#‘people will write poems about how much they hate their friends why don’t they just get better friends or go to better restaurants’

[scionshtola]

there is something so annoying to me about people reading a poem and then deciding it’s bad because it doesn’t match their personal experience or because for some reason they think all poems are autobiographical

[taesancore]

—HEY ANGEL

kim donghyun x f!reader

📜 .ᐟ part one of the bnd as one direction songs series!

📜 .ᐟ synopsis: in which you were oh so curious about your sunbae, kim donghyun

wc: 2k, lowercase intended

“seriously, just go talk to him if you find him cute!” hanni replied as you continued to stare at him. kim donghyun. your senior and the main RJ for your school’s daily radio show. it wasn’t just the fact that you found him cute—scratch that, angelic. it was the fact that he was quite literally a walking talking enigma of some sort.

his mind was a one of a kind, you had thought when you first heard his deep voice talk about through the poem you wrote. you had sat up with a start in the middle of the break period as he continued to read out the poem you had submitted out of boredom (mayhaps to also spread your winter blues to everyone else for fun).

“wow, this person must really hate winters, they’ve described the sadness in how all the plants tend to die due to the cold” he had mused. back then you didn’t have an inkling of who he was. but his words, they weren’t even anything wise or profound. his simple take on your depressing poem had you wondering, just how was he so positive?

“i don’t know…on the bright side of it, i think winters can symbolise a time of rebirth and rest don’t you think? the flowers grow back looking much healthier and prettier after winters, in the spring. everything has a bright side to it right? even the most harshest of winters have beauty in them”

you had crept up to the broadcasting room as he was just beginning to conclude the show for that day. your curiosity had gotten the best of you, dying to know who had read your poem and turned it into a warm ray of hope amid the cruel winter. hearing the shuffling behind the door, you quickly hid behind the wall near the broadcasting room as the door opened and—

oh. oh wow. he was beautiful. was it his large doe eyes? or the slender shape of his nose? or the way his rosy pink lips had a natural quirk to them even when he wasn’t smiling? you weren’t sure what about him was beautiful. but at the same time everything about him was simply angelic, to put it straight. you were lucky he didn’t catch you gawking at him while he was bowing politely to the people who greeted him, as he walked away.

you learnt that he was kim donghyun, the one who was in charge of the break programme along with your senior han dongmin. the two of them hosted it under their RJ names leehan and taesan. their show consisted of them played rock or metal songs that dongmin often enjoyed dissecting musically while donghyun read out different letters, thoughts or writings that students sent.

“it’s not that hanni” you sighed, finally taking your eyes off him as you faced your friend. “…..i want to talk to him” you finished poorly.

“then do it!!” she said exasperatedly.

“how do i explain it to you?! i wanna know him as a person you know? he always somehow makes my poems seem like a ray of sunshine in someone’s cloudy life, and he sees things so positively all the time? i wanna be him and see life though his eyes once”

hanni was left gaping at you after you finished your speech.

“wow you’re in love”

“oh shut up i’m not”

the next day you had prepared another poem for the week, yet another pessimistic one. at this point you weren’t sure why you were writing these sad poems (maybe it was to just hear donghyun read them and state his opinion) but you loved the thrill of being an anonymous listener of gongfourz programme.

tiptoeing near the box where the letters were submitted near the broadcasting office, you barely had time to turn around and walk away after dropping your poem in the box, before you bumped into a sturdy chest.

“careful there” came a familiar voice from above you as you steadied yourself. you held back an embarrassing gasp as kim donghyun’s curious eyes met yours.

fuck, they were probably home to a thousand galaxies weren’t they? you didn’t realise you were staring until he chuckled softly, snapping you out of your reverie.

“i’ll get going then” he smiled, brushing past you into the broadcasting room, leaving you standing there still staring in his direction.

“what if he saw me put my poem in his box?? hanni i’m doomed!” you were currently wailing at your best friend who was calmly sipping her coffee. it was a free period for you as your teacher wasn’t present, giving you enough time to mentally prepare yourself for leehan and taesan’s broadcast. and it also gave you time to cry about your first encounter with him…which wasn’t exactly the best.

“relax y/n, so what if he does?” she questioned.

yeah…so what if he does? you wondered for a minute.

“i don’t know…it’s not like i like him anyways, you’re right” you said to yourself as hanni snorted.

“you don’t like him? sure honey” she snickered as you scowled.

“don’t even try lying to yourself here, you get so excited before his broadcast starts, look at him every time he enters the lunch hall hell you even eat your food at a snail’s pace to leave the hall at the same time as him” she finished befit you could defend yourself, smirking at your dumbfounded reaction to her speech.

“how do i prove it to you?” you mustered weakly.

really though, you didn’t like him…you just liked his brain. god it even sounded stupid in your head but that was the truth! his way with words really did render you speechless at times and dare you say made it flutter too— no. no it didn’t.

“talk to him then” came hanni’s reply. well.

“that you know i can’t!” you whined. “oh the radio’s starting! quick!” you ushered hanni into your regular seats in the classroom as the last remnants of one of taesan’s favourite song faded, the guitar riff still ringing in your ears.

“now let’s see, the first letter! kim donghyun sunbae you’re a greek god— why thank you” he exclaimed politely as taesan burst out laughing.

“you sure you didn’t send that?” hanni elbowed you slyly as you shot her an annoyed look.

“haha very funny.”

“next up, oh my little poetess sent another poem!” my poetess. you loved the little nickname he gave you, it never failed to bring a warm feeling inside you.

“hmm, looks like you’ve had quite the experience with some people on earth, considering how you’ve written that hell is up here itself” his mellow voice floated through the speaker in the classroom as you attentively listened.

“however, maybe hell isn’t the only thing that’s up here? i have a feeling that there are angels in disguise on the earth you know”

“are you referring to yourself?” taesan joked as leehan’s chuckles came from the speaker.

“maybe, but i’m referring to my poetess as well, i’m not gonna lie i’m very curious about you” he replied as hanni let out an excited gasp.

“oh my god?! he wants you so bad” she giggled at you who was still jaw-dropped at his words.

“oh don’t be silly, he doesn’t even know me!”

“are you really flirting with one of our anonymous writers han?” taesan’s amused question made leehan chuckle again.

“if you see it that way then sure. i however do think my poetess is one of the angels in disguise you know…sometimes i wish i could see the world from her view as she makes even the most heartbreaking things seem ethereally beautiful”.

the entire classroom was silent, taking in the senior’s words. you were sure some of your classmates who were his fangirl were glaring daggers at the speaker, probably cussing out ‘his poetess’ in their minds. you? oh you were a blushing mess, you were sure you had no feelings for your senior but now? you suddenly weren’t so sure anymore.

“hanni” you said in a small voice.

“i think i’m gonna talk to donghyun sunbae”.

the next day you had prepared another poem, one that you had penned during the early hours of the morning due to the lack of sleep. you couldn’t help it, you had to do something about the weird feelings you were starting to feel for him, he was a senior for gods sake!! your poem was quite simple this time, talking about how the heart tends to make stupid decisions by catching feelings, ignoring the advice of the head (totally not inspired by your current mood).

upon reaching the broadcasting room before class started, you patted your coat pocket to reach out for the envelope….which you didn’t find.

oh no. oh no no this can’t be.

you frantically pulled out all your pockets, searching the floor beneath you if you accidentally dropped it anywhere until-

“looking for this?” came a low voice from behind you as you whipped your head around.

your worst nightmare had come true for there was kim donghyun, with your envelope in his hand. he smiled at you, a smile that told you that he knew everything already.

“sunbae! good morning!” you bowed down hastily, meeting his eyes with a steady gaze of your own.

be confident. stay calm. stay cool.

“it’s nice to finally meet you my little poetess” he greeted you, walking closer as he handed the envelope to you.

“w-what are you talking about?” you shuffled away from him, stuffing the envelope back in your jacket while still maintaining the eye contact.

“no need to pretend now, i saw you earlier you know?” he said amusedly.

“…fine it’s me” you gave in, looking everywhere but at him now. his smile widened slightly as he tilted his head.

“aren’t you my junior? the one who stares at me during lunch?”

you felt your face burn at his words as you glared at him, yet you couldn’t find a suitable reply because…you did stare at him.

he laughed a soft laugh, and you may have melted inside because hearing it in real life and not through the rusty old speaker in your class felt so heavenly.

“it’s not like that..” you finally managed as he quirked an eyebrow.

his feet moved forward, while yours moved back.

“…i’m curious about you too, sunbae” you finished as you found your back thud against the door of the broadcasting room.

his eyes glimmered with an amused glint, drawing you deeper into their endlessness as you struggled to acknowledge the barely there distance between you two.

“and what do you find curious about me?” he mused, lips tilting upwards into his signature little smirk. or smile. hell you weren’t sure at this point because all you could think about was his warm scent floating around you.

“your…brain” you mumbled, not breaking eye contact this time.

his brain. really. god you sounded like a loser there, so much for confidence.

he laughed, a beautiful sound that bounced off the walls. you stared, ears blushing red as he threw his head back. that smile oh wow.

“you’re quite the funny one” he giggled once he calmed down, still smiling widely.

“no im being for real! you always turn my gloomy poems into something happy! just how do you manage to do that?? and the nickname, my poetess? it keeps replaying in my head everywhere, god you’re everywhere at this point it’s making me crazy!” you burst out, breathing heavily as you felt a weight lift itself off from your chest.

shit. what had you done. your eyes widened as you watched donghyun’s expression go from amused to flabbergasted to something undecipherable…almost soft?

“okay my poetess, how about this? you can satisfy your curiosity by getting to know my brain better hmm?” he said, smiling at you as you furrowed your brows.

“what do you mean—how?”

“meet me after today’s broadcast? it’s a date y/n” he grinned, eyes disappearing into little half moons as he finally stepped away from you.

you were left staring at him for the second time this week as he sauntered away into the broadcasting room, the door shutting behind him with a soft sound, not louder than the booming of your heart though.

hmm. you decided that you liked— no scratch that, really liked the sound of your name when he said it.

a/n: man im pretty sure i used the word broadcast more than 50 times in this LMAO but let’s be fr, don’t we all love leehan’s brain :3

[vigilskeep]

I've been going through your Keir Hawke tag because the character absolutely fascinates me and I keep seeing glimpses of Varric and Anders' friendship in that world state (especially something you mentioned about the book originally going to be about Anders) and it's making me feral

What do you think Varric and Anders' relationship is like? What does Varric think about Keir refusing to kill Anders and running off with him?

the thing about varric and keir is that even if they manage to get along in their way, their relationship is basically one of necessity. keir never trusted him in act 1, and varric vastly preferred bethany’s gentleness to keir’s whole uh attitude, but after the deep roads expedition they for various reasons both feel a level of guilt and obligation that sticks them together. you might say they’re more like family than friends, in the sense that with family you don’t have a choice. whereas varric and anders are actually friends, they get along, they joke together. varric finds anders hard to deal with in the later acts but they’re still at the hanged man together, varric is still trying to reach out in his way during banters, anders is trying to leave his possessions to him, etc. and that’s not like with varric and keir where something specific and insane happened to lock them together. he genuinely just likes anders

and varric is creatively interested in anders from the beginning; he’s talking about writing “an epic poem about a hopelessly romantic apostate” in literally the first banter they have. (why did he say hopelessly romantic. why did he say that.) i don’t think it occurs to him that keir even might be material for the protagonist of anything until... maybe the arishok duel, by which time iirc he’s already publishing his serial inspired by, like, aveline and donnic of all people. before that, keir is pretty obvious rags-to-riches plot inspiration but tbh i think varric thought that part was a bit cliché and that even if he did want it, he’d swap out the actual character for someone more likeable, lmao. god knows how or if he was thinking of writing the love interest in the anders-focused version of the book

i don’t think it would have occurred to varric that keir would spare anders and run off into the sunset with him. varric has a very surface-level read on keir, he kind of just sees the red hawke front. i think it’s umm... how do i put this. i think it’s integral to the severity of varric’s reaction to anders in dai that it doesn’t make sense in his head that he himself was more angry than keir, and that he was closer to agreeing with sebastian, the guy who went on to attack kirkwall. i think a lot of people including himself act “out-of-character” in that moment from varric’s perspective, and he finds that very distressing. the rewrite of the book that suddenly centres keir is also him rewriting his memories until everything “fits”. he never liked anders that much, it was hawke, hawke was always really the protagonist and varric has always been on his side, incidentally varric also totally always hated sebastian and is nothing like him, also anders’ actions are 100% sudden and crazy and varric’s anger over them is 100% normal impersonal and justified, etc etc. (to be clear i’m not saying this affects everything we see in da2 and that anders is Maligned in it or whatever. varric’s narrative in da2 is not the same as the book. a very significant amount of the truth slips back in when he has to talk so long, and talk for his life. anders’ sympathetic qualities and their friendship, for example, i can’t imagine that comes up a lot that’s in a book that canonically doesn’t even mention what happened to anders after the explosion.)

varric does not feel particularly normal about any part of the life anders and keir are currently living and he does not like to think about it. he had to rewrite the book into a tragedy to make sense of everything, which conflicts upsettingly with the reality that those two are... honestly simply not tragic. obviously they went through hell. but the mage rebellion is achieved. anders and keir are both visibly better in body and mind for being out of kirkwall. they do get married! it was varric’s home (a city keir hated) that got destroyed (by anders). and varric’s the one left on his own. and the one audibly kind of miserable and guilty and homesick and generally Doing Bad during a lot of inquisition. i think he finds that comparison very hard to even think about. it’s easier to see and analyse tragedy in other people like an impartial observer, than reckon with the fact that it was actually you it happened to and the people you miss and blame and feel bad for in equal measure are kind of just... doing fine? (without you. better the moment they left your city behind.)

(note: i am never arguing “the book was meant to be about anders” as a general headcanon, i just know it to be true in my worldstate)

[mangora]

I’m so tired here are some assorted Disventure Camp headcanons:

•Jake is really into poetry. Some of his poems are bangers, some of them are absolute dogshit. He posts some of them online, mostly the bad ones because he’s not self-aware of how bad they are. He will spend hours on end writing in his notes app. Guy is a big fan of sonnets and free verse but his strong suits are odes and villanelles

•Rosa María, James, Yul, Lake, Riya, Fiore, and Alec are all multilingual. Rosa speaks English and Spanish, James speaks Portuguese and English, Yul speaks Korean and English, Lake speaks German and English as well as some French, Riya speaks Hindi and English, Fiore speaks English and some Italian, and Alec speaks English as well as a variety of other languages (he did a minor in linguistics for his university degree so he knows the basics of multiple major languages).

•Hunter’s a competitive chess player. Ally’s the only person who’s ever beat him fair and square, but even then, that rarely happens

•Lake is great at baking. She’s incredibly exact when it comes to measurements, timing, and technique. Rosa, meanwhile, is a great cook and she doesn’t measure anything

•Aiden can play bass guitar. He started learning as a teenager because he wanted to join an emo band one day. Chase your dreams boy

•Yul used to have braces and he’s really embarrassed about it

•Gabby’s a forager, she loves to forage for wild fruit and mushrooms and greens

•Ellie’s kinda a ghoul in the kitchen. Like she can make good food and drinks but most of the time she’s so tired that she makes evil energy drink-instant coffee potions or like that pistachio & condensed milk concoction from Arthur

•In a better universe I think Ellie and Jake are frenemies instead of fully hating each other and they play Minecraft together and Ellie is constantly stealing Jake’s shit and trying to defeat the Ender Dragon meanwhile he screams every time he sees a Creeper and begs her to turn Keep Inventory on because he keeps dying

•Miriam gets a cat after the show. She’s an older white cat named Snowball and she has the same personality as her. They are best friends and Miriam is so annoyed by her. She made them matching sweaters. Snowball is only fully nice to Jake

•Fiore listens to Thrash Metal. It’s partially just to throw people off when they find out, she thinks it’s funny

•Fiore also enjoys those YouTube prank videos, she knows they’re fake they’re just so stupid that she finds them hilarious. Kristal gives her an iPad for a day one time for entertainment and it pisses the rest of the Magenta team off so bad because she keeps playing these prank videos and watching epic fail compilations at full volume

•Grett loves crocheting. She slowly turns into one of those people who crochets during lectures and while watching movies and shit

•James is really good at Tetris

•Ally is obsessed with Sci-Fi. She, Tess, and Hunter watch Star Trek, Doctor Who, and Star Wars together because they all love the worldbuilding so much. Tess writes fanfiction about almost everything they watch. Hunter has terrible media literacy and misses the themes every time but he has fun watching

•After All Stars, Riya gets really into tattoos. She gets matching ones with Connor

•People antagonize Tom with the cop slide video and every time he clenches his fist and goes, “Stop laughing at him.”

•Kai has a bunch of pet bugs. Maggy’s secretly afraid of them still but she’s getting there. She likes rollie pollies

•Karol used to do roller derby and Lill used to ice skate. Ggirlf,riends,,, I miss them chat. Where is my old woman yuri

•Aiden eats plain yogurt nothing on it and it’s the one thing James doesn’t like about him. Like it’s so upsetting to him. Why does he eat plain yogurt

•Ashley likes hyperpop, don’t tell anyone

•Tom likes crockpot food. He is not invited to potlucks for this reason. He will always bring the crockpot

•Alec doesn’t like splatter films but he really enjoys psychological horror, especially mockumentaries and mondo films

•Lake read creepypasta a lot as a kid and she wouldn’t go into the kitchen after dark because she was afraid of Jeff the Killer appearing at her fridge

[capitalisticveins]

Guy meeting Honey Headcanons (Ft. Geordi)

i REALLY wanted to write this as a oneshot but I can’t write oneshots, so hopefully this isn’t bad? It’s also my first time writing dialogue so go easy on me? Maybe? Constructive criticism is encouraged, and GENERAL headcanons will either. be released tonight or tomorrow since I still have to write DAMN headcanons

Also this features the headcanon that “Geordi and Guy are friends”

- Okay well to start these off

- Guy and Honey attended the same college within the same year, but neither ever noticed each other

- Until Honey and their “friends” (Honey would call them acquaintances) ordered a pizza while having a sleepover

- Guy, wanting a little more pay, took the order and drove over to the designated address

- Honey was busy complaining to their friends about how expensive the pizza was compared to another pizzeria’s pizza, but they already ordered it, so it’s not like they could cancel it

- Even though they very much could

- Guy eventually made it to the address after 15 minutes, and rang the bell

- One of Honey’s friends piped up and said “Since you’re not willing to play Smash with us, why don’t you get the pizza?

- It was supposed to be a joke, but Honey was willing to do it if it meant they didn’t have to hear anyone else yell about falling off the stage

- Honey gathered the money, still muttering about “expensive and shitty pizza”. Although they were going to tip the delivery guy because it was a quick delivery.

- When the door opened, Guy couldn’t help but stare at the absolutely gorgeous sight displayed in front of him. Honey hadn’t looked at him yet, making sure they had the right amount of money

- “It’s $31.89, right? Seems pretty expensive, especially for 2 boxes of pizza.” Honey couldn’t help but unconsciously pout, which only made Guy blush a tad bit harder.

- “Uh, no! No it’s actually just uh, $15! We’re currently, uh, having a discount on Thursdays so it’s just $15.” His lie wasn’t obvious, but it was ridiculous.

- “Really?” Honey looked at him for the first time, and took the tie to stop counting the money to look for any hint of a joke on his face. “But the lady on the phone said-”

- “Oh she’s new, she doesn’t know about the discounts, we’ll look into it, but yeah it’s a small $15 for tonight!” Guy hated how awkward he was being, but as long as this was the only time he’d have to interact with them, it’s fine.

- But he didn’t want this to be the last time he spoke to them! He delivered to attractive people before, but this was a whole new level of wow. 

- Honey was a bit more content that the pizza was cheaper than they thought, and paid for it without any more complaint, even giving him a $7 tip for telling them about the discount.

- Guy stood at the door for a solid 2 minutes after it shut, still in awe at the person he just saw. 

- ‘What was their name? Are they single? Oh GOD, are they my age or are they some super old person obsessed with looking young?’

- Thoughts raced around his head like a train, until he realized he had to cover the other $16 they didn’t pay because of him.

- The next day, Guy was ranting to his friend about the person he delivered to, describing their appearance as if it were from a poem

- Geordi, his friend, raised an eyebrow and questioned him, “You mean Honey?”

- Guy was surprised Geordi knew someone who fit his description, or in the least knew their name. “Who’s Honey?”

- Geordi looked around the hallway swiftly before pointing to his left. “Them.”

- He glanced to the direction Geordi pointed at, yet only saw a crowd around a locker, before noticing the person from last night being inside of the crowd, opening their locker and chatting with one of their friends, a tiny smile evident on their face

- Guy was in shock with his face read ‘They’re HERE? Then they must be my age. Why is that what I’m worried about, what if I make a fool of myself? What if they don’t remember me? Well no SHIT they don’t remember me I’m just a pizza guy from last night!’

- Geordi, being a chronic overthinker, noticed Guy’s mind was running a mile a minute, and snapped his fingers in front of Guy’s face

- “Y’know you could just…talk to them, right? Honey’s a little off-putting from what I’ve heard, but they’re still just another person here.” Geordi wasn’t lying, Honey usually has a RBF towards anyone they didn’t know- scratch that, Honey usually has a RBF towards everyone, but they were just another student that attended the university, even they knew that.

- “Talk to them? TALK TO THEM?” Guy said that last part a little louder than he wished, so he began to whisper the rest.

- “I can’t just talk to them! I’m not someone you just casually talk to, not even you talk to me casually. How do I even talk to them? Just go up like a 5 year old and ask to be friends?” He whisper-yelled in Geordi’s direction. Geordi would’ve flinched at the tone if Guy wasn’t his panicking best friend of 4 years

- Geordi took a moment to think before responding. “Well, Honey’s a smart person, maybe they’re a tutor? That way you could find a reason to talk to them and get some help with your classes. Lord knows you need the help.”

- Guy chuckled at the joke, or at least he hoped it was.

Taglist: @niyahbear

This took hours to write so part 2 to the meeting will be released within a week

[merrivia]

I’ve finally read Pet and am kicking myself I didn’t read it sooner!

I’ve measured out the short stories like I’m nibbling on chocolate, Charlie Bucket style, and I was leaving this till last partly because of that, and partly because I didn’t feel that interested in Ancel (sorry Ancel, I take it back).

It’s fascinating reading about events that occur in Captive Prince but not from Damen’s POV. The idea that everyone has complexities under the surface, and that things aren't always as they seem, is only understood by Damen negatively in the first half of Captive Prince I think. Veretians are untrustworthy and slippery and Machiavellian. And that's not, not true! The Veretian court IS a pit of vipers. But people are also still human, and it's that extra step of understanding the humanity underneath even these acidic, performative snakes which is interesting. Ancel is sharp and smart (and really needs to be taught how to read forthwith). Berenger is morally admirable, and isn't actually sleeping with him. Vannes cares about Berenger in her own small way. Laurent emits a great deal of power and is "instantly commanding" to others (but not to Damen, which must have really infuriated him).

Here’s some more snippets of my thoughts in general:

Waxing is canon! So interesting. Why does no grown man ever shave in the books also? Why isn't attending, also shaving? I think we'll just have to accept that as Pacat's choice. Maybe the only blade she wanted between them was the ghost of swords from a long ago fight/swords in the present?

Isagoras the writer/poet- any connection to Isagoras the historical figure who was embroiled in a power play in terms of Athenian politics and democracy? Who Aristotle called ‘friend of tyrants’? Obviously he’s not meant to be that figure but is it a sort of irony and foreshadowing for the political choices Berenger has to make?

And Akielon writing/poetry is popular among men with status? Interesting. You wonder if Laurent approved a poem waxing lyrical about Ios, or really anything that suggested the Akielons aren't barbarians.

I feel as if Damen would know this poem, and read it to Laurent as part of courting him 🥺

Interesting to see a first impression of Laurent from the viewpoint of someone not instantly obsessed with him- severe and harsh, but no mention of his beauty till later.

I mean this nicely but Damen really has no idea how naturally arrogant and superior he comes across as in this situation, does he? I mean, it’s completely understandable if you think of Akielon society, and how he’s been raised and treated; in fact it would be implausible any other way based on his character traits too. He’s just so bad at pretending to be a slave even as his life is at risk if they find out he’s a prince 😂 oh Damen /pets his curls/. And oh, a *lion* you say....

Just really bad at acting servile, it's so funny. Love him.

Speaking of Lamen, it is a little unsettling how quickly Damen starts to fall for Laurent in Captive Prince and how Laurent truly does hate him, yet…is clearly on some molecular level, attracted to him, I think? It’s just a really heartbreaking and stressful dynamic. His "complete attention" on him...let's face it, if Damen had looked like Govart, Laurent wouldn't be fixated in the same way (I mean this nicely).

Oh my baby Laurent. You know this isn’t right. Are you reenacting a past trauma? Making him suffer what you suffered? Even if you aren’t, your flaw is letting your hatred and anger blind you to your morals. (Lucky a man is going to fall in love with you who is pretty much always on your side even when you don’t always deserve it…). Damen will help you be more honourable /pats blond head/

"Locked” is an apt word isn’t it, considering all that ties them together (and not to mention the gold cuffs and collar…) and oof, Laurent's sexual domination in this scene is quite apparent.

and…

I mean, we all know this is sex by proxy and so does Ancel, who just met Laurent and Damen!

And lastly, I am team Berenger. He's a Good Man and would probably get on pretty well with Torveld and Nikandros, the other dark haired, loyal and responsible men in the trilogy.

Nice to see someone see commoners as people all year round (not simply when their villages are being massacred and their humanity is thrown into stark relief by it)!

[madamefeu]

Hi! Here’s what your favorite Miraculous Ladybug character says about you!:

Marinette: You’re a child. You’re a member of the target audience for this show, and you don’t know why all of these teens and adults are raging so much about the ladybug show, but you’re content to watch the show and beg your parents for the toys and the cereals. Do they taste good? Probably not. But they have Ladybug on the box so you don’t care

Adrien: You don’t have an ideal relationship with your father. You’re a chronic people pleaser and you have no sense of boundaries, and you need to learn how to say no. Also break up with your girlfriend, she’s not in love with you, she’s obsessed with you, there’s a difference. You are not a person to her, you are a trophy

Nino: You’re really nice and a great friend, but that’s kind of all there is to you. You’re like vanilla ice cream, you’re sweet, and you’re dependable, and you’re so inoffensive that no one could possibly hate you

Alya: Some people are destined for greatness. You are destined to forever be a sidekick, and you’re surprisingly ok with that. You like supporting others from behind the scenes, and you don’t want the spotlight

Mylene: 2010s alt fashion has you in a chokehold, and you never want it to let go. You will be wearing shorts over tights and owl necklaces until your dying days

Ivan: Shy people who have the most hardcore music on their Spotify playlists. You listen to Insane Clown Posse and Suicide Silence while doing laundry or walking your dog

Rose: You’re an uwu pastel girly with the cutest fashion sense, also you’re definitely not straight

Juleka: Goth lesbian. You have a crush on your best friend, and I know that she likes you too, so just tell her how you feel already

Nathanael: Stop trying to make your best friend come out, he might not even be gay. Ok, he might be, but he’ll come out in his own time, you can’t rush him

Marc: *Holds up non-binary flag as the French national anthem plays*

Chloe: We know, Chloe was done dirty by the show. Everyone knows it by now, so keep writing your fix-it fics, or shut up and find a better fandom to join

Sabrina: Stop having crushes on your bullies, they are terrible people, you cannot change them

Kagami: Mommy issues. Probably not heterosexual. Probably needs a lifetime of therapy

Felix: You have daddy issues and you date girls with mommy issues, also I would bet my life savings on you not being neurotypical

Lila: Yet another brilliant character who was completely done dirty by the show. Go join the Chloe fans and write fix-it fics together

Toxinelle: You have a type, and that type is emo girls. You unironically love listening to them ramble about their latest edgy wolf OC or what they bought at Hot Topic

Griffe Noir: You’re in the same boat as the Adrien fans, but you also have a huge crush on an emo girl. If you wanna impress her, learn to play her favorite songs on guitar or write a poem for her. She’ll go nuts for that

[arcielee]

Interview With a Writer

This is the 20th segment of my IWAW series. I will break it down into volumes, so this is the wrap of Volume 1!

Thank you so much @fan-goddess for giving me the time to respond to my questions and allowing this series to continue. 💜

As always, Interview With a Writer is my ongoing series of the talented souls on Tumblr and ao3, and their brilliant writing!

Name: fan-goddess

Story: 10 Things I Hate About You

Paring: Ettore x Female!Reader

Warnings: Non canon Ettore, warnings vary per chapter.

So, when did you start writing?

I started writing early teens for a variety of fandoms. It was all on Wattpad drafts as I’d make all these plots, but find I’d be terrible writing actual stories. The first thing I wrote for was a cringey Draco Malfoy fanfic which is on my first ever Wattpad account that still is lying about somewhere.

After a couple years though I then transitioned to Tumblr, where after joining the HOTD I started writing and enjoying it and finding my passion for it.

Where did the plot for 10 Things I Hate About You come from?

The idea mainly came from me thinking of the movie, as me and two of my friends were talking about watching it together since one of them hasn’t ever seen it.

I was thinking about the poem scene on a bus ride and was wondering about how to possibly apply it to writing, wondering who would a reader hate to love, and one of the first characters I thought of was Ettore.

Then it came to me applying different lines to him, which in the original I think had some different lines to the one that was posted, but as I was trying to post the original I accidentally deleted it. Which lead to me immediately trying to write all the lines I could remember.

It was originally supposed to be a one-shot, but thought why not when people asked for a part two. The idea to do the different view point chapter came from @flowerandblood on tumblr, since I thought of their writing style which enables the reader to see both viewpoints of the scene, and I was interested in exploring in this.

Can you explain your interpretation of Ettore? What drives him? Why is he this way in 10TIHAY?

I wanted to stay as close to the movie character as possible, and if you’ve seen the movie, there is a scene that shows Ettore attempted SA. Of course, I never wanted to write a scene like that, so I decided to write a mixture of canon him and another version of him that didn’t involve the scene from the movie.

What drives him in this story is his need for contact he doesn’t even know he needs, which he finds in the reader. He gets obsessed by it and this entire need to own her, like you would a pet really. He’s drawn on this path of her since she involuntarily makes him feel emotions he never felt before her, and he just becomes utterly addicted to it, which in the end he interprets as what could be love.

Was there anything in specific that inspired your Reader portrayal?

Not necessarily? I wanted her to have struggles. I wanted to clearly have this idea shown that no one is perfect. I don’t specify the crime the reader committed, as it’s really up to interpretation (unless someone does request a one-shot with a crime specific).

I wanted her to have that split mindset of wanting to stay like her Earth self, and the mindset of wanting to give into this desire for Ettore, who draws her in.

Plus, like Ettore, she craves this contact that makes her human and down to earth. A same need, but for different reasons.

Do you think they complement one another well?

It’s a mixed thought, really. For Ettore, it’s good they complement each other since she effectively manages to humanise him in his own way. But for reader, it’s not so good since-thanks to Ettore-she’s embracing this dark side of herself that she never would’ve never thought to connect with if she hadn’t met him.

But I don’t know if I believe that they belong together entirely, since whilst they embrace a side of each other, they also simultaneously have the ability to destroy each other. They’re a weakness to each other and only Ettore really understands could be possibly exploited, which is one of the reasons he felt so conflicted about the relationship.

Do you think you will do a sequel? Or do you have any other WIPs?

I have no plans to do a sequel. But when I finish writing/editing my Abraham series I plan to open my requests, and I am interested in doing one-shot requests expanding on this story's universe. They wouldn’t be apart of the 10TIHAY universe though, but I did have one possible request on ao3 where a person asked about what would happen if reader was the one obsessed rather than Ettore, which I am interested in possibly exploring.

Do you have a personal favorite story you'd like to share?

I have so many to be honest I doubt I can name just one! Especially since I have favourites for certain fandoms I’m in too. One of my favourites though is ‘Girl With a Pearl Earring’ by flowerandblood on Tumblr. I did photography and it inspired me both in regards to writing and in photography too.

[goneahead]

Writer 20 Questions

I was tagged by @stephmcx and @itwoodbeprefect back when trilobites roamed the earth. Um, sorry?

How many works do you have on A03? Actually, I’m mostly on Dreamwidth so:

Dreamwidth ~150 fics

AO3 is 59 fics

What's your total AO3 word count?

DW is 1,012,997

A03 is 404,628

note: I don’t keep an exact track of my separate poetry journal but there are 947 poems—so I am guessing that’s another 75,000 words😁

What fandoms do you write for? Currently? Steve and Danny from Hawaii Five-0 have stolen both my heart and my muse!

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

* Care and Feeding of a SuperSEAL

* Trusses of my Heart

* A Bodyguard for Christmas

* The Long Road Home (Broken Road on DW)

* Five Times Steve was an Idiot, but Danny Kissed Him Anyway

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I do respond to comments, but in a completely random and haphazard way because I am incable of being organized😂

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? My H50 comment fic ‘Anger’ is definitely my most angsty ending. And yes, it’s yet another fic I need to cross-post to A03…

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? It’s a toss up between Care and Feeding and Bodyguard. I love happy ever afters!

Do you get hate on fics? Not on my fics per se, but I called out some people who were bullying a friend of mine in another fandom—and they decided to repost all my fics on other sites to punish me for speaking up. So, now all my fic is on Dreamwidth and friend-locked. I am slowly cross-post H50 fic to A03, but I doubt I will ever cross-post fic from that other fandom.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I will write sex if its necessary for the story, but porn is definitely one of my weak spots as a writer.

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? Occaisonally. I wrote an Addams FamilyxAvengers that was very short and very silly😂

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yes, many. At least I am really good at writing DMCA letters now?

Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope, but I had few pod-ficced ages and ages ago.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? I used to co-write regularly, but my co-writers all got super busy😭

What's your all-time favorite ship? I think McDanno has ruined me for all other ships.

What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? I have a X-MenxSupernatural fic that my co-writer had to abandon.

What are your writing strengths?I love to world build and have been told my AUs are very believable. Even when I do really crazy stuff, like **checks notes** space spiders.😁

What are your writing weaknesses? Writing sex scenes. Definitely.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

In general, I think writers are still working out how to write fanfic that is easy to read on mobile screens. For example, long paragraphs and conversations between more than three people are sooo much harder to read on a mobile phone.

Heck, I’ve even stopped using italics for dream sequences/flashbacks because it’s just not readable on a small screen. And then there’s coding. **Sigh** Dreamwidth has updated their coding and now I really need to reformat my entire journal because the changed have made my older fanfic much harder to read.

So when it comes to different languages or dialects, I try to come up with something that will make it easier for my readers, instead of relying on the ‘proper’ way to do things. I don’t know if I’m always successful, but I at least make a stab at it. And since I have a fic I’m currently rewriting that has 13 different languages in it, I definitely spend more time than I want to admit thinking about this problem! 🥵🤪

First fandom you wrote for? Duran Duran bandom. Yes, I just dated myself😂😂😂

Favorite fic you've ever written? My fic with the most kudos is Care and Feeding of a Super SEAL. The fic that people are still dming me about is So Let Me Set Your Battlements On Fire over on dreamwidth.

Tagging @cowandcalf @actingcamplibrarian @stellagioia @redgoldblue @bennyokelly and anybody else who wants to play!

[ace-and-ink]

[i turn 20 this year and the aspect scares me]

[i turn 20 this year and what can i say for it? / all i have to my name is some shitty internet poems / and i can’t even show them half of where i’d like to / because my school will stop believing me that i’m not suicidal anymore / sometimes i look at the world and i stop believing me that i’m not suicidal anymore]

[i turn 20 this year and i’ve had half my hobbies ruined for me / my art teacher’s pitying smile will be behind my mind / no matter what i draw until i stop / and she’ll tell me all that should’ve made it stronger / and that i’m not portraying what i want to portray properly / and she’s the professional / she has the experience / so i’ll just scribble it out / and let the sketchbook gather dust for a month or two / i haven’t felt not guilty playing a game in years / because i see the way my dad smiles when he walks in on me playing one / and the shift in his voice when he speaks / and how i know he believes i’m wasting my time / and i believe i’m wasting my time / if i’m not doing something else too while it loads then the time’s a waste / if i don’t spend my time making something else then i’m a waste / if i don’t spend all my time doing something productive then i’m useless / if it doesn’t make me feel like a child again it might make me feel worse]

[i turn 20 this year and i’m still a child / i feel the same excitement and joy i did when i was 9 when i play a new pokemon game again / i just want to love my friends / and i don’t understand why some people feel hate by default / and i don’t understand why we hate our differences / and i don’t understand why they have to mean anything other than things we can admire about each other / and i don’t understand why everything has to have a price both capital and physical / and i miss the things i used to have / the games i used to play / and i miss the time i had to play with them / and i just want to have fun / i want to have the job i enjoy / the job i would daydream about in the shower / i still daydream in the shower]

[i turn 20 this year and i still have no clue who i am / another decade older and people still ask about my backup plan / and tell me my dream is going to be too hard / a decade older and i still dream about throwing half of it out to do something i haven’t done in a decade / i still fantasize about singing on a stage in a way i enjoy / but see the hobbies section: / i can’t sing anymore without fear / i am two decades old and still figuring myself out / who knew i liked geology like that? / who knew goth music was that cool? / who knew my ex’s imprints on me still keep me from seeing some people as anyone but them? / i turn my second decade old this year and i have no plans / this was a decade i never saw myself being / and as i tried to write “i still can’t see myself getting all the way through it” / i started crying / so i guess i hope i do]

[i turn 20 this year and i’m still living in the background of my own life / my headphones work to the brink of death because i’ll never let my music disturb someone else’s silence / i sit on the edge of the room because who wants this girl sitting and eating alone in the center of it all / i write a collection of poetry but it never goes anywhere but my desktop because who really cares about it / that age feels like i’m supposed to know so much, do so much, and yet i don’t / turning the big 2-0 and i have nothing to my name / no stories despite all i’ve written because it’s never good enough to go how far i want it to because who wants to read that / i don’t have a pop star’s voice but i want to sing like i do but who wants to hear that / my friend got published when we were in middle school / billie eilish is 22 and she was a hit at 17 / at 17 i was still getting tripped on the lacrosse field / and i was never enough then either / you could always be better sure but i never even hit that minimum criteria / at 17 my sister was modeling / at 17 i started to learn that i hated my stomach / at 18 i couldn’t look at pinterest for more than a few minutes at a time every month because those outfits would never fit me like them because i have too much of a stomach in comparison / at 19 i’m still struggling to stare myself in the eyes in the mirror and say “i love you, thank you for keeping me alive” / because there’s hair i didn’t know women would grow there and now i’m too nervous to wear bikinis / and i turn to the side and suck it in because wow, it really shows when i’m wearing gray or leggings / i’m a little more and a little less than a woman but i still shave underneath my chin twice a month because i hate the comments my dad and stepmom make about it / i got tan and thought it would hide the stretches on my thighs but they only got easier to see but i didn’t bring pants with me on vacation]

[i turn 20 this year and that’s a number that carries such weight / that’s not old at all, i know / the world is my oyster still but i don’t know what it is / that number isn’t me / i could never see myself as 20 / 21 as the oddball in the family who won’t celebrate it by getting drunk / 22 just to say it / 23 to maybe be in that band / 27 as the year i’ll never make it to / i hope i can say the same for 30 / but i hope by then i’m more important / i hope i’m not a cog in the machine but if i am i hope i have a name / turning twenty and i still can’t describe the way the songs i loop make me feel / i hope i’m maybe making music that makes someone feel that way / turning twenty and there are still poems that have stuck with me that i think about for no reason / i hope my words maybe stick that hard with someone else / turning twenty and i still think about my characters doing things to entertain myself to fall asleep / i hope maybe someone shuns their sleep to read the things i make them do to / turning twenty and maybe i’ll just be looking at cool rocks by then / that sounds fine to me too]

[i turn 20 this year and i started crying trying to write this poem / if you can really call all this that / and i don’t know where to go from here / but i’ve always dove in blind / so maybe i’ll turn around and close my eyes anyway to walk backwards over the edge / make it funny for someone else because that’s what i’ve always done]

[i turn 20 this year and i’m terrified and crying and surprised and wishing i could tell 17 year old me / “we got this far, at least, so there you have it / we’ll have to sit through this decade together and see if we make it again / in the meantime, congratulations / you turn 18 this year”]

— 2004

[bluedalahorse]

I took 24 hours off, did some writing for school (just revising a poem, but I’m going to do a second poem or more tonight if I can manage it) and have managed to mentally sort through what’s upsetting me.

And the conclusion I’ve come to is: I’m actually really, deeply sad that I can’t write fanfiction right now.

I mean, I’m also way off my routine, and having my period, and going back to work after a long, needed vacation away soon. But the fanfiction thing is part of it.

I used to assume that original writing and fanfiction writing scratched the same creative itch. I thought I would be okay switching over to original writing! To be fair this might have been true at another time, in another fandom. But I think for YR fandom it’s different, because I’m essentially writing the things in YR fandom that I have to write by myself if I want them to exist at all. And that’s the way I practice fandom for YR—by creating my own stuff, and by exploring the characters I’m most interested in exploring.

Having that personal sandbox of fanfic is so important, because it gives me a concrete thing to do instead of flailing and going “why isn’t there more fic for me??? why can’t I convince people that [random idea] would be such a cool direction to take [character]’s arc in?” For instance, I’ve been upset lately because I can’t find much in the way of fic that takes a more hopeful stance toward August’s future, or fic that proposes an AU or future where saraugust has a different outcome. (I like how things ended in canon, but their backstories are compelling and their faces are cute and I’d like to see them smashed together more.) A lot of the August fic right now is August/Vincent (which I don’t ship romantically, even if I have tried, just to have something to read) or it deals with August having suicidal ideation (which is personally triggering for me to read about.)

I’m also in a place where like… outside of canon and Heart and Homeland and conversations with a few trusted friends, I don’t actually think I’m interested in wilmon at all right now. I hesitate to post this, because I know it’s kind of annoying to point out that you don’t like a massively popular thing. I don’t mean it in a malicious way, and I’m trying to be truthful about why I feel isolated. And I guess what’s really going on here is, like, 50% overexposure to the pairing (which is my fault, and curable with filters and hiatuses) and 50% some of the culture that’s sprung up around them (which I guess is what I do wanna address, for whatever that’s worth.) For some fans, hating August and Kristina and only ever seeing/writing them as villains is an extension of the culture of shipping wilmon and part of the fun. For some fans, hating Sara for so long post-s2 (and some fans still do!) was an extension of shipping wilmon and part of the fun. For some fans, sorting characters into good and evil camps based on how they affect wilmon is an extension of shipping wilmon. And then there’s been the intense parasocial focus on Omar and Edvin (and to some extent Felicia?) that’s sprung up in some corners of the fandom, which bleeds into the wilmon shipping culture. I know a lot of individuals don’t ship wilmon in some or all of those ways. Unfortunately a lot of that “baggage” in the shipping culture has soured wilmon for me for the time being. I’ve got the pairing blocked and I feel like I’m still dealing with like, the way those things impact the broader YR fan culture and how people interpret the characters and such. It feels very hard to escape.

When I’m able to write fanfiction, I sort of have like… an outlet. Like I can write a fic where August or Kristina or Sara or Nils or Vincent is as complex as I want them to be. I can write a fic where Felice gets to be more than a “good friend” or a romance cheerleader. I can write a fic where Linda gets to be human and make mistakes and isn’t the perfect mom who ships her son. I did write some of those fics and I feel amazing about it! And even if I never finish or post a fic in full, it’s okay, because at least I’ve still gotten to play with the fictional toys I love, and have fun. It’s a bonus if I get to connect with people about it.

But right now… I feel like I’m watching everyone play with the YR Barbies and I’m behind a glass wall sitting on my hands and can’t play. And I feel like people keep dismembering the August Barbie and scribbling on him and putting him in the microwave (a wholly valid way to play with August Barbie I guess, but I have other plans for him that I can’t carry out right now, and that makes me sad.) And there’s some Barbies sitting in the corner untouched that I have excellent ideas for.

I guess the ultimate solution is that I need to do some more intentional stepping away from tumblr like I did in the spring. Not leaving completely, but like, having a set time of week I get on and a set way I engage. Talking to individual folks more on discord when I can. I’m going to take another 24-48 hours to think about it and then put my plan into motion.

Since I can’t play Barbies right now, I think it will just help to not see the Barbies being played with in front of me. If that makes sense.

For all that I unloaded a lot of messy venting here, I do hope everyone’s weekends are off to a good start.

[thatstrangegiiirrlll]

California Sunset

Hey y’all! This is the first smut I’ve ever posted on the internet. I’ve been writing for a good six and a half to seven years now(four years for fun and around 3 or so years professionally) and I believe that I’m a pretty good writer. One thing though, when it comes to putting my work out there for people to read and interpret for themselves, sometimes that can be a bit nerve-wracking. Either way I put my ALL into my work whether it’s a smut, short story, poem, or an entire novel. I hope you all enjoy. (:

It’s a gorgeous, goregous night here in LA, the breathtaking sunset sitting perfectly in the middle of the sky. The swriling hues of orange and pink are enough to make anyone stop and stare in awe. You only hope that someone can find you as enchanting and beautiful as a warm sunset.

You figured that you had that with Chishiya, but now you aren’t so sure anymore. You’ve always been understanding of how busy and consumed in work that your boyfriend can be. Especially when he loses a pateint. You know how much of a toll that can take on his emotions at times. Being a doctor isn’t easy in anyway. All in the same, it’s a very rewarding career path.

As a nurse, you’re also occupied with your own career, with your life in general. But you’ve always gone by the belief that people make time for what they deem as a priority—what they consider important to them. And you always make time for Chishiya. Now it seems as though he’s starting to pull away from you. He barely touches you—rarely ever even compliments you anymore. You hate to admit how much that stings, how much it hurts your pride.

“Chishiya,” you call out to him, eyes glazing over his slim, relaxed stature. He’s so into the game that he’s currently playing on his playstation that you sadly doubt he heard you call his name. Or worse, he’s ignoring you on purpose.

You frown up, crossing your arms in impatience. “Chishiya!” This time your tone is a lot more crisp and assertive.

“Hm,” he mumbles, almost carelessly, never taking his eyes off of the tv screen.

In attempt to ignore his cold demeanor, you clear your throat in hopes that he can’t detect the hurt in your voice.

“I’m leaving to meet up with friends now. I won’t be back until very late.”

His eyes dart from his game and to you for a split second as he says, “Not too late. Be safe.” And just like that he averts every morsel of his attention back to the game.

Knowing how childish the very next words leaving your mouth are, you say them anyway, unable to hide your hurt. “Yeah, maybe I’ll come across a man that truly recognizes me and appreciates my damn existence tonight.” You eye him sharply, arms still stacked tightly across your chest—your special defense mechanism. He pauses his game as if on queue, a smirk forming on his soft, baby face, implying he’s willing to play along into your game. You resent how adorable and squishy you find this man. Even when he’s being a distant, insensitive, little prick.

He chuckles as he replies, “Sure. Send me a picture when you find him. I need to know what I’m up against.”

You scoff. “How do some nudes sound, Chishiya?” You retort, unable to conceal the emotion in your voice at this point. “Forget it. I’ll see you whenever you decide to act like you give a damn about me.”

That heavy and restricting sensation one gets in their throat when tears threaten to fall begins to bite at you as you turn abruptly to exit the room. But Chishiya has other plans. He grips you up, spinning you by your waist, somehow teleporting from his previous, peaceful position in his gaming chair and over to you. Sheesh. Don’t underestimate these shorter men. They move quick. Not to mention that surprising strength they have.

“What?” He questions, trying to look you in the eyes, but you stubbornly refuse to look at his face, afraid you’ll cry once you do so. “That’s why you’re threatening me with other men, huh? You think I don’t care about you?”

You push his hands off of your body, heaving out a small whimper. “Chishiya,” you whisper, your tone of voice tired and matter of factly. “Do you even find me attractive anymore? I mean seriously…you give me minimal devotion when we’re together. Just now, you could barely be bothered to pause that ugly game long enough to see off your girlfriend! And your affection? It’s almost as though you never even had any for me. You touch me like its an obligation and not because you genuinely want to. Do you get how that makes me feel as a woman? I feel as though you’re disgusted by me.”

He stands there for a second, his face displaying guilt and realization. Sighing, he walks over to his bed, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants as he flops down. “Come here.”

You can’t help it when your eyes roll slightly, stinging from the air. You walk over to him purposely standing about a foot or so away from the bed. He leans forward, grabbing you from behind your thighs and sitting you onto his lap. You blush when you feel him against you through your underwear.

He rubs your sides softly, squeezing them with intention. Your dress rises a bit at the action. “Let me start off by saying I love you; I love you so much it hurts me. You’re so gosh darn pretty it hurts me. There’s not a single part of your body and soul that I don’t adore.”

You manage to keep a soft eye contact with him as he pours himself out into you, squirming a bit as the sudden heavy and passionate mood of the room has you feeling shy. He smiles crookedly at your demeanor before continuing.

“I apologize for being distant, love. I shouldn’t direct my worries at you as if you’re the cause of them. You make me better and I forgot that for a moment there. On top of work and just being utterly drained all the time, I stored the fact that my stress reliever is you all the way back in to my mind. I’ll be more mindful from now on. I’ll be present.”

You swallow quietly, unsure of what to say. Your eyes are glued to his cat-like eyes as he smiles cheekily at you. You cave in at the precious sight, cupping his left cheek warmly.

“I love you, Chishiya. I’m always gonna be right here for you to talk to. I care about you and your wellbeing. You’re my heart.”

He nods reassuringly, taking both your hands behind your back and kissing you deeply. This catches you off guard, but you respond immediately, allowing his tongue to taste every inch of your mouth. You release a satisfied groan into his mouth, the vibration tickling the roof of it. He chuckles at the sensation. He’s giggling and being all light and feathery, but there’s a drive of concentration and lust in you as you grind into his pelvis, needing to feel more. Your eyes darken with arousal as the kiss gets more sloppy and explorative.

When he lets your arms loose from behind your back and slips a hand behind your neck to deepen the kiss even more, you become ecstatic; the feeling of sizzling passion and care eating away at you. You can hardly take it. He kisses you as if he wants to swallow you whole. In the nastiest of ways, he ravishes you immensely.

“Chishiya,” you breathe out, your core tingling with every sensation. Your stomach is on fire with excitement.

He places a final soft kiss to your lips before slipping your stretchable dress over your head. That look of hunger in his eyes mixed with a display of smug innocence drove you crazy. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

When your dress is off completely, he latches his tongue onto your nipple, teasing it with delicacy. He moves his mouth back and forth between your breasts, giving special attention to both of them. You gasp harshly when he grazes his teeth lightly over your hard nipples, sucking them with an exhilarating popping sound that slides off of his tongue.

“You’re so sweet,” he whispers in that husky voice that you love so much. He turns you over on your back onto the bed, laying a pillow behind your head for support. “Shit. You’re soaked, huh?”

Your eyes flutter open to the sight of him taking your underwear to the side, using his thumb to rub your clit tenderly. You blush hard at the remark and relish in the contact he’s delivering.

He continues this for a few more seconds as you only become wetter with each touch. Removing your panties all the way off and tossing them aimlessly, he positions himself perfectly between your thighs, planting love bites on them before sloppily kissing your pussy. You arch your back as far as it can go, aching to feel every sensation. You feel him smirk against your pussy, getting a kick out of how good he makes you feel.

Licking softly from your slit and back up to your clit as an appetizer, he sucks on the area, resulting in a squeal from you. He sucks on your pussy as though he hadn’t eaten all day. You’re pretty positive if it was possible to leave hickeys on a clit, you’d have a ton.

“Fuck,” you hiss, throwing your head back and grabbing the sheets in desperation. He looks up at you, slow and loving catlike blinks and admiration all over him. It’s something about the way he looks into your eyes as he tastes you that screams “I see right through you.”

“I’m coming,” you manage—barely a whisper. He can feel your pussy start to contract against his mouth and he gives his all to you as you ride out your orgasm against his face. It glistens with your arousal and this sight alone tips you over.

You gasp breathlessly as you come, stomach and chest heaving up and down. You have no control over your legs as they quiver uncontrollably. “Oh my fuck,” Is all you can say as your body is still coming off of the serious convulsion you just had. Teasingly, he begins rubbing the extremely sensitive area at quick speed, knowing how insane it drives you. You push him back weakly and groan, overwhelmed at the sudden touch. What a sneaky, little fucking tease, you think.

He rises up, giggling and hovering over you, leaning down to kiss you lovingly. “You always make such pretty noises for me.”

You wrap your arms lazily over his neck and pull him down for another kiss, forgetting all about the fact that you’re supposed to be going out tonight. Oh well. This is way better anyway.

And there’s the end of that! As you all can see I have a lot of love for the character Shuntaro Chishiya, as I do a lot of characters. But I just recently finished season 2 of Alice in borderland and it’s literally impossible for me to fall anymore in love with his character than I already am. I’m into a lot of different fandoms so expect all kinds of material on this blog! No one trick pony ish on this side. I do it all. I appreciate the read. Leave a like if you found this smut smutty enough for your taste. And leave a comment on anything I can improve! -Ash

[bartloki]

samia starters part ii

         from honey (2023).

they're gonna have a baby.

I'm thinking about Texas

I dreamt I was pregnant, I woke up with my guard down.

I've never been this bad.

can I tell you something?

I've never felt so unworthy of loving.

I hope you marry the girl from your hometown.

I hope you marry the girl from your hometown and I’ll fucking kill her.

I'll fucking kill her.

I'll fucking freak out.

I would've stayed kinda drunk and afraid in your room 'til I died in your room if you asked for it.

you are so disarming with your honest smile.

I just saw my whole life flash before your eyes.

I don't wanna charm anyone this time.

what if we could shut up for an hour or two?

mostly, it's just that I don't wanna end up crying.

sometimes, when you sing to me, I still believe I know you.

I'm trying to make you laugh.

I know exactly when it turned into an accidеnt.

I must’ve let you down.

I broke a promise that I didn't even know I made.

how am I supposed to wanna hear it anymore?

how are you supposed to wanna love me anymore?

do you ever wish you weren't a coward?  

are you still mad at me?

it hurts to be somewhere 'cause you gotta stay there after you say what's on your mind.

I don't wanna know, I don't.

if I shut up can I come inside?

I don’t want to talk.

I don’t really want to work it out.

we’re too far gone.

I just wanna see your house.

I’ll wear my hat that you hate to the party.

we'll never bе like those lucky posers.

why is your phone going to voicemail?

don't freak out, it's gonna be alright.

you didn’t say anything weird, I promise.

maybe you didn't need tequila for this.

how does anybody know when they're telling the truth?

I don't even remember why I'm saying sorry.

let's connect at the afterparty.

to me, it was a good time.

it’s never enough if you're always too much.

so, you were bullied in high school and you're looking for payback.

it’s like finding a needle in a stack of needles.

aren't you getting tired of all these people?

your fifteen minutes have become eternal.

there might not be a second coming, but that doesn't mean it was all for nothing.

your friends were so scary.

it was just like a movie.

I loved coming over 'cause it felt like dying.

I got a shrink and she said the same thing that everyone else did.

alright, am I being indicted?

it’s been a long week and I don't want to think.

I've got my girls and a hopeful heart.

all you can do from this hotel room is fantasize.

I'm so surprised they love me.

you’re my favorite friend.

you might be right, but nothing's going to change my mind.

god gives you another brick for the wall each time your heart breaks.

did you know aspen grove is 40 thousand trees with thе same foundation?

some peoplе see a cobweb hanging in the window, but you see a constellation.

fuck your rearview.

she knows something about me I do not know.

how'd you get your leg so high up? fuck.

I'm writing a poem, somebody stop me.

oh my god, there's nothing quite like doing what you came to do.

you can think of everyone and still only be staring at them.

you get your dreams for free.

when I finally forgive myself I'll be tired and sunburnt and tripping over spanish moss again.

there are six minutes of brain activity after the body's dead.

I bеlieve you and I know why.

are you scared to die? the trick is don't arrive.

[jadescornerofinternetinsanity]

Its cold and its dark and im thinking about fathers and what it means to love. Because the first person who taught me the shape of love crushed me in his fist and now im scared that every one i fall for will die with claw marks in their chest. Im worried that i don’t know what it means to love without destruction.

I will cling and i will claw my chest open and ask if you think my lungs are beautiful. I will lie on a concrete floor and bleed and hope it’s pretty. Suffering is like art if you do it right. 

Tell me who left first, because in the haze i cant quite remember. If it was you, i forgive you. If it was me, i hope you hate me for it forever. 

I’ve spent more years trying to reach into the mirror and reshape my skin even if the broken glass cuts me than i ever did finding it beautiful. And sometimes i look at the blue in my eyes and the scars on my stomach and think “someone could love this” and sometimes i think i’ll only find peace beneath a gravestone. 

And if i did, would you write my epitaph? Would it be kind? Would you claw into the stone with your nails and tell the world i lived and someone loved me for it? 

Would you forgive me for leaving? It would be easier than forgiving me for what i did to stay. 

The strings tying me to life are tangled these days, they fray and twist and tighten around my wrists like restraints. 

Sometimes i scream at the sky like it’s my fathers ghost and i ask who was I supposed to be? I ask where are you? Why aren’t you here? 

I hate flying. I hate getting too close to the stars. 

There are a million poems about people being made out of stardust. Hell hath no fury like a poet with a science metaphor. We love to strip the world bare and claw through the dirt looking for something beautiful. How long have humans stared at the sky and found home? How long have we buried our friends in the dirt. How long have we looked up and down and found more? How long have we traced shapes into the stars and told their stories? When does it end? 

Should it? 

We climbed our way to the moon and never went back. A checkmark on a list to prove something to a god that doesn’t exist. A challenge. How dare he think anything is out of reach. 

The universe is expanding, did you know that? Did you know that every second the edge of life gets further away? There will always be something we can't see. There will always be places we can’t go. There will always be rocks we can’t claim, stick our flag into, and pretend to own. 

One day the sun is going to collapse in on itself. Did you know how fragile life is? Did you know we live every day on the precipice of destruction? This is not poetry. There is nothing beautiful about mortality. There is nothing pretty about death. One day the sun will cave in on itself and burn everything we’ve built, one day ozymandias crumbles to dust. Atlantis sinks. The stars burn out. Checkmate. 

We claw life out from the jaws of death and think we’ve won something. We haven’t. 

To live is to suffer, did you know that? 

I don’t know who im talking to. The sky doesn’t answer your questions. It doesn’t matter how many telescopes you send to ask the stars why we’re here. Sound doesn’t travel in space.

Do you know how much we made out of nothing? How much of our history is purely a riot against insignificance? How much blood spilled, temples built, statues carved, wars fought and lost and won and bones buried to prove we were here? How much of the past is just a teenaged nobody screaming that something happened here, something mattered here. How much time do we spend begging our descendants to listen to us? 

There is something violent about fading out of existence. There is peace in it too. Aristotle will never rest, and Shakespeare will be studied by people he never knew until the world ends. 

What is more cruel? To be forgotten or remembered? 

I don’t know who i’m talking to. 

One day the sun will cave in on itself. One day we will fall through a crease in the center of the galaxy. Nothing is immortal. Why do we beg for it to be? 

I don’t know who I’m talking to. None of us do. We talk anyway.

[thatflowerjazmin]

Is becoming so hard. Everything has become so hard. Living used to be so simple. So natural. So me. But now, for some reason, I cannot feel like there is life in me. I cannot even feel like me. My head has stopped dreaming, and for someone like the child I used to be that looked impossible. I used to be so easy. Happiness used to be so easy. Because everything could make me feel happiness Like sleeping. Sleeping used to make me happy When I was asleep I dream and dream and dream. In my bed, with my warm sheets protecting me from the cold of the night. I love to sleep as much as I love to wake up because even when I was awake I manage to keep dreaming in my head, I dream of everything. Of the girl, I was going to be when I turned fiveteen.

Fiveteen used to be a special age But when it came it passed as fast as a train. I was not the girl I dreamed about. I did not have the things I wish to have. I was stuck in the same way but in different places. Nothing did change. Lie. Something did change: I became more aware. I became more aware of my surroundings I became aware of the climate change Of the Earth dying Of my family falling Of my girlhood trying to be stoled by men twice my age I became aware of the cruelty. I became aware of the problems. But hey! I was still a dreamer. I was an optimist back then. I dream about changing things now. I dream about how I could fix the planet. How I could fight for my rights.

How I could move on from where I was.

To find something lighter. Something better. Something that I have not found. Then, I turned sixteen. And where I came from, when you turn seventeen you need to go to university. You need to choose a career. You need to leave school and all your friends there. Is like being pushed off your nest.

The thing is that I have been aware of this all my life But was until I turned sixteen that I realise how close it was. I did not have more time to lose. I have one year only. I needed to stop dreaming and start thinking. Thinking of ways to make my dreams come true. But just in that moment, when I needed the most of my optimistic self, my head stopped. I could not dream. I could not think. I don't even know how I was breathing. But then, My thoughts came back. But this time, they were not the same. Insecurities. Those shadows fly from my inner hell until my head. That plague burned  my brain like fire in the woods. It destroys everything and plays with what is left.

So now, aware, incapable of dreaming, and insecure, my head became fragile. Not like a snowflake. Like a World War II bomb. It was just a matter of time until... I give up. There is no reason to keep trying. I can't do it. I can't be who I dreamed to be. There are only four ways in this world to be successful: Born rich, Be talented, Be smart, and be pretty. I am poor. I don't even have my own bedroom because I share it with my mom. I am not talented. The only talents that pay well are sports and musical talent, and the only art that I know to do is write bad poems about sad childhood. And I cannot even turn them into songs because I sing like an old truck. I am not smart. Not enough. I hate maths and all in life has to deal with maths. I am definitely not pretty. That was the first thing I knew when I was a child. I was ugly. People say it. I was yellow, I looked sick, and my hair was disgusting so I wear the same style for years. I was too skinny. With a long neck and a big head that makes me look like a lollipop and not in a good way. Then, when I became a teenager I feel like I need to be more skinny. I hate pimples. and the way I smile. I hate my boobs and how everyone seems to not see past those two. So yes, I give up because I did not see anything good in me. Anything good to turn my life into something nice. The only thing that my eyes could catch was how they were hundreds of kids from my city that have the lives that I want That makes me angry Why they can have that? Why do those girls have small chests and thinner bodies? Why their bodies are considered elegant and mine vulgar? Why boys don't look my way? Why they can be so pretty and be good at maths? Why can be so talented and have a nice family to talk to? Why their dads never left? Why their friends are sweet to them? Why do they have money to spend? Why do I have to watch how they live the life that I want? Is not fair. I cannot play this game when I am competing with them. and that is funny because I am not competing with them. I can't compete with people that are on another level than me. No matter how hard I try. How much I fight. I never rise to that level of life. That is why I give up. That is why I write this poem. To show the reason why I am going to die. Because I want to be great or nothing. And if nothing will be disappointing so death will be Praying while I am dying so I reborn in a life better than this.

[sleepyowlwrites]

Hey sleepy! If your main characters were a poem, or a song, which poem or song would they be?

I'll never have the energy for these asks, so instead I am answering on low battery. forgive me for using my own poetry for this because I know them best.

I will answer for City Story because I feel like the city story girls (gender neutral) will appreciate it.

but under the cut because I am going to post 7 whole poems.

Jet: the closeness keeps us apart

you were lilacs and a window and a blessing in disguise. there was easy absinthe in the way you lied. I hated you at first glance. the ribbed sweater, the glass in your eyebrow, the creak in the floorboards when you walked past my door. you left wood smoke on the table and your shoes lying in the sink. the lines of your countenance were an affront to the eyes. I closed mine. for a moment there was so much silence in thunder that I was trembling with the sound. is there truly nothing louder than this cold that surrounds? I could still hear you aching when you showered in the rain. if you have to be so close to me, why must you be in pain? you were thorns at the doorway and broken plates on the welcome mat. there was easy emptiness when you shook the night from your elbows. I hated you and it showed. but don’t leave me, and hold me closer while we bleed, ‘cause I can bear anything but the space. I know we’re not okay. I know.

Rune: the sound inside my chest

but if scream my throat will shatter, I will fade out the sun, I will spend the summer twilight as an echo of my lungs. if I scream I have not breath left to defend what I once thought to be true - that shadows still are people, and that they were made of you.

Copper: technically that's how you write a song

Sure, it’s not the same That’s why it has a different name But it’s familiar - like a song you sang in choir A poem given music to change the pace of sound Clipped wings complaining that they’d just like to sing now Did you see me on the offbeat? Did you catch when I fell flat? I used to joke about parades I saw you on the stage You are a star, imagine that My eyes are kinda blurry I’ll try again next week But I think I’m lying

Moss: no further, no farther

with feathers and salt, and a line in the sand, a heartache, a promise, an insufferable gaze; there is soot on your fingers and blood on my hands, we run back to the shore and set the old things ablaze; there’s pages with writing that loops and winds round the edge, falling to pieces with everything you said; the nightingales will cover us if only we ask, the ocean will accompany us on our way back; with feathers and salt and that line in the sand, no further, no farther, I’m holding your hand

Shadow: unfortunately, we are living on the ground

try boiling words in acid and perhaps you can summarize the disgust with which we experience delight on a surreal level combining the unpleasant taste of joy well earned and bitterness that someone else left behind such that if a meteor caught itself in our pockets we would throw it away without a wish because cynicism is less risky than a daydream said out loud

Hawk: an abyss before us, no teeth

we wade into the mouths with no thoughts of our own; the tongues are made of sand and glass and swallow with a groan. there are chills along our spines that we feel as phantom limbs; the oak trees in the sea break as they were never meant to swim. we lie in beds of copper while the sunlight drains us dry; the emptiness of dreams not ours dance sideways in our eyes. there are whales along the corridors that narrow as we drown; the peppermint and alabaster scream the whole way down. we wade into the mouths without a thought for other friends; it matters not the consequence, only that it ends.

Yarrow: ellipses of thought no.10

I was considering: the heaviness of air, the touch of damp upon the stair, the empty promise of rain, the worn out jeans and dirt stains, the shoes with grass on the soles, the fingertips through jacket holes - the quiet of a sleeping house, the need to grouse, the want to be heard, the yearning for answers - the satisfaction of washing dishes, the twinkling hope on soap bubble wishes, the hours and hours, overgrown bushes and cut flowers; consider them considered, those dreams sliced with scissors: here’s a piece for me, here’s a piece for you.

(belated) thanks for asking, Hunter!

the city story girls: @klywrites @ren-c-leyn @kaiusvnoir @zoya-writes @selene-stories @enchanted-lightning-aes @oh-no-another-idea @diphthongsfordays @wildswrites @blind-the-winds @drippingmoon