#saying this like i'm not physically unable to write a fight/argument

[pinep-ne]

I'm sure this has been said plenty already but I'd love to see some more LH/Enemies to Lovers/Arguing Charthur stuff out there... I know only a couple of good fics and they're my absolute favorite but PLEASE. There is so much potential.

I want there to be too much tenderness in the hate... I want to see them war at intimidation... I want one of them to pluck a soft petal from the other's hollowed and cold heart to prove there's something gentle there (out of spite, perhaps)... I want to see them push each other away and lay bare the violence of their pasts... and then collide back like two galaxies to mend it all over.

I mean not just The Sass these two possess individually... although clashing head-to-head at devastating measures... please... But merely the depth of their turmoil. Their defenses and or offenses. The capacity and channel of anger, born by the threat of vulnerability; or simply fear, maybe. Habitual. The seeds long buried in their childhood, and the runoff of grief, flooding the years. Or maybe the crueler being that stays latched and biting, blossoming into its own source of reverence.

Now soft domestic cozy Charthur is my #1 but MAN. More fighting more yelling more sparring. More messy and being overwhelmed with each other and themselves. More lumps in throats and becoming ill with feeling. Charthur you absorb your anger and your anguish.

[dietcokedaydream]

May I Have This Dance?

Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Reader (no use of Y/N) is in denial about the possibility that she's pregnant, and Sirius, ever the incredible (yet teasing) partner, is there to help her through it.

Warnings: discussion of periods/pregnancy, mention of pee, mention of the war. It's mentioned once that the reader is a Gryffindor. Let me know if I missed anything!

Notes: Yes, I did borrow the ending from Friends. No, I'm not sorry. I had fun writing this one. I might make this part of a series, I don't know. Enjoy!

Kneeling on the cold tile floor of the bathroom, you can’t help but let out a groan as the front door of your flat swings open, the rattle of keys hitting the table telling you your boyfriend has just returned from the store. 

“Love? Where are you? I got us some of those freaky pointy tropical fruits to try- they cost an arm and a leg, but I figured-” Sirius stops short when he sees you in the bathroom, flushing the toilet and pushing to your feet. 

“Were you sick again?” he asks, concern evident in his expression, the overflowing paper bags forgotten on the counter as he scans your face for any sign of distress.

The answer, of course, was yes. You have been throwing up randomly for a little over a week now. Sirius has insisted you see a healer, and you have insisted it’s just stress, leading to a number of arguments between the two of you. 

“It’s nothing, I promise,” you say, rinsing your mouth at the sink and joining him in the kitchen, placing a kiss on his cheek before starting to unpack the bags. 

“It’s not nothing, that’s, what, the fourth time this week? And it’s only Wednesday,” Sirius says, gently pushing your hands away from the groceries, grabbing your shoulders, and looking into your eyes. 

You let out a sigh, rubbing your face. You had an idea what might be causing it; your period was late. Originally, you wrote it off as a side effect of the emotional and physical pressure you were under fighting for the order. But now, with the nausea, and still no period, well. It wasn’t looking good. 

Of course, you haven’t brought this up to Sirius yet. What great timing would that be? ‘Hey, I know we and all of our loved ones are kind of busy fighting a war against a genocidal maniac, but do you think you could help me put together this glider?’ 

You are torn away from your thoughts when Sirius says something, pulling your hands down from your face. 

“What?” you ask, looking at him again, earning a chuckle and that award-winning crooked grin you fell in love with back in school. 

“Do you think you should take a test?” Sirius asks again. 

“A test?” you ask “Like-”

“Like a pregnancy test. You know, it’s a stick, you pee on it…” 

You let out a laugh, though it sounds more forced than you intend, turning back to unpack the groceries, placing the odd fruit Sirius had bought in the bowl on the kitchen table. 

“I’m not pregnant,” you say, more like you are telling yourself than Sirius “that would be-” You shake your head, unable to finish your thought “I’m not pregnant.” 

Sirius leans against the counter, watching you continue to unpack the groceries with an amused smirk on his face. “And what makes you so sure?”  

“Because, I’m not,” I say, matter of factly, continuing to unpack the bags.

“Well then, what could a test hurt, eh? Just to confirm what you already know if nothing else.” Sirius says, still looking infuriatingly handsome while he watches you anxiously move about the kitchen. 

“I don’t want to go to the drugstore just to-” 

“Ah ah,” Sirius cuts you off, tapping the nearly-empty bag “I’m one step ahead of you” he reaches in and retrieves a blue box, holding it out in front of him. 

You stand there for a moment, looking between him and the box a few times before saying a petulant “nu uh” and folding the empty paper bags, carrying them to the basket by the fireplace.

Sirius, never one to be deterred, follows you to the living room with a small chuckle “Love, c’mon, you’re sick, you’re late-” 

“How do you know I’m late?” You say, turning around with a furrow in your brow and a sharpness in your tone that Sirius knows is only due to nerves. 

“Oh, come on, I’ve been friends with Moony for nine years, I’ve learned to track all kinds of cycles” he tries to joke, but when you don’t laugh, he steps forward, discarding the box on the coffee table, and cups your face in both hands. 

“Darling, we have to know if you are.” He says softly. 

“I don’t want to know” you answer, voice barely above a whisper. 

Sirius chuckles “Well, that’s a hell of a thing to want to be in the dark about” 

You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment, before saying “If I am, everything will change, and I like our life. I like us, and this apartment, and- merlin, and we have enough to worry about already right now, we don’t need-” 

Sirius shakes his head, cutting off your rambling. “We’re never going to change,” he says softly “You’re stuck with me, regardless. And I rather like this apartment too, you know. I doubt an infant will take up so much space we have to upgrade from a two-bedroom flat to a villa in the country.” Sirius says, his tone somehow both comforting and teasing as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Don’t you want kids?” he asks. 

“You know I do, I just always figured it would be after the war, when we were older and ready, and it was the right time.” 

“We don’t tend to go the traditional route though, now do we?” Sirius asked with a grin, though his expression had a soft quality to it now. “I would be so bloody excited to have a kid with you, regardless of the timing. And maybe this is a false alarm, and we will get to wait until the perfect time, but please, love, just take the test,” he says, all while rubbing gentle circles on your cheek with his thumb. 

Staring into his grey eyes, you find yourself nodding. “Alright. Fine,” you turn and grab the box from the table, heading straight for the bathroom, surprised when you turn to close the door to see Sirius walking in behind you, sitting on the edge of the tub, looking up at you with kind and expectant eyes. 

With a chuckle, you lean against the sink. “Are you seriously going to watch me pee?” 

Without a trace of humor, Sirius nods, his expression still soft and affectionate. You laugh lightly again, rolling your eyes as you open the box and read the instructions, trying hard not to focus on the way your hands are shaking. 

Just like he said, Sirius sits on the tub the whole time, and once you have washed your hands and set the test face-down on the edge of the sink, you sit next to him, bouncing your leg anxiously and chewing on your thumbnail. 

“How long do we wait?” Sirius asks. 

“Three minutes” you answer, still staring blankly at the little stick sitting on the white countertop. 

“Perfect,” Sirius says, standing and grabbing your arm to drag you up with him, out to the living room. 

“What on earth are you doing?” you ask through a surprised chuckle as Sirius leaves your side to drop the needle on the record player, not even bothering to check what it was the two of you had left on the turntable last night before bed. 

“Three minutes, the perfect amount of time for a dance,” he says, grabbing your hand and taking a dramatic bow as the static from the vinyl fades into the first notes of “Can’t Help Falling In Love,” making you laugh despite yourself as Sirius cringes. 

“You and your bloody Elvis” Sirius mumbles, no true ire in his voice, before he kisses your knuckles, looking up into your eyes. “May I have this dance?” 

You nod, still laughing softly as Sirius stands back to his full height, pulling you against his chest as he sways the two of you back and forth slowly to the music. After a few seconds, you fully relax into him, nearly forgetting about the test developing one room over. Sirius hums along to the music, the vibrations rumbling against your cheek as you close your eyes and allow yourself to get lost in him. 

When the song fades out, there is a moment of silence, the two of you just swaying gently in the living room before the next track- Rock-A-Hula Baby- starts, causing the both of you to erupt into a fit of laughter, your face buried into Sirius’s black t-shirt while the two of you crack up. 

When the laughter dies down, Sirius gently grips your chin and tilts your head up. “It’s been three minutes,” he says softly. 

“I know,” you say just as quietly. 

When you don’t move, Sirius chuckles, kissing your forehead before letting go and walking to the bathroom, you following behind him, the two of you stopping and looking down at the little, pathetic plastic stick sitting on the sink, waiting to be flipped over, capable of changing your lives entirely in a millisecond. 

You look up at Sirius for a moment. “I love you, more than anything, no matter what,” you say, anxiety evident in your tone. 

Sirius chuckles, smiling at you and kissing your forehead again, and when he speaks, there is a quiver in it that is distinctly uncharacteristic. “I love you too. So so much, always.” 

“Alright,” you nod, looking down at the test and taking a deep breath, poising to flip it before shaking your head, “Nope, you’ve gotta do it,” you say, taking a step back. 

Sirius chuckles, shaking his head “So much for Gryffindor bravery” he teases as he flips the test, eyes flicking from the test to your eyes and back to the test a few times before you finally exclaim “Well?!” 

“It’s uh- it’s negative,” Sirius says with a shrug, infuriatingly nonchalant. 

“What? Neg- are you serious?”

“Always” he replies with a grin, wincing away exaggeratedly as you make to slap his upper arm “Yes, yes, it’s negative,” he says, rubbing his shoulder where you had landed a smack. 

“Well, that’s… that’s good then, isn’t it?” you say, sitting on the edge of the tub, looking at the pattern of the tile on the floor. “I mean, a war isn’t a time to be having a baby anyway, and we’re still so young…” you say, knowing the words are true. But if it wasn’t the right time, why were you so sad to hear the test was negative? One of your hands involuntarily finds its way to your stomach before you look up at Sirius again, asking “Negative? Really?” 

“No, it’s positive,” he says, a grin playing at his lips- the one he wears after a particularly good prank. 

“What? Are you sure?” you shoot to your feet, reaching for the test which he holds out readily “Well, yeah, I lied before,” he says with a chuckle, earning another smack on the arm as you look at the test in your hands, displaying a very prominent plus sign.

One of your hands flies up to cover your mouth, happy tears pricking your eyes as you look up at him “We’re going to have a baby?” 

Sirius nods, his mischievous grin fully replaced by a smile of pure elation “We’re going to have a baby,” he confirms, catching you with a huff as you throw your arms around him and pull him into a bone-crushing hug. 

Maybe this will be alright after all. 

[raqi-marr]

About Affinification

I normally don't bother getting into quote-unquote "HDG Discourse", but I was recently falsely accused of doing so on anon on Ao3 (which was funny as fuck) so I figured why not take the opportunity to *actually* discoursepost, since this is a subject I have some pretty strong feelings on

My stance on affinification is it should be allowed & not discouraged. Right now it is allowed but heavily discouraged, and I think this is both unnecessary and unkind- particularly to members of the community who have affini headmates. I've seen some arguments about affinification being bad because it undermines the disability narrative at the heart of HDG, but, imo this is only true if you take a very limited view of the capacity in disabled people VS abled people.

Disabilities come in all shapes and size, ranging from things like being unable to walk and needing a wheelchair, to having autism in a world that isn't suited for autistic people (google 'social model of disability' if this doesn't make sense.) However, "disabled person" =/= "person who can't do anything at all", it just means "person who can not do/struggles to do some things."

I get that the general take here is "the affini are The System and disabled people are never part of The System", but disabled people are actually - very fucking occasionally - able to become part of the system.

The US has a non-zero amount of trans representatives and presumably at least some of those are disabled; likewise, I have no doubt there are disabled non-trans representatives that I'm not aware of.

I think, basically, affinification is fine if your character has to work for it in a story. It is true that yes, you cannot overcome physical disabilities irl- but it may well be possible in some cases to still do a job you wanted to do, or get a position you wanted to, with enough hard work anyway. I do recognise this is not always possible, but to be clear I'm approaching this from a mental disability perspective anyway because that's what HDG means to me personally, and things are a bit different there

To be clear, I fully acknowledge trans people/disabled people/other minorities should not need to work to get this kind of recognition. They do, though; that's how life currently is, and it's fine for people to want to explore that in HDG stories. It Takes Time is on some level about my self-insert wanting to fight to be accepted and seen as an equal by a bunch of people who are more able bodied than her, even if she isn't capabilistically their equal (or it will be when I get to that arc in 50 million years lmao).

The reason it's about that is that, as an autistic person who has spent their entire life being thought of as stupid, inept, and incapable by the people around me, but is not actually, my life has been all about fighting to get people to stop viewing me that way. This is also why ITT isn't an actual affinification story; I don't need my self-insert to physically become an affini to feel validated, I just want to be treated as equal to them in the ways that I care about (which is not in the ability to micromanage 50 vines at once.)

so yeah there's my 5 credits on affinification: basically I think you can write it without undermining the disability narrative if you do it properly. also I am not at all trying to say "disabled people should just work harder to get what they want" no one should have to work if they don't want to: I just so happen to be the type that naturally enjoys having responsibilities and being in charge of stuff and I would actually be okay being in the social role that the affini have within the compact (which I realise separates me from like 99% of hdg's reader demographic already lmao)

I am merely trying to acknowledge that some disabled people - such as myself - do willingly go down the torturous path to trying to at least sort of "fit in" in society, and having a way to represent that in HDG is good I think

[anxiousthoughts365]

Your blog brings me so much joy!! I’ve been loving the ficlets you’ve posted! Can you write one where Harry says something hurtful to Draco and has to really grovel to gain his trust back?

I'm so glad to hear that, thank you! This is for you :)

~🐍Drarry⚡️ & Harry grovelling for forgiveness after saying something hurtful to Draco ~

No warnings apply

'Dray? How long are you going to keep this up?' Harry's voice was tired and worn, but Draco simply sniffed and re-crossed his legs, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the television that Harry had managed to set up in their living room. He wasn't really following the programme all that closely, but it was a convenient way to drown out his boyfriend's voice. And Harry definitely deserved to be drowned out.

It had all started three days ago. They had been fighting over something so inane that Draco couldn't even remember what the initial argument had been about, and it likely would have all blown over quickly, if it hadn't been for one thing. When the fight was reaching its peak, with both of them slinging insults and sly jibes at each other, Harry had entirely crossed the line and snapped that Draco was acting just like his father.

Draco had instantly reeled back as though he'd been physically slapped, his eyes wide with disbelief. And almost immediately, Harry had reached for him, babbling apologies and begging for his stupidity to be forgotten. But the damage had been done, and since then Draco had been very pointedly pretending that Harry didn't exist, that he didn't share his house with another human being at all, let alone his boyfriend of nearly 2 years.

During that time, Harry had been going above and beyond to try and earn Draco's forgiveness. He had been on his best behaviour: every morning, he had gone out of his way to tell Draco just how beautiful he looked that day; he'd done all of the household chores without being asked; he had been cooking all of Draco's favourite breakfasts, lunches and dinners; and when he'd had to go out for work yesterday, he'd come home with flowers and chocolates, both of which Draco had studiously ignored. Apparently, seeing those gifts left untouched on the kitchen table this morning had been the last straw for Harry.

'Baby, please,' the Auror groaned, scrubbing at his own face in frustration before turning to look at Draco once more. 'I've said I'm sorry. What more can I possibly do to make you forgive me?'

Draco had to bite into his own tongue to hold back his curt response of, If you truly think that that's enough to earn my forgiveness, then you really don't deserve it. No matter how much he wanted to cut into his boyfriend, he was more determined to punish him, so he kept silent and didn't look at him, not even when Harry suddenly sidled closer on the sofa.

'How about this,' Harry murmured, and his voice was so strangely calm and confident that Draco almost peeked over, out of interest. But he didn't, so Harry went on, 'Why don't I take you down to Diagon Alley, and we can go to that nice little jewellery shop you like?'

Draco paused at that, considering his options for a few moments, then he finally, finally glanced at Harry. 'The one on the corner?'

'The one on the corner,' Harry confirmed, the side of his mouth twitching as he clearly fought against a smile. The sight of it almost made Draco dismiss the whole notion, but then Harry inched closer still and murmured, 'And you can pick out anything you like.'

'Anything?' Draco pressed, sure that Harry was bound to retract that last part if given the chance. The shop in question was the most exclusive one on the whole street, and every item in there, while beautiful, was heart-staggeringly expensive. But there was triumph in the Auror's green eyes, and Draco knew that this time, he'd lost the battle. Because they both knew that he was unable to resist such an offer.

'Anything,' Harry asserted, and in the quiet moments that followed after, while Draco's pride fought against the very enticing proposal, he could have sworn that the man was holding his breath while he awaited Draco's answer.

'Fine,' Draco eventually drawled, fixing Harry with the longest look that he'd allowed himself since their fight. 'You can take me out for breakfast, while you're at it.'

Harry grinned, and leaned in to plant a kiss on Draco's cheek before he bounded up and scampered from the room, clearly keen for this whole episode to be over with. But as his boyfriend raced up the stairs to dress for their outing, Draco snorted to himself, smirking as he settled back into the sofa. He'd lost the battle, but perhaps this wasn't such a bad way to lose.

[dead-dove-definitely-eat]

"You Shouldn't Post Problematic Things Cause You'll Trigger People with Trauma"

There are two pitfalls to this argument.

You are not the center of the universe. It is not my or anybody's job to bend over backwards to appease you. Your trauma is your responsibility.

Trauma is complicated. What will trigger one person, will comfort another. And a person's discomfort doesn't trump someone else's comfort.

I'm gonna go over two traumatic events I went through (One fairly recent, the other from my childhood) in regards to these two points.

(Feel free to tell me about any Trigger Warning I need to add)

I was held at knife point at work a few weeks ago. I work the graveyard shift at a hotel, and a person came in, threatened me with a tactical knife, took all the money in the register, and ran. The first 48 hours + my first few shifts after this event I was a nervous wreck. But now I don't react. I can work completely alone at night without caring, I can see weapons without flinching, I can see violent scenes on TV and keep a straight face.

But even now I almost have a panic attack whenever I see someone wearing a hoodie and/or gloves. Cause that's what my attacker was wearing. I almost cried the first time a saw a guy wearing a hoodie after the robbery. Even though he never even came into the building, just seeing him sent me spiraling.

And I'm not alone. It's quite common for victims of violent crimes (specifically if they were unable to see the attackers face) to have their trauma latch onto something else. Such as locations, sounds, smells, and in my case clothing.

The thing is, if I claimed that it should be illegal to wear hoodies regardless of weather cause it triggers victims like myself. It would absurd. Because it is not the job of these random people who just want a hotel room to have to bend over backwards due to my trauma. My personal discomfort doesn't trump another person's free will. And it's selfish to imply that it should. But a lot of people push this idea that online, everybody should have to cater their content around people who have gone through something awful. When that truly isn't the case.

If you are a victim of violence and suffered trauma due to it, I am sorry that happened to you. But just like it would be absurd for me to approuch a random stranger on the street and say "I was robbed at knife point and now hoodies trigger me. You have to stop wearing them." it's absurd for you to go onto a random strangers account and say "I'm a victim of abuse and now dark-fiction triggers me. You have to stop posting it". It is my job to manage my own trauma, it is your job to manage your own trauma. Strangers do not need to cater to you. If you know something triggers you (especially online) it is your job to avoid it.

Now for the second one I get into my own personal trauma from my childhood. I was mistreated in some way by practically every member of my immediate family:

My mom was emotionally neglectful and never spent any time with me.

My dad was verbally abusive and threatened to beat me for crying when I'd get hurt.

My oldest sister abandoned me

My other sister physically, verbally, and emotionally abused me.

So to put it simply. I went through shit. But I can see depictions of trauma similar to my own and not react. I can see abuse on TV and not react. I can roleplay abusive family dynamics without getting upset. I can write abusive families without even blinking. These things do not affect me. Wanna know what did though?

I was watching Record of Ragnorok, specifically the Adam vs. Zeus fight. And I had a complete melt down in the middle of the living room when Adam said he was fighting in Ragnorok cause what kind of father wouldn't die to protect his children. I was crying so hard I almost vomited. Cause all I could think of when I heard Adam say that, was my father admitting that he allowed my sister to beat me black and blue everyday cause he couldn't be bothered to protect me. That he allowed me to suffer cause he didn't want to admit that my sister was a piece of shit who can't love anybody more than herself.

I also cried watching Bluey. Cause when I saw Bandit and Chili interact with the girls, all I could picture was that my parents would never do that. In fact if I did half the shit those two did, my parents would have threatened to beat me. And I cried. Cause all I saw when seeing these things was how my family should have been. They should have been kind and loving, but instead I was given a family that treated me like complete shit for years.

The thing is, by the logic that certain things shouldn't be portrayed because they can upset trauma survivors. These should be banned. Depicting healthy family dynamics should be banned cause I (and quite a few others) are left distressed by watching them. No more protective fathers, no more loving mothers, no more loyal siblings. Because those things genuinely cause me distress.

But once again, it would be absurd if I said that. Because plenty of abuse survivors find comfort in healthy depictions of family. Me being upset at seeing a genuinely loving family shouldn't over-rule all the people who are comforted by seeing it. Cause to circle back to my previous point. I am not the center of the universe.

Trauma is complicated. In fact if you actually looked at psychology and didn't just weaponize it (this goes for both sides), you'd see that psychologists are still trying to understand how trauma impacts the brain.

Why can three people all go through CSA but the first becomes hyper-sexual, the second becomes sexually repulsed, and the third become a serial killer. Cause a completely normal and healthy human brain is already a complicated mess that science is trying to understand, but throw in an event so horrible it completely changes certain aspects of it and you have a recipe for confusion.

The moment you say "X shouldn't exist for the comfort of victims" than immediantly nothing should exist. Cause trauma is so complicated that you can have two people go through pretty much identical situations and each will become upset by different things. No two people react to trauma in the exact same way. There will always be some differences. Whether it be what triggers them or how they react to it.

And attempting to claim that the comfort of some victims should trump the comfort of others is cruel. A lot of survivors enjoy consuming dark fiction because it allows you to explore your own childhood except this time you are in control. Me writing about abusive families is comforting because it allows me to explore my trauma, except I can walk away at any moment. The moment it becomes too much, I can close my laptop and cuddle my cats.

In fact that is the appeal of dark fiction for a lot of people, victim or otherwise. Allowing you to explore dark themes while remaining in control. The moment it becomes too much you can just close the book or turn off the TV. Something that can't be done in real life. Unless you are simply roleplaying, you can't just take a time-out on an actual Sexual Assault or Domestic Violence situation.

The truth is trauma is complicated and effects everyone differently. Simply because dark fiction triggers you doesn't mean it can't comfort someone else. In fact as a person who interacts with a lot of dark sub-groups of writing or art, a fair amount, if not the majority tend to be trauma survivors who are exploring their trauma in a controlled environment. Which is far healthier then repression.

To make a long post short: Coping is between You, (if you have one) your therapist, and (if you choose to involve them) your immediate circle.

It is perfectly fine if as a survivor you don't like dark fiction and believe it makes light of what you went through. I personally can't stand people who prop themselves up as "Azula Defenders" because of my trauma with abusive siblings (but that's a rant for another time)

It is also perfectly fine if as a survivor you find comfort in dark fiction since it allows you to explore your trauma in a controlled environment.

Neither side is wrong. Both people are reacting to trauma in different ways. You're not wrong for hating dark fiction, you're not wrong for loving dark fiction. But the moment you believe certain things shouldn't be portrayed because of your own trauma is when you are wrong. Your trauma is not more important then others. Your triggers aren't more valid than others. It is your job to regulate what you consume.

If you know certain tags or genres have content you do not enjoy and trigger you, it is your job to avoid those things. It is not the job of strangers to make sure you are comfortable.

If it would be wrong and entitled to approuch a stranger and demand they take off their Game of Thrones shirt because you are a victim of SA and find the show triggering, than it is also wrong and entitled to go onto someone's blog and demand they stop posting about Game of Thrones for that exact same reason.

[its-vannah]

The Alternative | Warren Rojas x Reader

A/N: Again, this took over a week for me to write because I get distracted easily. It's a shorter one, more like a blurb, but it's cute and does the job 💕

Request: hiiii warren request🫣 can you write a one shot where warren and reader sneak off at camilla’s housewarming party in ep. 4 to get high and there is a lot of sexual tension and they end up hooking up. THANK YOU

Warnings: Getting high, mentions of the band fighting, reader and Warren sneaking off

Taglist: @celestialstar111 @stokzr

Daisy Jones and The Six Masterlist

There were many things you could look past when it came to The Six's behavior. Their constant arguments were one of them.

Once the disagreements started, you knew better than to stick around and watch it play out. So you just took your things and sat on the back porch, waiting for the yelling to die down.

On most days, it was Billy telling everybody to fuck off. Other days, it was Eddie telling Billy to fuck off. And some days, it was Karen telling them both to fuck off.

Being their neighbor, you heard most of their arguments. I mean, there wasn't much space between your houses and they weren't exactly quiet people.

Regardless, you had grown to love them. You, Karen, and Camila hung out every Thursday night at your place so they could get a break from whatever shit the boys were getting into.

Other days, Warren came over with his drumsticks to test how they sounded on your pots and pans—which he claimed "sounded different" than the ones they used at their house.

He'd spend hours just banging on different pieces of metal until he found a beat he liked. Then, he'd take your face in his hands, loudly say, "I'm a genius", and run back to show Billy what he's figured out.

Of course, Billy told him to talk to him when he wasn't high on marijuana—which wasn't often.

Those were the moments you enjoyed. Not wanting to ruin your friendships with the band, you stayed out of any drama that ensued between them for your own sanity. Sure, you had plenty of things you could say, but you'd never be able to finish a sentence without being spoken over.

So you kept your mouth shut, grabbed a bottle of wine, and sat in what had become "your chair."

Tonight was like most nights, the band was having a small spat. Billy was irritated that Daisy was there, Graham and Karen were God knows where, Eddie was sulking, and Camila was trying to fix everything.

You were in the same spot as always, rocking back and forth with a bottle in your hand, looking up at the endless array of stars.

It was peaceful and oddly humbling—knowing you were just a tiny fragment in the world. God, you were drunk off your ass.

Light footsteps behind you broke your train of thought and you watched as Warren came into view.

"Hey, neighbor," He said with a smile, nursing a bottle of beer, "Mind if I join you?"

"They're still fighting?"

He shrugged, sitting beside you in the other rocking chair, taking a swig of his drink, "Billy's not happy."

"When is he?" You scoffed, throwing back your wine, finishing the bottle, "He's always in a fucking mood."

"That's Billy for you. Always grumpy."

You dipped your head back with a groan, "I don't know who's worse—him or Eddie."

"Oh, Billy. It's definitely Billy."

Unable to stop yourself, you burst out laughing. The alcohol was starting to take a toll on your physical state, "So, what brings you out here? You stargaze often?

He grinned at your teasing tone, breaking eye contact and looking down at his feet, shaking his head, "No, no, just wanted to keep you company. And see if you'd do weed with me."

"Better than the alternative."

"What's the alternative?"

You gave him a knowing look, "Not doing weed with you."

- - -

You and Warren were laying on the floor of the back porch, laughing hysterically at something he said—but you couldn't exactly remember what he said—and neither did he. That itself added to the humor of it all. At least, it did for you.

Nothing could disturb the two of you, not the lights going out, Julia's crying, or the loud sound of the swarm of people inside of the house.

"So she walked in to see Eddie in a dress and Graham in nothing but his—his—" You couldn't even get the words out without laughing.

Warren slapped the wooden boards beside him, laughing so hard he was practically snorting, "I wasn't any better, I was a pirate."

You kicked your legs, holding your stomach, "I can't—I can't breathe—"

Warren sat up, leaning over you, "I can give you CPR."

You were pretty out of it, but you understood what he was saying. The thing is—you didn't want him to give you CPR.

"We could just go to my place instead."

Warren raised his brows, "You think we can make it that far?"

"I think we can at least make it to my front lawn."

He got on his knees, grabbing the rocking chair to pull himself up. The chair swung back, causing him to fall back down to the ground.

You looked over at him—and as soon as his eyes met yours, the two of you burst out laughing.

Pushing yourself up off the ground, you reached your hand out, "Come on, let's get you out of those clothes."

You've never seen him run faster in your life.

[kyuus4ku]

𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗦𝗢𝗔𝗣 𝗕𝗨𝗕𝗕𝗟𝗘𝗦

chuuya nakahara

genre: minific ; fluff

warnings: mentions of blood, a little bit of profanity

word count: 2.1K

Your head throbbed with a dull sting as you carried your aching back to sit upright on the bed. Rubbing your eyes in exhaustion, a sharp sigh escaped your lips. You had a long week, and the missions the boss sent you on weren't easy ones. As one of the Port Mafia Executives, the number of reports you had to write and dirty tasks you had to deal with were numerous, but it seemed as if the pressure that initially weighed on you was subsiding, or perhaps you were just slowly getting used to it.

Nevertheless, it was easier than before since you could work alongside Chuuya.

It seemed as if you both shared each other's burdens of the stress imposed on you everyday. Other than that, it was nice having a partner who knew exactly what you had to deal with at work. It sort of saved you the trouble of explaining and elaborating on details of how your day went, since the both of you stuck together most of the time. Even your colleagues were well-aware of how close you were. Disregarding the countless times Dazai, who was your esteemed colleague but also your close friend, had mockingly declared that you both acted like 'a pair of pathetic, lovesick teenagers,' the fact still remained that you and Chuuya were highly respected at the Port Mafia because of what your ideal duality was capable of accomplishing.

But today, you didn't bother thinking about work. It was the last thing you wanted on your mind. You turned your head to your side, and found that Chuuya was not sleeping next to you. You got out of bed and started humming a tune whilst making your way to the bathroom to freshen up. Your head was cluttered with thoughts about what your plans were for today, since it was one of those rare opportunities to spend some quality time with Chuuya, who wished to do the same with you, too. Just as you were about to get out of the bathroom to look for him, you heard a voice coming from behind the shower curtain.

"Oi," Chuuya's morning voice rang groggily, "what happened to wishing your boyfriend a simple 'good morning'?"

You tittered lightly and proceeded to open the curtain, only to find Chuuya comfortably relaxing in the bathtub with a glass of wine in his hand. A grin broke through his expression as your eyes rested on him.

"Good morning, idiot," you chimed sweetly, "how long have you been in here?"

Before he could respond, you held your index finger up in realisation as you recognised that strong scent hanging in the air. Chuuya looked at you innocently as he tried to think of a way to justify the fact that he used too much of your favourite vanilla soap in the bath. You also realised that there were more bubbles than usual, so you quickly deduced the situation and frowned at him in fake disappointment.

"I'll get you more soon," he added awkwardly before you could say anything.

"How much did you use?" you inquired seriously, attempting to scare him.

"Half the bottle... sorry... it took a while to bubble up... I was really confused," he scratched the back of his head guiltily.

"I'm kidding, Chuu~" you chuckled softly. You proceeded to remove your clothes and carefully slid into the tub to sit across him. He had prepared another glass just for you. Pouring a portion of one of his most expensive wines into it, he checked to see if you were seated comfortably.

"What's the occasion?" you asked as the sweetness of the alcohol washed over and soothed your tastebuds. The bitter aftertaste and the way it flooded over all your distressing thoughts about work summed up just how much you liked it.

"I'm a great boyfriend," he said airily, a smirk curling up the corners of his lips.

"Nah... admit it," you replied nonchalantly, "you just love spoiling me."

Chuuya laughed at this, not bothering to differ with your statement. The both of you sat in silence for a bit, casually sipping from your beverages and engulfing yourselves into your thoughts, while slowly getting a little light-headed from the gradual intoxication of the wine. The alcohol seemed to be doing a great job of relaxing your sore joints, and bringing Chuuya into a flurry of lukewarm emotions which stood in contrast to his usual agitated mood.

However, this changed as Chuuya broke his train of thought when he noticed the bruises lining your right shoulder. His eyebrows furrowed in concern, so he leaned forward and reached out his hand, gently brushing the tips of his finger against them and catching you off-guard at the same time.

"What happened here?" he asked, observing it carefully as your hand reached out to push away his. You didn't really like it when he showed too much concern over such trivial things, even though you deeply appreciated it. Since working in the Port Mafia often posed threats to the both of you physically, these sort of minor injuries were normal, but he never failed to dote after you. He took care of you as best he could, and you did just the same for him. This was one of the million reasons why Dazai often referred to you both as 'the cheesiest couple to walk on this godforsaken planet.'

"It's nothing," you held your hand over your shoulder, pressing the bruises lightly to see if they still hurt as much as they did a few days ago, "It's just from that dumb fight that broke out a few days ago. Remember?"

"Where was I?" a look of annoyance replaced his concerned expression, "why didn't you ask for help?"

"I managed it just fine," you replied rather abruptly, trying your best to brush it off. You two often argued about such things, but today, the last thing you wanted to do was fight over something so minor.

Chuuya stared at you seriously while you tried to avoid his gaze. Your heart raced a little at the thought of a potential argument breaking out, so you decided to diffuse the tension since it was supposed to be a day of rest, and... slight inebriation.

"Chuuya," you subtracted the ego your expression held, and assumed a calmer, more tender tone, "it's nothing to worry about, okay?"

He pursed his lips as his eyes travelled down to your bruises, then back up to meet your gaze, "please, be more careful, for fuck's sake."

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The pace at which your heart was beating slowed down to keep up with the alcohol's minor effect on your body, and Chuuya's sharp features, with its present undisturbed guise, had a strange way of setting you at ease, too.

Maybe it was just the wine talking, but you didn't let anything stop you from soaking up every fibre of this moment.

"Hey, don't act as if you didn't come home with blood all over your clothes a few weeks ago. It was a fucking bloodbath over here, and all I got were a few bruises," your playful teases overtook the silence which the both of you were too captivated by for a while.

"Shut up. Don't make me remind you about how you were freaking out," he mentally mustered up the theatrical skill hidden deep inside him to imitate your voice, "'Fuck, there's blood everywhere! Chuuya, how are you feeling? It's okay, I'm going to patch you up... where the fuck are the bandaids!? Oh my- okay, wait, I'll be back, don't move. Oh, wait, you can't- sorry, just give me a moment-"

"I had all the right to freak out, dumbass!" you cut him off and giggled as he shook his head dismissively, trying his best not to smile but failing all the same.

"On a serious note," Chuuya uttered after some contemplation, "if something like that happens again, call out my name."

"In the middle of a fight?" you tilted your head, perplexed.

"Yeah," he responded plainly.

"What are you going to do? Bitch-slap them?" you asked with a mischievous grin, unable to take him seriously.

"Make them regret it," Chuuya replied bluntly before a devious smile broke through his serious expression, "of all people, you know what I'm capable of."

"I do," you assured him, "but why?"

The question was genuine, and he decided to respond with brutal honesty.

"I don't take people's wellbeing lightly," he said, sipping on his wine while keeping his gaze locked onto you, "especially the people I give a damn about. So if anyone ever crosses that line— I'll kill them."

You felt something shift inside you.

His aggression and fierce loyalty seemed to overwhelm you. No one had ever spoken for you like that.

He took note of your silence, and wondered why you became quiet all of the sudden.

"What's wrong?" he asked you, gesturing for you to come over to his side. You did accordingly and made yourself comfortable in between his legs by stretching out your own, so that the both of you made good use of the space in the bathtub. The back of your head rested on his chest as the two of you blankly stared at the bubbles that surfaced the soapy water decoratively. He took away the wine glass from your hands and placed both the glasses on the cabinet nearby, where your essential oils and premium soaps were housed. He reached out to the lowest shelf for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

"Nothing," you replied calmly, "thank you."

"For what?" he asked, slowly getting a cigarette out of its box, careful not to get the tobacco rod wet.

"Don't know..." you replied dreamily, "no one's ever..."

Your voice trailed off. Chuuya sensed that you weren't in the mood to respond, so he reached his hands in front of your face with a cigarette in between his fingers, and placed it in between your lips carefully, with his face peeking over your shoulder to ensure that he had the permission to do so. As he gently handled your jaw in one hand and the lighter in the other, he lit it up for you.

"There's no reason to thank me," he leaned back once again as you painted the air with wisps of smoke. You remained silent as you handed him the cigarette. He held it in his hand and opened his mouth again, "this job really sticks a fuck ton of needles up the soles of your feet, so I can't help but feel worried about you."

"I'm worried about you, too," you replied as he passed you back the cigarette, puffing out clouds of smoke smoothly, "you know that, right?"

"Of course, I do," he scoffed, surprised at your question, "you're the one who doesn't seem to get that."

"Huh? What do you mean?''

Chuuya took a while to come up with an answer because he was trying to pick out words that he meant from the bottom of his heart.

"I signed up for this shit. I signed up for worrying about your dumbass and wanting to slice the throats of anyone who hurts you, let alone, touches you. So there's no reason to push my concern for you away; it won't go away. I'm just like that. I just care for you that way."

You giggled at his statement; that was the only way you seemed to know how to respond.

"What's so funny?" he growled grumpily.

His statement rewinded and played itself over and over again in your head.

"I feel like the luckiest person alive when I'm with you," were the words that came out of your lips breathlessly.

"Damn, it took you that long to realise?" he chuckled lightly and wrapped his arm around your abdomen to bring you closer toward him, "I'm going to keep you safe... whether you like it or not."

You turned back to peek at his casual smile and leaned towards him to place your lips on his; his fingers travelled up the back of your neck and into your wet hair as he pulled your head closer to his. Your body was physically enchanted by his embrace, to the point that your fingers started playfully drawing curly, deformed doodles on his bare chest. The essence of tobacco and wine were exchanged as your lips continued kissing his.

The rest of the day was similar to that morning you spent in the tub, except that it involved a slightly more chaotic type of drunkenness by which you two wreaked havoc wherever you could in the comfort of your home. It was an activity you two started looking forward to every weekend: just the two of you, drinking wine in the bathtub lined with vanilla-scented bubbles.

author's note: Heyo! This is pretty much my first post on this blog. I'm not very new to writing but this is my first attempt at drabble/short story writing revolving around an established character lol I hope you liked it! I'll make up a masterlist after I've written more fics/drabbles so I will do my best to come up with good content! Thank you for reading(◡‿◡✿)

[munsontm]

“i’ve been worried sick! where the hell were you!?” — steve ofc

The buzz of neat vodka and a couple lines of coke wrapped him up in immunity from his boyfriend's worried tone, and that look of fear mixed with a hint of anger in his caring hazel eyes. Eddie had always thought Steve looked goddamn gorgeous when pissed, but not when it was aimed at him, at least very rarely. Tonight was no different, yet the outburst had been expected when Eddie stormed out hours ago during an argument. He'd run away. Why? Old habits die hard; some can't ever be cured completely. Instinct told him to go, and he listened. The downside was that the only place for him to go once the city quietened for the night, bars closed, was back to Steve. There was no avoiding the situation. They were in a relationship, lovers, boyfriends, partners, whatever, and he knew deep down beneath the slightly intoxicated haze that it took both of them to make it work. He also knew Steve wouldn't dare shut his eyes without knowing he was safe. So, going home, back to their apartment, he had to.

Except when Steve spoke to him, hands on his hips in that way he did when in classic Steve mode, Eddie shrugged and kicked his shoes off into their designated area by the front door. He'd gone to a bar, drank and bought a bit of coke to drown his sorrows and calm down. Anger wasn't an emotion that suited him or plagued him much despite all he'd been through in twenty-two years. That particular feeling got redirected into his music, so no one else need ever see him that way. But the writer's block had hit Eddie hard over the past month or so, and when the anger had nowhere to go. It bubbled to the surface. The drugs and booze, as unhealthy a mechanism as they were, pushed those emotions back down into the dark where he wanted them.

"I'm back. I'm fine. What more do you want, Steve?" A poor answer even by his standards, and it's what the other man is left with when Eddie goes into the bathroom to get ready for bed. The worst part was that he couldn't recall what they'd argued over, not entirely. Only that is escalated into some other shit about bills, chores, and that they weren't spending enough time together---Oh, right. That'd been the original argument, to begin with, hadn't it? Eddie worked late nights, making him distant from Steve physically and then emotionally because of writer's block. But Eddie never brought the latter up with Steve; he didn't know why. Maybe because of the personal nature of his writing or that he didn't want Steve to know how it helped calm the anger rarely seen in him. Stupid reasons, stupid, stupid.

Sighing, he washed his face, brushed his teeth and combed his hair, failing to realise Steve's returned presence until he turned around to leave. Eddie jumped, hand going over his cocaine-fuelled heart. "Jesus Christ, Steve," he muttered with no actual malice, only exhaustion from the night's events. Their eyes met, and his same jittery heart went about a thousand miles a second. Even when they were fighting, Eddie was still completely and utterly gone for him. Unfortunately, an accustomed goodnight kiss seemed highly unlikely. He looked away before drowning occurred, brushing past the taller. "I'm tired. Let's just talk about this some other time." It sounded cruel on his tongue, even if there was no tone to suggest cruelty. He stopped for half a second to consider saying otherwise, but then his feet kept walking away, every step like a stab in Steve's chest.

Why was it so hard? Talking had never been an issue for Eddie Munson; he'd been known to overshare on more than one occasion. Maybe the stress of being unable to write finally took a toll on him, and eventually, all that frustration would spill out in one ugly and dramatic scene. Until then, it was fucking with his relationship instead, hurting the man he loved. The only good thing in his shitty life. He needed to hit the hay before the path to self-loathing opened up in all its unholy glory and made things so much worse. Without risking one last look at Steve, Eddie changed for bed quicker than usual, hoping that the day after would bring better thoughts and behaviour his way.

@harringtontm

[chocolatte-and-despair]

Hello,may I have a match up?

(I'm bisexual) im a girl,I'm mixed between Brazilian and gayana,I'm average height(for now) I move if I feel/must move but I love cycling ,my hair is very very curly.

I never really thought about having a lover but here I am so-

I'm akward around new people but if I want to be friends I just stick around ,don't talk don't look just have an excuse to be around like petting my dog or reading a book around but I get attached too easily but I also get unattached if they ignore me

I love affection but I don't ask for it most of the time if we want to be gf and bf or gf and gf,we would have to get aproval of my family members if not..get ready to get friend zoned:/

I'm a little manipulating but when I am it's just something small like a very cheap clothe or snack (like fruit and stuff)

My schedule is very messy sometime I sleep at 2:00 when on phone but If I have a very interesting book..till I pass out or when someone tells me.

Also I hate manipulative people so you could say I would want to be in a healthy relationship with whoever they are

I hate arguments ,if it's not about me I ignore it ,if they are screaming at my face I burst in tears but if they explain everything calmly I would say yes to mostly everything And I also hate being left out like a dog left at home,if they leave for a little to long I think I would go on a walk or I would make myself a challenge like go to the market and buy them a nice gift without them being home yet or something like that

If you dont it it's alright if you do it Awesome!

After thinking for a little bit, I decided to give you ... Frisk (Undertale Frisk)! Here are a few reasons why! Sadly, almost everyone I muse is manipulative to a point, so, you can’t really escape that, seeing as they are yanderes. It’s also very hard to have a healthy relationship with them, seeing as again, they all are very yandere. But here ya go.

Frisk is a calm person, who will always approach any issue with a cold tone. Meaning, that if you two would end up in an argument, she would calmly explain everything. If you are at fault for the argument, she will not give in. She knows her facts, and she knows that she is right, so she will fight until you agree she is right. For an hour, day, week, month, or even a year. She will fight as long as needed until you admit that she is right. And if she is in the wrong, she would ask you to present the facts and ask you to tell her exactly what you think she is doing that is wrong. If you are unable to present your facts in a way that she would agree with them, then in her view, you are the one in the wrong, and she won’t stop fighting you until you agree with that.

Frisk is the ambassador of monsters, so she wouldn’t always have time for you. she would make it very clear, and probably get you a pet, so when she’s not around, you wouldn’t be as lonely. And if that isn’t enough, and you keep annoying her when she told you to stop, she would just take away all your technology, and lock you up in a room with books, food, and water, and keep you there until she comes back home.

If your parents wouldn’t give her permission to date you, she would easily write up a check for them for a million or so, so she could date you without a problem. If that isn’t enough money, she would give them as much as they want. The fact that you think your parents not agreeing is going to stop her, is very naive.

If you would leave the house without telling her or would use her money without telling her, she would punish you after finding the gift. If you would use your own money, she would probably take the gift, before throwing it out when you are not around, seeing as she is quite rich and anything you can afford is out of her league. 

* Their age: Human age: 27 years old. 

* Their  height: 5'5 feet

* Their  yandere type: Manipulative yandere

* Their  dere type: Kuudere

* Their  Sexuality:  Cisgender female Demisexual Biromantic

A . How would they show their love and affection? How intense would it get? - Frisk has a hard time showing her affection. She usually just gives gifts and hopes that you understand that she loves you. If you are into physical affection, she will allow you to touch her, but chances are that she won’t start touching you first, seeing as she isn’t used to all the affection. 

B. What type of future are they planning with their lover? - Frisk is planning on getting married to you as fast as possible. She already paid your parents to be able to date you. Paying them to be able to marry you isn’t going to be hard. And of course, she would ask if you wanted to get married, but if you reject her too much, she would need to force herself on you.

C. What is the scariest moment with them? - The fact that she quite literally owns you. She bought the privilege of dating you. Meaning, that you aren’t free to leave her without your family getting in huge debt, as they would need to give back all the money that Frisk gave them. Frisk has so much money, that she can ruin anyone’s life. 

D. How do they usually act with their lover? - Frisk is very cold and distant, but once in a while, she does have her moments, where she acts very sweet and loving. Those are the moments after she makes you cry or something else happens. She wouldn’t want you trying to rebel against her, now would she? 

E. How would they court their lover before? - Frisk wouldn’t really bother doing much. She is busy with her life, and if you don’t fall for her immediately, she will just buy your love. Easy as that. There is no point in her wasting her time when she could just end it soon with money. 

F. What's their favorite memory/thing in the relationship? - Frisk loves to watch you sleeping. You are always so quiet, and cute when you sleep. She doesn’t need to worry about you then. It’s relaxing. She could watch you sleep for hours without ever getting tired. 

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

I posted 820 times in 2022

That's 324 more posts than 2021!

384 posts created (47%)

436 posts reblogged (53%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@i-will-physically-fight-you

@sidespart

@ironwoman359

@brain-deadx0

@sandersstudies

I tagged 738 of my posts in 2022

Only 10% of my posts had no tags

#kat talks - 309 posts

#kat answers - 109 posts

#with you i'm always queue - 86 posts

#virgil sanders - 52 posts

#anon - 49 posts

#janus sanders - 46 posts

#roman sanders - 45 posts

#kat reblogs - 44 posts

#werewolf au - 40 posts

#logan sanders - 38 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#but i did think of it in a poetic way as the creature didnt ask to be brought to life in a world that despises him on his outward appearance

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

SvS except Thomas actually can’t remember if the wedding takes place the same day as the audition or not, so instead it’s like

“Thomas, it’s just...the audition sounds really great but aw, jeepers, isn’t that the same day as the wedding?”

“Is it?”

“Patton is right, it is the same day. Look, I have it in my planner!”

“Logan, that paper’s blank.”

“Wait, no, that can’t be right...Thomas, I thought you agreed to a phone planner app to help with productivity and remembrance of important dates.”

“I--well, you did make a very compelling argument! It’s just Roman also had a compelling argument.”

“The idea of blocking out specific times to do specific tasks is very incongruent to how creativity works! You cannot restrain or control creativity--”

“Alright, fine, what about just putting down important dates?”

“I would but--”

“Oh, let me make a deduction--Virgil made a more compelling argument?”

“Listen, a phone planner app...thing...is great and all, but it’s only setting Thomas up to fail. In a perfect world, sure, it would work. But if Thomas is unable to complete a task on his list or even just looking all the commitments he has to fulfill is only going to be more stressful and demotivating than it’s actually worth.”

“And somehow that outweighs the possibility of Thomas forgetting an important date or task that could cause a larger amount of preventable stress?!”

“...Are they hissing at each other?”

“Uh, guys, I don’t think that’s Logan.”

222 notes - Posted January 21, 2022

#4

Normalize the idea that anxiety and depression can often be a life-long issue that can be treated (therapy, medication, healthy coping mechanisms, etc) but not completely cured. Anxiety and depression is something that can be in remission for people, i.e generally unimpactful to a person for weeks, months, sometimes years but it can flare up abruptly and unexpectedly in a person’s life and greatly affect their ability to function and do certain tasks that people without anxiety and depression would otherwise not struggle with.

298 notes - Posted February 22, 2022

#3

Being ADHD means somehow opening up a whole different website than the one you intended and then proceeding to get completely distracted on it until you forget your original intention upon opening up your web browser smh

551 notes - Posted June 27, 2022

#2

Say what you will of Sanders Sides, but I love the fact that the show followed a coherent timeline that was aligned with our irl timeline up until April 2019 and now it’s been ambiguously stuck in April 2019 for like three years now

2,359 notes - Posted January 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Non-writers will assume that you control every action a character makes and will think you’re crazy for saying “I do not control every action my character makes” but it’s true. As a writer you will be writing something where you go “And so Character A does this” and Character A looks at you straight in the eye and goes, “No FVCK YOU IM GONNA DO THIS INSTEAD”, takes the keys and drives away in the plot car on a narrative of their own choosing while you’re just left stranded going, “DAMMIT I HAVE TO REWRITE THE OUTLINE FOR THE TWENTY-SIXTH TIME”

2,755 notes - Posted January 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[sulietsexual]

LOVED your take on The Freshman, amazing meta as usual and I agree it's such an underrated episode. I can't believe you didn't mention the umbrella though! Also... since you were going to do Becoming... is it too much to ask for it now? I know I'm greedy... :)

ShortOpinion: Noother ship will ever tear me apart the way Bangel does

LongOpinion: BeforeThe Gift came along and stole my heart, Becoming was my favourite seasonfinale, and my favourite episode of BtVS. There is so much to love about thisdouble episode, as it so beautifully showcases Buffy becoming the Slayer, Angelbecoming a vampire and Buffy becoming strong enough to defeat Angel. Bringingthe Angelus arc to a close, while exploring themes of identity, destiny andself-preservation, Becoming is everything a season finale should be and playsthe emotional angle for all its worth.

While I understand how and whysome fans find Angel first seeing Buffy when she is so young creepy andunsettling, I also understand what the writers were trying to portray, showingAngel at his lowest and most desolate and demonstrating how, even before sheknew him, Buffy gave him hope enough to turn his life around, to become a partof something bigger. Whistler sending Angel to Buffy was never supposed to comeacross as stalkery (which it unfortunately does, to a certain extent – althoughnot the extent some fans try to make it out to be) but rather, was supposedshow that Angel sees more to Buffy than she sees in herself, and that heempathises with her loneliness and isolation (a running theme in Buffy andAngel’s relationship).

In the present day, we see Buffyand Willow finally discover the floppy disk (omg, BtVS really showsits age sometimes) containing the spell to re-ensoul Angel and Buffy makes thedecision to have Willow perform the spell. I want to take a moment to talkabout this decision, as I have long wanted to talk about the good oldSpike-fandom argument about Angelus having his soul forced upon him vs Spikeseeking his soul. No, I’m not going to talk about Angel vs. Spike, but rather,Buffy’s agency and autonomy regarding the two vampires receiving their souls.

As just pointed out, Buffy herselfis the one who chooses to re-ensoul Angel. She makes the decision togive Angel back his soul, thereby decided for herself that she is ready to haveAngel back, ready to accept him back into her life, to forgive him and to tryto move on. She makes this decision, using her own autonomy and agency.However, when Spike gets his soul back, he does so without Buffy’s knowledge oracceptance and he therefore forces her into a position she was not readyfor nor had decided she wanted. Spike getting his soul back actually takes awayBuffy’s agency, as it forces her to forgive him, forces her to accept him backinto her life, probably before she was ready to, whereas because Buffy choseto have Angel re-ensouled, she wasn’t forced into a position of forgivenessagainst her will. But I digress.

Becoming contains some wonderfulcharacterisation for not only Buffy and Angel, but most of the other maincharacters too. Willow’s Start of Darkness actually has its beginnings as earlyas this episode, as she insists on casting the re-ensouling spell, mentioningthat she has been researching the Dark Arts for “educational fun”. That rightthere, is a huge red warning sign, showing that Willow is already at this earlystage delving into magics she’s not ready to handle. When she eventuallysucceeds in casting the spell, the power she channels is a clear indicator of justhow much latent power Willow has residing inside her. Jenny previouslymentioned that the magics used to re-ensoul Angel were lost, even to herpeople, yet Willow, a seventeen-year-old girl who has never attempted magicbefore, somehow manages to channel enough power to cast a spell which is over acentury old. If this isn’t an indicator of Willow’s darker path and subsequentpower thirst, I don’t know what it. It’s actually quite alarming, when onethinks about it.

Xander too gets some goodcharacterisation, despite him not coming off so well in this episode. I’vespoken about it before and Lord knows I will speak about it until the day Idie, but despite his asshole-ish tendencies, I really believe that there issomething deeper at play with Xander regarding Angel being re-ensouled andreceiving a second chance, and that something is Jesse’s death. When Jesse –someone whom Xander knew for years and cared for deeply – was turned, no oneever mentioned the possibility of redemption or change for Jesse. Instead,Xander was told, in no uncertain terms, that Jesse was gone and that the demonwho wore his face must be killed. Xander was then the one to actuallykill Jesse. I cannot stress enough how much of an impact this would have had onXander, the trauma he probably felt, and his only rationalization was thatvampires were evil and therefore Jesse was evil and he, Xander, had no choicebut to kill him.

Then, along comes Angel, thevampire with a soul, the man Buffy loves, allowed to live, allowed to be amember of the Scoobie gang. And Xander thinks, why wasn’t his friend allowedthe same chance, why wasn’t Jesse saved the same way Angel was. But Xander,despite what the fandom believes, actually does tolerate Angel while he has asoul (“Angel’s our friend! Except I don’t like him.”) Then Angel loses hissoul, and he becomes the demon that Xander was told Jesse was, yet Buffydoesn’t kill him, doesn’t hunt him. No one is pushing Buffy to kill him. And soXander sees the unfairness in this, the injustice of him having to kill hisbest friend but Buffy not only allowing Angelus to live, but offering him asecond chance. So he acts like a dick, throws Jenny’s death in Buffy’s face andutters the “Kick his ass” line. Because he never got over Jesse’s death, andbeing so young and immature, can’t see the bigger picture, only the injustice.And that’s why, after many years, I have been able to forgive Xander’s actionsin this episode.

Becoming showcases not only thecharacters’ emerging development, but also the development and stages of all ofthe romantic relationships. Willow’s and Oz’s relationship is shown to begetting deeper and more involved, as she calls out for Oz upon waking in thehospital, despite Xander’s declaration of love just moments before. Xander andCordelia embrace and kiss with genuine tenderness and affection, for probablythe first time this season, showing that their relationship is slowly evolvingbeyond that of a purely physical one. Giles’ relationship with Jenny is alsotouched upon, through Drusilla’s manipulations, showing how much Giles stillloves and grieves her (Giles’ torture is one of the few things I will neverforgive Angelus for, and I will always stand behind Giles and his attitudetowards Angel, even after Angel is re-ensouled). But the true emotional crux ofthis episode belongs to Buffy and Angel, and the tragic climax of the episodewhich sees Buffy having to kill Angel to save the world.

Ever since Angel turned intoAngelus, Buffy has spent her time building towards a mind frame wherein shewill be able to kill him (and failing miserably at that). Despite the fact thatAngelus is almost completely different to Angel, Buffy still can’t see past theface of her former lover, and time and again she lets Angelus go when sheeasily could have killed him. However, the dire circumstances in this episodefinally push her to the point where she is able to kill Angelus, and she goesinto the final fight ready to do what needs to be done.

Which is why it is all the moretragic when Angel is re-ensouled mere moments before Buffy is about tokill him. The horror and devastation on Buffy’s face as she realises what’shappened says it all. She went to the mansion to kill the demon wearing herformer lover’s face, not to end the man she loves with all her heart. Herresolve and dedication to saving the world is heartbreaking, as she tearfullytells Angel to close his eyes, before driving the sword through him. Sarah’sacting in this scene is phenomenal, as she portrays Buffy’s grief and horror atwhat she’s been forced to do. It’s interesting that at this point in theseries, Buffy is willing to sacrifice Angel to save the world, but by Season 5,she has become so broken by everything she’s faced that she is unable tosacrifice Dawn, choosing instead to let the world burn. It definitely says a lotabout Buffy’s mental state and how broken down and fractured her psyche becomesover the following seasons, and if we’re honest, this was probably the start ofit all, this first time her Slaying affected her on such a deep and personallevel.

I could honestly write so muchmore about this episode, given that I haven’t even really touched on Kendra’sdeath, or the flashbacks involving Drusilla and Angelus, not to mention Darla’sreappearance, but I believe I’ve rambled for long enough. All up, Becoming is agreat episode, definitely on of BtVS’s best. Well-written, beautifully acted,nicely paced and containing one of the most tragic climaxes of the series,Becoming deserves to be remembered as one of the greatest episodes of theWhedonverse.