#All my friends have a lukewarm response to this but I don’t get it bc this is an ECLIPSE??

[stuckinapril]

Shoutout to all girls like me who have impossibly sensitive eyes…….. we are going painful lengths to watch this eclipse unfold

[graysongraysoff]

🎈🤲 💌 :’)

fic writer emoji asks

🎈describe your style as a writer; is it fixed? does it change?

so have you ever read a stephen king book? if you have, that's it, that's the style, i stole it from him, lol. when i went back to reread the dark tower books a couple years ago and i got to the first like mini-chapter of the gunslinger i was like. fuck dude. you read a series at a formative enough time and you'll steal an entire writing style from it, lol.

i feel (i hope!!!!) like my writing style changes, if subtly, from fandom to fandom, though, bc i try really hard to emulate the vibe of whatever piece i'm riffing off of. to go back to jill's ask, i think that's why i used to get so many compliments on my trc fics - i dedicated a lot of effort to mimicking maggie stiefvater's style as best i could, and that really resonated with folks; more than once people told me "this feels like it could be a chapter of one of the books!" and i am very big-headed about that and will brag about it until i die, probably.

🤲what do YOU get out of writing?

difficult to say lately, if i'm being honest!!!!!

in overanalyzing it over the past few months, though, here's where i'm at for the moment: i think there are two main kinds of fic that i write. the first is the kind i write mostly for me, when a piece of media is making my brain go brrr and i just want to play with it, regardless of whether anyone else on earth cares about it at all. the second is the more i guess "fandommy" kind, when it's more of, like, an offering. it's me putting something out into the world and going TALK TO ME ABOUT THIS!!!!!! BE EXCITED ABOUT THIS WITH ME!!!!! WHERE ARE THE PEOPLE WHO ARE EXCITED ABOUT THIS AT????? COME HERE AND BE MY FRIEND!!!!!!!

i get a lot more out of the first kind than the second kind.

when i'm writing fic just because something makes my brain go brrr, i'm like perfectly content playing by myself in my little sandbox, and it's just kind of a bonus if people end up engaging with it.

when i'm writing fic because something makes my brain go brrr and i want people to care about it with me, well, that can leave me feeling pretty hollow and awful when i post something and it gets a lukewarm response, which is like. nine times out of ten, lol.

i haven't figured out how to feel less bad when i post a fic that i want people to care about and it gets a handful of kudos and no comments, but. the first step is identifying the problem, haha, right?

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

you wanna read some? of course you do.

“Why did you bring me here?” Dazai asked. His voice was empty of emotion, as if he had cried it all out at the bar earlier.

Oda didn’t answer. Instead he nudged Dazai’s hand with the glass of water he’d fetched until the boy sullenly pushed himself up into a sitting position and wrapped his fingers around it.

“I’m not the kind of person you want knowing where you live,” Dazai pressed. “Why should I let you live after I told you my plan for the boss?”

Oda smiled wryly down at him, but he only nodded at the glass. “Drink that.”

Dazai made a face but obediently brought the glass to his lips and began to sip. A moment of silence passed before he spoke again, quietly. “You don’t have to take care of me,” he said. “That’s how you end up like Chuuya.” He stared down at his bandaged reflection in the surface of the water. “It’s not worth it.”

Something clenched around Oda’s heart. “Dazai.”

Dazai looked up, and Oda could think of no excuse, no logical reason for a boy so young to look so tired.

“What happened to Chuuya isn’t your fault,” Oda said.

Dazai smiled one of his insincere smiles, one that didn’t quite reach his one exposed eye.

“Maybe that’s the problem,” he said. “Maybe I wanted it to be. I always told him I’d kill him someday. I’ve got a whole list of ways I could do it, too.”

Oda sighed. “Dazai…”

“You still haven’t answered me,” Dazai cut across with steel in his voice. “Why did you bring me here? Why are you doing this?”

Oda blinked down at him steadily. He wondered if Dazai really didn’t know or if he just wanted to hear him say it. He was the kind of kid who seemed to know everything, but there was something wild and searching in his one unbandaged eye.

“Because I care what happens to you,” Oda answered him finally.

ben parksandrec voice it's about the platonic intimacy between a surrogate father and his surrogate son

[rahleeyah]

Kept myself up half the night thinking about our baby detective talking about parallel universes and the idea that this was a reoccurring convo they’d had for years.

It’s early in their partnership, maybe their first overnight stake out and they know each other well enough that they’re past small talk, but Olivia, looking for a way to keep alert, is trying to make conversation.

She asks Elliot, “What would you be doing if you weren’t here?”

And he snorts because it’s 2:34am and he’s a smart ass. “I’d be asleep,” he says with a chuckle.

But that’s not exactly what Olivia meant. “No I mean, if this wasn’t your life. If you weren’t a cop, what would you be doing?”

“Like some kind of parallel universe?” Elliot ask, mostly to stall for time. Because really he doesn’t have an answer. He became a cop like his old man. Joined the force after the Marines because what else was he going to do? He chose the path of least resistance when he was just a kid because it was the responsible thing to do. Kathy was pregnant and he had to provide for his family some how.

“Yeah, I guess,” Olivia says. “Do you ever think about that? How if you changed one thing, your whole life could be different.”

He does catch himself wondering what if things happened differently at times. But he’d never admit it and always feels guilty for it. It’s started to happen more since he and Olivia were partnered. And he already knows it’s dangerous to dwell for too long on why that might be.

Instead he says, “Maybe I’d be an astronaut—still up watching the city, but just from up there.” It’s a little outlandish, but it’s safe. A dream thousands of little boys shared growing up during the space race.

When he turns the question on her she tells him she’d still be right here. That this is where she was always going to be, her childhood being what it was, being born under the circumstances she was. “Except maybe I’d have some fresh coffee.”

He laughs and tells her that’s cop out even as he’s getting out of the car and tossing her the keys. He lets it got this time because he thinks she’s right.

Over time, it becomes a game they play. Sometimes it just to pass the time. Sometimes it’s to keep the darkness they’re constantly confronted with at bay. It’s silly. Mostly. But over time Elliot can’t help but think Olivia’s the through line in all of his universes. She’s the fixed point.

She's the fixed point

Friend I'm gonna eat my fucking phone

This is. So perfect for them.

They're sitting alone in the dark, radios on but no one can hear them as long as they don't hold down the button. Sipping on coffee, staring at the city slipping through the night around them.

"my mother wanted me to be an architect," he tells her. "she mistook an affinity for Legos for an actual skill."

"I could see it," Liv muses. "You've got a highly developed sense of spatial reasoning."

"what the fuck does that mean," he says, and they laugh, but it's a thought that lodges itself in his chest. He is never lost. He has a feel for buildings, the logic that made them, knows which turns to take, and Liv knows this. She's the only one, he thinks. The only one besides his flighty mother who's ever noticed he's got a skill that has nothing to do with his fists.

"you really never wanted to be anything else?" He asks her another night.

She hums; the shrink asked her that, in her second year. Where would you be if you weren't here? And she couldn't answer then, and she doesn't want to now.

"I didn't know what I wanted to do when I was a kid," she says, and the truth is she was rarely looking that far ahead; all she wanted was out. "There were other things I wanted though."

She looks at his blue eyes soft in the darkness, his hands wrapped around a paper cup of lukewarm bodega coffee. This is what she wanted, when she was young and dreaming; a man she trusted, a man who came, and saw her, and stayed, companionship, to never be lonely again, to never see love used as a weapon against her. He has given that to her, gives it to her every morning when she walks in the station and sees his face, but he takes it away every night when he leaves her.

"maybe in another life," he says. "Maybe I'm an architect and you're the one with four kids."

And she has to look away, bc in that universe she thinks those kids are his, too, and she can't look in his eyes while that thought floats through her mind.

So she doesn't see his eyes close, when he thinks of a little girl who looks as much like Olivia as Maureen looks like Kathy, and guilt and regret churn in his gut.

It's a long time before they play this game again.

[tra-sh]

That paul lahote one omgggg do u ever do pt2? Bc i would absolutely cry if u do! I loved it too much tysm

Here you go! I really hope I did you justice with this part 2! 

This one has a little teeny sliver of angst, and more jealous Paul action because let's be honest, it's my favorite archetype to write. 

A few months had come and gone since you first met Sam Uley's pack. Because Paul's imprint had been so strong, he and Sam had requested you stay with Emily for the time being to ease the transition. It had taken a lot of convincing-- from Paul to you and you to your parents-- but eventually, you'd settled into your new life. You would often help Emily in the kitchen, prepping large meals for the hungry group. Bella would visit every so often to give you small updates and gifts from the Cullen's. You would never admit it to Paul, but you dearly missed your friends. You missed reading with Edward and painting with Alice. You missed Jasper's calming presence and Emmett's raunchy jokes. The wolf pack was steadily becoming family to you, but you couldn't help the aching feeling in your chest. Which was why the Cullen's sudden disappearance mid-September had come as an unwelcome shock. 

You weren't sure how to cope with the sudden loss at first. They hadn't sent you a text or sent Bella to see you. She had just shown up on the back porch in the rain, a drenched shivering mess. She'd collapsed into your arms, telling you she couldn't find Edward anywhere and that their house was empty. You'd comforted her to the best of your ability, trying your best to ease her pain. You could tell from the very beginning that she had a strong bond with the vampire; you couldn't even begin to imagine how distraught she was. The pack was not so quick to console her and made jokes about finally being rid of the nuisance family. You could tell that her sudden attachment to Jacob wasn't exactly putting her in their good favor. 

Emily had invited Bella to stay with the two of you, at least until she felt comfortable enough to go back home. She was unstable-- anyone could see that. You knew that Emily was not only being nice; she was worried to leave Bella by herself. 

This was how you came to your current situation, standing in the kitchen watching Bella mope over a mug of coffee. The brunette slowly stirred the lukewarm liquid, absentmindedly staring off into space. "Bells?" You ask. 

She doesn't move but glances over to you silently. Well, she wasn't exactly making this easy. 

"I think you've mixed it enough," you try to joke. 

She looks down before placing the spoon on the table. "Sorry," she mutters. You sigh and look away to the timer on the counter. Seven minutes. The muffins in the oven have seven minutes left, and then you can go into your room and finally have some peace. You loved Bella, you really did. But you felt like you were more of a babysitter than a friend at the moment. You were so busy trying to keep her from jumping off the nearest cliff that you barely had time to process the situation for yourself. You felt like you were holding back your feelings; both to console her, and to not set off Paul. 

Your mind begins to wander as you think of him. He was definitely the group hothead and sometimes got on your last nerve. Well, frequently got on your last nerve. But you really did care about him. He was sweet and gentle when the two of you were alone and true to his word he had been taking things slow for you. The two of you hadn't done more than hold hands and hug, which surprised most of the other members. They never knew Paul to be patient or calm; especially when it came to matters of instinct. Seeing him cradle you as if you were made of glass was definitely a new experience for everyone. A small smile dances over your lips as you get lost in thought. You fail to notice Emily as she walks into the kitchen and raises a brow at your vacant expression. 

"Excited for those muffins?"

You snap out of your trans and give her a sheepish grin. "Ah, sure," you say quickly. Emily gives you a knowing look before turning her attention to Bella. "How are you feeling today, sweetheart?" Bella simply shrugs and does her best to offer what she hopes is a convincing smile. "Alright," she mumbles. Emily gives her an apologetic smile and turns away to grab a pitcher from the cupboard. You clear your throat and shift your weight, turning your attention back to the timer. Only two minutes to go. You hear rowdy shouting and footsteps hammering up the steps to the kitchen door. "Well, it looks like the boys are back early," Emily mused. She mixes together some iced tea into the pitcher and moves to set it on the dining table. You turn away from the door to hide your embarrassment, focusing intently on the muffins. You didn't want to see the look that Emily would give Paul, and you certainly didn't need to be teased by him right now. 

The screen door slams open as the loud, sweaty group files into the house. You can pick out the different voices as the boys talk and laugh between themselves. Chairs scrape against the linoleum flooring as they choose their seats, waiting to be fed. The timer 'ding's just in time and you pull on a pair of oven mitts. As you bend down and open the oven door, you feel a pair of burning hot hands grab your hips. "Hey," Paul's deep voice sends a shiver down your spine as he greets you. You turn around and smack his bare chest with one of the mitts. "Don't scare me when I'm picking up hot metal," you scold lightly. He only smiles and brings you in for a hug, squeezing you tightly against his chest. He buries his nose in the crook of your neck and inhales, his muscles relaxing as he takes in your smell. You feel your face flush as you wrap your arms timidly around his waist. As much as you loved the attention, you felt awkward being so affectionate around the others. Especially with the new "recruits", Brady and Collin. They were younger than the others, and you felt weird letting them see this. Paul pulls away to head to the table, but not before planting a kiss on the top of your head. 

You try to ignore the hot blush on your cheeks as you turn back to take the muffin tray out of the oven. You look over to Emily and smile softly as Sam embraces her. You loved seeing them together. They looked at each other like the rest of the world had disappeared, leaving behind only them. You walk over to the table and reach between Seth and Collin to set the tray down. "Careful," you say lightly. It's really a joke to warn them; their body temperatures are so high that you sincerely doubt they would feel it if they burned a finger. In a matter of seconds, the tray is picked clean, each boy scarfing down on the warm treat. 

In moments like this, you feel like a mom of nine. You were always there to pick them up when they were down, to kiss their wounds and feed them meals. You smile to yourself as watch them crack jokes and shove one another. The smile turns bittersweet as you think about your parents. Were you going to leave? I mean, at some point Emily would surely want her guest room back. You couldn't stay forever. But with the Cullen's gone and Bella in a spiral, would you be able to return to your old life? You knew you could visit the reservation whenever you pleased, but something about the idea of not being here felt off. You didn't want to leave; this felt like home now. You glance over at Paul and snort as he tries to cram the entire muffin into his mouth before Jared can swipe it. Were you really ready to leave this behind? 

Paul noticed you staring and glances over. He frowns (as best he could with his mouth full) at the mixed expression on your face. He swallows thickly before standing up and walking over to stand in front of you. You blink into focus as your view is suddenly filled with a tan chest and look up to smile at him. "Hey," you say quietly. Paul's brow knits together as he looks down at you. "What's wrong?" 

You feel a swell of guilt in your chest as he looks at you in concern. "Nothing, I'm just thinking." He doesn't seem to like this response. He looks over his shoulder at the pack before leading you over to the guest room. His hand is hot against your wrist as he pulls you-- not too hard, for fear of hurting you. He closes the door to your room and turns to face you, arms folded over your chest. 

"You know you can't lie to me. What's wrong?" He presses, a frown settled in his features.

You sigh and walk over to the bed, sitting down on the quilted sheets. Paul moves to sit next to you and waits for you to speak. You can tell he's struggling to keep silent and his face gives away the underlying worry. Were you having second thoughts? Were you upset with him? You place your hand over his and squeeze gently to quell his anxiety. "I just," you pause and try to think of how to explain your current feelings without upsetting him. "I just haven't really had time for myself recently and I guess it's getting to me is all." 

Paul's nose scrunches and you feel his hand tense under yours. "You get time to yourself when we patrol," he points out. You shake your head and sigh. "That's not what I mean, Paul. Even when you guys aren't here, I'm taking care of Bella. I mean, I miss Edward too but--" Paul cuts you off before you can continue. "You miss him?" 

Your jaw sets and you give Paul a pointed stare. "You know that's not what I mean," you say, your tone a warning. Paul doesn't take this well and stands up from the bed. "What exactly do you mean?" He hisses. 

You grit your teeth and stand up, your hands balled into fists. "They were my friends, Paul! I'm not just going to pretend that I don't miss them just so you don't get jealous!" 

Paul's muscles ripple as a warning; showing you that he was losing his temper. But right now, you didn't care. "I changed my life for you! I moved here because your imprint was too strong for us to be apart! I stopped seeing the Cullen's because their smell was enough to set you off! Hell, I don't even see my parents anymore! Isn't that enough to make you trust me?" 

Paul's nostrils flare and he growls, stepping forward. "What do you care if you lose those leeches? They weren't doing you any favors; they left you!" 

You flinch as he raises his voice, practically shouting by the end of his sentence. Paul hesitates when he notices this. He looks away, but the anger is already coursing through him. Wordlessly, he storms out of your room and slams the door behind him. You hear snarling and run out of the room just in time to see the front door shut. The glass panels of the door shudder from the force and a howl echoes from outside. You avoid the prying eyes from the kitchen as the rest of the pack watches silently. Right now, you could care less about what they thought. You feel the familiar sting of tears in your eyes as you shuffle back to your room, locking the door behind you. You just wanted today to be over. 

It's later in the night when you wake up, groggy and disoriented. Your nose is stuffed and there's a dull pounding in your head from crying. You scoot over to the nightstand and check your phone. It was a little past midnight, and you had a few texts from Emily asking why your door was locked and if you wanted dinner. You sit up and swing your legs over the side of the bed as you peer out of the window. The sheer curtains do very little to hide the view of the forest. Though the gauzy material adds a blurry filter to your vision, you can still make out the trees and the bright outline of the moon. The thin glass allows the chirping of summer crickets to meet your ears and calm your nerves. You can’t help but wonder where Paul is. If he was still phased and running around the forest, or if he had finally calmed down and gone home. You felt bad for yelling, but you didn't regret what you said. You'd been holding it in for a while, and you needed to speak your mind. 

You sigh and stand up, making your way to the door. You'd fallen asleep shortly after the fight, so you missed lunch and dinner. Maybe eating something would help take your mind off of everything. You pad over to the door and turn the lock. When you open the door, however, you're met with a startled curse and a loud thud. You stare down with wide eyes as Paul falls into your room. "Paul?" Your voice is hoarse from crying. 

A string of curses falls from the teen's lips as he sits up and rubs the back of his head. Was he sleeping against your door? Paul looks around in a haze before realization hits him. He scrambles to his feet and turns around to face you, relief written all over his features. "Hey," Paul starts carefully. You can tell he's treading on thin ice, gauging your reaction. He's waiting to see if you're still mad. He takes in your puffy eyes and the way you try to hide your sniffling. You'd been crying. 

"Hi," you say curtly. 

Paul frowns and takes a hesitant step forward. You don't move to stop him, so he takes another step. "Baby," Paul calls gently. He tests the boundaries, reaching a hand out to rest on your waist. You look down at your feet and he pauses. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know," you reply. You're not trying to be rude, but you still don't feel satisfied with how the argument ended. He can't just storm off on you every time he doesn't like the response he gets. 

Paul takes your chin in his calloused grip and turns your head gently. "Sweetness," he tries again. "Please look at me." 

Finally, you turn to meet his gaze. You feel the tears begin again at the loving look in his eyes. You wanted him to hold you. To promise to you over and over again that he was an idiot and it would never happen again. But you and he both knew that he couldn't promise you that. It would happen again, and he needed to work on that. But how many times could you forgive this behavior? It took its toll on both of you. Paul brushes his thumb over your cheek, wiping away the fresh tears that spilled over. 

"I'm sorry," he repeats, the hand on your waist pulling you closer. Your hands instinctively rest on his sides as he cradles you in one arm. You close your eyes as your lip trembles, threatening to release the sobs you were holding back. Paul's chest tightens as he looks down at you. "I'm an idiot," he adds. "And I don't deserve you." 

You let out a breathy laugh, which turns into a slight hiccup. "No, you don't," you agree lightly. He chuckles, the deep noise vibrating his chest. "I'm trying to," he whispers. You nod, leaning into the touch of his hand. "I know you are." 

You open your eyes and look at him, seeing the silent plea in his warm brown gaze. 

I'm not perfect, but I'm trying. I don't want to lose you. 

"I love you," you rasp, barely able to whisper. Your throat is tight as you squeeze out the quiet confession. 

Paul, unable to hold back, brings you into a tight hug. Your words are all he needs-- you've accepted him. You know it won't be easy, but you're willing to try. And that's all he could hope for. 

"I love you," Paul echoes. "I love you so much." 

He pulls back slightly, leaving a hair's length between you. He looks to you for silent permission and nearly preens when you nod your head. He dips down, slowly, carefully. You close your eyes and let out a shaking breath as his warm lips meet yours. 

The kiss is soft but wholesome. It carries with it all of the promises that Paul intends to keep. It's loving and loyal; much like him. You know this road won't be easy, and you know this won't be the last time you cry over this idiot. But when you pull away and meet his devoted gaze, you can't help but smile. 

There isn't anyone else in this world you'd rather be with. 

[roast-ifs]

December Drabble Request #1

Hi everyone! In case you missed the announcement, I am now doing monthly drabble requests on my patreon!

I’m doing this there instead of here for my own management bc I know I would just get absolutely overwhelmed if I offered requests on tumblr :’D

So, here’s the first one!

Prompt: Danny & “You’re too good to be hanging out with me” 

It really shouldn’t have come up at all. You were just sitting there in the train’s lounge, surrounded by creature comforts--plush pillows, a crackling fire in the tiny wood stove in the corner, and a warm drink in your hands. The train is moving slowly through wintery fields, it’s dark, it’s late, but you had dreams, nightmares, and Danny was…

Danny was kind.

They opened their door to you, spooked and shivering and flinching from the shadows in the corners of your eyes and they’d just, without question, without demand, and with no conditions whatsoever… helped.

They guided you with gentle feathers to the kitchen, set a pot of milk on the stove and told you to watch it as they puttered around getting the fixings for coco ready while you stirred and watched and forgot about the shadows. At least for a little while.

They didn’t need you to say anything. To explain. They didn’t complain, didn’t accuse, just smiled softly, sweetly, and always with a touch of worry. When the coco was ready they took you to the lounge where you two sat and they talked.

Softly. Like everything they do. They didn’t talk about the bad things, they never do, they talk about the mundane. About how cute the shops were at the last hamlet you’d gone through, their dubious enthusiasm for the latest playbill being advertised as both a comedy and a tragedy.

Nevermind that it sounds too much like your life.

Hilariously tragic.

But it’s what they love. And they’re sharing it with you. Sharing coco, warmth, and a thing that makes Danny smile.

When they smile at you, it clicks that you’re maybe one of those things, those people, that brings Danny to smile with reckless abandon. And it sours the chocolate in your stomach.

“What’s wrong?”

You look up from your coco gone lukewarm, surprised at the shock of salty burn in your eyes--not fallen, not visible, but tears still there--to see Danny, wings low, looking at you with upturned brows and a softened whisper making the scratchiness of their voice all the more pronounced.

They are concern wrapped in generous spoonfuls of love and shyness, and what are you but the bitter burn of a short-temper and snappy rebuttals? Of hate and loathing and so much anger--at the world, at ERA, at the circumstances that forced you into loyal servitude.

You are rot and putrid malice most days, maybe you’ve gotten better, just by a bit, but will that ever be enough to… to be enough?

You don’t think so. Not really. You’re fake, and an illy-made one at that.

“Nothing. I’m… I’m just-” a fool? An ass? You sigh and set your mug down, forcing yourself to look at Danny, to watch, “You’re too good to be hanging out with me.” You confess. 

Because you have to. Because how else will Danny get it that you’re just not enough?

Their face drops, and their frown deepens and purses, twisting into something trying to hold back pain. Because that’s what you cause. Pain.

“I’m--I’m not though-”

“Danny,” You scoff, “You’re so much better than what I deserve.”

Danny doesn’t look at you. Not for a long moment. Long enough for you to start to come to terms that this is it. You’ve finally gone and done it, pushed them so far away that they don’t want to put forth the effort to try again.

But then they look up, face set, scowl firm and steel in their eyes, “That’s bullshit.” 

You blink, shocked, “Danny-”

“I’m not--I’m not ‘better’, I’m not ‘good’, I’m just me and yeah maybe--maybe being just me is different and--okay yes maybe a little but--” they cut themself off with a frustrated, if adorable, huff and turn in the loveseat to face you fully, “I’m not better than what you deserve. Saying that is like… is like I’m doing this out of charity. That I’m--that I’m-” They sniff.

Now you’ve really gone and done it now, made Danny cry.

“Danny, I didn’t mean-”

“No. I’m not done.” They fix you with a searing look and you click your mouth shut, and listen.

“Listen to me. I’m so glad you’re my friend. I’m so happy that you’ve--that you’re not--that you’ve come so far! You’ve gotten so much better and made so much progress and that’s so fucking admirable and you’re--you’re you and isn’t that worth it? I’m me, you’re you, we’re friends, and it’s no more or less than what either of us deserve.” They breathe, blinking almost in shock at their own rant, ducking their head and lifting their wings in a poor attempt to hide, “I’m sorry. I’m just… I know things haven’t been easy for you and… and I like hanging out with you. And I don’t want that to change.”

When they look at you again it’s with round pleading brown eyes and you, like the tender soul you’ve tricked yourself into being, at least for tonight, can’t help but melt. Maybe you can round off your sharp brittle edges, just for a little while, just for Dana?

You want to say something equally as emotional but you’re not sure you have that kind of fire in you, so you settle for a forced and creaky whisper of a response.

“Thank you.”

And Danny beams like you’ve given them everything they could’ve ever wanted in the world. But that’s preposterous. Who could possibly want you more than anything else?

Apparently… they do.

“Thank you.”

[gazelessmenagerie]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

tagged by: I stole from Nyquill

tagging: mcsteal it.

Focusing on Broly and N’doul mainly given they are the ones I’ve written the most with as of yet.

My muse is: canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless / complicated

I’d say they’re both heavily in the canon-divergent / au’s area and its complicated bc they are indeed meant to die either as part of the plot or they’re just non-canon in the first place. So it’s pretty much just whatever the hell I feel like pretty much. Not really looking to be part of some grand scheme unless the plot asks for it.

Is your character popular in the fandom? YES and NO.

Ehh, I don’t think N’doul is very popular because he’s a minor villain character and Broly is either hated or loved but he is definitely popular to some extent from all the games and stuff that include him that I’ve seen. 

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK.

Depends on your definition of hot(tm). Most fans tend to think about power I guess with Broly.. or flat out hate him as stated before, N’doul is just.. N’doul. Tbfh I have no idea since I don’t really engage much in the DBZ or JJBA fandoms as much. I just reblog shit, do my own thing. Mostly see lukewarm responses from what I scrolled through so yeh.

Is your character considered strong in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK.

Both of them, yeah I’d say so. They left quite the impression in some way through their fights and that’s pretty damn impressive I’d say for their own respective series.

Are they underrated? YES! / NO / IDK.

Broly, not AS much since he is popular to some extent but I think his story could’ve been geared a little better and that’s pretty much what most folks tend to think of when they hear of Z!Broly as opposed to his Super counterpart. 

N’doul on the other hand, yeah, he’s pretty underrated. I speak from the OVA rendition of N’doul cause /damn/ that was just an entire beauty to watch and pretty much pick at the more I watched and rewatched.

Were they relevant for the main story? YES / NO / SORT OF

Broly was pretty much a noncanon DBZ movie villain, his fight pretty much had no bearing on the events of the original Z timeline but since multiverse theory is a thing, that kinda fucking blows it out the water. So I’d label him a Sorta since he technically DOES have some weight given his movie and how I write him in the au’s currently running and whatnot. 

N’doul did his role of being ‘foreshadowing’ and yeah, that’s pretty much it. Althought, again in the OVA, I’d say he had a bit more weight to him as well for his speech and death.

Were they relevant for the main character? YES and NO / IDK

Broly, not so much. He was just the Main Baddie at the time and he was defeated pretty much from goddamn plot armor. 

N’doul, I’d say definitely had more weight especially in the OVA but he does get brushed aside soon after, unfortunately.

Are they widely known in their world? YES / NO. / SORT OF

I’d say no. Mainly the people who actually goddamn fought them would know of them as far as I’m aware, perhaps they’d tell others about those fights but generally I see both Broly and N’doul as being pretty much unheard of unless they chose to make themselves widely known.

How’s their reputation? GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL

LMFAOOoo Bad. Both of them are ornery bastards but at least N’doul gives some warning first that he’s getting pissed off vs. Broly will just fucking punch you into a mountain and call it a day. They both like to generally be assholes and pick on people for shits and giggles, really the only people who can stand them are the ones who actually manage to make through their stubborn hides and become treasured company to those assholes. Doesn’t stop them from being assholes though.

How strictly do you follow canon?  YES / NO / SORT OF

Given I only have like Broly’s DBZ movies and N’doul’s OVA adaptation, I have a general foundation but that’s it. We never hear much from them or their lives before they were introduced to the roles of the villains. I follow canon up to a point and from there I branch off to AU’s or whatnot, put my own twists on the lore and generally have a pretty fair sandbox to play with. 

I’d say I keep to canon as I can but I am pretty much going my own way as needed/desired.

SELL YOUR MUSE!

This is your toxic reminder  that a Hero would sacrifice you to save the world, but a Villain would sacrifice the world to save you.  ✨✨✨

Awful as they are, once they are set on their loyalty towards someone, they’ll pretty much destroy whatever is in their path to take back the ones they hold dear. It is not for the faint of heart due to their natures but it is perhaps worthwhile for those brave enough to face the depths of darkness and pursue not in foolishness but sincerity of compassion for the tragic and suffering.

Now the OPPOSITE list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).

‘ Broly is just a mound of muscle / his story is stupid and motivations to hate Kakarot are childish at best. ’

‘ N’doul had little impact and generally served as a basic foreshadowing character and thats it. ’

Pretty much just some iteration of those points or whatever the fuck people like to bitch about in the tags.

What inspired you to rp your muse? 

Broly struck me as pretty much this cool character back when I was younger. Can’t lie that I absolutely loved his outfit and just seemingly mysterious demeanor all the way up to him beating the absolute fuck out of everyone for 40 minutes straight. Jumping to the present, I just kinda took a likening to him as ‘ hey.. I want to try writing him cause I think he’s cool. ’ and yep thats how that went.

N’doul was the main force behind this blog initially, in fact I nearly made him the sole muse for this blog before I decided I wanted to lump in whatever past muses I felt sentimental enough to hold onto despite a rather bad part in my life with an ex. N’doul had an impact on me for his dying speech and how he fought during his episodes in the OVA. Loved his mannerisms and overall personality for the scarce amount of time we see and well I wanted to try my hand at him.

Looking at them both, they pretty much have a ‘tragic life pushed them to evil and they accepted their Demons’. lmfao. At least that’s how /I/ view them. They’re not exactly remorseful over their choices and that adds another layer to play with, they exist as they want to and achieving some form of either freedom or validation of worth is a theme I see in both.

What keeps your inspiration going?

Music tends to help me out immensely. When I have some songs playing on youtube, it helps to get my mind into that framework to think and dwell upon their lives or ideas for things. Talking with friends over them too and roleplaying whether on discord or tumblr for oneshots/crack/general stuff helps just to get things moving and see what I like or don’t like in writing experimental quirks/traits.

Having a solid foundation towards other muses in relations does help to, gives me more room to play around with how this relation is, what does my muse think of theirs, what other factors can play into this. It’s always a challenge for first time interactions but hey, build off it and see how it goes.

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Do you think you give your character justice? YES / NO /SORT OF

LFNSLFJgjg ... i don’t see anyone else writing N’doul and Broly at this moment. :HNNG: Not saying I’m the ‘ End all, Be All ‘ of them but lmfaoo look man.. I like to think I do my best in giving them justice. I think about their roles in the story, what their values may be, its just.. fun for me to think and write this out with people who want to write with me. I know I won’t be everyone’s cup of tea but fuck ‘em. I do this for myself, what I see as justice is my own sense and that’s good enough for me.

Do you frequently write headcanons? YES / NO / SORT OF

Have you looked at my Drabbles? When inspiration hits me, I will not shut up and I will write down my ideas. I can always change my headcannons and what not, like hell, that’s the best thing. Might suck that something doesn’t fit as you intended but doesn’t mean it can’t be applied elsewhere, y’know?

Do you sometimes write drabbles? YES / NO.

...Have you looked at my Drabbles? :HNNG: I just enjoy writing out scenes I think of, get into my muses head and try to understand why/how they might react this way or that. What sort of trials they face when no one is there to see it and how utterly monstrous they are. It’s just a nice catharsis to go at it without needing to temper my muses to avoid killing another muse w/o plotting it out or w/e.

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day?  YES / NO / SORT OF

I do. again, just small things of either ‘ heh that’d be funny for x with muse y ‘ or how they might fare in a certain situation. What their thoughts are for this or that. possible headcannons and drabble pieces to do later. Nice thought exercises.

Are you confident in your portrayal?  YES / NO /SORT OF

Confidence grows as I learn and understand my muse whether they’re canons or OC’s. I will always worry at first when trying them out but after a while, I’ll pretty much say I’m good to go and do what I feel is the correct way in replying with my muses. Again, depends on the situation, some are easier than others and sometimes the goddamn writersblock just decides to cuck one over and you just gotta deal with it till it fucks off :HNNG:

Are you confident in your writing? YES / NO / SORT OF

I didn’t fucking take 4 years of AP english in high school or read a few dozen books in the library during lunch for it all to disappear. Being able to spin words like thread, put emphasis on scenes to the best of my ability, I want to do the best job I can in those moments even when I look back after a few months and go ‘ ew. why did I write that. ‘ ahlashdljg

There’s never a point where you achieve ‘perfection’ and that’s both a blessing and a curse. As a choice, I’d rather be confident as I can, just makes it fun and I get to write out entire damn paragraphs.

Are you a sensitive person? YES / NO 

Nahh.. I don’t think I am. I prefer the ways of chilling out and keeping a low profile as much as I can. Now when I get pissed off.. yeah you’d best let me be till I calm down on my own time.

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?  YES / NO 

Mm. Not really. People will always tell you what THEY think your character SHOULD BE and I gotta give a hard pass on that since it was such an issue for me during my earlier RP years. I’d sooner take the criticism of a friend than some rando or even a mutual I don’t know all that well. My portrayal is strictly my own ideas and renditions, don’t like em? Don’t look then. Find someone else who can better fit the cut of your cloth bc I ain’t it.

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?

Absolutely~!  I’m always up to try and push things with my muses on their thinking, values, relations. positive or negative, it just.. adds things to write about and provides certain conflicts that can be used. Or hell, even just to do some silliness and what-if’s of goddamn crack.

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?

Nah. I don’t care for it. They have their ideas for this and I have my own, it’s perfectly fine to just disagree and let it be. What I don’t like is getting into a useless argument of ‘who’s right’ and ‘did the writers put that much thought to it?’. Like hell, it’s annoying and honestly I’d rather keep to my own fence.

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?

That’s their problem. They don’t like what I write, they can fuck off and find someone else who fits their cut of cloth. I write what /I/ want to write and I certainly am not being paid to write /for/ them. 

They can make their own blog and write their own things as they want it.

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?

LMFAo. kool story BRO. ^3^ <3

Honestly that’s their fucking problem man. I don’t give a shit what they think of my character. Don’t like, Don’t look. Fuck off and don’t come back.

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?

Don’t be an asshole about it, that’s all I ask. Even with 4 years of goddamn english, I can still fuck up or forget certain rules :HNNG: and I noticed I have a habit to use the same exact word in the same sentence when I reread over my shit ahahfljg its not that much of an issue but I do try to catch my own mistakes as much as I can.

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?

Yeah, I just want to chill and write. Not anything like ‘ oh if you dont write xyz in THIS format, i cannot write with u ‘ or ‘ i only write with people who have 48394 developed hc’s and TAKE EVERYTHING LITERALLY SERIOUSLY111 ‘ 

like man. its just fictional shit. pick a corner and write. Don’t make this a competition or like make yourself on a pedestal just cause you think you take ‘ uber realistic ‘ writing on characters.

Just have fun with it and yeah, thats it.

[midnightcinderella]

Heyo! A little continuation of this post bc I love being hurt. Here we get to see Lucifer gain his freedom! Yay! And MC will now be called Yuki

Notes: angst

Word count: 1779

.

.

Yuki waved the servant away after he’d replaced the tongs by the sugar cubes. She did not look back as he bowed and left her, keeping her eyes on her teacup as she stirred slowly. 

Today was the day Diavolo would make good on his word, and she’d insisted that she be able to watch. All he’d done in response to her obvious mistrust was laugh and nod. She did not stay to hear any conditions; his nonchalance infuriated her every time it reared its ugly head and she didn’t want to test his patience with any snappy words.

Below her balcony, crisp footsteps clicked and voices discussed matters in which she had no interest, despite having to study them in preparation to perform her duties. She looked down at the intricate tiling of the throne room below and watched as Barbatos escorted yet another subject out the way they came. Her gaze traveled toward the throne and she made eye contact with her betrothed, who sent her what was meant to be a reassuring smile, she was sure. 

.

She turned her gaze back to her tea, now lukewarm. Polishing off her cup, she prepared another without bothering to call for a servant. She needed to keep her hands busy while she waited anxiously. Stirring the sugar in, she heard Diavolo loudly greet Lucifer.

Stilling her hands, she looked down at the demon she’d been thinking of since she came to live at the castle, and hadn’t seen for just as long. Below, Lucifer dropped to one knee and bowed as was customary. From this distance, it was hard to make out the finer details of his face, but it was undoubtedly him. Her heartache immediately intensified at the sight of him.

“It’s not like you to refuse my visits, Diavolo,” she heard Lucifer say. “What brings your summons today?” Yuki stopped stirring her tea, placing the spoon directly on the tablecloth so as to not clink it against the saucer. 

“I’ve summoned you here today to dismiss you from your oath,” Diavolo said.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, milord,” Lucifer said uncertainly. “Has my service been unsatisfactory?” Diavolo rose from his throne and approached his longtime friend.

“Not at all, Lucifer. You have been nothing but exemplary in all our years together, and I’ve come to care for you as one of my closest friends,” Diavolo said without deceit. “And it would seem as if others care for you a great deal as well. I gave my word that in exchange for a favor, I would release you from your oath. You are free to live as you please, whether you continue to stay by my side or decide to pursue another path.”

With nothing else to distract her hands, Yuki lifted the cup to her lips, disregarding the way the tea scalded the roof of her mouth.

“Milord,” Lucifer began. “I could not be more grateful for the sentiment, but I have no interest in leaving your service.” He dropped into another bow and Yuki stilled, letting her mouth sit over the lip of the cup. She didn’t dare move, though the pain in her upper lip screamed at her to pull the cup away.

“Are you certain, Lucifer? Someone went to a lot of trouble to buy you your freedom.” 

“I am certain.” Yuki put the cup down with a soft clink. “I entered your service voluntarily, and every task I have performed for you was of my own will. I will continue to serve you until you have no need for me, milord.”

Yuki pushed away from the table, not wanting to hear any more. The words of the demons below were drowned out by the dragging of her chair against the carpet. She took one last look at the two, now in a brother’s embrace, and turned on her heel.

Diavolo looked up toward the balcony just in time to see the faintest glimpse of her as she left. 

As he released the demon he’d regarded as his own brother from his embrace, he could not help but wonder what she must be thinking. Lucifer stepped back to maintain proper distance between him and his prince before he spoke.

“May I ask who had such power as to receive your word to break my oath, milord?” he asked, straightening his sleeves.

“Yuki,” Diavolo said simply, and Lucifer’s hand froze at his cuff. “I gave her my word that you would be given your freedom in exchange for a bride.”

In her chambers, Yuki sat at a table just inside the doors leading to the balcony, watching the winding path leading out of the palace for a glimpse of Lucifer as he left. She still had not seen him when a knock came at her door.

“Come in,” she said without looking back. The door opened and clicked shut, but no footsteps brought the person closer to her, and they had not announced themselves as a servant. “Come to rub it in my face, Diavolo?”

There was no answer, but she had riled herself up too much to stop. “Well? Go on. Go ahead and laugh about how everyone in the realm is under your command and how I lost at my own game. Tell me my sacrifice meant nothing.” Tears welled up as she watched the still-empty path for any sign of Lucifer. With a sniff, she angrily wiped at her eyes. She’d done far too much crying lately.

“I’m not going to say any of those things,” Lucifer said softly. Yuki froze with a gasp, and kept her eyes on the glass door as his footsteps finally clicked closer. The tears flowed freely and she made no move to wipe them away. Lucifer placed his hands on her shoulders from behind and frowned when she did not react. “Yuki,” he whispered, “please look at me.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” Her voice sounded stuffy, and she sniffed at herself for crying like a child. Seeing as she wouldn’t turn around, Lucifer walked around her chair and crouched before her himself. Even with her eyes red and teardrops running down her face, dripping onto the front of her dress, he’d never seen anyone more beautiful. “Lucifer, you shouldn’t be here.” He didn’t respond except to gently wipe the tears from her face, soaking his gloves.

“Diavolo tells me you are to be married,” he said, not unkindly. Yuki nodded. Lucifer sighed and pulled her into his arms, finally able to relax when she returned the hug.

“Tell me you know how to fix this,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

“Fix what?” She pulled away from him, incredulous.

She studied his face closely, hoping beyond all hope that he was joking. He wasn’t. She climbed off of his lap and backed away from him.

“Are you saying you’re fine with me marrying him?” she asked. “Like we had nothing?” Lucifer rose to his feet, shaking his head.

“Yuki--”

“When you told me you loved me, was it a lie?”

“Of course it wasn’t,” he said. “I loved you then and I still love you now. But you are to marry Diavolo. This will not change.”

“Like hell!” Yuki furiously wiped at her tears once more, determined to not need to do so again. “You can’t possibly think I wanted this--”

“We all have our place and duties, Yuki,” he tried to reason. “And yours is here now.” Her hands clenched into fists at her side.

“Last I checked,” she ground out slowly, “you had been relieved of your duties. And then you took them on again anyway.” Her chest ached at the thought that she hadn’t been able to help him after all, even after her sacrifice. “Your freedom was all I asked for when I gave everything up, and you took it and threw it back!”

“I never asked you to do that,” Lucifer replied, and the words washed over her like ice water. “I took on my oath to save my sister, and I had every intention of seeing it through to the end. I still do.” Yuki let out a shaky breath.

“And your brothers?” she asked. “They’re still here. You don’t care to spend time with them now?”

“I still see them. It is enough.” She laughed in response, but not at him. What a fool she’d been, thinking she could do anything the Avatar of Pride did not want for himself. And now she was left with neither cards nor chips. She could do nothing but fold.

“Thank you for what you’ve done, Yuki,” he said, coming closer. “And I’m sorry that I didn’t take it, but you don’t have the option of backing out just because it didn’t work out the way you’d hoped. You can’t be so selfish.” She knew. She knew and she hated it.

From the night in Diavolo’s office, she’d known she was getting married, but if she could create something good out of her situation, if she could create a light at the end of the tunnel, she thought she could be satisfied. Now she didn’t know how she could live with herself. She’d lost her freedom, and the power she’d gained to grant freedom to others was a farce.

“Leave,” she said, every ounce of tension leaving her body.

“Yuki--”

“As your future princess, I order you to leave my chambers.” Lucifer’s hand froze in the air in front of him. She hadn’t moved from where she stood, but he felt her words as if they’d been a slap to the face. He’d known what it meant when Diavolo told him that he and Yuki were to be married, so why was he only now understanding that it was real? That Yuki was no longer his, and they’d have to separate?

He lowered his hand and lowered into a stiff bow. “As you wish, my lady,” he said evenly. They both pretended Yuki wasn’t crying as he walked away.

At the same time the door clicked shut, Yuki dropped to her knees and buried her face in her hands. Loneliness was becoming all too familiar to her now, and it felt like ice as it wrapped itself around her heart once again.

Diavolo saw his right hand man to the gates of the palace. The walk was silent, and he knew Lucifer was displeased with the news. He clapped a well-meaning hand onto Lucifer’s shoulder.

“You should come visit again soon, Lucifer,” he said. “I’m sure Yuki would appreciate your visits as well.” 

Somehow he doubted that was true. Lucifer dipped himself in a bow before he left. “Thank you for having me, milord.”

[b-else-writes]

yesss to literally everything you said. my biggest gripe with the film (and why I think the novel pairs so well with it but ymmv) is that we don't get enough character development early on. I think it honestly could have used like thirty more minutes (or more) and some major restructuring in that first act to give us more cass and bodhi, and I also think showing us jyn when she was with saw would have been very helpful bc its a little too reliant on exposition with jyn's history as a child soldier, so i can't blame ppl for thinking she only cares until it impacts her (even though that's not right). also don't get me started on the fandom's hatred for katara i don't remember it ever being like this when i was a teenager watching atla in 2006? but lmk if I am wrong. yeah she's a fantastic character and iconic but oh dear she's indigenous and has feelings so she's homophobic 🤬🤬🤬 also big yes at anakin, I don't think fandom woobifies him as much as OTHERS (cough kyle) but like he committed genocide, ofc he was wrong. the jedi didn't have it coming smdh. if jyn were played by a woc i think the response would be a million times worse which is... depressing af.

Yes! It really feels at times there were huge missing chunks of the early act of the film that were then covered up with exposition, which makes the beginning pacing feel terrible until we hit Jedha. Just take out the whole damn Bor Gullet sequence that does nothing but make the audience uncomfortable (we can even take out the whole Krennic going to Vader because yeah, it’s cool, but I’ll take more Cassian and Bodhi over Vader’s dad puns), and give us exactly what you outlined.

I was nine in 2006 lol (I’m 24 this year so clearly I am a fandom old and cannot comment on the very show that was for my demographic unlike the woke fourteen year olds who think hating Katara is uh...praxis??) but I remember when LOK was coming out and bonding with girls in my class over ATLA and Katara was beloved. Everyone agreed she was badass. She was so dear to so me and my friends as a brown girl. I remember people were pissed there was never any Katara collectibles, that she ended up with Aang, everyone fucking loved the Southern Raiders episode, we didn’t have the words/English to talk about her essentially going “apeshit” but we all agreed... Katara had every right to kill that man, etc. The only girl who was Katara-lukewarm was a yaoi fangirl who shipped Jetko (simpler times, really...). I don’t know how we got to this point in fandom...the blatant misogyny and racism disguised as “woke”...

Exactly! For the most part the Anakin woobifying is not on the same level but it just pisses me off occasionally when I see it implied that Anakin would’ve been a better dad for Leia than Bail Organa...excuse me??? (and the fandom and Kyle...don’t get me started...the fabricated tragic backstory that isn’t even in the damn films...). Yeah, sometimes I wish Jyn was a WOC (or even that they’d cast Bodhi for example as a WOC), but I can already imagine the backlash... They would’ve treated her like Steela who had the audacity to uh... like the same cardboard cut-out love interest as Ahsoka...

[casually-inlove]

aah i agree im vry disappointed in this chapter ! like its good like usual, but its kind of a let down after the last 5 chapters... ht rly exposed himself minutes before, and comedy aside, MGS answered him by ignoring him, and then saying "were not friends, were not as close as you think we are". it must have been hurtful for HT, its basically a rejection of recognizing HT vulnerabilities. and its totally In character for MGS to say this, so im not disappointed by it 1/?

i mean HT lay his heart down for Mo to see and theyve known each other for 15 DAYS, its too soon for anybody and especially for Mo who have mistrust problems to respond in the same way ? so running away and deflecting the declaration is cool, i wasnt excepting a "ill never abandon u!!" lol. but then HT being cool with this rejection and having a slapstick comedy just after doesnt feel right. mb show HT swallowing and being disheartened, and then put his usual facade and only then have comedy 2/?

would have been good, bc we would have known "oh ht is actually hurt by MGS reaction but doesnt know how to say it, so he plays it cool and change the subject bc hes still not at ease with being vulnerable". a realistic situation would have been "ht tried to be vulnerable but it was too soon, too much for mo who rejected him, so it confirmed ht biased thinking that showing vulnerabilities is bad and it will prevent ht to be vulnerable in front of someone in the near future". 3/?

i mean it could have been a nice although sad conclusion for this mini-arc, especially since ht have been grieving (?) his mother just this morning. a little step back, and then smth else happen and cause ht to crack completely but then mo is able to respond present and its a step forward. ok im daydreaming but that would have been climatic lol. instead this..ah i dont know i feel cheated, i know its ox' work but still haha ! like when they do an abrupt change of scene after an emotional page 4/

its a trick ox use often and after 300 chapters it feels old n cheap. when u engage in a emotional scene, u cant just do "oops i change my mind!!" and put slapstick comedy or ignore totally what just happened and dont have a progression. u have to stay on this road : u cant put traumatizing backgrounds and mafia affairs and mature problems (kidnapping, mother being threatening into prostitution,etc) n just.. not stick with it and making ur characters not traumatized by it and just 'lol comedy'.

sry im kind of monopolizing ur askbox lol, i guess im kind of frustrated ! it just the last chapters were so good and it was a while since ox use this cheap trick of not going through an emotional scene that i kind of forgot how terrible they were at handling transition between drama and comedy. theyre a good artist all in all (or i wouldnt be this disappointed!!), but they have this failing in their writing an it drives me nuts each time lmao. haa i hope next chapter will be better...5/5

Hell yeah, DEFINITELY, that sums up my thoughts. Also, you don't have to apologize, it was an interesting read and I can tell that you feel strongly about it. While I can’t say that I’m flat-out disappointed, as I wrote in my original post, I’m definitely feeling lukewarm and indifferent about the recent ch.

OX touched upon a few serious matters a couple of chapters before: namely She Li’s fucked up goading and the way it unsettled He Tian -- unsettled in no joking manner as follows from his reaction. Then we get He Tian swearing to beat up anyone who dares bully Mo, and the whole profound monologue from the previous chapter. Just as you say, He Tian truly laid himself bare there. One could argue that He Tian listed the reasons he was enamoured with Mo, or one could argue that he subtly commented on the milieu he grew up in, or one can even read it as He Tian admitting/reflecting on his flaws out loud. There are many ways to construe this scene, each of them is extremely meaningful. Not to mention it took HT visible effort to say these things out loud.

The problem which both you and I noticed is that OX left this mini-arc/mini-subplot unresolved. Instead, they abruptly switched to comedic relief. Much like you, I wasn’t expecting a big reaction from Mo -- no grand verbal declarations at very least. What I expected was a panel (maybe a close up of Mo’s face as I mentioned in my original post) that indicated he actually HEARD what HT told him, that it gave Mo some food for thought. 

As you mention, Mo getting disconcerted and doing the tsun-tsun escape is fairly in character for him. Still, a panel like this would have been very welcome to emphasize his confusion and to justify him not gracing the other boy with an answer, ignoring HT showing his underbelly (which is something that doesn't come easy for him, as we readers know). Okay, sure, OX handled it differently this chapter -- we get Mo silently running away and blurting out the first comeback he could think of. No problem. It works to show that HT’s words had an effect on him, albeit it’s much less pronounced, than, say, the Aquarium scene -- again one would have to wonder why: HT’s “don’t abandon me” is just as strong, if not stronger, than “I’m afraid you’ll forget me”, so it follows that Mo should have been just as affected.

The problem is the way an emotionally charged moment quickly fizzled out into comedy. As you said, Mo blurting out “we are not friends, we are not familiar enough, so I don’t care what you think (of me)!” SHOULD have hit HT harder. Just minutes before we had HT being genuinely disturbed by the idea of someone looking to intentionally hurt Mo, seeking physical comfort, being disquieted by the idea of getting abandoned and losing someone he likes, confessing that he admires the other boy -- yet when Mo utters yet another curt rejection of sorts, we are not shown HT’s reaction, which, logically, should have been there. 

And all of that emotional build-up is cheapened by an accidental dick slap comedy. 

Indeed, showing HT being hurt (disquieted? deflated?) and then putting on a cool guy mask, and ONLY then switching to a slapstick humour would have been more appropriate. It wouldn’t have taken a big or an overly dramatic scene either -- just, IDK, show HT’s eyes widening, or his throat clicking, or his posture slumping, anything to indicate that Mo’s words affected him -- that the whole thing mattered to him. Otherwise, it leaves a bad taste in one’s mouth: “so Imma confess to the person I like and swear to protect them and beg them to put up with me -- oh! forget anything serious that I said, Imma touch some dick now”. While I don't have an issue with comedy coming into focus again, I do wish it hadn't been this abrupt. Had there been a better transition between these scenes, there wouldn't be this "lol jk" vibe that I’m getting.

So yeah, I, too, feel a little cheated. OX certainly has an issue with drama-comedy transitions, which are sort of hit-and-miss for me. Sometimes they work well to alleviate the grave mood, other times they appear to be out of place. The recent chapter is the latter case. Dangling a possibility of climatic resolution for the subplot and then intentionally subverting it just doesn’t work in favour of the plot here. It cheapened the emotional part and made the comedy feel much less fun for me. Of course, no one says that writing is an easy task. Plenty of mangakas, for instance, work with writers to strengthen their script and plots, so it’s challenging when a single person is responsible for both drawing and planning the story. OX is undoubtedly doing a tremendous job. Still, I wish they wouldn’t stick to using the old trick this monastically because it's becoming a trite writing device and works against them on occasion. It’s totally fine to keep the comic light-hearted yet it’s not good to ignore the needed dramatic development.

[nochiis]

Where the Leaves Lie

⇒ Pairing: Jimin x Reader

⇒ Genre: Fluff, Coffee Shop!AU (I kno, soo original), Barista!Jimin

⇒ Summary: With the new season, comes new face and new feelings.

⇒ A/N: another one, yay! Also bc I’m a sucker for orange haired Jimin. Inspired by that one bts run episode :)

Masterlist

Autumn. It’s that time of year again. Where the leaves fall to the ground, crumbling into an ocean of color beneath the cool sky. The wind begins to blow, leaving the air to nip your skin if it ever makes contact with you. It’s the time of year where you can only feel those set of emotions that come with the frigid weather. The emotions that can leave you with a new, fresh view of the world or a dreary gray one.

The sensations that come with autumn are like Starbucks’ Pumpkin Spice Latte—it only comes once a year. Maybe that’s what pulls you to stop by the small cafe on your way home. You didn’t remember seeing it before, but by the strong smell of coffee that makes its way to your nose, you understand why. You aren’t a particularly big fan of coffee, you prefer something a bit more on the sweet side, like hot chocolate or literal sugar. Shrugging it off, you decide to try a drink with newfound confidence.

You walk up to the counter and look up at the menu, searching for a drink to try. “Can I have one caffe mocha, please?”

The cashier nods. “Sure, would you like whipped cream on it?”

“Yes, please.” You walk away from the counter towards an empty booth and sit down, placing your bag full of textbooks next to you. While waiting for your drink, you cast an eye over to the window next to the booth. The dark clouds rumble, wind blowing a tornado of leaves into the air. The darkening of the clouds threaten to break out into a storm as more people begin to make their way indoors in an effort to avoid the rain. Your thoughts are broken when you hear a sweet voice greet your ears.

“Here you go, miss.” Turning around, you see a man with bright orange hair and very defined biceps set your drink down on the table. His name tag reads Jimin. You smile up at him.

“Thank you.” Focusing back on your drink, you pick it up and take a sip from the lukewarm coffee. Your face contorts into a look of disgust as the drink settles in your mouth. Your tongue retracts from the bitter liquid as you try to get rid of the taste in your mouth. At the look on your face, you hear a laugh come from next to you. You look up in surprise to find the same waiter that had given you the drink, still standing in the same spot, laughing at you.

“You’re still here?” You ask, blush creeping up your neck, surprised that he would stand at your table for so long, much less start laughing at you.

Nodding his head, he responds, “I like to stick around and see my customer’s reactions to the drinks I make. It helps me see what people like and don’t like. I’m assuming that this drink didn’t particularly suit your taste?”

Chuckling nervously, you reply, “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to react that way. The drink is great. Just, as you said, it’s not for me.” He nods in understanding while sliding into the seat across from you.

“Not a fan of coffee?”

“No, not really…” You reply, your voice trailing off. He frowns at your response.

“Then why did you get it?”

“I, uh, wanted to try something new…” You say awkwardly, suddenly feeling rather shy. He smiles at this.

“Ah, it didn’t go very well, did it?” When you nod in agreement, he continues, “Then can I interest you in something more to your liking?” You look up from your drink towards the orange-haired man in front of you.

“Um, sure. But what is—?” Before you can finish your statement, he’s already up and out of his seat, walking towards the kitchen. Closing your mouth, you wait patiently for the man to come back. You return to staring outside, getting lost in thought once again.

The small clank of a clay mug on wood pulls you from your thoughts and you turn your gaze to see the waiter—Jimin—pushing another cup in your direction.

“Here you go!” He says with a bright smile. Removing your hand from beneath your chin, you pick up the hot drink. A mix of milk, sugar, and a whiff a cinnamon hits your senses in a soothing manner. You inhale the relaxing aroma and then take a small sip. The drink loosens any tension left in your body, tongue welcoming the liquid. You barely catch on to Jimin’s voice as you take in the drink, eyes closed.

“Do you like it?” Even though he asks, you’re pretty sure that he already knows the answer.

“Yeah,” Your voice comes out airy and breathless, as if you had awoken from a daydream of some sort, and you internally cringe at it. He chuckles at your response, placing his hands in front of him, a pleased look in his eyes. You take another, longer sip, and then decide to speak. “How did you know I liked tea?” you ask, blissfully.

He shrugs. “Just a hunch, I feel that people who don’t enjoy coffee might find tea more appealing. Also, you made the same face one of my friends made when he first tried tea too.” He smiles again and this time, you feel your heart pound in a way it didn’t before.

Chuckling, you counter, “And what if they don’t?” You take another sip before elaborating. “You know, don’t enjoy coffee or tea?”

Another smile makes its way onto his face. “Then they are still a child at heart.”

You grin at this but, before you can say anymore, the front door chimes, indicating another customer entering the quaint little cafe. Both your heads turn to look at the entrance of the store. Turning around, Jimin grins again, “I’ll be right back.” You smile in return, feeling the beating in your heart quicken again.

You watch as the beautiful barista takes the order of the man that just walked in. Jimin goes to the back, disappearing into the kitchen, and comes back out after a little while, piping hot drink in hand. He hands the cup over to the man with a dazzling smile.

“Enjoy your drink, sir,” is the last thing he says before ridding himself of the apron he had on and heading in the direction of your booth. Trying not seem like you were just staring at his every move, you put your attention on your drink, taking another sip of the now-lukewarm beverage.

“Enjoying your drink?” Jimin asks in his soft, soothing voice. Looking up at him, you nod, lips still connected to the rim of the mug.

The two of you continue to converse with each other for a bit, forgetting the time as you both get lost in each other’s words and smiles. It is only when you find yourself—or rather, your mouth—face-to-face with an empty mug, that you remember. The essence of the warmth that was once there lingers on the mug. Jimin laughs at your bewildered expression.

“Would you like some more?” Looking back up you shake your head furiously.

“No! No, I’m fine. The drink was really good and I really think I should be going now.” You glance at the window next to you to see the darkening sky. Your hands look through your bag and take out your wallet. “Um, here, let me pay for this.” You try to take out a few bills, but the warmth of another hand stops you. Jimin’s hands push the wallet away from him and he gives you a small smile.

“No, it’s okay, that one is on the house.”

“Are you sure? I can still pay—” You’re cut off by the sound of his familiar chortles.

“Really, it’s fine. In fact, if you want to repay me so bad, I have another, better suggestion for you,” You sit attentively, waiting for him to continue. “You can repay me by going on a date with me instead.” He says with a small smirk. A rush of emotions flow through your veins as his words register in your mind.

Flustered, you try to form a coherent response. “I, um, I-well, I mean, okay, yeah, sure, totally.” You internally slap yourself at the words that just came tumbling out of your mouth. Another smile greets his lips and you feel as though you could look at it all day. Jimin then takes out a pad and pen from his back pocket and begins to write something down onto it. He slides it over to you and you spot a few numbers written on it along with the barista’s name. And you can’t help but let your eyes linger on the little heart written by his name.

You finally return your gaze to find Jimin’s intently staring right back at you with something akin to... love?

“Um, thanks. I’ll call you.” You say. He seems to have broken out of a daze and his smile widens a little. Grabbing your bag, you stand up. The orange-haired man does the same.

“Let me show you out.” The benign barista leads you to the door, but before he lets you exit the small shop, one of his hands finds itself beneath your chin as he presses his lips to your cheek. Blushing, you feel his lips make a path across your cheek and then his eyes meet yours. His eyes then break the contact and go to explore your face, stare remaining on your lips before looking back up to meet your eyes again. He smiles and lets your chin go.

The whisper of his touch lingers on your skin as you bid him goodbye. You turn around to leave before remembering something. “Oh, and, um, thank you.”

Jimin’s form rests against the doorway, and once again, he smiles. “You’re welcome.”

You turn around and leave the cafe, knowing that this won’t be the last time you come here.

[markwhyareyousodaddy]

Roommates (Part 1?)

Summary: When you’re forced to rent out your extra room, Im Jaebum was the last person you expected to have to share your living space with… luckily, he keeps things interesting.

Genre: romance, hot roommate (I think i just made up this genre???), prbly smut later tbh (sorry)

Word Count: ~1000

A/N: Hey guys/gals/all!!! Okay so this is my first ever like real original content so it may be a lil rough but let me know what you think and all that fun stuff!!! I’m thinking about continuing it and adding some… ya know… but it will all depend, so for rn it’s all pretty chill.  Also special thanks to @jaybleep​ bc Julia helped motivate me enough to do this and I 10/10 recommend following her if you don’t already!! 

UPDATE: Part 2 is now posted! 

UPDATE (AGAIN): So is Part 3! (and now Part 4!) 

“No, really, it’s fine Jen. I completely understand. I could never ask you to turn down a job offer like this,” y/n said, sighing into the phone.

“I’m so sorry,” Jen began, “I feel awful backing out on you like this, especially knowing how steep the rent is going to be without me”. She allowed her fingers to absentmindedly trace the rim of the coffee mug sitting in front of her while apologies continued flooding through the phone. After being inseparable since 6th grade, the two were both excited to finally share a small house together. It took months of searching, but eventually they stumbled upon the perfect place… well, what was the perfect place.

“It’s only for a little while, I promise. My boss says the move will be a year, max. Then I’ll come back and we can live the way we’ve been planning to!” Jen chirped, her speech optimistic and excessively bright. Y/n knew her friend’s overly happy tone was just a strategy she was implementing as an attempt to cheer both of them up, but it did bring her some comfort regardless. 

“You’re right, you’re right. I think I can manage for that long,” she teased, trying to hide the still-lingering disappointment from her voice. Jen had been working in the same accounting firm for a few years now, and had been offered a higher-paying position if she was willing to temporarily relocate to Cincinnati. The idea of being without her for such an extended period of time was difficult to think about, but y/n knew this was an opportunity of a lifetime for her best friend. 

“Thank you so much for understanding, y/n. You’re the best. I have to go, but text me if you need anything.” The friends exchanged quick goodbyes before hanging up on one another. She cleared her mug and now-empty plate from the table, dumping the remainder of the lukewarm coffee and rinsing her dishes off before placing them in the sink. Silence filled the air around her, and morning sunlight streamed in through the windows. Although the house was already beginning to feel a little more like home, y/n was quickly beginning to realize it wouldn’t be the same without her best friend there to share it. Deciding not to dwell too long on the phone call, she surveyed the floor littered with boxes before walking over and plopping down in the center of the chaos.

*** 

Four hours and twenty boxes later, a majority of the unpacking was done. Filled with a sense of accomplishment, y/n stood up and strolled to the freezer for a well-deserved serving of ice cream.  As she passed her phone sitting on the kitchen counter, she noticed a series of texts left over two hours ago from Jen.

I don’t know how, but I totally forgot to mention that I found someone to take my room in the house!! I’ve got so many things going on rn, it must have just slipped my mind. 

His name is Jaebum. I don’t know him, but he’s my older brother’s friend from college and needs a place to stay for a while I guess.  

Apparently he’s pretty cool and won’t cause too much trouble for you. He’s looking to move in tomorrow actually (sorry I literally suck, I have no idea how I forgot about this???), so just lmk if it’s alright with you and I’ll give him the okay

Y/n’s thoughts were soon clouded with worry. Before she’d even been given the chance to fully process the idea that Jen would no longer be her roommate, she was already getting a new one… and one of the opposite sex, for that matter. The idea of a guy living in such close proximity made her uneasy. After all, she had been expecting to lounge around in her extra large pajama shirt all day on Sundays, and be able to walk freely down the hallway without pants on. Surely she couldn’t do those things with a stranger present. Even worse, the possibility of him being a horrible human being loomed in her mind. Granted, Jen’s brother usually had nice enough friends, but there was no saying what this one would be like. Before y/n got too lost in her own thoughts, she punched out a simple “sure” to Jen, deciding it would be best to let him move in tomorrow instead of waiting anxiously for a few more days. Fear overwhelmed her, and she nearly threw her phone across the room after hitting send, not wanting to look at Jen’s response and face the reality of it all. 

***

After a long night, y/n was jolted awake at 7:30 by the chiming of the doorbell. Dragging her feet, she shuffled down the hall, wondering who in their right mind would want to move in this early in the day. When her hand finally brushed against the brass knob of the door, she flung it open.

“You know,” she began while yawning and clearing the sleep from her eyes, “you didn’t have to…” her voice caught mid-sentence as she suddenly forgot how to breathe. Standing in front of her was a man slightly taller than average height, combing his dark hair back with his fingers, which were adorned with a few silver rings. Although he was dressed in a simple blue t-shirt and dark jeans with a black backpack casually slung over his shoulder, he still looked like something out of a magazine. He waited to see if she would finish her statement before awkwardly clearing his throat and offering his hand.

“So… I’m Jaebum. You must be…”

He was stunning, almost too much to take in at once. His even skin was a light toffee color with a slight pink tinting the full lips that graced his face. She noticed several hoops peppering his ears while his narrow, deep brown eyes gazed intensely at her, waiting for the response she should have given thirty seconds ago instead of observing him like he was a piece of classical artwork.  

“Y/n,” she replied, practically choking on her words.

“Y/n…” he repeated tentatively, lowering his outstretched hand and giving her a concerned look. “Well, uh, nice to meet you I suppose. Is it alright if I start to move my things in, or are we going to stand in the doorway all day?” he chuckled. After a few more silent moments, she wordlessly stepped back and raised her arm, motioning him inside. 

[overthinkingkdrama]

re: dong cheol in Save Me... there are some conversations between the cult leader and apostle jo that make me think they were part of the criminal underworld before... maybe DC's part is to learn about/expose the cult leader's gang past (since he's "part" of a gang now). idk anyway i too wish dong cheol was the MC, but my reason is bc taecyeon's acting for sang hwan feels flat.

[Sorry for the slow response. Please not that I have not episode 7 at this point, although, I have seen some select screencaps and gif sets.]

I do think that involvement in organized crime is unifying element that is going to tie all the separate threads of the drama together (The cult leadership and their shady money dealings, Mr. Jo’s overt kkangpae vibes, Sang Hwan’s corrupt governor father, Dong Chul’s prison barber friend and the night club owner.) My preferred ending would have Dong Chul becoming instrumental in rescuing Sang Mi from the cult, by discovering and exploiting the cult leaderships connection with some kind of criminal enterprise. He's been largely sidelined by the plot (although his brief scenes still manage to be some of my favorites) but I'm sincerely hoping that's about to come to an end with him reuniting with the rest of the main cast this week.

This is an OCN drama and definitely more focused on the thriller aspects, so my fears about the usual Kdrama love polygon might be unfounded. That being said they did seem to set up the traditional love triangle with some of the high school scenes, as well as treating Sang Hwan as the "male lead". I'm really doubtful that they are going to be able to get me onboard with a Sang Hwan X Sang Mi loveline. If that's our only option I hope they forego a loveline altogether.

Regarding the actors: I haven’t seen Taecyeon in a whole lot, tbh. I only watched the first 2 episodes of Bring It On Ghost before putting it on-hold, never to be picked up again. I didn’t mind what I saw of him in that, but then again I didn’t see much.

I’m going to let my shallowness come out here a little bit: I really don’t find him very attractive, and that is probably making a notable difference in how much I give a shit about his character. And performance drives attractiveness for me. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gone into a drama lukewarm about an actor’s looks and they’ve won me over with charisma and acting talent (see Kim Sun Ho in Strongest Deliveryman) magically becoming much more attractive in my eyes. Taecyeon just doesn’t do anything for me. So basically he’s the polar opposite of Woo Do Hwan in that regard, who’s got great screen presence and intensity, and of course he’s gorgeous.

I will endeavor to hang in there and not stress myself out too much about where all of this is going. Really hoping for a satisfying conclusion.

Jona

[larksinging]

i think one of the reasons its taken me so long to realize my parents might not have been the greatest is because its really hard for me to like... think about examples of what theyve done? and ive been realizing thats probably because their treatment is less indicative of abuse and more of like emotional neglect so its like... an absence of things that are supposed to be there, which can be hard to recognize and explain? 

i mean i know i should talk to a therapist about this stuff but thats also extremely hard when one of the ways ive been impacted by my parents is... a difficulty opening up? like i learned by example to bite my tongue when i’m upset and instead vent my feelings elsewhere (to another family member, or.... say, on a blog). theres only ever been a vague air of affection or gestures and i can’t really explain it but its hard for me to openly express affection bc of my parents, probably. we were kinda taught to be introspective and think about why we act ways (good!) but never really learned what to do with that. so. 

i used to think my tendency to isolated my interested when my friends or family don’t immediately express interest was my own personal tendecies but i don’t... think so? lately ive occasionally tried to talk about my interests and usually get lukewarm responses. is that where my isolating tendencies come from? and the fact my family (esp my sister) will get on me when i act “”weird”” somehow (if i phrase things weirdly, or go about things weirdly, usually because of my... anxiety i think) 

idk i think when im in bad places i tend to also mimic my family more. ive been in a few bad friend circles that werent good for me where i tended to be more judgemental and snide and i remember recognizing that behavoir re: my high school friends as definitely being me lashing out in the same way as my family treated me. which is fucked up. 

i know something in my home life fostered a difficulty for me to ask for help too for fear of feeling like a bother. i dont know what. 

is my sister this fucked up?? did her temperament just lead her to not be as strongly effected by this? i mean when i think of the worst parts my sister is definitely contributing to them so that’s, hm. 

but its always hard when you know your family is trying and they don’t realize this stuff and they think it’s all for the best and you end up just.... doubting that you were ever justified in thinking this stuff.

anyway it was one of those nights so i wanted to type something up to organize some thoughts and idk if it worked