the week’s end.”

“And if I refuse?” Enjolras asked.

Someone in the crowd gasped, but it was the only sound anyone made as they stared between the two men. For a moment, it almost looked like Grantaire was smiling, just slightly, but it disappeared so quickly that Enjolras could not be certain that he did not imagine it. “Then it shall be a duel. First light on the morrow – guns or swords, your pick.”

This had absolutely not been a part of their plan, and Enjolras gaped at him. But before he could stop himself, before he could end this ruse with a few simple words, his idiotic pride got the best of him in the worst way possible at the worst time possible. “Guns,” he heard himself say. “First light on the morrow, and we shall see whose honor is left standing.”

Now Grantaire did smile, an almost feral grin. “I look forward to it, my lord,” he said, his voice low, and he turned and swept away without uttering another word.

Enjolras stood still for one long minute before realizing that every eye was still on him, and the whispers were starting to grow in volume. He flushed beet red and quickly hurried away, heading back toward the manor, his head reeling at what had just happened. 

About halfway back to Grantaire’s house, the man in question fell in next to him, his cold expression replaced by a genuine grin. “Well, that went well,” he said cheerfully, and Enjolras gave him a withering look.

“Did it?” he asked sourly, wincing at the pain still radiating from his jaw. “Because I was just about to ask you what in the bloody hell you were thinking.”

Grantaire clucked his tongue. “There is no need for that kind of language,” he scolded, still abominably cheerful.”

“Says the man who just publicly challenged me to a duel!”

Grantaire stopped so suddenly that Enjolras ran straight into him. “Yes, you idiot,” he said, but despite his words, his tone was soft, patient even. “I just very publicly challenged you to a duel. If you think that the townspeople won’t be telling everyone they know about that—”

Enjolras shook his head slowly. “And what if I had just agreed to marry your sister?”

“Honestly, I was mostly expecting you to,” Grantaire said with a shrug. “After all, it’s not necessary for the ruse that we actually have a duel, just that the challenge and scandal is made known.” Enjolras flushed and opened his mouth to apologize and explain, but Grantaire didn’t let him, continuing thoughtfully, “But in honesty, this lends a certain...verisimilitude to the whole affair. After all, no one would believe that you would so quickly agree to a marriage.”

“I suppose not,” Enjolras reluctantly agreed, before adding, a little sullenly, “Though speaking of verisimilitude, I don’t think you needed to punch me quite so hard.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Oh, do not be such a baby,” he scoffed. “I pulled my punch.”

“You could have fooled me.”

Enjolras knew he sounded like a petulant child, but he didn’t much care. Grantaire rolled his eyes again. “Believe me, had I punched you with my full strength, you would have a broken jaw.” Enjolras was tempted to tell him that he wasn’t entirely sure his jaw wasn’t broken, but Grantaire glanced at the look on his face and sighed. “Oh, come here.”

He reached out and Enjolras automatically flinched. “What are you—” he started, breaking off when Grantaire cradled his jaw gently between both his hands, prodding gently with his fingertips, his touch almost feather-light.

Enjolras knew he was blushing, but if Grantaire noticed, he didn’t say anything. “See?” he said instead, his voice quiet. “Nothing broken. I doubt you’ll even have much of a bruise.”

His fingers skimmed lightly over his skin as he traced his jaw, and Enjolras swallowed, hard, realizing for the first time just how close they were standing. If anyone happened upon them, standing like this, the scandal in question would not be in relation to Grantaire’s sister. He cleared his throat. “You can let go of me now.”

Grantaire’s hands fell to his sides, and Enjolras wished he didn’t immediately miss the warmth. He shoved his hands into his pockets and they both started walking back toward the house. After a long silence, Enjolras cleared his throat again. “So what now?”

“Now, we make sure that one of the townsfolk’s accounts of what happened gets into the right hands so that it gets to Lady Whistledown,” Grantaire said.

“And after that?”

Grantaire smirked at him. “After that, we have a duel to plan.”

#enjolras #grantaire #exr #enjoltaire #enjolras x grantaire #les miserables #fanfiction #lady whistledown #bridgerton au #regency era #ish #canon era #fake marriage #hijinks and shenanigans

[song-of-oots]

Fuchsia Groan: my (un)exceptional fave

A while ago a friend of mine was asking for people to name their favourite examples of strong female characters, and my mind immediately leapt to Gormenghast’s Fuchsia Groan because it always does whenever the words “favourite” and “female character” come up in the same sentence. In fact scratch that, if I had to pick only one character to be my official favourite (female or otherwise) it would probably be Fuchsia. There are not sufficient words in the English language to accurately describe how much I love this character.

The issue was that I’m not sure Fuchsia Groan can accurately be described as “strong”, and until my friend asked the question, it hadn’t even occurred to me to analyse her in those terms… 

Actually this isn’t completely true; Mervyn Peake does describe Fuchsia as strong in terms of her physical strength on multiple occasions. But in terms of her mental strength things are less clear cut. She’s certainly not a total pushover, and anyone would probably find it tough-going to cope with the neglect, tragedy and misuse she suffers through. In fact, this is something Mervyn Peake mentions himself – whilst also pointing out that Fuchsia is not the most resilient of people:

“There were many causes [to her depression], any one of which might have been alone sufficient to undermine the will of tougher natures than Fuchsia’s.”

Anyway, this has gotten me thinking about Fuchsia’s other traits and my reasons for loving her, going through a typical sort of list of reasons people often give for holding up a character as someone to admire:

So, is Fuchsia particularly talented?

No.

Is she clever, witty?

She’s definitely not completely stupid, and her insights occasionally take other characters by surprise, but she’s not really that smart either.

Does she have any significant achievements? Overcome great adversity?

Not really, no.

Is she kind?

Yes. Fuchsia is a very loving person and sometimes displays an incredible sensitivity and compassion for others. But… she can also be self-absorbed, highly strung, and does occasionally lash out at other people (especially in her younger years).

So why do I love Fuchsia so much?

Well, I’ll start be reiterating that I don’t really have the vocabulary to adequately put it into words, but I will try to get the gist across. So:

“What Fuchsia wanted from a picture was something unexpected. It was as though she enjoyed the artist telling her something quite fresh and new. Something she had never thought of before.”

This statement summarises not only Fuchsia but also the way I feel about her (and for that matter the Gormenghast novels in general). Fuchsia is something I’ve never really seen before. On the surface, she fits the model of the somewhat spoiled but neglected princess, and yet at the same time she cannot be so neatly pigeon-holed. It’s not just that her situation and the themes of the story make things more complex (though that is a factor); Fuchsia herself is so unique and vividly detailed that she manages to be more than her archetype. She feels like a real person and, like all real people, she is not so easy to label.

Fuchsia is also delightfully strange in a way that feels very authentic to her and the setting in general (which is particularly refreshing because it can all too often feel as though female characters are only allowed to be strange in a kooky, sexy way - yet Fuchsia defies this trend).

She’s a Lady, but she’s not ladylike. She’s messy. She slouches, mooches, stomps and stands in awkward positions. Her drawing technique is “vicious” and “uncompromising”. She chews grass. She removes her shoes “without untying the laces by treading on the heels and then working her foot loose”. She’s multi-faceted and psychologically complex. Intense and self-absorbed, sometimes irrational and ruled by her emotions more than is wise, but also capable of insight and good sense that takes others by surprise. She is extremely loving and affectionate, and yet so tragically lonely. Simultaneously very feminine and also not. Her character development from immature teenager to adult woman is both subtle and believable. She has integrity and decency – she doesn’t need to be super clever or articulate to know how to care for others or stand up for herself.

Fuchsia is honest. She knows her own flaws, but you never catch her trying to put on airs or make herself out to be anything other than what she is. She always expresses her feelings honestly.

She’s not sexualised at all. I don’t mean by this that she has no sexuality – though that’s something Peake only vaguely touches on – but I don’t really feel like I’m looking at a character who was written to pander to the male gaze (though her creator is male, I get the vibe he views her more as a beloved daughter than a sexual object).

Finally, I find her highly relatable. I am different to Fuchsia in many ways, but we do have several things in common that I have never seen so vividly expressed in any other character. This was incredibly important to me when I was a teenager struggling through the worst period of depression I ever experienced – because she was someone who I could relate to and love in a way I was incapable of loving myself. Her ability to be herself meant a lot to me as someone struggling with my own identity and sense of inadequacy. It didn’t cure my depression, but it helped me survive it.

What am I trying to say with all this?

I love Fuchsia on multiple levels. I love her as a person and also as a character and a remarkable piece of writing. I mention some of the mundane details Peake uses to flesh out her character firstly because I enjoy them, but also because it’s part of the point. Her story amazes me because it treats a female character and her psychological and emotional life with an intense amount of interest regardless of any special talents or achievements she happens to exhibit. She doesn’t fit the model of a modern heroine but neither does she need to – she’s still worth spending time with and caring about.*  To me the most important things about Fuchsia are how different and interesting and relatable she is – and how real she feels.

* To be honest, this is part of the point of the Gormenghast novels in general. The story is meant to illustrate the damage that society – and in particular rigid social structures and customs – can do to individuals with its callous indifference to genuine human need. Fuchsia is one of many examples of this throughout the novels. These characters don’t need to be exceptionally heroic in order to matter – they just need to exist as believable people. And despite how strange they all are, they often do manage to be fundamentally relatable.

Why am I talking about female characters in particular here?

The focus on “strong” female characters and the critique against that is pretty widely acknowledged. Growing up, I definitely noticed the lack of female characters in popular media and the ensuing pressure this then places on the ones that do exist to be positive representations of womankind – someone girls can look up to. It’s very understandable that we want to see more examples of admirable female protagonists, given that women were traditionally left to play support roles and tired stereotypes. The problem is that the appetite for more proactive female heroines can sometimes lead to characters who are role models first and realistic human beings second (characters who I mentally refer to as Tick-All-The-Boxes Heroines). It’s not a problem with “strong” proactive heroines per se, but rather lack of variation and genuine psychological depth (not to mention a sometimes too-narrow concept of what it even means to be strong).

Male characters tend not to have this particular problem because they are much better represented across the whole range of roles within a story. You get your fair share of boring worn out archetypes. You get characters who are meant to represent a positive version of heroic masculinity (and now that I come to think of it, having a very narrow and unvarying presentation of what positive masculinity looks like is its own separate problem, but outside the scope of this particular ramble). We don’t usually spend time obsessing over whether a piece of fiction has enough examples of “strong” male characters though, because we’re generally so used to seeing it that we automatically move on into analysing the work and the characters on other terms. And because there are often more male characters than female, they don’t all bear the burden of having to be a positive representative of all men everywhere. They exist to fulfill their roles, and often exhibit more variety, nuance and psychological depth. They are also often allowed to be weird, flawed and unattractive in ways that women usually aren’t (which is a damn shame because I’ve spent my whole life feeling like a weird outsider and yet this perspective is so often told primarily through a male lens).

Tl:dr; Fuchsia Groan is a character who feels like an answer to so many of those frustrations that I felt growing up without even truly understanding why. A large part of why I love her is simply because of how much I relate to her on a personal level. I admire her emotional honesty and her loving nature… But there’s also a part of me that was just so relieved to find a female character who exists outside of the usual formulae we seem to cram women into. She is unique, weird and wonderful (but non-sexualised). Psychologically nuanced and vividly written. She isn’t exceptionally heroic or talented or a high achiever – but she does feel like a real person.

Female characters don’t need to tick all the right boxes in order to be interesting or worth our time any more than the male ones do.

#fuchsia groan #gormenghast #mervyn peake #female characters #mental health #depression #long

[legionofpotatoes]

I love your art, it is very detailed in a neat way. Was wondering how you got started making it as a source of income? How did you get your first paid work, I'd love some advice on how to get started, if that's ok

Thank you. Of course it's okay, although I doubt I have enough work experience in art to really delve into this. I only went full freelance this year, and had been juggling art as a side hobby until then. If you're still interested in my somewhat narrow perspective, and are okay with my long-winded rambles, I'll give it a shot:

So to answer your question fully, I'll describe how I started and move into personal advice and learnings later on. As a disclaimer, I am a white cishet dude in my late twenties with a moderate cocktail of mental illnesses, but overall I can pass for a functioning adult so a lot I have to say may come laced with privilege I cannot fully identify.

So uhh I began drawing in around 2012? I think? Maybe halfway through 2011? And I mostly made fanart for things I enjoyed and tried to branch out in communities that felt nourishing to my style and interests (I caught a bug for alt posters and enjoyed mainstream movies so I spent a long time on posterspy early on). There were a handful of opportunities that came from there but I could only accept a couple because of primary workplace commitments. Still, it showed that networking in a focused community was definitely a good place to start; I myself have huge trouble committing to social networks and really staying socially active, but I knew it was an essential ingredient in succeeding so I tried to make myself be involved in challenges and art support trains etc. as much as I could.

In parallel to all that I also ran a few third party online stores (redbubble, teepublic) for disposable income and would sometimes, if rarely, hit around $100-150 a month from those sources combined. It is a sort of thing that requires helper accounts on other social media sites to promote it on, because the stores themselves have a huge volume of content that translates into low organic discoverability. Obviously it was never gonna be the way towards financial independence through art, and with community projects being few and far between, I opened private commissions in around uhhh 2017 I think, focusing on offering a few styles I knew I could do well, and sometimes operating in individual fandoms (it was mostly a bioware thing to be frank). But I had to close them back down after a year or so, again because of work-life conflict and how badly it was burning me out. The reason I kept trying to monetize this hobby is because I honestly hated what I did for my main job and wanted to see a way out in some shape or form in the future.

And then in 2020 I had to quit my main job altogether because of *gestures at pandemic* and deal with a mental breakdown from all the wonderful things it did to us and me specifically. I took a short break and decided to give art a shot full-time, and that was around May this year. I was planning on opening up commissions again (and I still am), but a few sudden opportunities that fell in my lap moved that timetable down and now I'm grateful to even be doing something I am getting adequately paid for.

So, with that somewhat limited perspective, here's what I've learned that I'd tell myself if I was just starting out:

1. Being a fan of something can be a shortcut towards effective networking kickoffs. Which are important evidently. If you love something and enjoy making content for it, join communities, settle into a combination of social media websites that feel right for those interests + your body of work + your inner rhythm, and try to play to content discovery as much as your mental health allows you to. Like I said, I know that I myself am incredibly bad at self-motivating to talk to people, so I found that synergizing common interests into fanart - which I enjoyed making anyway - could be a way to give myself a gentle nudge forward and build those bridges leading to community activities, which then net experience and coverage. Sometimes even freelance projects from official avenues. Again; picking the right spaces for what you're after is key. Companies roam twitter, concept art recruiters scour artstation or linkedin etc, instagram can land you private commissions and collab opportunities, so on and so forth. Find your niche and try to kick up dust. However...

2. I do not believe that any social profile can replace a good portfolio. The thing that made an immediate difference to me this year was building a coherent, simple website with my best work front and center and a contact form on top. Every single opportunity I got came from that form (maybe via twitter or instagram initially, but always sealing the decision after going through the website), so I firmly believe that showcasing your skills and portfolio in a visually arresting and user-friendly way is a big priority. I had some reservations about tackling that task but fortunately I had help from a savvy life partner and we slapped it together via wordpress in less than a day. Twitter/whatever social media is prevalent in your target groups is definitely important to get the right eyes on your shit, yes, but those eyes will then look for a second stop where your work and rates are more clear and concise. Simplicity is key imo, I cannot overstate this. So make a cute, simple portfolio!

3. Your skills and rates will grow and change as you do. Let them. Over the years I built several lasting professional relationships from my obsession over mass effect and kept getting opportunities both from bioware and their partner companies, some small and some a bit bigger. A one-off job earlier this year opened an unexpected door to another much larger commitment, and then the work I did there brought some attention from small businesses looking for commercial commissions. These were all incredibly different projects in terms of scope and budget, and I've been tackling them all on a case-by-case basis and slowly coming into my own irt my needs, rates, and SOW thresholds. It is still a work in progress (and a LOT of literal work as well), and very much a thing I struggle with in publicly marketing, which is why I felt a tad underqualified to answer your question in the first place (obviously I did not let that stop me). But what it means for me now is that I am rapidly developing into whatever my "version" of a functioning freelance artist is, and when the conditions for that guy are met, I need to be able to confidently plant myself and operate from that space despite past precedents. Do not let anyone bully you into downpricing what you yourself perceive as legitimate products of personal growth and development. Speaking of which...

4. The shitty challenge of turning envy into inspiration, and paddling outside your comfort zones in full riot gear. it is hard, but realizing that being a miserable, self-hating artist in my early days got me nothing but more misery back was the first real step I took and what truly blew the hinges off. I was just not pleasant to be around, I would badmouth my work all the time, and it all somehow made sense in my broken mind because the validation I sought was purely external and the way I sought it was through eliciting sympathy via self-victimization (even when I made something objectively nice). It all led fucking nowhere. Except perhaps to my own narcissism that I one day managed to identify and start managing. So I started looking at things that made me seethe with envy and calmly deconstruct and figure out their inner workings instead, do studies, and find nuggets of inspiration or discover new ways to approach rendering or building up specific elements. It was an application of analytical diligence to what I wanted to be a purely emotional, esoteric workflow, but that I deep down knew wasn't. Art is a discipline and a skill, and maybe it isn't a straight line, but you gotta find some line to thread nevertheless. Being self-hating was almost an identity I had to break out of, and despite it still being like, 4-5% there? I realize its cause and effect on me, my work, and those around me, so it is with a conscious choice that I gently set it aside when I work and especially when I learn. It won't always stay quiet, but the effort is the difference. Your doors towards accepting true growth and venturing into uncharted territories, art styles, and networking will really open from there. But there's a huge caveat...

5. Toolsets, accessibility, privilege, and all the good things that enable artistic expression and profitability are not given equal to all. you might do all the mental work I mentioned to be ready to rock and roll and learn and draw your way out of anything, but digital art is a fucking money pit that asks almost too much at times. I don't got a good case study here but identifying and ensuring accessibility to the tools you need to do your best work is, like, super important. The ergonomics can improve as you make money and settle into the job, but the basics have to be made available to you. And some of that might not even be under your direct control. That can be anything from pen tablets to software subscriptions to opportunities in hiring sullied by sexism or what have you. You gotta navigate all that through careful networking and money/time management. I don't do a good job of devoting specific slices of time to work/study, and my primary clutch is iPad software which went from a good deal to a nightmare scenario over the years. So all I can say here is do what I didn't; network, invest in a PC/tablet, and pick a software you'll learn that won't burn a hole in your pocket.

6. Be nice to work with? This one is hard to articulate and has landed my own ass in hot water in my early years because of how socially inept I am, but nothing is more worthwhile than being.. like. a good person to work with. That can be anything like meeting deadlines, or sometimes missing them but eloquently articulating why, being generous in early stages, being communicable and not too wordy in your emails, having a good grasp on abstract artistic concepts and how to describe them in simple terms, having a clear, laid out framework of your working rates in commercial and non-commercial projects and sticking to those guns with grace, understanding when you need to say no and saying it well, the works. Just being nice. Sometimes that might mean going headstrong with something you believe in, or simmering down and sucking up to the big man, all relative and adaptive. Part and parcel of the service provision dance that we all have to do in order to make bank. Know your lines here, obviously, and don't like. work for nazis. or uh.. *shudders* exposure. but be nice and empathetic and communicable and word will travel eventually. Skill may be in abundance these days, but good people are most certainly not, and capitalism has a way of bubbling up scarcity. Grim, but uh, them's the breaks.

I know I'm ultimately telling you to like. Have a body of work, make a portfolio, grow, and network. But that's really how I see it for now. And being nice can be a cherry on top that sets you apart, along with the inherent irreplaceable voice of your artwork. I think I rambled on enough, but if there is something specific you need my help with, even if you want to come off anon and talk in private, please feel free.

#anon #asks #long post #sorry I cant actually condense ideas better :(

[steves-strapcollection]

On Tragedy vs. Bad Endings

[Image ID: user @frostyfrogz​ replied to your post “my mag171 #thots: I fully agree with. I love jonmartin I want nothing but the best for them. I know my answer today was an obvious twisting of dialogue but its just frustrating sometimes because it seems like people dont understand some sort of tragedy will indeed happen. I have never and will never suggest that something will happen to Jon and Martin’s relationship I’ve just been saying the shows not going to end well no matter what.]

So I have a lot of thoughts about this very subject, and too much for the replies on my post, so allow me to try to articulate what I mean, and what a lot of us mean when we say “it does not make sense for either Jon or Martin to turn evil in the end,” even in a show that has been advertised from day one as a tragedy.

First of all, no one thinks this is going to end happy. The few who do are usually unaware that this show is billed as a tragedy, and are quick to be corrected. I didn’t know it was a tragedy until I was on season 3 and someone told me. It’s overall just best to assume that the OP knows it’s not going to be a happy ending, because “reminding” people or “explaining” to people that the ending is going to be sad is a fast way from people to get annoyed and defensive.

Anyway! It appears, above all, that people have either fundamentally different ideas of what a tragedy is or accomplishes, or that people have a fundamentally flawed understanding of tragedy and it’s place as a narrative device/theme.

My thoughts are that tragedies hurt, and tragedies can be devastating, but they have to have a message and they should not be cruel to the audience.

A cruel ending would involve leading the audience to believe one thing for the entire book, show, movie, podcast, what have you, just to rip it away at the last minute like a big “fuck you” to the audience. Those sorts of endings are inherently mocking of the audience, and ultimately disrespectful. The only people in the audience that “benefit” from this sort of writing are the cynics who spent the entire show talking down to everyone for seeing the silver lining in the impending tragedy, even if, up until the finale, the silver lining was always part of the narrative. Like it took actual twisting and outright ignoring of the narrative as it’s written to be cynical and sceptical all the way until the end.

That is, plain and simple, bad writing. Jonny Sims is not a bad writer.

Now tragedies often have “happy endings,” they just also have an element of sadness colouring that ending. A good, tragic ending should, in my opinion, feel bittersweet. We should see it coming, we should know it will hurt, but it should be for the greater good and should further the narrative that has been told from the beginning.

I said a few weeks ago that a tragic ending without a silver lining is just torture porn, and I stand by it.

Now, if Jon or Martin are revealed to be Actually Evil in the end, where is the silver lining in that? What narrative has even possibly hinted at this outcome, without putting on cynic glasses?

Every single plot point and plot “twist” in TMA has been clearly detailed, never relegated to pure subtext that you would have to comb through a single interraction and analyzing the tone in which it was said (which could easily be actor shortcomings or error). They have always been obvious, at least in hindsight. This is why, for a while, I subscribed to the Web!Martin theory, but due to recent episodes I’m more inclined to believe those “obvious things” were red herrings.

Throughout The Magnus Archives, the common theme in every. Single. Season finale is that “we are stronger together.” What do I mean by that? Well, here’s the general idea:

Season 1: The one time someone gets separated by the group for any significant length of time, like I mean the main group, she gets killed by the NotThem and replaced.

Season 2: Jon is alone, due to his intense paranoia and his reluctance to reach out for help. This leads to a disastrous series of events that leaves him a suspect of murder, and his friends even more doubtful of his character.

Season 3: In the episode just before they deal with the Unknowing, Jon literally says that isolation was his downfall, and he was going to work on trusting his friends more. When they got separated during the Unknowing, things went to shit. When they found each other again, they were able to rally and they “succeeded.” Conversely, they are also teamed up with Melanie and Martin who hung back to bring down Elias. They were successful, working as teams on separate objectives, etc.

Season 4: This is, by far, their most “successful” feats while simultaneously their least. The whole season was again showing the downfalls of isolation. In the season finale, Jon has Basira and Daisy’s help, and while bolstering himself with their strength, and the strength in his conviction to save Martin to be with Martin, Jon was successful in stopping Peter Lukas and saving Martin. Conversely, Martin and Jon’s isolation in Scotland could be, theoretically, implicated in how Jonah Magnus was able to succeed in the end like that.

Now evidence of this same train of thought in season 5? Jon literally says it: Gertrude would not have done well in this post-apocalyptic world, because she had no friendships, no anchors, no reason to stay human. And then Jon says “you are my reason” to Martin.

It is in the text of the story that the only way to succeed, or win, or survive, is through trust, friendship, and love. One of the main factors in so many of the statements, on why the statement givers succumbed to the fear in their story, for even a moment, had to do with very little personal ties to anyone else. Many of the statements feature isolation and, as Jon put it, “lack of corroboration.” On the flipside, many of the statements that ended with the statement giver escaping successfully, and surviving long enough to be reached out to for follow-up questions, involved them having close personal ties to someone else that kept them safe, somehow. Like the girl from Italy; remembering her mom saved her from the Lonely. Or, more ridiculously, the guy and his dog that escaped the spiral because he was so distracted by his dog and had to be home for dinner. In MAG170, it was Martin’s love for Jon, and his trust in the love from Jon and his friends, that saved him from the Lonely again. Jon’s incredible amount of love, and respect, and trust in his friends is what’s kept him from becoming another Jared Hopworth or Jude Perry. In MAG155, Cost of Living, he expresses open disgust in how that particular avatar of The End justified her actions, killing and killing and killing again because she viewed herself as more worthy of life than that person. In that same episode, he talks of not blinding himself because he hopes to use his powers to protect his friends, that without them they’re too vulnerable. Honestly, this is the same reason Peter Lukas is unsuccessful, because Martin only helped him at all to protect his friends. The fact that he didn’t see his failure coming was hilarious.

Gerry said in Family Business that there is no “entities of love”, and that might be true, but love and trust is literally what saves you from fear. How many of us deal with things that are scary in our lives, if only because we have some level of trust in the people or things around us. How many of us have been brought out of a panic attack by someone we love and trust?

So all of this has been presented to us, over and over and over again, which is what I, and others, mean when we say “it does not make sense for one of them to be evil.” That’s what we mean when we say “it would be Bad Writing to make one of them evil in the end.” The entire show has driven home the message that we need love, we need personal connections to survive fear. To rip that away from the main characters at the last minute and call it “tragedy” would be a spit in the face of every single listener who took the story at face value, without picking it apart and reading lines out of context. And Jonny Sims and Alex J. Newall have both said they hate lazy writing.

Now, none of the JonMartin fans I follow are deluding themselves to think this show will have a happy ending outside of very self-indulgent fix-it au fanfics.

The way I see this going down is that Jon and Martin will figure out how to put the world back to the way it was, but Jon will not be able to be part of the new world with Martin. That’s the tragedy; that the world gets saved, and Jon helps save it, but he doesn’t get to benefit from his efforts in any way. The tragedy is Jon loves Martin so much, and they deserve their happy ending, but they don’t get it. But, they still saved the world so others can have their happy endings.

Idk about you, but between the “Jon turns evil in the end” and “Jon stays good and sacrifices himself to save the world” endings, only one of them has me in tears right now as I type this out, and it’s not the former.

I’m not against sad endings,I’m against bad endings that punish the audience for having even a bittersweet hope. I’m against sad endings that are just sad for the sake of being sad, with zero pay-off or reason to happen, especially when those endings throw out 5 years of hard work.

And hey, I might just be forced to eat my words in the end, but not before I fly all the way to England and make Jonny Sims eat a knuckle sandwich.

This was a lot longer than I meant for it to be, but I just have a lot of feelings.

#jonmartin #the magnus archives #tma #tma spoilers #THE POWER OF LOVE AND TRUST WILL SAVE THE WORLD #also idk the proper format of like image id's but i didn't want to NOT type out the reply #my mag thots #500 notes

[dickwheelie]

Some soft Jmart cuddles but in some kind of au of your choosing? Maybe from one of those generic "fanfic au prompt" lists?

ohhh Oran u spoil me....I don’t have any of those lists on hand BUT I would like an excuse to do something for my spooky mer jon au!

EDIT: oh my god Oran I. forgot that you asked for cuddles. I wrote this whole thing and there are no cuddles in it fjkfksdf I am so sorry. I’ll make it up to you but it’s late so have this for now! I’ll do a sequel for it probably tomorrow with actual cuddles. fuck I can’t believe I missed that lmaoooo sorry againnnnn

____________

Martin had heard the rumors, of course. Myths. Legends. Whatever you wanted to call them. Stories of dubious legitimacy about the creature that lurked in the waters of the bay that bordered their tiny village, who was either a menace or a blessing, depending on who you asked. The woman who sold flowers at the market said it had once frightened her daughter while she was playing in a tide pool. One of the grizzled old fishermen claimed it had saved his cat from drowning. There were as many stories as there were people in the village, all who had claimed to have seen it, or at least known someone who had. No one could say exactly what it looked like, only that it had a humanoid upper half, a long, slithery fish-tail, and was horrific to look upon. The more exaggerated tales claimed that its face, if one could call it that, was enough to send even the most seasoned of sailors swimming for land.

Yes, Martin had heard the stories, but he was, as far as he could tell, the only one in the village who didn’t believe this odd creature of ambiguous morals actually existed. He was a practical man, and although he enjoyed the idea of impossible things like ghosts and fairies and mer-creatures, he knew, deep down, that none of it was real, especially not so close to the utterly ordinary, unexciting place he called home. He’d lived in the village all his life, and had never, not once, caught so much as a splash of the thing’s tail.

Until now.

He had been out on the bay on his sailboat all afternoon, trying to muster up the inspiration for a poem or two. The sun had begun to set, and, with no more ideas in his head than when he’d left, Martin had started to head back to shore.

That was when he had spotted it: barely visible in the dappled light of the sunset on the water, a dark shape was moving just under the surface. It wasn’t the shape of an ordinary fish, or even a dolphin, and Martin had leaned over the side of the boat to try to get a better look.

He was almost smacked in the face by another figure rising up out of the water, splashing water all over Martin and sending him falling backwards into the boat, flailing in surprise. The figure had grabbed the side of the boat and pulled itself up, leaning over Martin as he stared up at it, dumbfounded, and rethinking everything he knew about stories of dubious legitimacy.

In the warm light of the sunset, the creature was clearly visible. Its skin was dark grey, not quite black, paler around the gills which frilled out around its neck and sides. Its torso was, indeed, humanoid, with two appendages that certainly looked like arms, ending with webbed, clawed hands. Martin couldn’t see its tail from where he was lying, but he imagined it must have been eel-like, for the creature’s face reminded him of an eel. Two huge eyes were set in its face, clearly meant for seeing in the dark of the sea floor, and a wide mouth with innumerable, close-set, needle-point teeth gaped down at him. Apparently, this was what had sent sailors fleeing in terror. Martin was honestly a little disappointed. He was well-versed in marine wildlife (or at least, he’d thought he was), and he thought it looked more cute than scary.

The creature stared down at him, as though waiting for him to do something. It certainly seemed intelligent enough; maybe he could try talking to it. Martin cleared his throat. “Um. Hello.” He managed a little wave.

The creature’s eyes darted to his hand as it moved, then back to his face. It cocked its head, then did something utterly amazing, and answered him. “Why are you not running away,” it said. Its voice was . . . properly British, actually. It spoke with a solid southern accent, the sound a bit muffled and strangely deep, but apparently this creature didn’t need to use lips or teeth to enunciate.

Martin could think of nothing else to do but answer its question. “I . . . can’t really run anywhere,” he said, gesturing at his tiny, stationary sailboat. Once again, the creature’s eyes tracked the movements of his hands meticulously. “You, uh, sort of caught me by surprise.”

“Oh,” said the creature, its voice almost sounding sheepish. It drummed its webbed hands on the edge of the boat, in a surprisingly human-like manner. “Right. Yes. That . . . makes sense.” Its throat moved as it talked, and Martin supposed that must be where its clipped, precise voice was coming from.

“Why would I want to run?” Martin asked.

“Because you’re scared of me,” the creature said, rather unconvincingly.

“Am I?”

“You . . . you should be,” it said, drawing itself up slightly, which made the sailboat rock precariously, so it caught itself and stopped. “Um. I could hurt you. Kill you, even.”

Martin supposed that, yes, this creature was capable of killing him. Though it certainly didn’t seem like it wanted to, and none of the stories he’d heard about it had involved murder. It had even saved a cat once, apparently. Besides, he thought, there were plenty of humans capable of killing Martin just as easily, if they really wanted to. “Are you? Going to kill me?”

“Uh.” The creature lowered itself slightly, so its head was barely visible above the edge of the boat. Martin shifted upwards into a sitting position to see it better, and spotted a dark, rapidly undulating shape in the water, which must have been the creature’s tail. “Well. Er. Not now.”

“Should I leave and come back later?” Martin said, mostly for his own amusement. He didn’t expect the creature to understand the joke.

But it surprised him once again by laughing. Or at least, it sounded like a laugh, and the creature immediately put its hand over its throat, as though to stifle the sound.

Martin couldn’t help but smile at it. “Is that how you talk?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking. “With your--?” He gestured at his own throat.

The creature stared at him, even more wide-eyed than it usually was. “Um. Yes. I believe humans also have a voicebox, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” Martin said, “but ours doesn’t articulate sound the way yours does.” He grinned. “That’s so cool.”

“Oh,” said the creature, and it lowered itself even further into the water. “I, um. Thank you?”

Martin leaned forward to rest his elbows on the edge of the boat, so the two of them were now face-to-face. This close, he could see intricate little patterns in the creature’s skin, dotted across its cheek and around its neck. Not quite freckles, but something like them. Then the creature shifted, and the dimming light of the sunset caught them, turning them iridescent. The light caught its huge eyes as well, revealing that they weren’t just black pupils surrounded by a thin circle of white, but that there was an iris, colored such a dark brown it was almost black. “Wow,” Martin said, unthinkingly. “You’re beautiful.”

The creature’s claws scraped the edge of the boat as it clenched its webbed hands around it. Martin saw its tail thrash just under the water. “I--um--I have to go,” it said, and launched itself off of the boat and back into the water with a splash.

Martin barely had the chance to feel disappointed before its head popped up again, bobbing just above the waves a few meters from the boat. “Um,” it said, “I wanted to ask, before I go--just in case I want to find you again to kill you later--what’s your name?”

“Martin,” said Martin, smiling.

“Martin,” the creature repeated, and coming out of that voicebox it sounded lovely. It paused a moment, just staring at him with those huge, pretty eyes, and then said, “Jon,” before slipping back underneath the waves.

Martin had heard plenty of stories about the strange, terrifying creature that lived in the bay that bordered his village, and he was fully willing to believe them, now. However there were none, in his opinion, that measured up to the real thing.

#im so sorry forgive me #thank u for the prompt tho it was fun #the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #gwyneth writes #elfgrunge