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scimita · 3 days ago

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oh woww im not usually a liushen shipper but this has me having THINKING and THOUGHTS and THINKING THOUGHTS.

As Liu Qingge starts leaving the sect more and more, and for longer periods of time, and avoiding (sometimes straight up ignoring) Shen Yuan, Shen Yuan has to come to terms with the fact that his best friend ended their friendship (he doesn't understand exactly why, was it because he bought Binghe to the sect before he was the right age to cultivate? Was it that he adopted Binghe but wasnt married? Did Liu Qingge just grow tired of him? ).

So, after months and months, Shen Yuan stops trying to figure out what set his best friend, Liu Qingge, Shidi off, figuring that Shidi probably has a good reason for not talking to him anymore and tries to mind his own business from then on. All is well! He's completely fine with this! He doesn't go to try and enter Bai Zhan anymore (the Bai Zhan disciples wouldn't let him anyway), he doesn't send letters (they were all left unanswered), he doesn't even ask the sect leader how his Shidi is doing (the pity in YQY eyes became a bit too much for him)!! Hes completely indifferent to this sudden change in his life and daily routine!! Everything is completely fine and he! is! handling! it!!!!!! Now, if everyone else would understand that and leave him alone about it, then he'd be even better!!!!

The only people that visit Shen Yuan and Shen Yuan visits are his brother and, urgh, Shang Qinghua. Though, lately, he's been too...busy...with work..... to attend tea time with his brother, totally not avoiding him because he's being interrogated everytime without fail about what exactly happened, even though Shen Yuan told his didi the truth the first time around (that Liu Qingge visited him to ask about the rumors and then met Binghe, ask about how long he's been Shen Yuan son, and the stormed off completely unprompted, and is now refusing to even look at him). Shang Qinghua just gets this look in his eyes everytime he visits and its making Shen Yuan uncomfortable (pity, Cucumber-bro, that you dont realise how whipped the War God is for you). But Shang Qinghua values being alive so he doesnt ask Shen Yuan about what happened.

So. Yeah. Shen Yuan is spending more and more time isolated, alone, lonely working on his peak. Binghe seems to be having a good time though so thats good. His fellow disciples have integrated him in their circles, he has friends, he attends classes like all the other kids (even if he quickly seems to outshine them), and he worries about spends time bonding with his a-die.

From Binghe's perspective, his a-die's very dear special friend has stopped visiting ever since Binghe came to the peak (the other disciples tell him of the courtship, of the visits, of the times his a-die didnt look like he was crying his eyes out every night instead of sleeping). A-die has reassured him time and time again that it's not his fault, that Binghe has done nothing wrong, that everything is fine and that he's not responsible for how adults react to his presence, and For God's sake, Binghe! Im not kicking you out of the sect because of Liu Qingge, who told you that ??!!!, and Stop apologizing, my sweet Binghe, you didn't ruin anything by being here, my son deserves only the best regardless of other's opinion on this matter.

Now. Let it be known that Liu Qingge is not having a good time. His long-time courtship partner has admitted to cheating on him and then proceeded to tell him it's none of his business what he does with his private life, so.

Liu Qingge is having a very bad time, actually. He's returned all the courtship gifts, has been ignoring and avoiding Shen Yuan, the love of his life, his Shixiong, and leaving the sect on progressively more dangerous missions. His own courtship gifts have yet to be returned, but it's understandable. Most of them were rare beasts with miraculous cultivation properties so they were eaten, or refined into pills, or something other he doesnt care about because he is not thinking about Shen Yuan right now. Though he told his disciples to leave the box of other gifts in front of his house in case he isnt on the peak, it has yet to arrive. He doesn't understand, didnt his Shixiong tell him his life has nothing to do with Liu Qingge's? Didn't he admit to loving another and having a child with them and then raising said child in secret? Is he just laughing about how pathetic and desperate Liu Qingge has been to believe he actually accepted his courtship that whole decade? Whatever. It doesn't matter. His Shixiong has made himself very clear and Liu Qingge is not one to ponder such things. He is not.

It is on one of these very dangerous missions that Liu Qingge ends up incredibly wounded and forced to spend time healing in a nearby, somewhat isolated, village. He doesn't know exactly where he is, somewhere along the Luo river, but somehow, the villagers seem to recognize him. They help him with a room at an inn, with the meager medical supplies they have, and with time alone to rest and heal. It is not unusual for mortals to look up to and idolize immortal cultivators, but even by Liu Qingge's standards and expectations, they are going above and beyond. Suspicious after being treated such a way while being in a very weakened state, he asks. The villagers' responses vary, but the gist is Oh Immortal Cultivator, how could we possibly sit by and watch when we could help instead? and Oh Immortal Cultivator, we have heard only the best things about The Bai Zhan War God! Of course we'd want to be of assistance! and Oh Immortal Cultivator how could we not help Peak Lord Shen Yuan's husband? He has done many things for our village, including adopting an orphaned boy to save him from the bullying! and most of these responses grate on his nerves because he hasn't been met with such kindness ever sincer he first met Shen Yuan and..... wait. Wait what. What do you mean, adopted? What do you mean HUSBAND?

Well yes, say the villagers, back when the war was still on, Peak Lord Shen Yuan came running with an infant boy in the village, yelling for a healer. Back then we didnt know who he was, and we were already nearly out of food for the winter, so we didnt have the means to help him. A washer-woman stepped up, even though she herself was barely surviving, and helped him and the infant. It's from her that we found out that Peak Lord Shen found the baby boy floating down the Luo river in the dead of winter, newly born and nearly frozen to death and chose to save him. Liu Qingge feels like he's been thrown off his axis. What do you mean, floating down the river? Isnt the boy his son? How do you know he didnt just lie and tell you he only found the boy to avoid accountability for having a son out of wedlock?

Well yes, say the villagers, the town healer came eventually. After Peak Lord Shen promised a hefty sum, the healer treated the boy of a very high fever, telling Peak Lord Shen that he's lucky his son only had a fever, and not hypothermia. The Peak Lord then insisted that the boy wasnt his by blood, only that he found the baby, and offered to show us proof. The healer asked how he planned to prove that he didnt father the boy and the Peak Lord said he has a special flower, gifted to him by someone very dear, that could prove his innocence. He smeared a drop of blood on the flower and said that if it's petals turn blue once it touches the infant, then he is his father. If it turns red, then there is no blood connection between the two of them. The flower turned red.

Liu Qingge has to sit down. His head is spinning and he doesnt know what to believe anymore. The villagers seem to be telling the truth, but didnt Shen Yuan admit to cheating? Right, of course, perhaps the boy isnt his by blood, but he still called him his son. Perhaps Shen Yuan's lover had a child then attempted to get rid of it before Shen Yuan found out, though without any luck. The boy also calls him a-die, so what if Shen Yuan's lover is simply the washer-woman? What if they fell in love when Shen Yuan bought Binghe in the village?

No No, say the villagers, the washer-woman and Peak Lord Shen didnt even live in the same house those 4 years Binghe spend in the village. Peak Lord Shen was away for long periods of time, he said he was looking for the boy's mother along the river, but everytime he came back, he would teach the boy and help raise him, that's why he calls him a-die. When the washer-woman died of an unknown disease and before the Peak Lord adopted the boy, the Peak Lord was already back at his sect. And besides! The Peak Lord was buying gifts left and right for his intended! He spoke very highly of them!! He told us his very special friend was the War God of Bai Zhan and was hoping to find a gift that his Shidi would appreciate!!!

Liu Qingge feel ready to combust. His head is pounding, he's never been more confused, and this damn injury won't heal fast enough!!! With a bone weary sigh he asks one last thing, why did you refer to me as Peak Lord Shen's husband? If Liu Qingge calculations are right, then Shen Yuan has been meaning to ask him to marry for about six years. SIX YEARS!! (...well, seven now, but he's already broken off the courtship and is starting to think that it might have been a mistake).

Well, say the villagers, when the Peak Lord left the village, he said he had to go back before his best friend started to worry! He said he found a suitable gift and he was building up the courage to gift it!! Naturally, we assumed that, since he came back to adopt the boy and bring him to the sect, his gift was accepted, the wedding held, the boy had a second father, and all was well!

Liu Qingge retires for the night. He's suddenly hit with a very deep sense of dread. He feels like the guilt of his relief crash down on him and doesn't know how to process it. The Boy is adopted. Shen Yuan was going to ask him to marry him and raise a Child together. Oh my God. Oh my God.

Liu Qingge is not panicking. He is not on the verge of a panic attack in his room at an inn in an isolated village, god knows how far away from the sect, healing from an less-awful injury and he is not conflicted as to what to believe. Shen Yuan admitted to having the boy during the war, but then again, he didnt say he fathered him, just that he's been raising him. Shen Yuan has said that his private life has nothing to do with Liu Qingge's, but then again, it's not unusual that his Shixiong was just telling him that it's fine to keep their lifes somewhat private from one another, his parents did that too, had separate bedrooms and everything but they were more than happy together. Liu Qingge feels ready to pass out!! This is too much for one day!! He'll think of a solution in the morning !!

So. Liu Qingge leaves the village the next day, after getting some directions towards the sect, like his ass was on fire. He still doesn't know exactly what's happened during those 4 years, but is now willing to try and clear things up with Shen Yuan. Except. When he gets to the sect (in record time!) he is immediately accosted by Mu Qingfang and subsequently put on house arrest. He is not to leave his bed for as much as a leisure walk Do You Hear Me ?!?!!! so he devises to come up with another way to meet with Shen Yuan. He tells his disciples to let Shen Yuan onto the peak, to lead him straight to his house, to stop glaring at him goddammit! But. Shen Yuan doesn't visit, doesn't write him, doesn't even seem to know that Liu Qingge is back and has been stuck in his own home for the past 2 weeks. So!! Seeing that he has no other choice, Liu Qingge sneaks (yes, sneaks, those talismans at his front door are no joke) out if his home, out of his peak, and onto Shen Yuan's peak, going straight for the Peak Lord's residence on foot.

However tired he is when he gets there, he take two deep breaths and knocks (knocks!!!) on the door. For a moment, all is still and silent. Then, the patter of footsteps coming towards the door, then the door being opened, then!!!!....oh. Shen Yuan's Binghe. For a moment they just stare at each other. Gone is the warm, shy smile Binghe first greeted him with, now The Boy's face is stony, nearly blank. He doesn't greet his Shishu. He doesn't call out to his a-die about this traitor his fellow Peak Lord being there. Liu Qingge is the first to break the silence for once, where is Shen Yuan? aggravated, Binghe nearly shuts the door in his face. Why do you care? he responds, Liu Qingge ignoring his question says Shen Binghe, call your father out here now. Now truly upset, Binghe replies my name is LUO Binghe, and MY father doesn't want to see you!!! and slams the door in Liu Qingge's face before he can open his stupid stupid mouth again!!

Liu Qingge is stunned at the audacity of this boy. Fine, if The Boy wont let him in, he'll ask someone else!! So, against his better judgment, he goes to Qing Jing. He is promptly mocked and laughed off the peak by that Shen Qingqiu! So he goes to An Ding, and!! he is more or less thrown off the peak by that RAT Shang Qinghua! What the Fuck! Its fine, its fine. He'll speak to Shen Yuan at the next Peak Lord meeting.

And so, he attends, actually on time, and goes straight for Shen Yuan, only to be intercepted by the goddamn Sect! Leader!! He ends up spending the rest of the meeting staring at Shen Yuan's drawn face, at his eyebags, his way too thin complexion and has to leave before he drowns in guilt. Its not fine, its not fine, Shen Yuan still smiles at him, a strained thing, even though Liu Qingge is the reason he look like that.

Liu Qingge get lucky. A village south of the mountains has requested his and, specifically, Shen Yuan's help with a wild beasts lurking in their forest. Unable to refuse, both of them accepted. Liu Qingge spends the days before their upcoming mission panicking pacing around to make sure he has everything packed, regardless of the fact that he used to leave with nothing but his sword. When the day to leave comes and he sees Shen Yuan, something starts to feel tight in his throat and he is completely unable to say a word to the man he is still hopelessly in love with before they depart from the sect. As for Shen Yuan, well, he takes the silence as another indicator towards the fact that his Shidi cant stand him anymore, not that he knows why. They leave the sect on their swords. Shen Yuan eventually breaks the silence to ask where exactly they are going, he doesnt recognize the village name, and for how long they will be flying (could he have asked the Sect Leader? Yes. Did he? No.). Liu Qingge answers easily enough. But when it comes his turn to ask anything or to start (start!! how the mighty have fallen) a conversation, he is met with dry, short answers and a lingering tension in the air. Liu Qingge feels like this might be something he cant fix. He hasn't even asked about The Boy yet!!!

Shen Yuan thinks he's doing great! He hasnt answered his Shidi with his usual rambling, not wanting to annoy him and risk being ignored the rest of this missions, and is ignoring the uncomfortable silence with great success!

And thus, this is exactly how most of the mission goes. Stilted conversations in place of the usual easy going ones, uncomfortable silence for long periods of time and even a moment where, upon actually seeing the beast, Shen Yuan has lost his inhibitions and gone on a long rambling tangent about the beasts usual eating habits, sleeping habits, mating habits and everything and anything that came to mind about it. It does, however come to an abrupt stop, when he turns to look at Liu Qingge, a bright smile lightning up his face, and finds his Shidi already looking a him, face soft. When they make eye contact though, Shen Yuan smile falters, then drops not a moment later, and his rambling ends with a weirdly strained uh, yeah, anyway, thats what we were looking for. Then he falls completely silent and Liu Qingge's guilt threatens to swallow him up, so he asks, perhaps a touch annoyed about The Boy. And he sees it. The second his Shixiong, his Shen Yuan, completely shuts him out. The moment his face becomes blank, the second Shen Yuan apologizes and tells him Shidi has made it abundantly clear what he thinks on the matter of my son, there's no need to speak on it anymore.

The ride back is dead silent. Liu Qingge is beating himself up for botching the conversation, Shen Yuan is scolding himself for getting carried away and having his Shidi remind him of the fact that they are not even friends anymore. They dont say anything to one another even when they reach the sect.

The following weeks seem to be a blur. Liu Qingge starts sending beasts to Shen Yuan's peak as an apology for the uncomfortable conversation, Shen Yuan assumes Liu Qingge's telling him that he hasnt forgotten about what he's done wrong on the mission (exactly what he doesnt know, but he knows his Shidi got annoyed enough to nearly leave him behind when going back to the sect) so he sends the beasts back, along side boxes upon boxes of every gift Liu Qingge has gotten him, because, well, can he really move on if he keep holding on to someone who doesnt want anything to do with him anymore? Liu Qingge misunderstand, believes he is being rejected, starts desperately sending rarer and rarer beasts, and Shen Yuan just keeps sending them back. Everyone is confused. The disciples dont know whats going on anymore, the Sect Leader doesnt even want to get involved, Luo Binghe start outright disrespecting Liu Qingge to his face everytime he sees the man.

And this is where im gonna end it because i have developed LiuShen worms in my brain and just needed to clear them out. Wonderful AU, im no writer but i just wanted to share my Thoughts and Thinking

I have this older-brother-SY (also beast peak lord) AU cooking and although I have Many thoughts here’s the liushen part (warning this is long af, TLDR at bottom):

LQG has been pining for the beast peaks’ head disciple for years and SY has no idea (like usual). LQG, over time, has recognized and accepted his affections, but has no idea if SY feels the same. Sure, they get along great, and he’s confident SY considers him a friend (if not a best friend), but more than that? SY if friendly to everyone- and LQG can’t tell what liberties, if any, are exclusive to him.

But it’s clear that the cultivation world is on the brink of a war with the demon realm- and LQG will be at the forefront. As much as he prides himself on his battle prowess he knows he’s not indomitable- and Tianlang-Jun is a force to be reckoned with.

So, he decides to offer SY his suit- even if he's rejected, at least he'll know. In melodrama fashion, LQG asks SY, if he'll accept his courtship once the wars over. SY (unknowingly, the dumbass) accepts.

OK. so now that we have context, lets get silly with it :)

The war goes over the same how it did in SVSSS, YQY subdues TLJ and all peak lords survive. LQG begins to officially court SY... who's been traveling along the Lou river since the end of the war. It's not an issue per say but he also won't tell LQG why; just that he's looking for something. This continues for 4 years. After those four years, SY returns to CQMT. He doesn't leave for extended periods anymore, unless a mission requires it, and even then it's clear he returns as soon as possible. In lieu of his travels he's begin descending the mountain several times a week, to the small town at its' base. He deflects whenever anyone asks why- and although LQG does find it odd, he trusts SY, who says, impishly, that LQG will find out eventually.

That day does come 6 years later.

Word spreads fast around CQMT, so of course LQG, usually not privy to the intersect gossip, (“Shizun, this one has news! Ah! I know gossip is bad, I would never- it’s about Shen-shibo! He’s brought a young boy back to his peak!”) would be near-first to visit his beloved.

LQG: “The rumors are true?”

SY: “Hm? Meddling in gossip are you, shidi? What are they saying, exactly?”

LQG: “Tsk- that you’ve brought a new disciple to the peak- one much too young to cultivate.”

SY: “Ahhh well… I surmise there is some truth to that hearsay after all… he’ll be home for dinner soon- he’s a great chef! Oh, shidi, you must stay for dinner!”

…

SY: “…and their claws are retractable! Despite taking up 50% of their paws! They use this to ambush larger prey, making said prey think they’re harmless- oh, Binghe, come, come; meet your Shishu!”

LBH: “Yes, A-die!”

LQG: "..."

LQG: “……what?”

SY: “Binghe, this is Liu Qingge, your shishu, and a dear friend of mine. Qingge, this is Binghe.”

LQG: “…he called you a-die.”

SY: “Oh! Yes, I’ll sure he’ll need some time to adjust to Shizun.”

LQG: “Adjust.”

SY: “Yes, adjust, he’s called me A-die most of his life. After all, he is my son.”

LQG: “Your son. That you’ve been raising.”

SY: “Yes, Shidi, that’s correct.”

Lqg goes only silent for a bit and SY releases LBH to the kitchens. He’s gotten quite good at reading LQG over the years and knows he’s upset- at what he isn’t sure.

SY: “..Shidi?”

LQG (jaw pinched): “How long?”

SY: “..How long what, shidi?”

LQG : “Have you had-“ (handwaves)

SY: “How long have I been raising him? About 6 years, why?”

LQG: “….and how old is he.”

SY: “Ah, he’s 10, will be 11 this upcoming winter. Make no mistake, I would have been there since birth if given the chance!”

LQG: “… Since the war ended. You- you had a child during that time? You never thought to tell anyone- to tell me?”

SY: “..Well, family matters are private matters, I’m sure shidi understands.”

LQG: “Private! You- shameless! A decade- I’ve wasted a decade- and you never intended to tell me? What did you think would happen when you brought him here, Shen Yuan?!?”

SY (doesn’t know what’s going on but is protective of LBH nonetheless): “Does it matter? He’s here now, and that isn’t going to change! I’m not sure why you’re so concerned with my private life!”

LQG: “Your life- did you ever consider mine?!”

SY: “Like your life will change! I have a son to raise and protect- what all does that have to do with you?!”

LQG (fuming): “I see. You’ve made your point, Shen Yuan. I’ll stop interfering in your life- so separate from mine.” (Storms off)

CQMT witnesses the worst breakup imaginable.

SY has no idea why LQG got so worked up- maybe because SY wasn’t married? LQG was always so traditional…

Apparently, LQG left the day after their fight. Well whatever his issue is hopefully he’s in better spirits once he returns.

LQG returns 4 months later and doesn’t visit like usual. In fact, two days after his return, SY starts receiving packages. Boxes filled with trinkets and books he’s given LQG over the years- even a couple pairs of robes and a set of vambraces he had custom made for LQG. So. Whatever set LQG off clearly hadn’t been resolved. And he really doesn’t want to lose his best friend over… what? He still has no idea why LQG got so upset.

SY resolves to snub his pride and treck to Bai Zhan.

Only, once he arrives, he’s.. blocked? Denied entry? By the Bai Zhan disciples?? They were usually so sweet, charming in their own gruff way, but now they’re just short of openly hostile.

It’s dumb and angsty 🙄 but it tickles something in my brain

TLDR; LQG begins courting SY early in the story, before LBH is born. After TLJ is subdued and SY connects the only heavenly demon to obvi being LBHs dad he sets off to find LBH and ensure he has a better life. He ends up raising LBH with the washerwoman and LBH views SY as his dad and calls him such. Once she passes SY takes him back to CQMT where they meet LQG. LQG hears LBH call SY "a-die" and thinks that SY cheated on him; SY unknowingly confirms this- he also doesn't know that LQG has been courting him. Cue melodrama rivaling QiJiu except the whole sect gets to watch the fallout not just the aftermath.

#svsss #shen qingqiu #liu qingge #liushen #svsss au #this #is #what i ended up doing #instead of studying for my geochemistry final exam #i reeeealllyy hope i dont fail because #there's so much i need to learn #but im out here #having LiuShen Brain Worms instead #smh my head

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leashybebes · 2 days ago

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thirsty thursday

tagged by @trombonechurchill, mwah!

disclaimer: it's not thirsty other than in the way sal's sisters are thirsty for wine (and gossip!). look. i could be working on a) my job, or b) an actual story but instead, have another love in stereo outtake i'm poking at

"Ah, Jesus," Sal says when they pull up to the sidewalk - because they can't park on the driveway, because there's already a car in the spot behind Buck's Jeep. "They beat us here. C'mon, help me with the bags."

Buck wants to. He really does. It's just that he's completely frozen in the passenger seat, can't even unbuckle his seatbelt.

"Sal - "

Sal looks over at him, grin fading at whatever he sees on Buck's face.

"What's up with you?"

"What if they don't like me?"

"Listen, Gaby makes it a point not to like anyone she meets for at least a month. Bianca likes everybody. Giovanna and Cat are gonna adore you, and even if they don't, they're the babies, they don't get to have an opinion."

"They're gonna think I'm a homewrecker," Buck blurts out and Sal leans over to sling an arm around his neck and plant a smacking kiss on his temple.

"Does this home look wrecked?"

"N-no," Buck admits.

"There you go," Sal says. "Now, c'mon, if Gaby and Bianca get into the good stuff I'm never gonna hear the end of it from Tommy."

Buck takes a deep breath and follows Sal into the house. The living room is a wall of noise, more than four people should be able to produce. Four dark heads turn to look at them in unison. Buck's seen them all in photos enough to clock the family resemblance but in motion they all look so much like Sal that Buck has a fleeting feeling of sympathy for their parents.

"Okay, okay, shut up," Sal calls out, tugging Buck forward from where he's - not hiding exactly, but maybe attempting to be a little small. He points to them one at a time and says, "Bianca, Gaby-not-Gabriella, Giovanna, Cat-not-Caterina. This is Evan Buckley. You can call him Buck. Not Evan, only Tommy gets Evan privileges, don't ask me why. Please at least attempt to appear civilized, we like him very much and he's worried you won't."

Buck tries to simultaneously elbow Sal in the ribs and offer his sisters a wave and a smile that feels wobbly on his face, all while not dropping the groceries.

"Aw, c'mon Buck, we like Tommy," Gaby says. "You'll be fine."

Sal laughs, but Buck can't help frowning.

"Tommy's great," he says firmly.

Bianca busts out laughing. "Oh god, Sally, he's adorable."

"C'mon, knock it off, you animals," Sal says affectionately. "He's from a two-child household, he isn't built for this shit."

"Talking of Tommy, where is your better half?" Giovanna asks, and then corrects herself to, "Better third."

"Off doing Top Gun shit," Sal says. "Should be home soon."

"He messaged to say he was leaving - " Buck glances at the clock. "Right around now, actually."

Giovanna throws her arms in the air with a whoop of delight, exuberant and probably already a little drunk, Buck realizes as he notices wine bottles and glasses on the coffee table and in their hands. "My real brother's coming home!"

Sal sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Okay, backyard, the lot of you. Go on, out, out, away from the breakables!"

"Okay, dad," Gaby says, flipping him the bird. Sal bares his teeth in a not-quite-smile and the four of them snatch up their wine glasses, Bianca snagging the only one of the two bottles with anything left in it. They troop out as Sal shepherds them through to the kitchen and out into the yard.

no pressure tags for @setmeatopthepyre, @sugarpenchant and @screaminginternallyalleternity

#my writing #wip games #salbucktommy #love in stereo

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pearlywritings · 3 days ago

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On the strings of each others' souls

synopsis: general headcannons and scenarios on the romantic relationship between deacon Dahlia - the leader of the choir, and you - the organist.

pairing and characters: Dahlia x fem!reader

tw: fluff, colleagues to lovers, established relationship later, reader is the organist at the Church of Favonius, reader is taller than Dahlia, Venti is the wingman

word count: 4.4k+ words

a/n: Shoutout to my dear friend @ladyphaethon-blog, who has been listening to my yapping about Dahlia and came up with several scenarios that ended up being written here. Thank you, love, you brain is sexy <3

You met Dahlia when he officially joined the Church of Favonius - first as the Lord Barabtos’s oracle, then as a deacon and a leader of the choir. Before that you, of course, heard about a young man, who was skilled with his words and knew how to regulate conflicts - you had some respect for him in absentia. When he proclaimed to be bearing the will of the Anemo Archon, you were among the skepticists. But after you became colleagues and grew closer, your doubts quite quickly dissipated.

Being the organist sort of predetermined your close acquaintance with Dahlia - you and him both working with the choir. While your feelings towards getting a new colleague were neutral (you just hoped he'd have been better than his predecessor), the young man was thrilled - new acquisition meant new emotions. And boy, did he remember the emotions from your first meeting. When he was first led to an inconspicuous door to the side from the organ’s pipes and stepped inside your domain, Dahlia thought he witnessed something sacred. He had never given much thought to how the great instrument operated or wherever even the player was placed, but, seeing you, seated in front of the three rows of white and black keys, leaning forward to scribble something in the music sheets while the fingers of your free hand were floating across the keys without pressing and feet moving around the board of pedals without stepping, he was mesmerized. And only when you glanced at him and called his name as if making sure it was who you thought it was, did he snap out of it and, plastering the humblest smile he could muster, walk further into the room.

From then on Dahlia started building his opinion of you. At first, disappointedly, you appeared to him exactly what the church in his mind was - boring. Serious, barely smiling, sticking to the work and not letting him stray from it - the newly ordained deacon found it hard to believe that you both were in your twenties - coevals! But soon he started to take notice of things. How you’d laugh occasionally with the sisters and even crack a harmless joke. How you’d speak softly with the younger ones, make sure to praise the singers when they got better, even help them adjust their uniforms. If he was completely honest, he once caught you helping Barbara tying her pigtails. The girl lamented her late awakening which resulted in a lack of time to get ready properly, and you only smiled, brushing her locks and promising her it’s alright. On more than one occasion he'd watch you frown your brows or widen your eyes adorably, or shake your head with a smile full of acceptance, while grading your student’s theory homework (ah, yes, he also learned you give piano lessons as a part of homeschooling) during the breaks between the choir practices, having occupied one of the benches in the second row.

He then talked to the other nuns. Somehow he managed to get information from the several families who hired you for their kids. And his initial take on you was gradually reformed. He began to figure it out, realizing that you were so closed off only because you were in the senior position to him - helping a newbie adjust, making sure he knew you weren’t there to fool around and that working with you might be a challenge, and suddenly, he was alright with it. Buuuut it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try and break the ice.

Dahlia was a peculiar phenomenon to you. Everybody who had eyes and looked longer than five seconds would’ve caught the sight of the mischievous glint in the violet eyes or the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth when another reformative suggestion of his brought change to the usual course of things in the cathedral. Plus you saw some of the hymns he carried in his choirbook - he even showed you some himself, asking if it was possible to transfer them from the lyre to the organ. You had no idea how he managed to fool everyone. Yet you promised to discuss the possibility later.

It was easy for you to say that he had little imps dancing in his head, when you had spent quite some time with the man. Absolutely not because his bright aura and showing persistence drew your attention to him. Still, you admitted that you had caught onto his attempts to worm his way under your skin quite fast, you were not stupid or blind, or oblivious. After some time he started to try and evolve the conversations, first with simple talks about the weather and later on asking, as if in passing, how was your day. He would bring something to snack on with the tea - and it was his idea to have breaks (unnecessary ones, since you had rarely spent more than an hour together. Though you came to enjoy them). He would also ask for permission to linger a bit after your discussions were over and hover next to your sitting form, closely watching you operate the organ’s console, occasionally questioning this or that pull or press of your fingers. And you patiently explained.

Four months in you could claim with certainty that you two had become good acquaintances. The kind that not yet teased each other, but already shared jokes and gave the same people a silently judging look. Your expression around him was still mostly neutral, but every time Dahlia had managed to get a sincere smile - no matter how small it was, - from you, or a half-hearted roll of your eyes, or a glare, or his name said in warning…the young man felt the so-beloved feeling of excitement blooming in his chest.

“I think you have a little crush on our dear organist!” Venti once giggled after the deacon confided in his god (or rather spilled the tea about your surprised face one evening over the bottle of wine). Dahlia stopped mid-sip, and then slowly lowered his glass, staring at his friend. Come to think of it… the bard had a point. The young man had to admit it: he enjoyed the little moments you spent together. He finally found your mostly unphased behavior refreshing. He’d been speaking about you to others more. Sometimes he caught himself musing if he should’ve invited you to tug along to the tavern after work. He looked forward to singing you a new rhyme he learnt from somewhere and preened when you clapped and offered him few, but sincere words of praise. The first time you told him you thought he was the right pick for the leader of the choir because you found his voice heavenly? He was speechless and bashful. Ultimately, if we return to his and Venti's conversation, your expression morphed into one of sheepish bewilderment because the deacon decided to be a little tease and called you ‘flower’... Who calls their colleague a flower!? “You know what, Venti? I think you are onto something.” "*gasp* I AM!?"

Nice shot, Venti.

After that fateful conversation, Dahlia began paying closer attention to you. First thing he finally noted was your height. Since you usually greeted him while sitting and the conversation rarely happened on foot, the pink-haired herald never addressed the fact that you were significantly taller than him. Like, eye-level-with-your-collarbones taller. Sometimes your chest, if you had heels on. Did it bother him? As if. It felt strangely exhilarating when he had to lift his head just to look into your calm as the lake surface eyes. Imagination drew pictures of stepping into your embrace and tucking his head under your chin, content and secure, pressing his cheek to your softness… Oops, he was moving too fast too soon in his head.

The second revelation came in the form of the shift in your dynamic. It was no longer only Dahlia coming to you. Now you also sought him out. You'd approach him before morning service and offer to share your breakfast - had little time to eat at home, brought too much with you. Instead of talking to one of the nuns, you went to him directly if something of concern happened. You'd even take your time and walk closer to say hi if you spotted him in the city. The most earth-shaking instance so far, that almost made his heart skip a beat, was you finding him after a little organ concert you gave every Thursday, and showing him a folder with music sheets. “I managed to transfer that song you liked from the lyre to the pipe organ. I can play it to you tomorrow, during my own practice.”

Your voice was even, but Dahlia didn't miss the way your eyes held sparkles in them, and how your lashes trembled when you looked at him, truly looked at him.

And he came on Friday. And he listened. And he felt the feelings bloom. And he sang, first by your side and then stepping outside and filling the grand hall of the cathedral with his voice alongside your music. It was uplifting, it was the creation of something new, something dear, and he paid no mind to the sisters or the members of the congregation who stopped whatever they were doing just to witness his smile, the perfect sync of his melodious voice and the majestic instrument that was playing quieter, softer. For him.

Dahlia ran back inside the room with the slam of the door that almost made you scold him. But you simply had no time for that, not even a second to stand up, as the deacon hugged you tightly around the shoulders in the rush of feelings. He was laughing, he was wearing the widest smile you’d ever seen him possess and he was rocking your bodies from side to side in an unconcealed excitement. He was elated when your fingers softly curled around his arm, squeezing, and the side of your head lightly bumped against his cheek. It took everything in him not to press a kiss to your hair.

And that was then that he realized it was pointless to beat around the bush and asked you to join him in the tavern that very same evening.

“Hey, I was thinking…” It took him around half an hour of hurried praises and a ton of questions you diligently tried to keep up with, but he was finally more or less calm. You let him sit on the organ’s bench together with you. Hips touching, shoulders snug together, and his palm resting on top of the back of yours, as the fingers moved across the keyboard. You told him it’s an exercise you use to show your students how relaxed a hand should be. And it was the closest you’d ever been with him. “Yes?” Your head turned and hand stilled. But he made no effort to remove his. “Why don’t you join me at the Angel’s Share today?” Violet eyes gleamed, and you could swear you caught the glimpse of hope in them. “I rarely see you anywhere after work, unwinding. I promise you good wine and good music.” “Master Diluc’s tavern?” You hummed, glancing to the side, brows drawing together in thought. “I’m afraid it’s too many people and different sounds for my liking. It may not seem like it, but sometimes I can get a minor headache from playing for too long. I would like to avoid making it worse.” “Oh,” the sudden discovery made Dahlia’s enthusiasm waver slightly. But as his mind was rushing to come with something else, your hand turned, letting his palm slide into yours, curling the fingers around his tentatively. “However… I don’t see why we can't save the evening at the tavern for another time and go to the Good Hunter to have a nice dinner instead.” “Are you…” his breath hitched and he couldn’t dare to believe his luck, just not yet, “...are you asking me out?” “Well, technically it was you who asked me out first,” a sliver of tease slipped into your voice, “I simply suggested a different location.” “So…it’s a ‘yes’?” “Absolutely.” “We are going on a date?” “Mhm,” your gaze shifted to his hand and fingers started playing with his. The deacon’s shoulders relaxed. His digits carefully, just one knuckle in, slid between yours. His head tilted back a bit, and mouth released a relieved sigh. And Dahlia fully accepted the fact he was taking his crush out. “Oh, thank Barbatos…” Then, as if remembering something urgent, he slightly bolts, sitting straighter. “Oh, also!” “Yes?” “Can I keep calling you ‘flower’?” To his surprise a small smile graced your lips. “Ask me that after the fifth date, and I promise to think about it.” And you winked. Dahlia was positively gone.

It’s been a couple of years since you officially started dating. Deacon Dahlia, known for his blessing to hear the will of the divine, the young herald with an aura of piety who always has a kind word of advice for the troubled, and you, the Church of Favonius’s organist and composer, a collected young lady, who gives piano lessons and looks after the younger sisters of the church.

To some your union came as a surprise, other citizens were more observant and were suspecting something when you first started to appear together in public for your dates. And very few, like sister Victoria, saw the signs long before.

In any case, people are happy for you. You honestly look good together, and the members of the congregation actually believe it was your mutual devotion to Lord Barbatos that brought your pure souls to each other.

But Dahlia will never ever fool you. Sometimes, in the back of your mind, you have that annoying thought that your love made him worse. If before his smile was pretentiously humble, now it looks like sin whenever he graces you with his glance.

His attitude shifted too. Now, with you, he doesn’t have to hold back and pretend he is not a menace to society (and you personally), doesn’t need to think twice before deciding to tease you; you accepted him as your lover and he sure isn’t going to waste any opportunity to do what he enjoys doing most. Bring fun and chaos into your relationship.

His fantasies are a reality now. Nothing can stop this man if he wants to hug his girlfriend (only you). He fawns on you like a pink-furred kitten, sliding his arms around your waist and placing his cheek atop your chest, sighing dreamily. He calls your height difference just perfect, and when you reprimand him (effortlessly) for his behavior, he turns to face you, plants his chin right between your breasts and gives you a goofy smile.

But he is also greedy. Embraces were quick to become ‘not enough’ for him, he soon started to desire kisses. He loves the challenge when he wants one. Catching you by surprise and smooching you as you sit or hovering over you while you are lying are, obviously, good deals. Though they don’t get him going like standing kisses. He loves the playful banter when he asks you to lean down. He isn’t insecure to use the bench or the steps, or the edge of the fountain to jump onto and get his portion of pecks. Archons, for the longest time his unserious ass even had a folding stool on him all time while at church. Sweet and innocent Barbara thought the deacon used it to put his elbows up while praying. Dahlia whipped it out whenever he wanted to get his lips on yours.

Is into making out in random places. Could be the second floor at the Angel’s Share, where you two are tucked in the corner while everyone is celebrating downstairs; chairs half-turned to each other, your mouths moving together in sync, and his hand is held down against your thigh with your own, cutting off his sneaky attempt to paw at you. Hoisting you onto the barrel behind the Cat’s Tail works too - he has a perfect opportunity to invade space between your spread legs and hush your discontent whispers with as many kisses as he wants. Slipping into your ‘work room’ before, in-between and after the practices just to steal some more? A given. Archons, you can even lift him up against the church’s wall and he’ll wrap his arms and legs around your body with vigor, smashing his mouth into yours. He’d even make sure to curl his toes in the shoes just for the giggles.

As matter of fact, Rosaria - who, as you now know, can move soundlessly - once caught you in that very position, when she was trying to skip choir practice. You think the three of you had a staring contest for like, two minutes, before Dahlia, ignoring you hiding your face in his neck and silently dying inside from embarrassment, negotiated with his subordinate, that ‘she saw nothing and you two didn’t see her either’. Still hoisted up. With legs around your waist, swollen lips and everything.

The only case that was worse than that, happened a couple of months into your relationship. Having stayed late to finish some work on picking the new composition for the choir’s repertoire, Dahlia got impatient. The moment you turned away from the manuals of the instrument, your lover was on you. He learned the hard way that the human back slamming against the keys of the pipe organ created a truly LOUD cacophony. Almost at midnight, no less.

You don’t know what exactly Dahlia told the sisters to cover your…blasphemous actions, and you don’t want to know to save your dignity, but the day later your impish boyfriend told you that everything was alright and it only cost him two bottles of the fine dandelion wine for using the Anemo Archon’s name.

As I said -you don’t want to know.

But for a half of a year Dahlia was banned from your domain.

(You nearly brought back this prohibition once you learned that the Holy Lyre der Himmel was first stolen and then returned broken. You had your suspicions, you are not proud of it, but just for good measure you make sure Dahlia knows how delicate, despite its massiveness, the organ is, and how hard, not to mention expensive, it is to fix your instrument.)

Not only Dahlia changed because of the relationship - you did too. Got more sociable, experimental, daring. It came to you as a surprise that being showered with affection and becoming the center of attention of the man you love can be as agreeable as others described it. You are still the responsible one and often mutter at your partner’s shenanigans, but you do not deny that being loved by Dahlia, spending every day by his side feels like a blessing. Even if this ‘blessing’ acts like he has two pointy horns and a sharp-tipped tail.

You are still not the regular at the taverns, but occasionally, on a night before a day off, you would join your lover and your (now mutual) friends. On evenings when you do not, you still stop by on your way from the late classes to pick up your boyfriend and go home together. Dahlia always laughs, when you turn to Diluc or any other barmen on duty and ask genially, if your boyfriend turned the peaceful evening into another messy chaos.

Speaking of friends…

Venti, the notorious bard you’ve seen and heard of before, is now the third wheel in your relationship, but this wheel is FUNCTIONING. Someone wise once said: ‘if you can’t beat them, join them. But if you are too sane to join - just roll with it.’ That’s the path you chose, becoming the observer of their trickstery.

Dahlia once told you, that ever since his friend had found out about the crush the deacon had on you, he’d beg at least twice a day: “please, please, please, get together it will be so fucking funny and wholesome”. With hands clasped together and eyes lifted skyward. (as if this man isn’t a god himself)

Then you were informed that Venti was actually your wingman - self-proclaimed, of course. How come? Very logically: had it not been his proposition, Dahlia wouldn't have joined the church and met you. Well, maybe he would've, somewhere in the city, but at the cathedral he could see you every day! And fall in love! You let him think what he wanted, while Dahlia just smiled into his drink.

There are times though when you admit you owe it to Venti - like that one conversation on an evening you barely remember.

“Soooo, Dahlia calls you a flower, huh?” The bard muses when your boyfriend leaves the table for a refill with a kiss to your temple and a quiet murmur of a nickname that stuck. “Yep,” your lips pop the last letter like it’s a vexation, but an unconscious action of gliding your fingertips over the ring with a flowery pattern on your hand tells the wind god a different story. “Aww, does it mean he’s your little bug?” “What?” You shoot him a look, surprised. The bard twists the teal-died braid between his fingers, puts his chin on a free palm and gives you a toothy grin. “Come on, isn’t it obvious? He can’t get his hands off of you, he practically climbs on you. And if you are a beautiful flower, he should be an itty-bitty beatle.” The man watches you ponder his words, witnesses the moment when an idea gets into your head, and relishes in the devious smile that stretches your mouth. “Venti, I don’t say it often - but you are a genius.” “Tee-hee, so I’ve been told~” When Dahlia is finally back, three mugs are placed on the table, and he reclaims his seat by your side, you catch him off guard with a peck to his lips and a sweet, practically saccharine ‘missed you, cuddlebug’, and Venti bursts out laughing nose first into his mug.

Ultimately, Venti is Dahlia’s man. His backup. His partner in crime. His wingman. You can only cover your face with a hand when the bard, already drunk and wobbly, bends down, wraps his arms around his friend’s legs and hoists him up, swearing it’s only because your lover wants a kiss. From you. No, asking you to lean down is not an option today, absolutely not.

You are so tired of them /aff

You three are like a modern sitcom. The company of three where: 1) two are dating; 2) the third one is drinking at the expanse of the other two; 3) the third one is also a god and the guy from the pair is his herald and they are best buddies; 4) the herald’s girlfriend is in a permanent state of wanting to smack the other guy on the back of his head, yet every time lets him crash at her house.

By the way, living with Dahlia is…an experience. No, he is responsible with his chores (though he doesn’t miss an opportunity to use their completion as an excuse to demand affection), and isn’t one to bring other people around (Venti is an unspoken exception). But he gets so clingy when left alone with you in the comfort of your shared space. If you cook something, he is attached to your back with arms wrapped around your waist. If you lounge on the sofa, he comes and drapes himself over you like a weighted blanket, expecting headpats and getting away with his hand wiggling under your shirt. If he is the one sitting and you come into the room, he lights up and pats his lap. Even if there are plenty of places to sit down (he just loves how he can put his head onto your chest when you settle on top of his thighs sideways, says your heartbeat calms him). Practically, he leaves you alone only if you ask him to and during the hours when you need your concentration being directed solely to music.

He steals the blankets. Which isn’t that much of a problem, considering he hogs you into his arms as well. Giggles, when you repeat the ‘cuddlebug’ nickname sleepily for the tenth time, and throws his leg over yours for good measure. Sometimes he sings you off to sleep, using that high beautiful voice for your ears only. Never lets you out of bed without a morning kiss (you tried, but he is quite a light sleeper). On several occasions has played harmless pranks by handing you his shirt instead of yours or hiding socks the way you have to wear a mismatched pair (no one sees, but he knows, and it brings him joy). Always has an attentive ear, a soothing silence and a warm embrace to offer when you feel down.

All in all, Dahlia is a good boyfriend. Yes, he does things that leave you wondering how people still see him as a perfect image of a cleric, but he never makes you a part of a drama that could cause any form of harm. He’s a huge tease, but while his mouth is flirting, his eyes gaze at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and named at least ten in his honor. He is attentive, supportive and ready to step in if someone bothers you (on more than one occasion he, wearing the most innocent look his skills could provide, rage-baited the person who was making you uncomfortable, making it so the knights were forcing them from you and taking them away). He remembers stuff you like, surprising you at least once a week with a trinket that caught your eye or a favorite snack of yours that is sold on a specific day at a specific time, or something else that’ll delight you. He also doesn’t forget important dates, even if they are your personal ones. You were gobsmacked when last year he asked how you two were going to celebrate the 5-year anniversary of your successful career as the piano teacher (you forgot about it!). But most importantly…

Dahlia loves you. Loves you like the sun that plays with the colors of the stained-glass windows. Loves you like a long walk home when you can talk and talk about what your future holds. Loves you like you are a mystery he’ll never unfold, but will happily try again and again. Loves you like a constant that his drama-seeking self didn’t know it so desperately needed.

And when your hand finds his, and you whisper earnestly an ‘I love you’ back, Dahlia believes his life has truly been blessed.

taglist: @ghostlymoons, @queenskippy

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #dahlia x reader #dahlia x fem!reader #genshin dahlia #genshin impact fluff #organist!reader au

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w0rnlolita · 2 days ago

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eng / rus lang

I wanna share my opinion on this whole 'situation' with SourAppleStudio. This is MY opinion!! U can block me or ignore the post if u disagree, or argue with my points, whatever lol

IMO, I think it’s unfair to put SourAppleStudio in the same category as problematic Undertale community creators who groom kids and stuff.

First off, I don’t see an issue with taking NSFW art commissions (16+), or even drawing that kinda content—as long as the characters are adults. And yeah, I also don’t care if one (or all) of the characters are aged up. The point is, they’re not kids, end of story.

Second, canceling SourAppleStudio is dumb and way too toxic, bro. I get that you’re upset, but why are you spewing venom like the creator of Horrortale was out here grooming minors? It’s wild to me that y’all blew up a whole drama over nothing. Also, ditching a character/AU over something this petty is just… funny to me. I’ve been a hardcore Horror!Sans and Horrortale fan for 6 years, and I’m not about to drop something that means so much to me just ‘cause some people can’t separate fiction from reality. My perception’s fine, thanks.

Third, nobody gave y’all permission to claim this AU as public property. Respect the creator’s rights, even if you "don’t wanna". And trying to make Horror!Sans’ personality/behavior "community property" is even dumber. I hate fanon ‘cause it turned Horror!Sans into some cutesy bastard, a chef who eats everything in sight, or an “alpha male”—it’s gross. Y’all wanna make it worse? Go ahead, but don’t cry later when you’re sick of the cringey fanon you helped create.

Twitter cancel culture is the most miserable, braindead thing ever ‘cause this whole "situation" is made-up drama. And the Undertale community’s way too sensitive—y’all see something "problematic" everywhere. You scream about hating proship/comship/darkship, but then u turn around and ship selfship/selfcest/oc x canon/crackship like?? The double standards are ridiculous, lmao.

To wrap it up: I’m not a proshipper or anti, I’m a neutralshipper—I couldn’t care less about shipping ‘cause I’ve got better things to do than argue over who pairs up with who. I’m not friends with SourAppleStudio, just an independent anon online sharing my take on this mess. Got questions for me? Ask away—I’ll happily answer.

If you agree with me, I’d love a like or reblog (whatever floats your boat). If not? Ignore me or drop a constructive counter-argument in the replies.

Буду очень рада, если кто-нибудь из рунет сегмента андертейла скажет, что нибудь про это. Если есть можете писать в лс/комментарии! (for ru community)

Peace out, stay healthy & happy ^_^

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aroaessidhe · 2 days ago

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I need to get better at posting about aspec books as I read them, not just quietly adding them to my database and mentioning in the bottom of my reviews lol so here's the last few months [no order]

The Keeper of Lonely Spirits - cozy fantasy. the MC is likely acespec - he's only been interested in two people in 200 years, mostly uncomfortable about it otherwise. (& I think I saw the author mention this also). He's gay and also immortal - and elderly, not like an immortal-20-year-old, which is nice. It's vague/brief enough that I probably would not read it for aceness though.

I finally read the Villains duology, everyone knows about it, it's solid, only a brief direct mention of his asexuality in book 2 but the vibes are there throughout.

Be The Sea - a slow character focused scififantasy, with a demisexual (nonbinary, autistic) MC, and an ace SC. asexuality is discussed quite a bit in the book. lots of things are discussed. the book is mostly discussions.

The Fallow Year / Holy Terrors - end of the little thieves trilogy! Vanja and Emeric are still demisexual. they both explore some other relationships in TFY - I've seen some opinions that it felt 'not very demi' of them but imo the way it was depicted felt pretty clear on the difference of attraction vs action? I would have been happy with not as much focus on their relationship in the latter books but it's fine it's a good series

This Ends in Embers - end of a YA fantasy duology with dragons and sisters. one MC is demi. it's only briefly brought up but she has a romance subplot that it's lightly woven into.

Kiss Me, Maybe - contemporary romance with a greyace lesbian MC. I wrote a bit in my review here, it's not bad

The End Crowns All - YA Cassandra/Helen Greek retelling fantasy with a sex-favourable ace lesbian MC. bit too long and slow for me, but her ace journey was nice.

Wearing The Lion - heracles retelling, aroace author, athena (minor character) is alloace which is briefly discussed in a scene. probably won't put this in my database, just mentioning it here tho

Cradle and Grave - postapoc horror with an aroace character - just a single mention. no romance.

The Ocean Hugs Hard - historical mystery w a bit of cosmic horror, ace man MC. the depiction of his asexuality felt pretty true to the historical setting and was decent and complex, just didn't love the book.

Limitless: Poetry of an Aromantic & Asexual Journey - what it says on the tin. i'm not really a poetry person

What Wakes The Bells - YA fantasy with a demisexual girl MC, m/f. I liked how it emphasised the friendship aspect of their relationship just as much. her brother is also aroace. the book was just okay.

We Are Villains - YA mystery/thriller from Kacen Callender. the main MC is aroace, briefly explored. very glad for more Black aspecs from a Black author! the book was.....okay.

Vagabonds! - great Nigerian contemporary fantasy with a couple of ace/aroace coded characters in the ensemble cast, though only really discussed in a few paragraphs. very good book.

Unbury The Bones / Boneless - a couple very short cozy fantasy mystery novellas about an aromantic vampire & the werewolf who's trying so so hard to be their friend

That’s What She Said - contemporary novel about two friends in their 20s, one is demisexual. it is very focused on her demisexuality which is done pretty well imo, unfortunately the other MC is arospec coded and then villainised for it (aromanticism is never brought up. it's just commitment issues or whatever, eyeroll)

The Chronicles of Nerezia - not new, I just read the most recent two books. 3 aroaces and a lesbian going on adventures and playing so many board games and trying to save the world

Come Drink With Me - chinese fairytale vibe novella about two immortals who live/work at an opera house, who are both aromantic. this isn't new I just reread it bc i've been meaning to for a while! read my bestie's books 🫵

Children of Ruin - unexpected major character in book 2 of this trilogy is mentioned to be asexual (implied aro). very much the asocial mad scientist stereotype and only mentioned the once, I wouldn’t really call this good representation. But I do like this kind of character and I also liked the books, so,

Black Salt Queen - again unexpected, a side character is an aroace woman. (just mentioned once). fingers crossed POV in book 2? idk

A Stage Over Ruthless Stars - YA sci-fi with an aroallo MC and gay MC. his being aro is pretty much just mentioned the once. the other MC also expresses disinterest in amatonormative 'when you settle down with a partner in the future' rhetoric. no romance.

Hallowed Be Her Flesh - another monster romance/erotica from emryn bird, sapphic with an ace MC and asexual-species angel LI

a couple books I've heard/ been reminded about recently and are on my hopefully-near-future tbr:

The Star Crossed Empire - space opera with an ace MC

The Map And The Territory - high fantasy with aroace MC(s?), been vaguely on my tbr for ages but I just got a copy.

A Crimson Covenant - sapphic vampire/werewolf romance, I believe one is demisexual

Threads of the City - demiromantic ace MC

Demon Song - an ace MC, I think

That Devil Ambition - it's a linsey miller book I'm sure there's an ace girl in there somewhere

Painted Flock - obviously! I always forget about books I designed when im book blogging lmao

Rising Ashes - Fallen Thorns sequel, aroace MC

One Morning Sun - book 3 in the Sãoni Cycle! aroallo & alloace MCs

(there are obviously MANY more I know about these are just. I do actually plan to read these soon)

#asexual books #aromantic books #once again I am almost at the end of the month and I haven't written any of my reviews yet #long post #i guess lol

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the-eeveekins · 2 days ago

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I'm not very active on tumblr much these days, but as a Gundam fan I should probably pop in to talk about GQuuuuuuX. Because I sure have some opinions on it.

The basic overview is that I think the show had a very interesting framework. But everything was so rushed that I found it all to be very shallow, and I didn't enjoy it as a result. It especially hurts in my case because Beginning and the early episodes really drew me into Machu, Nyaan, and Shuji, and they were the part of the show I was most interested in. Unfortunately they felt completely overshadowed by all UC stuff in the 2nd half, which did not interest me anywhere near as much. That said, there are two things from the finale that I'm particularly upset by:

1. Bringing back Furuya as Amuro.

I don't care that production on the show started before his behavior came out. I don't buy any of the excuses. Bringing him back was an awful mistake, full stop. He confessed to his actions long enough ago that even if his line was recorded before hand, there has been plenty of time to recast and re-record one line. Having him there is a black mark against the show.

2. The Machu x Shuji Confession.

You can go through my post history on bsky and see that I never expected GQ to be yuri. In fact, you can find me rooting for the polycule more than anything. But damn, was the het absolutely terrible. Machu's attraction to Shuji is completely one-sided, and they don't even see each other for half the show. There is even a whole moment in the final episode that built up to "Shuji loves Lalah." It all perfectly clicked into place. And then it's like someone burst into the writing room and shouted "NOOOOOO! You have to make Shuji get with one of the girls, or people might think it's gay again!" What follows is a completely out of left field kiss and love confession, none of which felt remotely earned.

Meanwhile, the relationship between Suletta and Miorine was the core of G-Witch's story. They share multiple moments of mutual affection throughout the show. They end the show married. And yet, they couldn't kiss on screen. They couldn't directly say the words "I love you" to each other. By all accounts the staff were handicaped by Bandai in how they were allowed to depict Sulemio's relationship. And while the staff did succeed at making it textual, they had to get creative to do it.

In any other context I would say "Ah, forced het because he's a boy and she's a girl. Must be a day ending in Y." But to get served that right after G-Witch? After all the hoops Sulemio had to jump through? Yeah, I'm a little insulted here.

Sapphic romances work so hard and can be so good, they can be the core theme of the story. And they still get less than the most lazy and uninspired het romances in media. And make no mistake, bigots will be tripping over themselves for years to say that Machu and Shuji getting a kiss and "I love you" makes it a better/more legitimate relationship than Sulemio.

I don't outright hate GQuuuuuuX. Like any Gundam series I don't like, there are still things I enjoyed. Nyaan, Shiiko, Deux, the Gyan and GFreD, the animation, the ED and the fact Machu & Nyaan live together after the finale. Conch, my precious robot crab son, who I'am so proud of. Hell, I'm still talking about it over two days later, something I can't say about other recent Gundam entries I didn't like (Metaverse, RfV, Silver Phantom). But this entry missed the mark for me.

On a personal note, I am so glad that this got delayed and Suletta was our first female MC. Suletta was such a great starting point for female MCs: she felt like the main character of her own show (a show actually centered around women!), and her personality and motivations didn't revolve around a boy. And GQuuuuuuX had far far more misogyny problems than G-Witch; they wanted to make a show about a female Gundam MC and they failed Machu in just about every way. Considering Gundam's often problematic issues relating to it's female characters throughout the franchise, Suletta feels like a miracle, and we somehow dodged the bullet of first female MC being plagued by those exact same issues.

#gundam #gundam gquuuuuux #gquuuuuux spoilers #machu #amate yuzuriha #suletta mercury #sulemio #shuji ito #it all comes back to sulemik

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jaehaeryshater · 13 hours ago

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The Day Viserys Sold Rhaella’s Crown

Viserys and Daenerys by @nautieval, beloved oomfie

Just like all my other comm ideas, this has been something I have been sitting on for quite a while now. This one I’ve had on my mind since October, if I remember correctly. The thing is, I am so particular and mindful with the art I commission. Everyone I work with is incredibly talented and I appreciate all of them; I am simply of the opinion that different styles that I have in mind work better with some people and everyone works best with different characters, usually characters that they have a passion for. So I’ve been looking for someone that does Targaryens and depicts child characters in a way that speaks to me. Finally, I found Shep, who also did an infant version of my OC Bael Whitewolf back in January. He did a phenomenal job with that, and I think you all will agree that he did a phenomenal job here as well. Since this piece is portraying children, I love the feel of something more storybook-esque and more vibrant in color. This is perfect, in my opinion. Shep is my mutual on twitter and I adore him so I’m hoping everyone checks out his other work as well.

What’s always bothered me has been the lack of people talking about Viserys and Daenerys’s life before the events of AGOT and how things are from his perspective. This is understandable because there aren’t as many details on it as we get in the main storyline. Viserys also turns out to be an abuser so people do not wish to make excuses for him, I do not blame them. I merely think understanding him is important to who Daenerys becomes as a character and how she has thus far avoided becoming who he became, even when met with great hardship. It is not my belief that Viserys was born “mad” or from some kind of Targaryen curse, I think he broke under pressure and trauma. That does not excuse him, all it means is that is not evidence that Daenerys is l genetically predisposed to madness. I am also of the belief that Viserys loved her and that she did not lack for love as a small child, only the amount of people she could go to for that love. That created an immense trauma bond between the two of them. Further, I don’t think he ever lapsed in love of her, but his abuse of her lapsed any relevancy of that love. He probably did plan on her eventually joining her in Westeros because I don’t think he would fare well being without her for long, but I don’t think he had much of a plan beyond that because he is not a sane person.

It is said Viserys lost joy and his sanity when he sold his mother’s crown in order to keep him and Daenerys fed. I can totally see that. Viserys remembers his family and how they were taken from him, which left him with the responsibility of Daenerys. He had Willam Darry at first, but when he died, he was forced to be a sole caregiver very young (and had had the burden of an emotional and probably to some extent physical caregiver for her even before then). Viserys taught Daenerys what he knew and seemed to take his responsibility somewhat seriously for a time. It was most likely very humiliating and traumatic to have to go from Free City to Free City, begging people to house and feed him and his sister. He’s at the will of these powerful men and they all eventually abandon him and he will have to start over, he’s fully aware of that. Selling Rhaella’s crown to keep Daenerys fed was giving up the memory of his family, he has nothing left (and yet, he agrees to give Daenerys up, whether he thought it would be long term or not, later on). That, to me, was probably the tipping point of him breaking down mentally.

All that to say, here he is, playing with Daenerys the evening after he sold Rhaella’s crown. He’s still at this point making an attempt to shield Daenerys from trauma and keep her happy, but his eyes are empty and in time, he will descend into cruelty and abuse towards her. For now he’s fighting it. She is unaware of what’s going on because she is young, which probably is frustrating to him. By the time she’s his age, she will know much too well the cruelty of the world. They are currently seeking shelter in an abandoned building while they await the next ship to come to port to take them to the next Free City. It was important to me to show he wasn’t all there and that Daenerys is just trying to play and be happy. It shows a childlike ignorance of what is to come, not knowing that this familial love, for what it is, is not to persist for long.

I hope it did not come across that I am romanticizing or excusing Viserys’s actions, that is the furthest thing from my mind. I just think his relationship with Daenerys is fascinating.

Here are some other version for you guys. I did get full render at first, but I preferred it with less detail, I found. I’m sure there will be others that enjoy the full render more. My endless thanks to @nautieval for doing this for me.

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #daenerys targaryen #book daenerys #daenerys stormborn #viserys targaryen #valyrianscrolls

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mysoftboybensolo · 11 hours ago

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No one asked, but here is my opinion on the whole “How much sexual experience does Bob have” debate, and I have two going theories. WARNING: discussions of child abuse, drug abuse, and sexual abuse.

Theory One is that Bob is a virgin. And no, it’s not because “OMG he’s so baby!” No, I am saying it based on what we can see in how he acts and his history. Let me make this very clear, people can be in their late 20’s to early 30’s and still be virgins, and it doesn’t have to be weird or infantizing anyone, it can happen and has happened, and anyone who thinks that it’s ridiculous, take a good long and hard look at yourself.

The main argument I've seen people use is that “meth makes you horny!” as a reason why Bob couldn't be a virgin, but here’s the thing, we know Bob took multiple drugs, starting with morphine, so meth wasn’t the only drug, and we don’t know just how long he was on meth really. I personally think that after the Chicken Sign incident, he did his best to avoid meth knowing how violent he got (he did actually hurt someone during this, which is what led him to being fired), and no doubt reminded him too much of his father (you can see my analysis of the scene here). Even if Bob continued to take meth, it doesn't mean he acted on his hormones, and research says that men who take meth actually find their libido and their ability to perform decreased the more they use it (x).

I’ve seen people in the past try and say that certain characters would’ve have some level of experience because their actor is hot, ergo they must get laid. That isn’t always the case; we may see Bob as played by Lewis Pullman, but Marvelverse sees Bob as some awkward weirdo, was described pre-serum as being pale, hunched over, looking unhealthy and don’t forget, he had been on the streets for a while, so no doubt his hygiene isn’t very good. He wouldn’t have been as much of a catch as we would have seen him as. And let's not kid ourselves, many of us have seen homeless people and passed right by them, not giving a second look, even if they were attractive looking, so don't pretend you would have been the exception.

Personally, I headcanon him as demisexual, (being a raging demi myself, I see a lot of myself in him), he clearly craves and needs an emotional connection with someone, and I think that he didn’t really have much of that when being a drug addict and being homeless.

The man clearly attaches himself to whoever is nice to him, a feeling all too real, and some people would see this as being too weird and avoid him. For as much as Bob may wish to be close with someone, and as much as we find him handsome, he still is awkward and was dealing with issues that would have turned people off from being with him. Although he is clearly touch starved, he is also fearful of intimacy. Here’s the thing, I know exactly how Bob feels, I have been, and even now, feel the way he has felt. Trying your best to be helpful and wanted, but somehow always ruining things, putting your trust in people who only want to hurt you, feeling so unloved that you think it’s better to be left behind than cause more problems. These feelings do massive damage to your self-image, how you speak to people and how people see you. So, I feel, for as much as Bob wants to be close to people, he either pushes them away because he feels unworthy, or people sense this and outright avoid him.

Theory Two, Bob was sexually assaulted. It’s sad, but it’s a very real possibility.

This first point could be seen as a stretch, but I and a few others have noticed something off about this scene. When Val first manipulates Bob, saying how she knew all about him, she starts to say, “I even about the times your father-” only for Bob to quickly and harshly stop her, physically closing up, telling her, “I didn’t say you could know that,” followed by violent flickering of lights, showing clearly whatever it was she was going to say greatly upset him. I think it's not completely out of the realm of possibility that this happened, especially since when Yelena sees the violent nature of his father, he seems to shrug it off like he was used to it, and when the curtain is strangling them both, Bob tells her to get used to it or else the pain will only get worse, as if he's had this happen before. But Valentina struck a nerve, one makes him act out in an unusual manner. Research shows that most of the time when children get addicted to drugs it's used as a means to cope with a traumatic experience, and the onset age of drug addiction in CSA is around 14 (x), which around the age Bob got addicted to morphine.

Whether or not you agree to the above statement, what we can agree that Bob had spent years being homeless and an addict, who was desperate for the next fix, as he confirms his trip to Malaysia was. Drugs aren’t cheap, and with his prison record, he wouldn’t have been able to get a job easily, so he would do whatever he could to get any kind of drug, any kind of high. He had been an addict since 8th grade, dropped out barely into his 9th year, no doubt on his own during this time. Take a wild guess on how he could have earned those drugs.

As I said above, Bob has a history of attaching himself to people even if they do not have Bob’s best interest at heart. So, this leaves open for the possibility of someone taking advantage of him in his vulnerable state. I can see someone seeing Bob and taking him, showing him the affection that he had longed for, only for it not to take long for that person to either abuse him themselves, or use him for others to abuse. This theory has credence in the scene when Bob realizes that Valentina was using him, and he says, “You were gonna turn on me, just like the rest of them”. It wasn’t his first time being taken advantage of, this isn’t his first time realizing he wasn’t valued as himself, but as a thing to be used.

Lewis himself said that what we see is not all of the rooms in Bob's mind, so the question remains, what else happened to him, and could my second theory be probable?

In short, I theorize that Bob hasn’t known any genuine intimacies with someone, whether it was because absolutely no sexual experience, or being a victim of sexual assault.

Tagging those who might be interested: @scuttle-buttle @blakellyl @oceanicairways @smokingjolene @highinhardtown

#lewis pullman #bob reynolds #robert reynolds #thunderbolts

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silverwings920 · 19 hours ago

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The Winning Ticket

a/n: @aventoru just posted a series idea of bllk boys and summer dates (link). i was immediately enamored with the idea of taking kaiser to an arcade, so i requested that

...but then i couldn't stop thinking about it, so uhhhhh... here's my take:

The two of you are sprawled on a comfortable sofa, the low light of a movie you’ve both lost interest in flickering across the room. It’s late, and the comfortable silence is a rare commodity in your whirlwind relationship.

You shift, propping yourself up on an elbow to look at him. Kaiser’s eyes are closed, but you know he isn’t asleep. You can see the faint twitch of his long eyelashes against his cheek.

“You know,” you begin, your voice a soft challenge in the quiet room, “for all your talk about conquering the world, you’re surprisingly conventional.”

One of his eyes cracks open, a sliver of brilliant blue fixing on you. A slow, arrogant smirk begins to form on his lips. “And what is that supposed to mean, Liebling?”

“It means,” you say, leaning a little closer, “that our dates, while lovely, have been… predictable. A fancy dinner, a walk through a perfectly manicured park, another fancy dinner.” You poke his chest lightly with each example. “Where’s the ‘impossible’ you’re always chasing?”

He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound. “Are you saying my company isn’t enough of a thrill for you?” He captures your hand, his fingers lacing with yours. “Careful, you might hurt my feelings.”

You roll your eyes, a smile playing on your own lips. “Please, your ego is impenetrable. I’m simply suggesting a little… friendly competition. A wager, if you will.”

Now, both of his eyes are open, gleaming with interest. “I’m listening.”

“We each plan a date. No hints, no spying,” you say, giving him a pointed look. “And we see who can come up with the better, more… inspired experience. The winner gets undisputed bragging rights and… let’s say, the loser has to do whatever the winner wants for an entire week.”

Kaiser’s smirk widens into a full-blown, predatory grin. “You’re on. Prepare to be so astounded you’ll be begging to concede before my date even begins.”

“We’ll see about that, Kaiser. We’ll see.”

---

In the days leading up to the date, Kaiser is relentless. He’ll text you at odd hours with casual questions. “What’s your opinion on opera?” or “How do you feel about heights?” Each attempt to glean a clue is more transparent than the last. You meet for coffee the day before your scheduled date, and he leans across the table, his blue eyes intense.

“Just give me a hint,” he says, his voice a low purr. “What should I wear? Is it a black-tie affair? Are we wrestling crocodiles? I need to be prepared to excel.”

You take a slow sip of your drink, enjoying his frustration immensely. “You’ll be fine in your usual clothes. Just bring an open mind and prepare to be humbled.”

He scoffs, leaning back in his chair. “Humbled? By you? Unlikely.” He narrows his eyes, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “You’re enjoying this far too much. You're a menace, you know that?”

You just offer him a sweet, innocent smile. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

---

The day of your date arrives, and when he sees you, the confidence hasn't left his features. The ride there is filled with a playful tension, and though he pesters you for information, you refuse to divulge any of your plans. When you finally pull up to a building buzzing with neon signs and pulsing with sound, his confident smirk falters for the first time.

The cacophony of the arcade hits you the moment you walk in—a symphony of chimes, buzzers, and digitized explosions mixed with the smell of stale popcorn, sugar, and the faint metallic tang of ozone from the machines. Kaiser’s initial reaction could be a subtle wrinkling of his nose, a flicker of disdain in his eyes as he takes in the chaotic, colorful scene.

“An arcade,” Kaiser says, his tone dripping with a carefully constructed layer of condescension. “How… quaint.”

You just grin, grabbing his hand and pulling him further into the neon-lit cavern. “Come on, your imperial majesty. You mentioned you’ve never been.” You look at him, your expression softening slightly. “Everyone deserves to experience the magic of cheap thrills and sticky floors at least once.”

The memory you're referencing—a rare, off-the-cuff comment he made about being a “stray brat” no one would let near their machines—hangs unspoken in the air between you. He doesn't acknowledge it, but you see a flicker in his eyes.

“Consider this part of your worldly education.” You lead him to a classic racing game, the plastic seats worn from years of use. “Ever driven a virtual car at 200 miles per hour?”

He raises a skeptical eyebrow but allows you to explain the controls. His first few attempts are clumsy, his meticulously controlled movements from the field not translating to the jerky sensitivity of the joystick. He crashes. He spins out. And for a fleeting moment, you see a flash of genuine frustration on his face.

“This machine is flawed,” he declares, leaning back with a huff.

You laugh, a real, unrestrained sound. “Or maybe you’re just not used to not being perfect at something on the first try.” You start a new game, your movements fluid and practiced. “It’s okay to be a beginner, you know.”

Your words seem to strike a chord. He watches you play, his expression unreadable. Then, he challenges you to a game of air hockey. The competitive fire is back, but this time it’s different. “Prepare to be annihilated,” he declares, slamming the puck into your goal before you’re even ready. “All’s fair in love and war, Liebling.” The game becomes a flurry of frantic motion and teasing jabs, the puck ricocheting wildly across the table. Amid the chaos, a real laugh escapes him—not the practiced, arrogant chuckle you’re used to, but a sharper, more breathless sound that makes something in your chest flutter.

You move from game to game. You explain the simple mechanics of Skee-Ball, and he becomes obsessed with hitting the 100-point hole, calling it a “true test of physics and finesse”. You scream your way through a zombie shooter game, and he boasts about his “impeccable aim and tactical genius”. You show him the patterns of Pac-Man, and he declares the ghosts are “inferior AIs incapable of predicting his superior strategy”. You both fail miserably at the claw machine, and he accuses it of being “a scam of the highest order”.

The hours melt away in the neon haze, each game bleeding into the next. Finally, breathless and leaning against a silent pinball machine, you both look down at the literal mountain of tickets clutched between you. The only logical next step is to claim your spoils. You make your way to the prize counter, a wall of cheap plush and plastic that looks like a king's ransom under the flashing arcade lights.

“Well,” Kaiser says, gesturing with his chin towards a comically oversized stuffed rose, one that’d be right at home with the rest of your plush collection, “it seems we have enough to claim your tribute.” His tone is teasing, but there’s a soft look in his eyes as he watches you. “I’ll grab us some drinks. Try not to cause too much trouble.”

He walks off, leaving you at the counter. You turn back to the prize wall, your eyes scanning the array of options. The plush is tempting, a silly, ostentatious trophy of your victory. But then, on a dusty lower shelf, something else catches your eye. It’s a small, unassuming snow globe.

You ask the dead-eyed attendant to see it. Inside the glass orb is a snapshot of winter joy: a Christmass tree, a pile of presents, even a little stray dog finding warmth in shining lights, and right in the middle of it all, a miniature soccer ball. It’s him. It’s everything he is to you, the winter he loves, the day he was born, the hurt stray he hides, the warmth he exudes, the sport he plays, encapsulated in a tiny, perfect world.

When Kaiser returns, you’re holding a small, plain bag.

“Decide against the rose?” he asks, handing you a cup of fruity goodness.

You shrug, trying for nonchalant as you pull out a bag of assorted candies and offer him one. “I realized I have absolutely nowhere to put something that big unless I want to sleep on the floor. Got some figures to decorate my shelves instead. And candy, obviously.”

Kaiser gives you a skeptical look but takes a piece of candy anyway, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. The noisy, vibrant energy of the arcade follows you out into the cool night air, and the car ride to your place is filled with easy chatter and the rustle of the candy bag.

When he pulls up to your building, the comfortable silence settles between you again, different from the one on his sofa. It's softer, tinged with the lingering buzz of the evening. You hesitate for a moment, your hand on the door handle.

“Well,” you start, turning back to him. The small, nondescript box feels heavy in your hands. “This is for you.” You hold it out to him, your voice softer than it has been all day. “Be careful with it. And… open it when you’re alone.” Before he can properly react, and before you lose your nerve, you lean over and give him a quick, chaste kiss on the cheek, then slip out of the car and walk up to your door.

---

Back in his own sterile apartment, the silence feels different. He places the box on his marble countertop, his curiosity piqued. He carefully opens it, his long, nimble fingers unboxing it with a surgeon’s precision.

Inside, nestled in a bed of tissue paper, is the snow globe. He picks it up, turning it over in his hands. He sees the tree, the gifts, the dog, and the soccer ball at its base. It’s a perfect, peaceful Christmas morning. A childhood he never had. A warmth he never knew. It’s a collection of impossible things. He gives it a gentle shake, and a flurry of white snow swirls around the scene, for a moment, a peaceful, perfect little world.

He almost misses the small, folded note tucked into the side of the box. He unfolds it, recognizing your handwriting immediately.

To my beloved impossibility, Saw this and thought the little scene was just as impossible as you are, so I couldn’t leave it behind. I hope you had an amazing time today, and that this makes you smile. From, your menace p.s. I’m gonna win this bet if you don’t pull out all the stops on your date.

A slow, genuine smile spreads across his face—not his usual arrogant smirk, but something softer, more vulnerable. He looks from the note to the tiny, perfect world in his hand. He thinks about the obnoxious, oversized rose he would have gotten, a trophy for a silly bet. And he looks at what you chose instead.

You didn’t just plan the best date. You saw right through him. He places the snow globe on his nightstand, the only personal object in the entire room, and a jolt of shocking clarity runs through him. It’s not a triumphant bolt of lightning, but a quiet, unfamiliar warmth that settles deep in his chest, unraveling something he hadn't realized was so tightly wound. For a man who orchestrates everything, this simple, perfect gesture has completely disarmed him. He runs a thumb over the cool, smooth glass, tracing the curve of the tiny world you've given him. He doesn’t mind losing to you at all. In fact, he’s already looking forward to planning a date worthy of his menace. The competition had just become something else entirely.

#michael kaiser #blue lock #bllk michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser fluff #why is it that i am only ever possessed to write at 3 in the morning #but well this was so much fun #i know this technically sets up for at least two follow ups #but idk if i'll actually write them #i honestly don't know what kaiser choose to do #and i don't know what the following week would be like even moreso #honestly #the whole bet was literally just a way for me to circumvent the whole kaiser doesn't like surprises thing

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cringeiknow · 1 day ago

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𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖉 𝕲𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖘 | 𝕬. 𝕳𝖔𝖙𝖈𝖍𝖓𝖊𝖗

Dedicated to my dearest friend Mal. Who even though we are so far apart is teaching me so much, and helping in ways she will never know. I love you Mal. CONGRATS ON 50 FOLLOWERS TOO!

𝖆𝖔3

⋁∧ 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖊𝖘 ∧⋁: Hey. So this has to do ALOT with religious trauma. If you’re religious and this hurts your feelings, then it’s not for you. I’m in no way saying that your religion is false, or wrong, or whatever. Even if I was, that's an opinion I am allowed to have. This is for the people out there like me who have been hurt by it. So I kindly invite you to click away. Your angry comments will simply be ignored---if not deleted---because I simply don’t give a fuck.

This is very personal to me and was kinda cathartic to write! I was raised in a cult, so…yeah. Idk. Proceed with caution but enjoy?

IF YOU RUN ACROSS TYPOS LET ME KNOW!!

-⋁∧𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖆∧⋁

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: Haunted after a hard case, Aaron finds you torn between comfort and faith. Bloodied, bruised, and emotionally unravelling in the place you once felt the safest: church.

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: DARK THEMES, blood, violence (not described), religious trauma, suicidal ideation (past), child abduction, mild scientific inaccuracies (the limits of human strength?), emotional break down, religious imagery, mentions of religion, (PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANY)

𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖘: Aaron Hotchner x Reader, hurt/comfort, angst w/ comfort, pre-relationship

𝖜/𝖈: 2.4k

𝖋𝖑𝖊𝖉𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: @maladaptive-daydreamer-23, @crying-ang3l

𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

𝖈𝖞𝖓𝖎𝖈!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Listen to "Sun Bleached Flies" on Spotify

Listen to "Sun Bleached Flies" on YouTube Music

Distress had strange instincts: yours led you here. You hadn’t meant to come here. Maybe you were searching for something again. Maybe the exhaustion—or the familiarity, despite the chapel not belonging to the faith you once carried like a flame—drew you in.

You stared up at the stained glass above you. The sunlight spilled through it and washed the piece’s generous vibrant shades over the inside of the empty chapel. Blues, soft and deep, to cradle sorrow and soothe the mind. Amber and gold to warm weary souls. Verdant greens and lively rich purples claiming their jagged birthrights to divinity. Red—steeping the attendees and willing victims in love and saintly devotion.

Red—thick, hot, and sticky. You could still feel it clinging to your hands. Soaking in like thick red ink into paper. A portrait of pain plastered on your face in a blasphemous crimson—dripping from your nose, sliding across your tongue, tasting of rust and salt. It clung to the back of your throat and streaked across your chin to be remembered, burned into your skin like a brand. To ensure you wouldn’t forget what you’d done. You weren't even sure whose blood anointed itself across your knuckles.

Yours.

Or his.

The man who’d taken the girls. The one who held them out in the forest for days. Who had gotten the better of you.

That sick freak laying in the morgue.

So you glared. Up.

You lour back at the saints, their scrutinizing eyes staring down at you, boiling your blood and forking your tongue until acid accumulated in the back of your throat, turning words that could’ve—would’ve—once been sweet, venomous and lethal.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that you were here. Again. After all this time you came running back. That part of you still craved understanding you probably never had in the first place. That broken, beaten, and bruised part of you that hoped someone still loved you. That your mind was soothed by the soft ghost of an old hymn floating in the stale dusty air, air that you used to gulp down desperately like it alone could cleanse your soul and still your heart just enough.

How was that fair?

That God got to keep you?

But you didn’t get to keep him?

The girls had prayed in the cabin where he kept you. A soft quiet whisper. Something that used to bring you such comfort. In the dark stormy nights when the lightning was too bright, and the thunder a little too loud. When you felt alone in a house full of people. You could swear you could feel Him, like a warm hug.

But you didn’t when you were in that cabin. Just like you didn’t that night, when you were standing on the edge of a bridge, staring up at the stormy gray sky, begging—pleading—to feel His warmth again. Just once. One more time. Only to be left cold.

Alone.

Alone still as the girls clutched their crosses, their faith. Yours had long fractured like glass and cut into your palms, leaving a trail of blood where you’d been and forming a puddle under where you sat on that cabin floor. No matter your anger, you could never think less of them for it, because the only thing worse than the situation you were in, was being faithless and in the situation you were in. So you let them cling to God. Out of sympathy? Empathy? Jealousy…

Even as you carried one of them out on your back. Tugging the other behind you by the arm. Running—or trying to—your feet slamming into the hard earth, branches scratching at your face and clawing at your clothes. Trying to drag you back to the man you could hear chasing after you.

The one you killed.

You were the answer to their prayers.

Fighting for them with all the strength you never saved for yourself. With all the strength you burned into yourself crawling through hell. Carved into your bone through mantras and will power. Words that echoed in your head, a desperate prayer pleading for something beyond you to return a piece of themselves back to the throbbing grotesque hole it left in your chest. Flooding your veins with what little sanctity you had left.

So where was the answer to yours?

Their mothers’ worried hands grabbed at their daughters' faces. Fretting, checking, double-checking and sobbing at the safety of their child. Counting their freckles like prayer candles, hands shaking as if they were worried God might snuff them out now. Clinging to their god-given manmade creation. ‘Half their soul’ you'd heard it described.

You just stood and watched carefully. Distant. When was the last time your mother had done that? When was the last time she wrapped a wound gently, or soothed you after a hard day?

Luckily for the girls it was too soon for him to have done anything, meaning no wounds, no scars, maybe mentally. Otherwise, whole, completely, slightly scuffed girls.

They called you an angel, a blessing, sent from God. How ironic…

What kind of angel crawls out of hell with blood smeared across her face?

And if you were sent from God, where was he?

There's a warmth by your side now—quieter than any prayer you had whispered, strong in all the ways you lacked, steadier than your faith had ever been.

Familiar.

You know it like a psalm, the scent of his watery cologne, clean and subtle as it floods through your senses. Loosening the tension in your shoulders, in your neck, and your heart. A divine warmth that only seems to follow him. Celestial. Like the sun.

Aaron Hotchner.

“What?” You hiss under your breath still glaring up at the glass bathing you in its sanctimonious light.

“I didn’t say anything.” He murmurs back.

“Develop a staring problem?” You huff keeping your voice low.

“Maybe.” You can’t tell if it's a sigh or a breath.

You throw him a glare too while you're at it.

“You’re hurt.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t.” He shakes his head softly.

You wipe at the blood you know is still smeared over your chin. It’s dry now, maybe a little drabble just on your upper lip.

“You didn’t let EMS check you out.” He murmurs.

“I’m fine.”

“I know.” He whispers, sitting down next to you. Only now are you aware of the thick tears rolling down your cheeks. Which you scrub at with your sleeve when he looks away.

“You have blood everywhere.” He keeps his voice low still. Gentle. Like he knew the combination of words that could break you down, and for your sake avoided them.

“It’s not mine.” You mutter.

He just hums, reaching into his pocket and gently tugging a handkerchief free. The old fashioned kind, with the pretty edges. Then leans over, pressing it gently under your eye. Too high for the blood to be there. It’s damp. And he wipes it gently over your cheek.

You scoff, of course he had a handkerchief. A handkerchief he was currently ruining to cleanse your face.

So your scoff melts into a choked sob.

He guides your head to the side, dabbing gently at your neck with one hand, and brushing his guiding thumb across the corner of your mouth gently soothing the twitch of restraint from you trying to hold it all in. Gentle. Soft. Like you really were the angel the victims' mothers believed you were. Something holy, to be kept and cared for.

Like sin and violence and contempt weren’t smeared unceremoniously across your features.

And you let him clean you up, your skin tingling soothingly under his gentle touch.

“It’s not fair.” You shudder a little still not looking at him.

“What isn't?" He murmurs back, his eyes focused on cleaning a smear off your cheek. You could tell he already knew and wanted you to say it. A gateway drug into opening up.

“Coming back here,” You whisper. “Craving the comfort this place is supposed to give me, but ultimately missing it. It’s not fair that I am stuck here over and over again.”

Aaron doesn’t say anything, just strokes the damp cloth over your cheek while listening silently. His face is irritatingly gentle, not even that tell-tale knit to his brow.

“You know I used to pray for it to rain on my birthday.” You blurt then purse your lips to keep them from trembling too much. “Because every year people would forget.” You pick at a loose thread on your slacks. “I’d have to celebrate on my own. So I used to pray for it to rain because rain is my favorite type of weather… I liked hearing the water run down the drainpipes and tap against the window. Sometimes I'd crack my window a little to let the smell in. Then I’d just sit there.”

Your hands tremble a little, and despair tugs at your chin. Aaron soothes it away gently with the cloth. “And every year it would work. Until it didn’t. So was it a coincidence all along? Is the only person I relied on as a child was just…chance? Or was it because I stopped believing? Is the only reason it didn’t rain that year a sign? A punishment?”

You search his eyes, hoping to find some clarity, some simple answer to it all and you falter under the weight of memories that were once so clear and logical, now defiled by the trap faith had become.

“I didn’t pray in the cabin. But I had the urge to.” You admit with a soft raise of your shoulder like you were guilty of something. “I itched to see one more time if it would work. But at the same time, I knew if I did, and we escaped, it would only confuse me more. It still confuses me. Did we only escape because the girls prayed? Am I damned forever trying to prove his existence to myself?”

The silence of the chapel echoes in your ears, only the reverent whisper of a hymn floats in the air. Your eyes meet his, and your words burst from you before you can coax them into their proper place. Back. Down. Locked somewhere tight, where the only person that has to deal with them is you and the dark.

“I was good! I followed everything, I did everything, I researched, I prayed, I let him guide me. I handed him my broken heart and my contrite spirit, like I was supposed to and he left me here,” you choke.

“Now, no matter what happens, if I get sick, or in a wreck, suddenly it’s not because of human error, or chance, or just the consequence of an action. It’s a punishment. And I still can’t help but think they might be right. Every bad day I have I’m forced to wonder if I was right! Or if I never had enough faith in the first place!” You swallow back a sob.

“Was I that unworthy of his love? Was it not enough? Was I not enough?”

The handkerchief stills and you blink rapidly to clear the tears.

Aaron stares at you and you wipe the tears from your face frantically.

‘That was stupid. Too much. Too much. Too much.’ You think.

But his eyes soften and he pushes your hands aside, his thumb rubbing away the tear tracks gently. They were probably so small under his thumb.

“Not believing in this doesn’t make you any less worthy,” He whispers. “Of love, of care, of kindness, of gentleness. It doesn’t mean you weren’t enough. It doesn’t mean you didn’t have enough faith.” He whispers, and you take in a shaky breath. “It only means that it didn’t work for you? That’s it. You are enough. For the team. For m—the people who need you. For anyone who matters, you’re enough. You are worthy of love.”

He pinches your chin gently before tucking away the handkerchief in his pocket with the other hand. “Do you understand?”

You nod. You understood, but that didn’t mean you felt it. The nod was more for him than for you. A mercy from one splintered heart to another.

“C’mon.” He murmurs, his finger strokes your cheek quickly, nonchalantly, then he offers his hand to you. His palm is warm and inviting. A little wash of your blood sullied his index finger. You stared at it even though it was barely there, a watercolor red across his skin.

How could a man that's all contrast and angles be so gentle? What was the catch? What would you have to give for this gentleness? What piece of your mind would be ripped from you if you took his hand?

Your eyes move to glare at him the same way they did at God.

The shards of light from the stained glass are gilded over him too. His hazel eyes are soft and swathed in shades of blue. Brimming with understanding, despite your misdirected anger he stays still. Palm stretched out for you to choose to take.

“You don’t have to believe me now. Or trust me either. I know the words they told you before, and I know that mine don't mean much to you because of it. So let me prove it to you. Even if it takes years. Even if I never do. Will you let me try?”

Your eyes soften involuntarily. But you hesitate still. Unsure. You sniffle and wipe at your face again.

“No one knows everything. In the end we can only do the best we can. Try to be the best we can, with what little time we have here. No one is perfect and you shouldn’t have to be to receive love. I know they told you something different. I know it feels like that stitched it into the seams that hold you together. But you don’t have to be perfect for anyone, for this team, for me. Just you is enough. All I ask is that on the days when the weight of the past feels too heavy, you come and tell me. It will take a little to learn. But if there is one thing I do have faith in, it's you. Do we have a deal?”

Aaron’s hand opens a little more. Offering again.

You take it.

It wasn’t magically put right. It wasn’t better. It didn’t make you want to stop wanting to carve your heart from your chest just to stop its ache.

But it made it a little lighter.

Your arms didn’t feel so heavy as the doors clunked shut behind you. And you took a deep shaky breath, the air outside felt a little fresher.

Aaron didn’t fix it.

But maybe it was just a little easier to carry.

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presidentdisastraofgallifrey · 3 days ago

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Doctor Who is Better When it is Monster-of-the-Week

(I have evidence for my opinions, but obligatory disclaimer that these are my opinions, it's fine if you disagree but do not yell at me about it)

Doctors 1-3: didn't really have arcs of any sort, only Situations and character development. Even the unit thing was more a setting-situation than a story arc. There were excellent stories and really bad ones

This makes the Key to Time the first real plot arc, and while it could be worse it's largely agreed upon that it was unnecessary to tie these episodes together into a Mission. And as it was, they were barely even connected otherwise. So yes I enjoyed them, but they didn't need to be an arc

The rest of Four was generally very good with some obvious misses

Turlough was sort of a halfway attempt at an arc, but I'm not sure if I should even count it because we didn't really see the moment when he shifted from an assassin to a companion

This makes the next real, complete arc Trial of a Timelord, one of the most disliked eras of classic who, and it wasn't for Colin Baker's acting ability. Even so, they tried to have it both ways here, both an arc and a series of unconnected stories, and it didn't really work. The courtroom scenes were fun, though

No more arcs for the rest of classic who

The only arc-adjacent thing in Nine's season is the Bad Wolf foreshadowing, which might have been cool but ended up just being foreshadowing and then a conclusion that only kind of made sense

Ten's I think was both overrated and genuinely good, as both Moffat and RTD are better at singular stories than ongoing arcs and he didn't really have much in the way of season-long plot arcs. Again, just foreshadowing and then conclusions

Eleven #1: The Cracks in the Universe. There are Eleven episodes I like, and his characterization is fun. But I don't think any of his arcs worked because I don't think they were thought out as stories so much as a collection of things that sounded cool. Cracks in time eating history might have been cool, but then the answer was that Amy had to stay in stasis for 2000 years, Rory basically willed himself into being real instead of an automaton, and they wrote themselves into such a corner the only way to fix the universe was to have Amy be able to inexplicably remember a Doctor who no longer existed. I maintain that if they did this today as a way of resetting the history of alien invasions, instead of when the whole fandom was lusting after Matt Smith, it would be a wildly unpopular decision

Eleven #2: River. I love River as a character, even on the show. I hate absolutely everything about her backstory. She could have been a mystery in her own right, someone cool and unusual and with no ties to the Doctor before meeting him out of order and marrying him. I would have liked that. Instead, it was apparently necessary to make the Doctor's wife the child of the woman who's been clearly in love with him most of his life, and oh yeah she's only in love with him because she was brainwashed to be obsessed with him in a murderous way then spent years listening to her mother (!!) as a kid obsess about his mysterious perfection. And that's not meant to be creepy at all. I am bonus extra annoyed about this because they actually do have good chemistry and I like their dynamic, but this mess was unnecessary. And don't even get me started on how they'd had him meet so few friends and allies that when they tried to do a reunion like they did for Ten, they had to make a bunch up in the moment and pretend you should know them

Eleven #3: Clara. She's an intriguing mystery to the Doctor because he keeps seeing her throughout history. You're supposed to agree because she's cute. That's the whole arc.

Twelve #1: Clara and Danny. I actually enjoy a lot more of Clara's character and the stories here, but making her fall in love with someone the Doctor hates for no good reason, lie to both of them to balance her life, kill him off because they wrote themselves into a corner again and need her free to travel with the Doctor, and then never mention him or how that broke history again was not needed

Twelve #2: Missy's redemption. Ok, I actually liked this one. I do think they waited too long to do the reveal and didn't leave time to do it properly, but I enjoyed it anyway

Thirteen #1: Timeless Children. I don't feel like I should really count this as an arc in quite the same way, but someone will point it out if I don't mention it. It feels more like the earlier things, more individual stories that have some foreshadowing towards a big conclusion

Thirteen #2: The Flux. I like a lot of the storytelling here, but making it one big stakes-raising, universe-ending story was completely unnecessary

Fifteen #1: Ruby. One of the worst arcs, as so much of this season was dedicated to questions about Ruby's origins that are never answered in a way that makes any sense

Fifteen #2: Returning Belinda to Earth. This one is better purely because it leaves more room for monster-of-the-week stories between the arc plot. And yes, until the finale it remains one of my favorite seasons. But again, they built up a compelling mystery and then answered it in the worst way possible that didn't even address what was happening in a satisfying way

So basically, I think Doctor Who as a show functions better when it is made up of adventure stories that remember previous continuity but don't try to link together into a bigger, higher-stakes overarching plot because no one who writes for this show can keep track of more than two plot points at a time and usually even if the arc was good I would argue it wouldn't add that much to the story or character

#doctor who #yeah I'm gromp today #and yes I know my least favorite era is one of the most popular #but it doesn't make sense ok #River was written as cool and competent and independent and then they did try to make her backstory all about her husband #I can see why people think that's all her character is now #though I still disagree with that if you actually pay attention to her as a person

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elainsgirl · 17 hours ago

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you know what i can’t stand? is the other side constantly commenting under elriel posts. not here, although there are some. but on other social media platforms. they can’t leave us alone. they’re like a plague. and you just know they’re adult women. so much for maturity😐 they say things like “no, it will be azriel and gwyn!” and “elain has a mate, lucien. azriel wants gwyn!” and i.. get so frustrated? they’re so invasive. bunch of stalkers. no one is asking you for your opinion so kindly fuck off😭 i will always stand by gwynriel being a crackship born out of thin air. they’ve hardly had any interactions and never will and if they do it’s strictly friendship or… whatever the hell their dynamic is. the GAs should stop trying to shove their pathetic propaganda everywhere.

”I do my best to stay away from elriel content!”

*agressively arguing with elriels in comment sections*

they can’t stay away from elriel/s because of 3 reasons:

They’re heavily insecure in Gwynriel/Elucien hence why get so defensive and try to disprove elriel to make themselves feel better

their own ships are boring so they need to entertain themselves with elriels

They’re narcissists who think others want to hear about their stupid opinions.

Its ok to be frustrated. They enter elriel spaces to argue with us instead of scrolling away. No elriel cares about their opinions but they shove it down our throats regardless. Last night, I posted a tiktok video (tagged elriel) and in less then 10 minutes I had eluciens whining in my comment sections. “How dare you not appreciate lucien doing the bare minimum for elain!” And in that moment, I knew I was right to label them as boy moms. Regardless, they just can’t keep to themselves.

Gwynriel is born out of misogyny, elain hate and eluciens needing to seperate Az away from Elain. Thats it. The ship has nothing substantial. It’s just a bunch of stans getting confused between a characters natural musical imagery and Sjms mate imagery.

#elriel

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cherrywriterrr · 11 hours ago

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GIRL. i just need you to know how fucking much i love and appreciate you. like fr fr

you’ve been my number one on here since day one, actually scratch that, since before tumblr. back when i was still just a wattpad girlie, i looked forward to read your comments and see you update on here, and now i get to call you a friend??? wild.

talking to you always makes my day better. you’re genuinely one of the sweetest, funniest, smartest people ever. like i’ll just be having a shit day and then we talk and suddenly i’m laughing like an idiot (if we’re not plotting something…)!!! you’re THAT bitch.

and your writing?? holy shit. it’s literally unreal. i don’t know how your brain works like that but i’m so fucking glad it does. i still feel so honored anytime i got to read something before you posted it. like ??? me?? getting a sneak peek?? elite behavior.

i know you’ve stepped back from writing for a lot of reasons and that’s totally valid u alr know my opinion on this whole thing. life’s a bitch and we’ve talked about it soooo many times, actually, daily, but i just hope you know that you’re still so loved and so appreciated. your presence is everything, whether you’re posting or just existing in my messages.

love u forever. genuinely. no matter what <3

ALSO you already know what i’ve told you that i’d do if someone hated on you so just say the word if you need me to do that.

Saying goodbye to my writing (for now, maybe)

This is me biting the bullet because if I don’t do it now I won’t do it. This needs to be done. After yesterday, my choice was ultimately decided.

I’ve loved writing in here for the past 8 months, I’ve loved reading everything that others have created, I’ve loved becoming friends with all of my mutuals and followers who’ve supported me, I’ve loved being apart of this community.

I’ve come so far in the short months that I’ve been on here. I am so grateful to have been apart of this. But I genuinely think that I am done. I no longer feel motivated. I feel like I have no fresh ideas, the ones that I thought were great weren’t that great at all. I’m hating everything that I’ve posted and although I am grateful for everyone, I see this blog going no where from this point. I almost feel like I’m going backwards. I’m sorry if things have been left unfinished. Clear indication of where my head is at. I hate looking at the number of my drafts and seeing what I have incomplete, but they’re going to have to sit there for now.

I want to thank my mutuals who have been there for me forever I love each of you so much. You’re all so talented. I’ll still be around, just to read what your brilliant minds curate. And if you’ve also decided to take a step back from writing, my DMs are always open to talk. 🩵

@cherrywriterrr @whytheylosttheirminds @writingroom21 @rafesplaymate @ivysprophecy @rafesteddy @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @inthelibrarybtw @maybejj @papercranesandinkstains @angel06babysworld @starkeygirlposts @starkeynation @drewsephrry @drewssgirl @frankoceanluvr11 @rafescokewhore @memoirofasparklemuff1n @angelicameron @rafecameronssl4t @zyafics @moondustbaby @anacamofficial @itneverendshere @httpsdrewstarkey @kieeslove @leather-n-velvet @littlelamy @rafeysvenicebitch @nemesyaaa @maybankslover @cokewithcameron

Same goes for any of my followers. You are always able to come and talk with me. Just because I am stopping writing anything else does not mean that I want to shut off from here completely. I love every single one of you. MY DMS ARE ALWAYS OPEN.

I’m hoping that I get over this hump because I genuinely love writing. Just right now this feels like the best step for me. I could ramble on for hours, but this is where my heart is at the moment. I’ll probably keep coming back and adding mutuals in or more words.

Also

Please never be this type of person, to those who take the time to put their hearts and hard work into their writing. This is a decision that I’ve been battling with for a while now and getting messages like this:

don’t help with anything. And then when you try to back pedal and say this:

you’re not just asking. You were very clear in your original ask what you thought of my work. Why would you think I would want to continue? Why would you think that comment would make me or anyone feel good about what they do? Then when I sit here and defend myself I get this:

None of this has anything to do what I’ve been going through. But all of this yesterday only helped to solidify my decision. I’ve seen too many amazing talented people run off this app or broken down over the dumbest things. Anons complain about everything and can be so nasty. You don’t know what the one thing with be that will make a person hate what the used to love. It’s not that hard to be a nice person.

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basket-of-radiants · 24 days ago

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Why were you so disappointed by Rhythm of War?

This has been sitting in my askbox for years. I've taken several cracks at answering, only to get frustrated with the subject matter and burn myself out every time. I didn't like Rhythm of War. More than that, I didn't like it in a way that tainted my enjoyment of the entire series. And despite what it may seem, I don't actually enjoy discussing things which I don't like. I always want to talk from a place of good faith. Which is why now that my feelings towards the series are a little more positive, I think I can finally answer this.

I'm going to try to stay away from specific plotpoints and story beats for this post, because my goal isn't to nitpick (if for no other reason than it would take a week to write this post), I'm just looking to talk about my overall impressions. I think that might mean the only spoilers here will be structural? idk, if you haven't read Rhythm of War yourself then you should probably do that before looking for other people's opinions anyway.

I liked Way of Kings when I first read it. I didn't love it at the time, but I liked it. Certainly enough to keep reading once I'd finished. One thing that made me a bit uncomfy, however, was the war against the Parshendi. They were this unknowable enemy which the book was not interested in knowing. An inhuman army. Their main purpose was to kill Kaladin's friends, or else be killed by Dalinar's armies. And yet the Parshendi, and the parshmen in the form of Shen, did show hints of personhood. And so it bothered me how Dalinar spoke so casually about how the Alethi had decimated their numbers, how the others used the war as a means to amass wealth and power. (It didn't bother me in a "this is a bad book" way but in a "these characters are bad people" way.)

One of my foibles as a reader is that when a book is very clearly treating one side of a conflict with more humanity, I tend to be a bit predisposed towards the other to account for that. And with the Alethi clearly being the invading party and superior military force, there was also some underdog favoritism. I didn't really like how the book treated the Parshendi. This is to say that going forward, the singers would be more important to me than any other through line.

So imagine my delight at reading Words of Radiance and meeting Eshonai, one of the Parshendi, who even gets her own point of view sections! They were no longer being treated as a faceless mass, we were getting to see things from their perspective as well. And it became plain to see the damage the Alethi had done to them. I couldn't really bring myself to root for Dalinar or really any of the humans against the listeners. I couldn't even bring myself to like most of these characters. I still enjoyed the book but once it became clear there wouldn't be a peaceful conclusion, let's just say that I wouldn't have wept for Dalinar and Adolin if Szeth had managed to off them. Like everyone in the book, I assumed that going forward all the parshmen would be turned into evil voidbringers in the everstorm and that the listeners were mostly dead. Except for Rlain, and Eshonai because I'd read or been told that book 4 would be Eshonai's book and thus had assumed she was fine. (Oathbringer spoilers, she was not fine.) So ultimately it was still a bit of a downer way to end the book.

So imagine my delight at reading Oathbringer, where for the first time singers were being treated as people, full and real people, and where the human characters could no longer ignore or dismiss them. We met Khen and the others, common singers who were sympathetic and just wanted freedom from bondage. We see Venli grapple with the loss of her home. We see Leshwi and Moash connecting with and understanding one another. We learn of a history where singers were the original inhabitants of the planet. Parallel to this, Dalinar is having a truly excellent character arc about confronting one's past actions and acknowledging them to move forward and do better. I loved Oathbringer, for some years it was my favorite book, and I was excited as hell to see what came next. At the time, it seemed to me that there is a clear direction the story is going. Two books about needless war, and then a third where the main cast is forced to acknowledge the personhood of their enemies. This was so cool, all of my feelings from the previous installments were being validated, the characters were going to have to face what they've done in the past and outgrow their militaristic mindsets, I was so sure of that.

Imagine my disappointment when that does not even remotely resemble the direction the story went in Rhythm of War. RoW presented a clear, straightforward “us vs. them" narrative, where every character was totally fine with killing singers. Characters aligned with the singers were either flattened into wholly evil versions of themselves (Moash) or were expected to turn on their side in favor of the humans (Venli.) Because clearly there was no reason good people would be on the side that's all former slaves trying to stay free. Maybe there's some sort of accord or understanding between Navani and Raboniel that I might have found meaningful if the seeds of mutual understanding weren't already there in Oathbringer and then apparently ignored for a year by all the characters.

I have a lot of issues with how the listeners are handled in these books. (Here's some elaboration.) Following OB, I had thought that all my concerns were going to be addressed. Following RoW, I knew they never would be.

Which is my main complaint, because that's the thread that matters most to me in this series.

I have a lot of other Things as well. Gonna just talk about a few big ones.

One outsized source of disappointment that may seem a little petty, and which probably is, is that I felt mislead by the premise of the book. It had been announced that this book would center Venli and Eshonai, and I was unbelievably hyped for that. That did not really turn out to be the case. The purpose for their backstory chapters felt less about exploring them as people and contextualizing their arcs, and more about filling in gaps of world history. In the main plot, Venli was a POV character and she certainly played a role, but honestly not a very important one overall. To me she felt like a side character in her own book. I don't think it's controversial to say that the main character of RoW was Navani. A lot of people really like Navani and are happy about that. Unfortunately I'm not one of those people, and I found it all the more difficult to enjoy her when it felt like it was coming at the expense of some of my favorite characters.

This particular gripe somewhat comes down to preference, obviously everyone prefers to read about characters they like more than those they don't, and it can go both ways. (For instance, on a craft/technical level RoW is probably the superior book to W&T, but I liked the latter a lot more because of my stupidly outsized attachment to Szeth and Nale.) But I do think there's something of a real criticism in how the book would rather focus on the feelings of a queen rather than those of a genocide survivor, and how the former's are given significantly more weight and import. It ties in with my main criticism, I think.

And then there's how human/human racism had also been wholly cast aside as a plot point. Jasnah fixed slavery so that's resolved, and the only person who still cares about structural racism is the evil bad bad evil villain Moash/Vyre, who is now wholly irredeemable and who you're allowed to totally write off because he's sold his soul to Odium. I've already talked a lot about this. Other people have already talked about this, probably better than me. The writing was actually on the wall for me in OB, but again, RoW was when I fully accepted that this was never going to be addressed.

There's something else that probably deserves its own discussion rather than being quickly tacked on at the end here, but here we are. This book changed how the series approaches war.

In WoK, war was very clearly portrayed as a bad and inglorious thing. It was brutal, it was painful, those at the bottom died cruelly and unceremoniously and pointlessly while those at the top turned a profit. Every day was a new horror. The enemy were never evil, they were always just more people forced to go through the same thing. Through the next couple books, it felt to me that even if the characters had accepted war as necessary, there was still a tragedy to it. Conversely, in RoW (and W&T) war is basically a series of boss battles, in between which our protagonists can kill dozens of footsoldiers with barely a thought in the same way WoK had criticized.

Final note on all this, it sucks how we have no perspectives from the former-slaves-singers demographic. Those guys are really thrown under the bus, and seemingly get no self-determination now or ever. It was a glaring problem to me in RoW. Conscripted and enslaved humans and singers probably have just as much ground to form mutual understanding as a fused and a queen. (In fact they already had. In Oathbringer.)

In essence, RoW disappointed me because it left me with the distinct impression that none of the series's most important through lines (well, most important to me) were going to be resolved well. I liked W&T, but I haven't revised my opinion very much about the overall handling of these topics across the series. Maybe one of the reasons I was able to enjoy W&T so much more was because I no longer had such high expectations.

#sorry i sorta need to get this stuff off my chest to unpack my feelings about the series.#i hope posting this out of the blue doesn't come across as too mean spirited. my sensitivity reader DID sign off on it.#(that is a joke. although i do let my sister look over any 1000+ word posts ahead of time. and i would respect any disapproval from her.#but normally she just tells me i'm allowed to be more forceful in my opinions without qualifying them or apologizing all the time. pfff.#the reason i've been hesitant to write any especially spoilery w&t meta is mostly because she hasn't read it yet.)#discourse #asks #hey anon if you're still here after all these years. thank you.#at the time i was kinda fishing for an ask like this bc i wanted to vent but it felt mean to do so unprompted #of course this was still really hard to write. mostly because every time i tried i completely spiraled.#the version of this post that was sitting in my drafts was honestly a lot better than this one. in basically every way. except.#except it was nearly the same length and all i'd gotten to was the oathbringer paragraph #below which was a stupidly thorough outline of my itemized complaints #you KNOW i don't care about brevity but my god that would have taken forever to write and finish #and i did not want to spend that sort of time with a book i didn't like. which i would have had to do to get all my planned citations #sorry past self. you were clearly writing from a place of much more passion and that made your work better than mine. and yet.#so as i said. i'm only writing this bc i now like the series enough to talk about it again. sincerely not trying to be a hater.#side note: if any of you have thoughts/opinions about the shift in the way war is used in these books. i would love to hear them. lets chat

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