#and also... totally within my... usual tropes

[teecupangel]

I had to replay this section because I didn't get to screenshoot it but...

If you're wondering how Desmond's journey to Faerun is going...

Withers just called him out for not sleeping with anyone when all Desmond wanted to do was have a long rest so someone could replenish their spell slots coughGalecough.

And then this happened!

Sir.

Excuse me.

Sir.

Desmond is trying to remain celibate in this run.

Sir.

Please.

Oh god.

Desmond's not going to stay celibate, is he?

Shoutout to @fanworldbuildingfun for telling me to keep resetting until I get a success on insights for this one.

... yeeaaahhh... Desmond might just end up romancing the dream visitor...

(I'm sorry for the screenshot icon on the topright and Desmond's HP on the bottom left. In my defense, we're pretty much going for a semi no-healing run it seems because i have like 40+ potions and 1 Shadowheart yet their HPs only usually get healed by short rests XD)

[tearlessrain]

please help me- i used to be pretty smart but i’m having so much trouble grasping the concept of diegetic vs non-diegetic bdsm!

gfkjldghfd okay first of all I'm sorry for the confusion, if you're not finding anything on the phrase it's because I made it up and absolutely nobody but me ever uses it, but I haven't found a better way to express what I'm trying to say so I keep using it. but now you've given me an excuse to ramble on about some shit that is only relevant to me and my deeply inefficient way of talking and by god I'm going to take it.

SO. the way diegetic and non-diegetic are normally used is to talk about music and sound design in movies/tv shows. in case you aren't familiar with that concept, here's a rundown:

diegetic sound is sound that happens within the world of the movie/show and can be acknowledged by the characters, like a song playing on the stereo during a driving scene, or sung on stage in Phantom of the Opera. it's also most other sounds that happen in a movie, like the sounds of traffic in a city scene, or a thunderclap, or a marching band passing by. or one of the three stock horse sounds they use in every movie with a horse in it even though horses don't really vocalize much in real life, but that's beside the point, the horse is supposed to be actually making that noise within the movie's world and the characters can hear it whinnying.

non-diegetic sound is any sound that doesn't exist in the world of the movie/show and can't be perceived by the characters. this includes things like laugh tracks and most soundtrack music. when Duel of Fates plays in Star Wars during the lightsaber fight for dramatic effect, that's non-diegetic. it exists to the audience, but the characters don't know their fight is being backed by sick ass music and, sadly, can't hear it.

the lines can get blurry between the two, you've probably seen the film trope where the clearly non-diegetic music in the title sequence fades out to the same music, now diegetic and playing from the character's car stereo. and then there are things like Phantom of the Opera as mentioned above, where the soundtrack is also part of the plot, but Phantom of the Opera does also have segments of non-diegetic music: the Phantom probably does not have an entire orchestra and some guy with an electric guitar hiding down in his sewer just waiting for someone to break into song, but both of those show up in the songs they sing down there.

now, on to how I apply this to bdsm in fiction.

if I'm referring to diegetic bdsm what I mean is that the bdsm is acknowledged for what it is in-world. the characters themselves are roleplaying whatever scenarios their scenes involve and are operating with knowledge of real life rules/safety practices. if there's cnc depicted, it will be apparent at some point, usually right away, that both characters actually are fully consenting and it's all just a planned scene, and you'll often see on-screen negotiation and aftercare, and elements of the story may involve the kink community wherever the characters are. Love and Leashes is a great example of this, 50 Shades and Bonding are terrible examples of this, but they all feature characters that know they're doing bdsm and are intentional about it.

if I'm talking about non-diegetic bdsm, I'm referring to a story that portrays certain kinks without the direct acknowledgement that the characters are doing bdsm. this would be something like Captive Prince, or Phantom of the Opera again, or the vast majority of bodice ripper type stories where an innocent woman is kidnapped by a pirate king or something and totally doesn't want to be ravished but then it turns out he's so cool and sexy and good at ravishing that she decides she's into it and becomes his pirate consort or whatever it is that happens at the end of those books. the characters don't know they're playing out a cnc or D/s fantasy, and in-universe it's often straight up noncon or dubcon rather than cnc at all. the thing about entirely non-diegetic bdsm is that it's almost always Problematic™ in some way if you're not willing to meet the story where it's at, but as long as you're not judging it by the standards of diegetic bdsm, it's just providing the reader the same thing that a partner in a scene would: the illusion of whatever risk or taboo floats your boat, sometimes to extremes that can't be replicated in real life due to safety, practicality, physics, the law, vampires not being real, etc. it's consensual by default because it's already pretend; the characters are vehicles for the story and not actually people who can be hurt, and the reader chose to pick up the book and is aware that nothing in it is real, so it's all good.

this difference is where people tend to get hung up in the discourse, from what I've observed. which is why I started using this phrasing, because I think it's very crucial to be able to differentiate which one you're talking about if you try to have a conversation with someone about the portrayal of bdsm in media. it would also, frankly, be useful for tagging, because sometimes when you're in the mood for non-diegetic bodice ripper shit you'd call the police over in real life, it can get really annoying to read paragraphs of negotiation and check-ins that break the illusion of the scene and so on, and the opposite can be jarring too.

it's very possible to blur these together the same way Phantom of the Opera blurs its diegetic and non-diegetic music as well. this leaves you even more open to being misunderstood by people reading in bad faith, but it can also be really fun to play with. @not-poignant writes fantastic fanfic, novels, and original serials on ao3 that pull this off really well, if you're okay with some dark shit in your fiction I would highly recommend their work. some of it does get really fucking dark in places though, just like. be advised. read the tags and all that.

but yeah, spontaneous writer plug aside, that's what I mean.

[spennsrs]

drunk confessing to spencer? "shh, don't tell anyone but 've got a crush on him" my fave troupe everrr 😭😭 love your writing sm ❤️

(\ (\ („• ֊ •„) ━O━O━━━━━━━━━ ・:。DRUNK TEXT. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ︳spencer agnew x reader drabble ︳pure fluff ︳i love this trope sm :( decided to do a lil spin on it!! n also if this is short... im so sorry

spencer had a bad feeling bubbling in the pit of his stomach. something felt... off. while he sat on his couch, scrolling through netflix aimlessly, his eyes kept glancing to the dark screen of his phone.

from the screen... to the phone... back to the screen... then to the phone again...

his hand reaches to the mobile device, eyes focusing as the screen lights up to check the time. a soft sigh leaves him as he takes note of the time.

2:35 AM

they should've texted by now. they should be home from that stupid party... right? unlocking his phone, spencer opens his messages to reread over the conversation with you. they would text him when they got home... right? spencer's mind races with anxious and concerned thoughts as he sets his phone down, exhaling shakily.

... ding!

from :: [y/n] 🤓💞hey heeeeeey pssst keep a secret for me courtney pretty pleeeease

spencer feels a brow raise as he reads the texts, holding back a soft laugh. he simply stares at the screen for a moment before going to respond, only for more texts to flood in.

from :: [y/n] 🤓💞 im hella drynk drunk and i thynk its supwr obvious but like dont twele anyone spnecr is saur cute and i have .. the biggest crush on him no not crush that makes me sound like a lovesick schoolgirl but you get what i mean hopwfully

silence filled the living room as spencer stares at his phone screen, a little dumbfounded and a little overwhelmed. was this... real? was this actually happening? this couldn't be real. his best friend and object of his ever growing affections was drunk texting him, thinking he was someone else and confessing. well... maybe confessing wasn't the right word. they were more just rambling their feelings.

was there a right way to go about this? would [y/n] even remember this in the morning? should he even say anything? in a panic, spencer just... stares at his phone screen. his free hand comes up to his mouth, nervously chewing on his fingernails as he's seemingly too nervous to respond.

spence, you could always call-

his thoughts are interrupted yet again as his phone starts to ring. spencer's heart stops, and he swears time slows in that moment as the screen lights up with [y/n]'s caller id. shakily, he picks the phone up and answers the call.

"hello...?" "spence! oh em geee, heeeeeey! i'm hooome, i totally forgot to tell you so hi cutie, i'm home."

the soft giggles and steady breaths only fuel spencer's rapidly beating heart, and a soft smile tugs at his lips. "hey, [y/n]. i was starting to think you were hurt or something... but i'm glad you're home safe and sound." there's a pause of silence, before he swallows thickly and opens his mouth to speak again. "you okay..?"

"keep a secret! courtney didn't text me back so i'm sharing this super top secret secret with you! i have these ultra big feelings for spencer... isn't that crazy?" he so desperately wished he was there to take care of them. he knew they were a talkative drunk, he knew they never drank enough water and he just hoped their roommate would urge them to do so... he knew everything about them, everything came so naturally with them. so why was he surprised? everyone already thought they were dating, three long years of friendship, they were constantly asked if they were dating. within the three years of friendship, spencer had developed those deeper feelings pretty quickly.

but for some reason, when he was hit with the sudden truth that they returned his feelings... why was he so flabbergasted? the intense feeling bubbling in his chest, the quickened breaths, how his hands felt clammier than usual. "spenceeeeee? you theeeere?" "oh, fuck, uh .... sorry, [y/n]. yeah, uh, yeah your secret is safe with me."

there's a selfish part of spencer that decides to keep this to himself, to cherish in this moment. the whole awkward conversation that was bound to happen was an issue for future spencer.

but for now, [y/n]'s giggling voice telling him they felt the same was all he cared about.

[brotrustmeicanwrite]

I fucking hate AI but heavens would it be useful if it wasn't such an unethical shit show

First, just to be clear, I'm talking about actually using AI as a tool to support your writing process, not to generate soulless texts made from stolen data instead of writing yourself.

Back when ChatGPT first became available it was still pretty useless so I had a lot of time to learn about how it's made, how it works and the ethics of it before ever touching the technology. I decided pretty quickly to never use it to generate text (or images) for actual writing and art but I still wanted to experiment with what else it could do (because I'm a nosy bitch that needs to know and poke everything).

And HEAVENS was it a blessing for writing with adhd

The last time I wrote more than 200 words in a day (outside of school work obviously) was 7th grade. I wrote over 8k just in notes the day Google's "Gemini" (formerly "Bard") became available to the public.

In order to not jeopardize my existing work I decided to make a completely new story with Bard's help that wasn't linked in any way to anything I had made before. So I started with a prompt along the lines of "I need help writing a story". At first, it immediately started generating a completely random story about a green tiger but after some trial and error, I got it to instead start asking questions.

What do you want the theme of your story to be?

What genre do you want to write in?

What time period do you want your story to take place in?

Is there magic?

Are there other sentient creatures besides humans?

And so on and so forth. Until the questions became extremely specific after covering all the bases. I could tell that all I was doing was essentially talking to an amalgamation of every "how to write" blog and website you've ever seen and telling it which part I wanted to work on next but it still felt great because the AI didn't actually contribute anything besides a few suggestions of common tropes and themes here and some synonyms and related words there; I was doing all the work.

And that's the point.

Nothing in that exchange was something I couldn't easily do on my own. But what happened was that I had turned what is usually a chaotic mess of a railway network of thoughts into a clear and most importantly recorded conversation. I can sit down and answer all those questions on my own but what usually happens when I do, is that every thought I have branches out into 4-7 new ones which I then attempt to record all at once (which obviously doesn't work, yay adhd) only to end up lost in thought with maybe 20 lines of notes in total after 6 hours at the table. Alternatively, either because I get bored or just because, I get distracted by something or my own thoughts about a different unrelated topic and end up with even less.

Working within the boundaries of a conversation forces you to focus on one specific question at a time and answer it to progress. And the engagement from the back and forth is just enough entertainment to not get bored. The six hours I mentioned before is the time I spent chatting with what is essentially a glorified chatbot that day, way less time than what I spent on any other project, and yet I have more notes and a clearer image of the story than I do about any of my real work. I have a recorded train of thought.

In theory, this would also work with a real human in a real conversation but realistically only very few people have someone who would be willing to do that; I certainly don't have a someone like that. Not to mention that someone doesn't always have time. Besides that, a real human conversation involves two minds with their own ideas, both of which are trying to contribute their own thoughts and opinions equally. The type of AI chat that I experimented with, on the other hand, is essentially just the conversation you have with yourself when answering those questions, only with part of it outsourced to a computer and no one else butting into your train of thought.

On that note, I also tried to get it to critique my writing but besides fixing grammatical errors all that thing did was sing praises as if I was God. That's where you'll 100000% need humans.

tl;dr writing with AI as an assistant has basically the same effect as body doubling but it’s an unethical shit show so I’m not doing it again. Also I forgot to mention I did repeat the experiment for accuracy with different amount of spoons and it makes me extra bitter that is was very consistent

[orionsangel86]

I have been doing this meta analysis thing for a long time now and one thing that I have always tried to make clear in meta analysis is that for it to be taken seriously you must keep your personal biases out of it. You must come at it as objective as possible.

Rant under the cut

Its not always easy to do when you are dealing with difficult topics, or shining unfavourable lights on characters you love, or coming to conclusions that you werent expecting (recent meta discussions about Morpheus in the Sandman comics would fall into these categories).

What meta analysis should never be used for is to back up ship wars or specifically to shame fandoms for liking certain characters. If the meta isnt providing valid evidence to support the interpretations, and instead has fallen into name calling and mockery of fandom, its no longer valid meta.

I got this ALL the time in SPN fandom. Destiel was a huge fandom but as meta writers we stuck with what we were given by the source material and interpreted it with valid evidence. We understood that multiple interpretations were possible but we made sure that whatever we were analysing made sense and had some source backing. This wasnt always the case because meta writers are not a monolith, but the bigger blogs who wrote meta frequently at least understood this and would not be stretching to support their own claims if canon didnt back it up. Now no one is perfect of course, but the point is, proper meta writers understand that where they make a claim or interpretation of the source material, they have to site examples and evidence to back up their claims and also take into consideration any evidence to the contrary.

The people who hated destiel and made that their entire personalities didnt do that so much. I read a lot of their meta out of curiosity and every time I was baffled by where they were getting their claims. 'Destiel is necrophilia" was a big one which canon disproved almost straight away in season 5. "Destiel is rape" was another because Cas was using Jimmy as a vessel and yet canon confirmed Jimmy died at the end of season 4. Cas' body was remade by God in season 5 and has remained his own ever since. These are just two of the ridiculous examples supposed "meta writers" among the destiel hater communities would come up with and still use today.

I find it extremely infuriating when I see character/ship hate loosely disguised as meta analysis. I can give people the benefit of the doubt a lot of the time, as fandoms are usually highly emotional spaces, but when there is zero canon evidence to support the claims, when connections are being made on the absolute thinnest of threads, and when far more obvious interpretations are being clearly ignored to support certain viewpoints in such a stunningly obvious case of confirmation bias I have to throw in the towel and stop taking said meta seriously.

One thing I have loved about Sandman fandom so far is the meta. It's such a rich text to analyse, and the show adds an entirely new level to it which makes it all the more enjoyable. I've made no secret of my support for Dreamling and I wrote a very long meta series on Dreamling and how the show in particular uses certain tropes, symbolism, visual storytelling cues, and music, to name a few, to overload a 25 minute sequence with queer coding. It is completely understandable to me why anyone going into the show even without thinking about shipping, would feel like Dreamling hit them like a brick to the face. The creators weren't subtle with it.

Its also totally valid to find romantic interpretations of other pairings within the Sandman. I personally think Morpheus x Johanna was laid on pretty thickly. Morpheus x Lucienne is equally an interesting ship to analyse. But heres the thing, if you ship these other ships and are frustrated that Dreamling has "taken over" thats valid. I get it. I would like more focus on the other characters too. I would particularly like to talk about Lucienne x Gault and have a meta piece in progress about them.

Whats not okay however is for other shippers and people frustrated with Dreamling to go the way of the Destiel antis. Dont make shit up that has no basis in canon just because you need some moral high ground to shit all over the ship you hate. Don't call fans that see Dreamling "deluded" for seeing it. They aren't deluded. It's right there in the subtext. Dont resort to name calling and "gotchas" and use inflammatory language to bait people. And please, I'm begging you, stop claiming that people who ship Dreamling are somehow all overly fragile white racists. You're wrong.

The racism discussions about Hob's past have their place, but these things ARE being discussed, if anything I feel this fandom has done a far better job of handling the issues of slavery than another popular fandom has (looking at you OFMD). No one is forgiving Hob for his slaver past. But you have to acknowledge that the entire point of the story in The Sandman is about change, and growth, and how we can become better people. As another excellent short meta post stated recently "we are more than the sum of our transgressions". The Sandman is all about the shades of grey. No one is morally righteous, but most characters are not completely morally bankrupt either.

Hob Gadling is a controversial character who is often misunderstood by fandom but anyone with proper critical thinking skills and a decent understanding of what meta analysis is, should understand that Hob is a metaphor for humanity first and foremost. He is the average everyman from the perspective of an Englishman and therefore above all else to understand Hob you have to look to England, to Englands history, and to its current status in the world. A lot of blood on its hands yes, but also at least a century of trying to make up for it, a leader in the world in human rights and trying to do better. I have to believe that about this country, so I believe it about Hob too. Whilst I'm not interesting in getting into huge geopolitical debates about England, I hope that we can all agree that the average Englishman today is not a blood thirsty evil slaver/rapist/murderer or whatever else ive seen people accuse Hob of being even in his modern era.

We can argue the faults of the show downplaying slavery for sure. Its a valid criticsm. We can argue that not enough time was given in the show to show that Hob had changed and regretted his former actions. We can critique these things based on what the show has and has not told us, and also pepper in information provided in the comics and what we know about future Hob panels as well.

But when it comes to the blank spaces in between frames, in between cut screens, we can do whatever we like. Because that is where meta analysis ends and fanfiction begins. You wanna write about Hob joining the abolitionist movement and fighting hard to end slavery? You can. You wanna write about him ignoring Dreams advice and continuing to be a brutal slaver right up until slavery was ended in England sure, you go for it. But don't call either of these "headcanons" meta analysis.

Dont use meta analysis as a cover to shit on fandom. The minute you resort to name calling and mockery its no longer meta. No matter how frustrated or upset you are with the current fandom situation. There is always space to criticise fandom. But ask yourself what your end goal is here? What are you trying to achieve? Is it truly because you are on a righteous path to end fandom racism? Or do you just really hate a popular ship and want people to stop shipping it? If it's the former, then focus on that, ask what solutions we can put in place? Where we can truly tackle it on a larger scale, raising awareness of things that people may not realise are racist but are common tropes in fandom (like how making female characters all mothers or sassy gay best friends is misogynistic or how certain stereotypes in fantasy creatures are anti semitic) but if its the latter, then its disingenuous to use racism in fandom as a shield to hide your ship hate. It reduces an important topic to something shallow and irrelevant.

In ending this rant I will just say this. I'm not interested in engaging further on this topic. I'm legit gonna start blocking if anyone attempts to twist my words here. The civil discussions on this matter ended when people started name calling and flinging around accusations without basis. I am more than happy to engage separately in ways to improve fandom spaces for poc, because thats important, but ship hating has no place in that discussion. Drop that aspect, and there'll be less resistance in these topics.

[emeritusemeritus]

86 Baby! [Eddie Munson x Reader]

Part 1

Title: 86 baby!

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader (friends to lovers), Implied Steve Harrington x Reader

Timeline: S4, set two weeks before graduation. Some Canon has been altered to fit the story; no Vecna, Byers never moved and Hop is alive.

Summary: In two weeks, you and your best friend Eddie would be graduating, taking your planned road trip and riding off into the sunset to leave Hawkins behind, until one little secret throws everything down the drain.

Warnings: it’s a little angsty, swearing, implied fake relationship, standard tropes, Eddie gets a little mean in part 2, drinking, deception.

Monday.

"Sooo..." Eddie draws out as he takes his usual seat next to you in the cafeteria, none of the other regulars appearing yet.

Eddie had met you outside of your classroom to walk with you to the lunch room, appearing outside the wooden door suspiciously early before the first bell sounded, a tradition that had begun on your first day of high school. He'd paused briefly as you approached the usual table and gestured flamboyantly for you to sit down first, sliding your chair in for you slightly before taking his own seat at the head of the table.

He sits awkwardly with one leg up on the plastic chair and one dangling next to you outstretched, but somehow for Eddie, that's what is comfortable.

“Tonight. I'm feeling a really crappy budget slasher and too much pizza," He says with a grin, placing down his metal lunchbox and absently pulling out a baggie of trail mix, which is mostly pretzels, navigating the array of suspicious paraphernalia inside.

"Oh," you reply, brain working overtime as you fight to think of a feasible excuse to avoid your weekly ritual, having forgotten all about it under your current stresses. "I'm sorry I totally forgot to tell you!" You giggle awkwardly, the little chuckle sounding absurdly fake to even your own ears. "I've got to help my mom pack tonight, she's going to see her friend from college over the weekend, I said I'd try and spend some time with her before she left, she's actually picking me up early tonight so you won't have to drop me home." You shrug gently, not quite meeting his eyes as you feel his curious gaze lingering upon you as he takes in your words. Okay, not a complete lie but also not the complete truth either.

"Oh, okay," he mumbles, sounding so dejected that you immediately feel the tugging weight of shame at your avoidance of him.

"Maybe we could do it another night instead, maybe Thursday?" You ask quickly, lifting your eyes to his, seeing that his face portrays every ounce of disappointment that his words did.

"On Hellfire night?" He asks sharply, his tone clipped and rudely sarcastic. "What's going on with you?" He asks brashly, eyes squinting as he examines your face, knowing that something isn't right.

"What do you mean?" You ask, trying to feign innocence.

"What do I mean? Lets see princess, firstly you forget our Monday movie night, a tradition unbroken since the dawn of time within the realms of our friendship, you disappeared on me last week, not warning me that your mom was picking you up early so I waited in the car park for 40 minutes. You didn't show up to our gig last Tuesday, and now you're forgetting Hellfire meets?" You can almost feel the twist of the knife with each of his words, his accusatory tone only increasing the guilt within you. Hearing all the examples together made you feel awful; all the evidence laid bare before you as to why you were a shitty friend recently.

"So come on, what's the jig princess?" He leans forward in his chair, eyes still squinting as you fight not to squirm under his intense gaze.

"Nothing! I told you I wasn't feeling well last week at first break, and I left a message with Miss Thomas to let you know I was going home!" You reasoned, still lying through your teeth at the motive, though you had thought to ask the office administrator to pass along a message to let him know you wouldn't be riding home with him, though they clearly had never reached out to him. "And Tuesday I had to take an extra shift at Benny's," you shrugged, trying to deflect the blame. “You know my car’s fucked, I’m trying to get it fixed.”

Mercifully, Gareth and Jeff were quickly making their way over to the table with their lunch trays and you visibly deflated with relief. Eddie shot a look towards the approaching party and turned once more to glare at you, fixing you with a look that told you that this conversation was far from over.

More of the Hellfire group began to spill in and you were thankful for the distraction, seeing that Dustin was hyped up over something that dominated the conversation you were barely listening to. Eddie was tense throughout the lunch, offering little to the conversation as he sat back and ate his pretzels, glaring about the room and huffing under his breath. The guys knew better than to provoke him when he was in this mood, knowing he was volatile at the best of times and so they carried on their conversation around him, trying to include him every now and then but not pushing.

When the bell rang, you quickly gathered up your bag and the lunch you'd only picked at, having found your appetite severely diminished by the tension and lingering guilt from the conversation with Eddie. Luckily, your Monday afternoon schedule did not coincide with Eddie's and you wouldn't have to see him for the rest of the day. You felt guilt and uneasy at lying to him, having never done so before, but you reasoned that it was for a good cause, even if you did feel conflicted.

The afternoon dragged on as you sat in History class, not paying a single ounce of attention to Mrs Click as you jotted down plans and lists and notes in your little notebook as ideas popped into your head. When the bell rang, signalling the time to head to the last class of the day, you all but sprinted out the front doors of the school and out into the car park where a car was waiting for you. Specifically, a burgundy 1983 BMW 733i.

You turned your head quickly to try and see if anyone was looking and quickly slipped into the passenger side, throwing down your bag into the footwell as you turned to greet your chauffeur.

"Hey," you smiled, looking up at the driver, who offered you a warm smile back, before you nervously look around once again to check that no one was watching.

"Hey you," Steve said with a wide smile, running his hand through his hair as he rested his elbow on the open window.

"Drive! I don't wanna get caught!" You prompted, quickly securing your seatbelt as you ushered him to drive away quickly. He chuckled, shaking his head but did as you requested and immediately began to drive out the parking lot and onto the main road.

"You know if you're ashamed of being seen with me, we might need to have a little chat," he grins, not looking at you but instead focusing on the road in front, a grin tugging at his lips at his own sarcastic comment.

"Oh hush, Hair-ington," you joke, rolling your eyes. "Simply thinking of you. You sure you wanna be seen collecting a kid from high school after you graduated last year, old man?" I joked, trying to push his buttons just a little. His face instantly scrunched up on displeasure until he shot me a disbelieving look.

"Pretty sure your boyfriend is older than me," he grumbles. I immediately know whom he's referring to.

"Eddie is not my boyfriend for the hundredth time," I say quickly, perhaps a little too defensively. "Plus he's still at school, so it's not creepy." You chuckle.

"Yeah because that makes it better," he adds sarcastically. You playfully blob your tongue out at him before nudging him gently by the shoulder.

"Not for much longer though," Steve says after a few moments, referring to our upcoming graduation. A pit of nervous excitement settles in your stomach as you think of your plans for graduation, glad to be rid of Hawkins High.

"I know, less than two weeks!" You babble excitedly, earning a laugh from Steve at your apparent elation.

"You know it's really not all it's cracked up to be, the adult world," he reasons, suddenly looking downcast as he thinks to how his life has turned around.

"Hey, just because you didn't go to college doesn't mean you're a failure you know," I protest, knowing that his lack of college education was always a sore spot with him, having spoken about it at great lengths only last week.

"I know it's just, not really how I thought I'd end up. Always figured I'd be able to leave Hawkins and branch out, broaden my horizons and all that, or I'd get stuck working for my dads company. Never thought I'd be working in a rental video store 40 hours a week and still living at home with my parents at 19," he mutters, grabbing his nose with his hand as you'd observed him so anytime he was upset or stressed.

"Yeah but at least you're free," you counter, adding more before he could protest, "the way I see it, you're making money, that money can go on a deposit or the start of a college fund, whatever you want to do more. Then when you finally get where you want to be, you have the satisfaction that you made it all by yourself, no help from mummy and daddy, just your own accomplishments."

He's quiet for a few seconds as he ponders over your words, nodding gently as he processes them.

"When did you get so wise?" He chuckles, looking over at you, earning a laugh in return.

"I've always been wise, you just never chose to listen." Both of you laugh as you watch the tree line get denser and denser as you pull away from the main roads, out towards the Byers' house.

The Byers house was the perfect place for your secret little meetings. It was hidden away at the ass end of Hawkins, tucked away behind the lab, a fair drive from the centre of town and away from all your friends houses, including the furthest place from the trailer park, (not counting the Wheeler house but that was too risky incase saw you and Mike opened his big mouth). The Byers' house was close enough to Harrington's that he could park up at home on Cornwallis and walk across to the Byers' on Mirkwood through the woods and no one would be aware of anything out of the ordinary, should they come round poking their noses in.

Joyce was a gracious and willing host and had offered you her house for your little meetings, keeping you away from prying eyes, something both of you were thankful for.

Approaching the Byers' house, you climbed out of the BMW and gave a little wave as Steve drove back to his house to park the car; he would join you in 5 minutes after walking the little path that lead him out directly facing Castle Byers, ready for your meeting.

Your little meets had been happening more and more frequently in the past couple of weeks and you were almost sad that they would be coming to an end, both because you were enjoying your time spent with Steve and because it was fun to sneak around. Joyce had naturally been sworn to secrecy and true to her word had not told a single soul, except maybe Hopper. Jonathan had run into you accidentally one day as he arrived home early from dropping Will off somewhere but it really hadn't been too hard to cover up as Steve jolted out the back door and you had stuck around for dinner with Joyce and Jonathan, something not entirely unheard of.

The only issue was Eddie, as proven by your little set-to in the cafeteria today. He was becoming increasingly paranoid and suspicious of your whereabouts and your sudden flakiness, which was alarming. You'd called off your meeting with Steve Thursday in order to sit in on Hellfire instead, trying to prove to Eddie that you were still there for him, though you felt torn once you realised what you'd rather be doing.

The rest of the week came and went and you'd been entirely successful in hiding your rendezvous with Harrington, even seeming to put Eddie's mind to rest once you arrived at Hellfire, much to his surprise. He'd put on quite a show for you that night, his eyes flickering over to you frequently as you listened intently to his stories, the DM telling the cult of Vecna campaign so eloquently that you had been mesmerised by his performance the entire night.

You were never an official member of Hellfire, instead choosing to observe and assist rather than play. Sure you had a few Hellfire shirts gifted by Eddie, some you even used to sleep in that been printed with faults and some practice prototypes on different shirt silhouettes and you'd devised campaigns and character sheet with him occasionally but you never actually joined in the campaigns unless you were acting as an emergency sub. Eddie liked to call you his glamorous assistant, likening you to a magician's right hand lady but you always opposed this, stating you were more like the dungeon master's puppet, pulled by strings for his own means.

With your mom gone, you two had hung out at your place after Eddie had driven you home from Hellfire. You'd ordered a pizza and watched an old horror movie that Eddie loved, hoping that it would make it up to him.

Everything was going well until the following Tuesday came around.

Tuesday: the weekly ritual of Corroded Coffin's scheduled gig at the Hideout, 8pm til 10:30pm, never to be missed. You'd missed the previous week and you knew that you couldn't miss this one, after seeing how hurt Eddie had been, not to mention the offhanded comments from the rest of Corroded coffin at the lunch table. You thought your plan of ditching Phys-Ed Tuesday afternoon and having Steve pick you up around the corner from the school would be flawless; you'd even gone as far as timing your departure with his shift finishing at family video so it would look like a coincidental meet on Cherry, near the church plaza as no one would think twice about him seeing you across the parking lot from the video store and offering you a ride home. Eddie usually skipped that class anyway and had a few deals scheduled in during his self made free period, so he would be conducting business at the bench in the woods, far out of sight of the entire school, and more importantly, your exit route.

All had gone to plan right up until you checked the clock hours later and saw that it was 7:45pm and you were going to be late to the show.

"Shit!" You cried out, throwing down your stuff and quickly reaching for your backpack stuffed on the side of the sofa. You frantically dug through your bag to fish out the handmade corroded coffin shirt that you'd stuffed in there earlier today and quickly threw it on over your bra, which you had stripped down to earlier that evening so avoid getting your shirt dirty.

Steve, who lay on the floor beside you only moments ago looked on with a shocked expression, confusion littering his features as he watched you dress.

"Can you give me a ride to the hideout?" You asked quickly, running to the bathroom to quickly fix your hair and makeup, checking that nothing had smudged.

"Uh yeah, sure," he says, throwing on his shirt from earlier, grimacing as he slips the button up over his sweaty body. He runs a hand through his hair, attempting to smooth it out as he watches you flutter around in a rush.

You appear a moment later, quickly shoving things into your backpack, careful to avoid any liquids from spilling as you try to straighten up Joyce's living room. You all but run out of the door only to exclaim profanities again as you realise you forgot your borrowed keys, knowing that they'd probably been thrown to the bottom of your bag in your haste.

"Relax, I've got it," Steve says, twisting the key in the door that Joyce had graciously had made for both of you for times exactly like this.

"Thanks," you said gratefully, trying to calm yourself but it was a pointless endeavour. Your heart was pounding as you entered the car, eyes never leaving the little digital clock that seemed to taunt you the entire journey. You were thankful that Steve never commented on your frantic demeanour, nor the reason behind it and even more thankful that he'd chosen to drive quickly, just barely on the right side of the law.

You're luck has officially ran out.

With minutes to spare, Steve pulled up to the Hideout and into the parking lot, only to be right in the line of sight of Eddie's van, and more importantly, Gareth. He peered over in curiosity, leaning against the van as he smoked a cigarette, his usual ritual just before they took the stage. He seemed to say something to himself briefly only to be joined by Jeff a moment later, who had jumped out of the van clutching his guitar. You could see their lips moving, both of them looking directly at you, no doubt running their mouths about the curious sight of you in the car with Steve Harrington. You sighed, defeated, knowing that they would never let you live this down and your stomach dropped an inch further with the realisation that there was no was in hell they wouldn't tell Eddie.

"Thanks Steve, I'm really sorry about this," you mumbled, not really knowing what exactly you were apologising for but feeling a level of embarrassment at your actions. You begin to open the car door and grab hold of your bag until he replies, keeping you sat inside the car for a moment longer.

"Hey don't worry about it," he says, running a hand through his hair. "Want me to walk you out?" He asks, his eyes peering into yours as he tries to offer support. 

"No that's okay, I-" you begin to say, only to be cut off by an obnoxious shout.

"Harrington!" Jeff calls out, acknowledging the man in the car as both his and Gareth walk towards you, each with curiously smug smiles on their faces.

"H-hey guys," Steve stammers slightly as he greets them, stepping out of the car as he gives them a small restrained wave with his right hand, whilst holding on to the door.

"Y/n, didn't think we'd be seeing you tonight," Gareth says curiously, his words holding an air of suspicion which made you nervous.

"Well I'm here," you shrug, trying to downplay your panic, "just like always."

"Except last week," Jeff adds quickly, immediately grimacing as he shoots you a remorseful look at his quipped tone.

"So Harrington, what?" Gareth begins to ask, only to be cut off by a figure moving out from the back door.

"Guys what the hell, we're on in- oh." Eddie says as he thrusts his way out of the back door, immediately coming to realise what he was seeing. His face drops instantly, a harsh glare forming in his eyes as he looks between you and Steve, each of you clearly having just exited the car together.

"Harrington," Eddie nods once, clipped and unpleasant as he stares at you, trying to understand why you would be in the car with Steve.

"Munson," Steve replies, though his tone is lighter and more polite as he nods back to the man who still appears shell shocked.  There's a tense silence that washes over us all for a few moments, with both Gareth and Jeff shooting glances at Eddie who's face seems thunderous.

"I should get going," Steve suddenly says, turning to face you with a look in his eyes that shows his discomfort.

"Yeah totally, thanks for the ride," you reply, trying to keep it short and sweet, not wanting to disclose any information to the 3 boys stood watching your every move. Steve smiles in return and ducks his head back into the car as you walk away from the passenger side, over to where the boys are stood.

"What, no kiss?" Eddie says venomously as he watches Steve drive away. You immediately frown at his words and sudden bad mood, trying not to let his words affect you.

"Yeah because I kiss every guy who offers me a lift when I'm too broke to get my car fixed," you sarcastically reply, hoping to deflect away the insinuation.

"I could have given you a ride," he says, eyes still fixed on the car as it drives away onto the north Highway, back into town. "If you'd been around lately."

He then walks off, not once turning to look back at you. The guys wordlessly follow him, knowing it's time to go on stage, but not before shooting you sorrowful looks of apology, neither of them realising that Eddie would be so wound up.

You follow them through the back door and instantly turn left instead of following them right towards the stage area. You stalk over to the bar, Eddie's bad mood clearly rubbing off on you as you throw yourself onto a high bar stool and order a double vodka and coke, hoping to ease some of the tension in your body with alcohol. The hideout was notorious for forgetting to check ID, and you used that little fact to your satisfaction tonight. The night didn't really improve at all, except that you'd had enough vodka in your system to numb the ache ever so slightly, freeing you from the overwhelming discomfort of conflicting emotions brought on by Eddie's venom. Their set was good but not great like usual, no doubt on account of Eddie's tenseness and vile mood which prevented him from playing as well as usual, his entire body seeming tense as he avoided all eye contact with you throughout the show.

You were in two minds to stick around after the show, not knowing if Eddie would offer you a ride like normal or whether you'd have to hitch a ride home some other way. Walking would be too dangerous and frankly too far to walk, given your alcohol consumption and overbearing weariness, plus calling Steve seemed like a really bad idea, like adding fuel to any already burning fire. You could call your mom but you knew she'd smell the alcohol on you straight away and you'd be lectured until the end of eternity. Maybe Jonathan would come for you ?

When you walked up to the guys after their set, offering to help load the van just like normal, Eddie virtually ignored you and instead hoisted the heavy equipment by himself. Gareth and Jeff had tried to make small talk, trying to diffuse the tension and Richard, the bass player, had looked on in complete confusion at the tense exchange.

"Gareth can you take her home? Got some shit to do," Eddie states blankly, nodding his head towards you, never once allowing his eyes to drift in your direction. He couldn't even use my name. Had seeing me with Harrington really hurt him that badly?

"Uh yeah sure man," Gareth replies, looking at me with what can only be described as pure pity. Eddie doesn't wait around for anything other than a confirmation before he climbs into the van and drives away like a maniac, leaving all of us standing out in the cold.

It's quiet for a few moments, no one really knowing what to say. Do they comment on it or do they avoid the elephant in the room entirely? Either way, you weren't waiting around to find out.

"Y/n, you can-," Gareth begins to say, gesturing towards his car parked a few spaces away.

"Thanks Gareth but it's cool, I'll just call Jonathan, he owes me one," you shrug, trying to downplay the hurt you were feeling, embarrassed that you were left to be a burden on the other members.

Gareth tries to protest but you wave your hand dismissing him, silencing him in the nicest way you could as you begin to feel the tears prickling at the corner of your eyes, willing them to disappear.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow, great show," you manage to say before walking back inside the hideout, tears making their way down your face as you can finally hide away from their view. You walk to the pay phone and freeze, thinking of your limited options before dialling an all too familiar number.

"Hello?" The voice answers, sounding sleepy as if you'd probably just woke him up. You check the clock on the way behind you and fight back a sigh, not realising the time.

"I'm sorry, I've just woken you up haven't I," you said sympathetically, feeling guilty of the fact.

"It's fine, honestly, Y/n, you okay?" He asks quickly, sounding concerned. You can hear a faint rustle in the background and you can envision him sitting up in bed, covers falling at his waist as he runs his spare hand through his hair.

You sigh, willing the tears to go away as you fight to take a shaky breath, not really knowing how to answer.

"I- no not really," you fight to get it out, lip wobbling slightly in your pathetic state. "Could you pick me up? I'm alone and I didn't know who else to call, I'm really sorry Steve," you all but whimper, babbling.

"He left you?" Steve sounds outraged, immediately knowing that something must have happened between Eddie and yourself.

"Kind of, he took off," you said, sounding small, not really wanting to go into detail.

"Stay right where you are, I'm on my way. Don't let anyone talk to you or give you a drink or anything okay? I'm coming." He immediately goes into protective dad Steve mode as you hear him bolting around his room for clothes.

"Thank you, so much," you say pathetically.

"I'll be right there Y/n okay, stay safe, I'm coming."

Steve hangs up the phone and you sink down into yourself on the little phone booth, feeling utterly broken and pathetic. The vodka in your system had all but dried up, the actions of tonight sobering you up quickly as you were left alone to deal with the consequences of your actions.

Steve arrived in 7 minutes, which you were sure must have been some sort of record. He immediately burst out of the car after throwing it into park and enveloped you in a tight hug as you cried once again. He pulled back and ran his eyes over you, checking for any signs of you being hurt but then gave you a sad smile when he realised you were only hurting on the inside.

"Come on," he says gently, pulling at your hand as he leads you back to the car, opening the door for you. "Milkshakes make everything better." He gives you a warm smile and closes the door, before walking quickly to his side and climbing in.

"Steve you really don't have to, I already feel bad enough that you had to come get me," you protest but he shushes you quickly, a serious look falling across his face.

"I'm glad you called me, you should have never been left alone."

"He dumped me on Gareth but I knew he didn't want to get involved or really drop me home so I didn't know what else to do," you confessed.

"He should have taken you home, mad or not. You made the effort to be here, he should see that."

The two of you talked in the car for a little while longer, with Steve being the ideal shoulder to cry on, both figuratively and literally and by the end of the night you did feel better.

"I just don't know why he was so angry," you said honestly, finishing the last of the milkshake he'd bought you from Benny's.

"You really don't see it?" Steve replies, giving you a sad smile.

"See what?" You ask naively, unsure of what hr was talking about.

"He's jealous. He probably thinks we are together and that you hid it from him. Not because he thinks he's being replaced as your friend but because he thinks someone else swooped in and took a shot before he could."

"That's... crazy. Eddie doesn't have any intention of 'taking a shot' with me, believe me," you say quickly, feeling as if you'd disclosed too much already.

"So you want him to?" Steve asks curiously, though his question isn't laced with sarcastic undertones or any hint of teasing.

"Yes," you answer quickly and honestly, needing no time to think.

"He drives me crazy, he's so smart but so fucking stupid sometimes. When it started we were just friends then all of a sudden one day I started noticing things about him, stuff I'd never thought of before. I noticed how often he'd look at me or reach out for me, always checking if I was there or if I was paying attention before he'd burst out into dramatics, smiling and laughing with me when it was over. Then the butterflies came each time he'd do something like that and I'd think wow what if he's feeling this too. A few times I was sure he was going to make a move, it all seemed so intimate at times, the looks and the gestures but then, nothing. He'd change the conversation or he'd look away and I'd be reeling thinking of why. I guess he just doesn't see me like I see him."

You couldn't help but babble your way through a monologue Shakespeare himself would be proud of, hardly even pausing for breath as you reeled off your thoughts and emotions into Steve's listening ears.

"I think he does," Steve says calmly after a few moments of quiet. You look at him with sad eyes and he offers a little smile. "You're beautiful, funny, caring, he'd be absolutely blind or crazy if he didn't realise that." You blush at Steve's words, wanting to hide your shy smile but you persist. "I can promise you that the only reason guys aren't lining up at your door is because Eddie has either scared them off or they already think you're a couple. Hell, I'd have shot my shot at you if it weren't so apparent that you were inseparable with him, well, that and your horrible taste in music," Steve jokes.

"Hey! Judas Priest are metal gods and you can't deny that! But thank you Steve," You laugh, along with Steve who's expression had warmed.

"You'll get through this, you and Eddie. You just have to give him some time to come around."

So that's exactly what you did. Problem was, that wasn't what Eddie was doing, he was giving you both space and time.

[angelfleurry]

Hiii, it's me again!! I'm happy that you have more time to write now, to have time for what you enjoy! Could I have a part 2 for my talentless reader x Nagito request, focusing on them while they're going on their date? The last one took a bunch of weight off my chest, especially since I haven't watched dr3 yet, so I was still feeling troubled about him and his beliefs in the second game. 🤗🩷

Talentless Reader on a date with Nagito!:

Aaa hello my lovely!! Welcome back welcome baaack! I’m really touched my last post about the talentess reader could help you, this had me smiling when I read it. I really hope this one is good as well!

Have a lovely day/night <3

~~

♡ Oh, this was weird…

♡ It wasn’t a bad weird, not at all, but the concept of what was about to occur truly puzzled you.

♡ You genuinely didn’t expect for Nagito to want to be your date, and now that it was reality, you didn’t know how to feel.

♡ You were nervous, really nervous, still reeling in the fact that this was really happening.

♡ Nagito genuinely wanted to spend time with you, time that would be considered slightly more personal than before, and he didn’t mind that.

♡ He didn’t scrunch his nose up at you, he didn’t go awkward, and it spun you completely round and round; totally confusing you.

♡ You were glad, of course, and you’d tried to plan the date so it would be something he would like.

♡ But, you were so anxious as you got yourself ready, hesitantly observing yourself in the mirror; wondering if this was going to turn out alright…

♡ Wondering if you would still be good enough.

♡ However, despite your unawareness to it, a certain lucky student was having similar troubles.

♡ He tried his best to swallow his anxiety, desperately scrubbing in the shower, almost as if he were trying to wash away his thoughts.

♡ There was a myriad of emotions and thoughts rising up within him, things he didn’t think he would ever feel so deeply.

♡ He was oddly…nervous about this whole thing.

♡ But, at the same time, weirdly giddy.

♡ He was worried about many things, such as his luck betraying him, or saying something wrong, or if you were suddenly to become bored of his presence, or even never wanting to talk to him again.

♡ But, at the same time, he was excited.

♡ He looked forward to the date, hopelessly anticipating it, even.

♡ He thought about what he’d say once he saw you, how he’d greet you.

♡ Does one keep it casual, or should he smile more…?

♡ He thought about so many things, how your day would go, whether it would be different than your usual hang outs, whether you’d have a good time, even if you planned it all yourself…

♡ Of course, he knew he would, he’d be fine with anything so long as you liked it.

♡ But, he knew that wouldn’t satisfy you unless you knew he’d also enjoy the day.

♡ And, as he absent-mindedly put on the friendship bracelet you had made him, he realised there was a part of him that felt touched by that.

♡ Deeply touched, he realised, beginning to walk out the door.

~~

♡ The library…

♡ You remembered…You remembered that he liked to read.

♡ Not only that, but you remembered how he had mentioned before that he could stay in a library for hours.

♡ He couldn’t help but feel a little too grateful at this, his emotions playing up inside his chest more so than they usually did, but he remained calm.

♡ Honestly, you were considering taking him to a bookshop, buying him a book, but you wondered if that would cause him to panic about his luck, or that it would genuinely mess with said luck.

♡ So, you thought this was best.

♡ There were parts of the date where you’d both try and guess tropes based on the book’s title, blurb, or cover art, which also lead to you both sometimes reading a bit into the book.

♡ This then prompted the conversation as to how you should never judge a book by it’s cover, literally.

♡ Then, other times, you were both sharing your favourite books with one another.

♡ It was nice to hear Nagito’s take on things that weren’t related to talent, or hope.

♡ Made him feel more…real, in a way.

♡ A more vulnerable, open side, if you will.

♡ You liked that you could share these thoughts together.

♡ At one point, you just sat quietly together, reading a book and sometimes looking up to check in.

♡ In hushed volumes, cautious of library rules, you’d read out a paragraph or so to him, because Nagito would definitely be curious as to what was happening in the world you were reading about.

♡ At one point, he had put his book down, just listening to you read to him.

♡ And when you noticed this, you offered him to come closer, moving the book so you both could see.

♡ However, you also made sure to show interest in what he was reading.

♡ That little gesture, while confusing, meant something to him.

♡ Honestly, as he spent that time with you, Nagito came to realise that maybe your lack of an ultimate was a good thing.

♡ He honestly felt…equal.

♡ It really did just feel normal, safe, relaxing.

♡ Being able to spend time with you and not feel that immense inferiority he was so prone to feeling really did favours for him.

♡ It was just the two of you, two people equal to one another, just spending time together.

♡ Time, of which, he did not know what to call.

♡ This was nice, but there was something slightly different to the atmosphere, and it puzzled him.

♡ He couldn’t help but let out a small, relieved, sigh.

♡ “Everything alright…?” you’d gently asked him, prompted by it, slightly worried.

♡ To this, Nagito went silent for a second, before giving a gentle smile; nodding.

♡ “Thank you for wanting to spend such time with me,” he began, looking at you as he spoke.

♡ “It’s…been lovely.”

♡ You smiled at this for a moment, but then you felt a more intense worry rise up.

♡ He sounded like he was saying goodbye, as if he wanted it to be over.

♡ Did he…?

♡ “I apologise,” he began, almost as if he had heard your thoughts, “My wording seemed to have troubled you.”

♡ You looked at him as he spoke.

♡ “I promise, I have no intention of wanting to end things so soon.”

♡ “In fact, I’m having fun.” he admitted, his smile seeming to have widened at this.

♡ Reassured, you let out a sigh of relief, the anxiety having left you.

♡ But, you went over his words again, and felt your heart jump a little.

♡ He was having fun…

♡ He was having fun!!

♡ “That’s good,” you let out a breezy chuckle, still shaking off the nervous spell that had previously held you, “I was a little worried at first, but I’m glad to hear you’re having fun, because so am I.”

♡ “Well, that makes us a pair then, doesn’t it?” He answered, laughing in his strange little way, “I too was worried, but it all seems so silly and meaningless now.”

♡ You blinked.

♡ “You…were worried?” you asked, genuinely taken aback, hardly expecting to hear those words from him, “About what?”

♡ “Ah,” his voice faltered for a second, embarrassment dusting the corners of his tone, “It really is a silly thing, but one of those things was my luck…”

♡ You were going to say something, but decided to let him talk.

♡ It looked like he had more to say.

♡ “So, it made me really happy when I realised where it was you were taking me,” he continued, tilting his head a little, “Reading is something I feel I can do without my luck getting in the way.”

♡ “I remember you saying this.” You answered, looking at him gently.

♡ “And it means a lot that you did,” he smiled, “Truly.”

♡ You couldn’t help but smile back at him, a sudden, but comfortable, silence filling the air.

♡ Nagito wasn’t sure if he should mention the other things he was fretting over.

♡ And you didn’t seem to know if you should share your worries, either.

♡ After all, it was a thing of the past, having been proved to be of no excess need.

♡ So, why worry…?

♡ Still though, you were relieved at how great things had gone so far.

♡ But the silence was beginning to trouble you, even if it was comfortable.

♡ “I don’t mind staying here for however long you want to, but would you like to get food at some point? There’s this bakery nearby, but they do savoury stuff too, they do a lot.”

♡ Nagito chuckled at this, nodding his head as he did so.

♡ He looked back at you after a while, a smile so sincere you had to double take, and nodded once more.

♡ “Sure,” he said, “That sounds lovely.”

[dongsofsevotion]

happy kuso ginhiji life

not within the usual remit of this blog, but it seems important to be a person yelling on the internet about just how ginhijicore harada's happy kuso life is.

let's get the obvious stuff out of the way: light hair x dark hair, red eyes x blue eyes (at least by gintama anime standards), idiot NEET x proper company man (whose IQ canonically drops when they interact), same age, same (hkl) or matching (gh) birthdays, same height, so similar-looking they're virtually interchangeable (hair colour aside), constantly fighting and engaging in absurd contests they can't bear to lose, both absolute cowards in the face of scary stuff - and as the plot progresses, so obviously but obliviously in love in a way that is unmistakeable to everyone around them, despite their refusal to admit to even getting along.

if you're a ghg person you might appreciate the total reversibility of hkl, too - i suppose harada did write some hg in hanbunko, after all...

anyway, i love how harada's ginhiji DNA shines through in hkl, and how some tropes she tried out in her gh doujin work (plus some from original gintama!) reappear. please consider the following examples.

characters as neighbors! very ochiru, very kurasu especially, down to the getting drunk and boning business

then, once they're living together, the ol' "it's just for convenience's sake and there's definitely nothing between us" play (see kurikaesu)

youngsters do indeed learn the value of life from rhinoceros beetles

oh no, it's kabe!

that chapter speeds through a bunch of porn tropes and also includes a predictably sexually disappointing time-stop segment (battery not included)

hahaha it's literally otoshimon

passing out in a sauna, in honor of that ep 48 tee that just got released (i copped i am fucken stoked)

and don't get me started on how much i love harada's memey faces...

hkl is reskinned ginhiji, QED. ok but facetiousness aside, of course i am looking for gh parallels because i want to see them, but more accurately, i suppose the hkl dynamic just happens to match my ginhiji hc; ymmv. nevertheless, hkl is ridiculous and fantastic and should be more widely consumed (fair warning for rape handled irreverently, but nothing vaguely approaching the peak harada potential for trauma). nobody chooses frames quite like she does.

five volumes have been published so far by takeshobo; english localisations have been digitally handled by renta! (three volumes) and coolmic (four volumes) as happy shitty life, while in print, kuma has localised the first two volumes as happy crappy life.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

I'm sorry I send the requests back to back, I was happy to see they're open again. Hcs for assassin reader who's married to tan and they all work together. (Like how we met, how he proposed, also how we are now as a trio, aka brainy but chaotic badass reader makes a comeback) Sorry if this too much, I'm aware you said hcs tend to take longer, please please take your time, don't rush! Love ya! 💗 💺 anon

hii! don’t worry about it honey! I love it, and also it’s no problem, hc’s are usually really quick for me, I can bang them out in half hour. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌 love uu

hc’s/ imagines

tangerine x assassin!fem reader

— wc 503

✧.┊ MASTERLIST

okay so...

— I think that the three of you work incredibly well together !! 

— you all have strengths and weaknesses that amplify one another. where one lacks the other gains, so for that reason all VERY work well

— I think you're maybe more of the brains of the group (literally) you're able to hack and get into cameras etc ??? (idk any of the terms) lem is kinda the muscle and tan is more of the attack type 

— maybe you were assigned to help the twins for a mission, and since you worked so well, you stayed/ joined them and have been on countless assignments together. perhaps, the first mission was set at a ball, and you had to pretend to date (I read something similar a few days ago and forgot how much I loved it, so had to implement it)

— and (bc I love this trope) he finally saw you blahblahblah, and then confessed feelings after months of 'confusion' (he'd dance around expressing them for ages, and it would kinda be this angry love confession between the two of you) - but it would be sweet though, nothing mean or hateful. like "what are we doing?" or "I don't get you" or "you shouldn't be with him" or "why are you so difficult?" sorta thing

— but he's a total softie for you, and would propose somewhere that was meaningful to the pair of you. he doesn't like cliches, so he'd find a way to combat it

— and the ring ??? my GOD?? would be EXACTLY the one you want, like all the ones in your pinterest board, nothing tacky, nothing cheap, nothing shit, just beautiful and to your exact taste

back to before...

— maybe you keep them in line at times, like you're the only one that thinks. they react, but you respond kinda thing

— you taught them to think with their hearts too. ironically (bc you're an assassin) like the feminine/nurturing energy

— he goes love blind, so working with you is sometimes dangerous. all caution and thought goes out the window if and when you ever get injured. all he wants is to kill the one that hurt you, but you and lem remind/ stop him

— he knows you can protect yourself, so he allows you do to that until it gets to a point where he can't take it anymore. like he'd let you have your fun/ moment but wouldn't let it get too far (risk you getting killed) he would never forgive himself for it and would do something permanent 

— someone say romeo and juliet ??

— you definitely have lots of tan within you, but he admires and hates it. he loves that you're similar to him, but they're often the parts he dislikes most about himself

— PROTECTOR X PROTECTED!!!!!!!! (even though you're in the same career, just go with it)

— they'd both look after you and keep you safe. lem is like a bodyguard older brother, and tan is, well, tan

— NEVER let anything bad happen to you

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

tan taglist: @tangerinesgf @kpopgirlbtssvt @like-a-fine-skylark @earth-elemental18 @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @thewinterv @navs-bhat @ilovetangerinewithallmyheart @theredvelvetbitch @randomawesomeperson102 @lov3lypeaches7 @princess-pebbles-things @astermath @dynamitehacke @boldlyimportantface @charmedkim @fruitlovertangerine @psiiconic @bubblezuku @sporadiccherryblossom @landryslove @daenerys-supremacy @dontknownameauthor

[freezingmcxn]

Have u got any tips for making ur own creepypasta character/ oc type thing?

TIPS FOR MAKING CREEPYPASTA OCS/STORIES

These are just things I do/have done, not a professional writer or anything !! just someone who likes writing a lot :) Also just for the sake of it, these are biased to what I like in a character, so it’s totally fine to not agree!

⠀⠀⠀･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Don’t be afraid to stray from those “common” creepypasta tropes: tragic backstory, misunderstood characters, sad emo, do not touch tail, you get it….

⠀⠀⠀･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

New takes will always attract readers (like me) who are tired of seeing the same storylines over and over..it gets so boring.

Experimenting with new ideas or tropes can make your story stand out. Like, maybe your OC isn’t a victim of trauma at all, or maybe their motivations are more complex than just revenge/killing.

If you’re sticking to one of the common story lines one thing to keep in mind is not to drag out your character’s story.

If it goes on for too long, it becomes repetitive and boring, something that happened with a lot of older creepypastas, which is why nobody reads them anymore, unfortunately.

⠀⠀⠀･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

If you introduce magical or paranormal elements to your characters story or world, it’s good to make some rules and limitations, and stick to them consistently throughout your story.

⠀⠀⠀･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

For example, if you want a realistic OC but you want some paranormal touches, in my AU, I have “Portals” that characters use for transportation.

I blended them into the environment I’ve set up, there are no flashy effects or sparkles like in a cartoon, they’re barely noticeable and I don’t mention them often to keep them feeling mysterious, they’re designed to fit the tone and genre of the world I’ve created.

By keeping stuff subtle and fitting to the setting, they feel more natural and believable within the story’s context, if that makes sense (?).

If you want it to be unrealistic and crazy: ROCK ON!! GO FOR IT!!

⠀⠀⠀･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

There’s such a weird debate about “overpowered” OCs, but in my opinion, it’s not an issue if done right.

⠀⠀⠀･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Even if your character has supernatural abilities or powers, what makes them engaging is how they use these abilities.

They can be incredibly strong for sure, but what are their vulnerabilities, flaws, and limits? These are what will keep them relatable and grounded.

For example, a character might have immense magical powers, but if they struggle with personal relationships or moral dilemmas, that adds depth and makes the reader see them as a character worth getting emotionally invested with.

⠀⠀⠀･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

A character might be deeply affected by their trauma, but it’s interesting to make them grow or change throughout the story.

⠀⠀⠀･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

If they’re stuck in a constant state of depression or anger without evolving, the story can quickly become like every other 2016 creepypasta OC.

Show how they cope (or fail to cope) over time and the results of everything that happened to them.

Leaving room for reader interpretation is always a plus in my eyes.

To me it’s always fun to see what you guys think of my OCs/characters. This helps see what your character has that is sticking out and some new ideas could pop into your head too.

⠀⠀⠀･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

A lot of creepypasta stories begin by trying to make readers instantly feel bad for the character, usually by dumping a tragic backstory or trauma.

⠀⠀⠀･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

This can work, trauma is what makes an OC basically ..but it often leads readers to downplay or justify the character’s later violent actions, it’s not as interesting and reduces the shock factor.

To avoid this kinda thing, focus on gradually revealing the reasons behind their behavior rather than dumping all the backstory upfront.

Using the characters actions and interactions with other characters to reveal their past/emotions is very easy to do and it effective to get your OCS lore across without sharing information randomly throughout a good story.

By sharing randomly/dumping, I mean:

“They were in a car crash, their whole family died in the car crash, they have PTSD now.”

You see what I mean? It just sounds.. ehh.

⠀⠀･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Thanks for reading hope this helped you!

[yesimwriting]

What Follows

a/n can (likely) see myself making a part 2 of this, it’s like 4:30 AM and i cannot make that decision rn,, so if you think that’s a good idea or are interest,, lmk, public opinion could make or break my decision once i’m better rested

Summary: If you had to think about the coincidences that brought you to this, you’d realize that it was inevitable. Domino pieces falling into place. Or, to put it simply, it’s the end of the world and yet your biggest concern is your teeny tiny...terrible, life ruining crush. 

*cough* sharing bed trope, and some other stuff 

also i’ve never played the game i’ve only watched the show but i have some context of the game (i’ve watched some videos),, but timeline wise,, location wise, it’s pretty general as i’m just going with what fits for my intended story line like i do with most fics :)) it’s mainly set in a sort of safe house 

warnings: potential timeline errors, mentions of age gap that’s pretty vague, allusions to anxiety and canon angsty-ness

----

Memories of before are tricky. Most of them hybrids, odd mix-matches of true experiences and snippets of other things. Stories from an uneasy rotation of people, bits and pieces from books and magazines and other odds and ends. A collage that makes up an easily swayed perception of the world before. 

But you know this one is real. You know it is because it’s so mundane there’s no way someone gave it to you. It’s a quick glimpse, a brief flicker of you in a pair of roller skates with those thick, plastic stoppers attached to the front. The memory isn’t of what they felt like, or how many laps you did up and down your block. All you remember is the stinging. The soft skin of your knee scraped raw by the sidewalk. The particularness of that kind of pain. 

That’s what the realization feels like. Knowing that there’s a chance that you might feel something for Joel outside of general gratitude for the unofficial way Ellie and him took you in is speeding down a street just to collapse with no warning against unforgiving concrete.

His fingers brush around broken skin with a delicateness that turns you rigid. These are the same hands that beat a man within an inch of his life the first time he met you. It’s a juxtaposition that twists your nerves tight around your stomach.

It’s quiet now. More so than usual because Ellie’s asleep. If you had to come to your realization at all, you should have done it during the day. With Joel at a safe distance and Ellie awake to distract from the fact that you’ve been staring at his hand in total silence for minutes now. A violently out of character mistake, which is why you’re not surprised when his voice breaks the nothingness with a question: “You alright?” 

You sit up a little straighter. “Yeah.” It comes out flat and distant. “Yeah,” you affirm, a little more here, “Just thinking.” 

Ugh. Not nearly deflective or subtle enough. It’s the kind of cop out answer that worked in the beginning, before there was any form of attachment. Back then, you thought you’d only be around them for a few days. Until the swelling in your ankle went down enough to let you walk efficiently again. It was the least they could do then, after you jumped in to save Ellie when Joel and her were briefly separated. 

Joel’s mouth pulls into a shadow of a frown in the low light. A pang of guilt strikes you in the chest with no warning. Slipping back to that for no real reason goes a step beyond unfair; it’s mean. “I remembered something from before.” Joel says nothing, but his eyes refocus on you in a way that feels attentive. “Nothing big or interesting, just remembered these roller skates from when I was a kid. The one time I went out without knee pads I fell and scraped my knee.” 

His hand shifts away from your current injury--a long, yet shallow cut up your foreleg. Joel’s fingertips ghost up the skin, there and not at the same time. He settles his palm near your knee. “Is that how this happened?” There’s a hint of something in his voice, a touch of gentleness that makes you feel like he might be teasing you, at least a little. 

That kind of humor is new. Well, not new new anymore, but new enough to still sometimes slip past your perception or take you completely by surprise. Joel’s transition from constantly distant and standoffish to who he is now was equal parts slow as it was all at once. Weeks of tiptoeing, of hesitant flashes of a softer side until it became more and more there. It’s still not the side of him that’s most common, but considering the place where the two of you started from, the difference feels like miles from the sad starting point. 

You blink, tilting your head downwards to focus on the skin next to his thumb. A scar that’s little more than a blemish. The kind of mark that’s a result of picking at a scab again and again. “That’s nothing.” It’s such a small thing and Joel pointed it out so quickly. Like he knows your skin better than you do. Dwelling on that thought isn’t an option, so you recover with a question, “How’d you even see that?” 

Joel raises his eyebrows as if your surprise is something worth being amused by. “When you get used to seeing, it’s easy.” 

Of course it’s that. Considering how Joel is, how he always scouts out areas before letting us settle, it makes sense that he’d notice that. It’d be weirder if he didn’t. You press your foot into the ground, letting the feel of the dirt compacting itself beneath your shoe hold you in place. You’re almost embarrassed that you’ve never noticed the mark on your knee enough to fully register it. “I’ll let you check the rest of me for scars later then.” 

What. Did. You. Just. Say. What. 

Your entire body becomes as stiff as the trunk you’re leaning against. There are a lot of things you don’t know about attraction and dating, but you’re not so dense you can’t tell that that’s the worst line you’ve ever heard. 

Staring at the ground forever feels like the only safe option left, but it’s extremely unviable. After a few seconds, not knowing starts to feel as bad as knowing so you force yourself to look up enough to see him. He’s staring at you, mouth morphing into a subtle smile. He lets out a breathy scoff that’s supposed to cover a laugh, but you know better by now than to fall for that. 

“I didn’t say that.” With a sigh, you let your eyes shut. “I mean--I said it as in the words did come out of my mouth--but not like--y’know.” 

Joel laughs again, this time more openly. It’s deep and full and makes the burning of your humiliation worth all of it. “I know?” 

Squinting your eyes open, you take in his smugness. It’s different and oddly warm. And unfortunately, not unattractive. “You’re not funny.” Indignation makes you want to pull your leg back, and you should. You know you should. If there was any concern about the cut on your leg, Joel wouldn’t be joking. But he relaxes his hand, fingers splaying against your skin. “So what’s the verdict: Keeping the leg or cutting my losses?” 

Joel lets out another breath-laugh. This time it’s shorter. “And I’m the unfunny one?” Yeah, that’s the kind of response that guarantees your safety. The kind of comment he’d only ever make if everything is truly fine. “You’re okay.” 

“Just like I told you--” 

He ignores the comment with an expert’s ease. “Tomorrow I’ll go out, get some penicillin.” 

“Shit.” You frown, turning your leg out slightly to get a better look. This is easily one of the most embarrassing injuries of your life. Not inflicted by the monsters that infest your world or a corrupt person. The only thing you’re a victim of is not paying enough attention while panicking and not noticing a jagged rock.  It’s nothing life changing, nothing worthy of this much attention or discussion. “It’s infected?” 

Joel’s hand relaxes against your lower knee. It’s more of an implication of pressure than an actual change, but your body reacts to it all the same. You ease. “It was a muddy rock.” He pauses, like he’s running through his words. “Better safe.” 

Oh. Preventative antibiotics. A kind thought, but it feels unrealistic. “If nothing’s wrong, I don’t think we should risk it.” You blink, eyes struggling to focus on anything other than the hand still on your knee. If Joel feels awkward about it, he gives no indication. Which means it must be normal. Joel’s too him to do anything not normal when it comes to touch. “You’re hurt. More hurt than me, who’s just an idiot.” 

“’M fine.” Tell that to the flash of purple you saw when Joel’s shirt briefly rode up this morning. It had only been that way for a second, but that was all it took for you to realize that Joel’s bruising is larger than the size of your hand. You wouldn’t be surprised to find out that he has a cracked rib. 

You must let your disbelief show because the corner of his mouth turn upwards. Not quite a smile, but it’s close enough. “Tell that to your probably cracked rib.” 

 “I’m fine,” he repeats, and when you don’t ease, he tacts on something fatal, “Don’t pout.”

The joke is nothing original. Back in the ‘early’ days of your friendship, when things were rockier and less known, Joel had pointed out your expressiveness. He claimed it made it too easy to figure out more or less what you were thinking. It hadn’t been an insult, but it bothered you more than it should have. Which is a fact that Joel used to prove his hypothesis correct, because he then immediately told you that there was no point in pouting about it. 

Joel only says it in good humor. You know that, but that doesn’t mean you like it. It all goes back to the same thing. An implication that you’re transparent. You hate it. 

Transparency is for the naive, for those who haven’t experienced enough to be hardened. It makes you feel like a child, and maybe that’s intentional. Maybe it’s Joel’s equivalent to patting you on the head and telling you to cheer up, kiddo.

You’ve never understood the way the implication manages to snag itself beneath your skin, but now that you’re examining it under the lens of your new realization, it’s too much. There’s a good chance he sees you like another kid to look after. 

 “I’m not pouting.” A bad kind of heat rises up your chest. Instinctually, you angle your leg a little closer to yourself. It’s not a full retreat, but Joel’s fingers shift to secure their hold on you. 

It’s enough to shock you into stilling. If Joel’s prolonged contact was unexpected, him instinctually fighting to keep it is absolutely unbelievable. He’s not squeezing or forcing you to stay in place, but the gesture is enough to feel like he’s asking you to. “Need to wrap it.” 

Another thing you consider over treating a cut of this size. The only thing startling about it is its length. “It’s not that deep.” 

“Let me wrap it.” His voice comes out with a gruff annoyance that’s become increasingly familiar. It makes everything sound like some kind of version of don’t give me shit. 

You fight down a grin. “Admit your rib’s cracked.”

Joel presses his lips together, lines etching themselves into his skin. “Do you always have to argue?” 

Pausing, you pretend to have to think about it. “We all need hobbies.” You give yourself permission to look at him. Really look at him. “When you argue your eyebrows draw together and this line appears between them.” 

He laughs once, this time a little more openly. It’s still a little breathy and maybe even a little reluctant, but it feels good. Like sunlight saturating a room during the dead of winter. “I’m old.” 

Another reminder of that. You fight against the way it twists at your insides. “I’ve met older.” 

“Grandparents don’t count.” 

It’s all so weird and ridiculous, so you do the only thing you can think to. You laugh. “I wasn’t thinking about my grandparents.” 

It’s meant to be a joke that echoes his own, only it’s not quite that. Not with the way your voice softens and your eyes focus on his.

His fingers take their time parting from your skin. A slow drag that feels dangerously close to intentional. You’re practically holding your breath until he stands. “I’ll grab something for your leg.” 

There’s another thing left to point out. Something hanging in between the two of you. The fact that you’re perfectly capable of bandaging it yourself. That there’s a good chance you’d be better at it. “Okay.” 

----

When there is no sun and sleep pulls you under only to push you back out, time feels fickle. You don’t know how long it’s been since you all agreed to go to bed. 

Things feel different now that you’re all temporarily established in some safe house. Joel’s connection to it is vague to you. He mentioned his brother at some point, though you think details were used intentionally sparingly. It doesn’t feel cagey to you like it used to. Now it just feels like he’s holding off until it’s time to tell you everything.

 Maybe he’s waiting for it to come up naturally on some night where there’s nothing but time or maybe he’s waiting for it to feel right. You’re okay with either and any option. His past is his. You know he gives you what he can bare to and it’s only a matter of time until you hear the rest. 

You sit up, resting your back against the wall that your mattress is pressed against. Despite the dark, the outline of your roommate is easy to see. You’re not sure how it happened, the division of space that led to you and Joel in the same room and Ellie sleeping on her own. 

It’s only been a few nights and you’ve yet to regret going along with it. Ellie deserves the little privacy life can offer her considering the way you and Joel watch the poor girl. And, in all honestly, you’ve never been particularly fond of long hours alone in the dark. Especially since you joined Joel and Ellie on their mission. You’ve gotten more used to being around people than ever and that’s made being alone more noticeable than ever.

Sometimes when you can’t sleep your mind goes there. After. The inevitable separation. It makes your chest hurt and forces memories of what you’ve already lost to the surface. That makes it even harder to sleep, so sometimes you just settle for watching. You’d feel weirder about it if the dark of night didn’t make it little more than a step above staring off into space. 

Bending your knees, you adjust your position on the mattress, letting thin blankets fall away. It’s cold; the bite of it is welcomed.

Everyone’s temporary. You’ve learned that already. It’s burned into you the way that normal memories should be. 

This is stupid. All of it. Maybe Joel’s right to see you as a child. One bad dream shouldn’t have this much power of you. Quietly, you squeeze your arms around your legs. It’s the same position you were in when it happened. When you lost her. 

You don’t realize that you’re breathing heavier than you should be until you hear Joel’s mattress adjust as he moves from his side to his back. Shit. He never gets enough sleep. Guilt and embarrassment swell in you, but it’s not enough to subdue the impending panic. 

“You awake?” It’s mumbled through a voice that’s heavy with sleep.

A part of you wants to stay quiet, but that’d be wrong. You already woke him up, the last thing you need to do is stress him out. “Yeah,” you manage, “I’m up.” Your voice comes out so hollow you barely recognize it. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I--I’m gonna--” You don’t know what the end of the sentence is supposed to be. Something that implies that you’re stepping out and that everything’s fine. “Go back to sleep.” 

There’s a moment of nothing and a small part of you thinks maybe Joel’s listened for once. Your hope is shattered at the sound of rustling sheets. “C’mere.” 

It’s said so faintly you can imagine that it’s a figment of your imagination. Likely a mumbled slur that he won’t even remember in the morning. A sleep idled grunt of acknowledgement that just so happened to sound like a word. You know it’s nothing. You know you heard him incorrectly, but you can’t relax. Not yet. You hold yourself there, breath caught in your lungs as a prolonged beat passes. 

Joel breaks the silence by moving off of his side and on to his back. His arm stretches forward, pulling his blanket to the side. Are you crazy or is that...some kind of invitation? “I’m not going back to bed until you come here.” 

There’s still sleep in his voice, but he’s already managed to snap back into seriousness. A subdued authority. Your body moves on its own accord. You sit up fully, place your feet on the ground, and stand. Walking is a little harder but the distance is short. 

You stand in front of his mattress, smaller than you’ve ever been. Joel’s never fully relaxed. He’s close to it now, and you wonder if you’ll be around long enough to be able to see it. The question leaves you too cold, too antsy. Before you know what you’re doing, you’re sitting at the edge of his mattress. “’M here,” you whisper, “And I’m fine.” 

A touch at your lower arm nearly makes you jump. It’s just Joel. “You’re shaky.” He sits up so quickly you can barely register it. The back of his palm presses itself against your neck before he reaches for your temple. His fingers feel like ice but you can’t bring yourself to move away.  “You’re not warm--” 

“No fever.” It leaves you too quietly. “I--I’m fine.” Joel’s hand leaves your forehead and settles against your back. “Just realized some shit.” His fingers drag down your spine and trace their way back to their original resting place. Again and again, a pattern that makes it easy to breathe. “I’ve been around for awhile, with you and Els. Longer than I thought I’d be. Longer than...” Longer than I’ve been with anyone since I lost her. “Just longer.”

His touch nearly falters. “Mhm.” 

“And it’s been nice. Really nice.” Your nails softly scratch the inside of your wrist. “And I don’t want to get to that part where something fucked up happens.” Your breath catches itself in your throat. “I know that the fucked up part is normally my fault. Historically, at least, but--” You cut yourself off with a shaky breath, hating yourself for being this pathetic. “I just really don’t want to get there. To the fucked up part that leads to the leaving part.”

Getting things out in the open is supposed to make things feel better. It’s supposed to make things lighter. That’s what people always say. This isn’t that. There’s no epiphany, no healing. It leaves you and it stays that way. Gone.

Hollowness is worse. It’s too revealing. You should leave, mumble a vague comment about dreams and sleepy thoughts before crawling back to your own jumble of cushioning and jumbled blanket or at the very least apologize for waking him over nothing. 

You do neither. For a minute there’s only the silence and the cold and the safe assurance of Joel tracing patterns against your back. “There’s not going to be a fucked up part.” Joel destroys the silence. “Not a fucked up part that leads to leaving.” 

“You don’t know--” Your cut off is jarring, but it’s better than letting him hear what you were going to say. You don’t know me. Don’t know the kinds of things that happen around me. “That.”

Joel’s hand retreats and your world feels less stable. “There won’t be.” His tone is harsher than before, a tone that leaves no room for argument from the universe let alone you. He shifts, pushing most of himself to one side. “Just lay down.” The lowness of his voice is too assured to be considered understanding. It hints at impatience but undoes a knot in your stomach regardless. “Try to get some sleep.” 

You nod your head slowly, the motion overly deliberate despite the fact that he likely can’t see it. There’s nothing else to be said, so you stretch back, placing your legs onto his mattress and carefully easing yourself onto your back.

Now that you’re under the same blanket as him, the thinness of it is hard to ignore. When the three of you divided the bedding supplies found in some closet, Joel had picked last. You asked if he ever felt like trading, but he insisted that he was warm enough and that if he ever wasn’t, he could always use his jacket for extra layering. 

The realization that he’s likely been freezing without complaint takes a second to sink in. He likes his walls up and to play detached, but then takes the worst of the blankets without complaint. It’s so stupidly close to being a martyr that you nearly laugh. It’s so him in the worst way, the kind of way he’d never acknowledge. 

You’re debating whether or not the additional warmth of your blanket would be worth potentially disturbing his sleep again. If you did that, maybe in the morning you could pretend to get the two blankets mixed up. You think you could get used to being this cold if he’d let you. 

“You know what you remind me of.”

His voice is so unexpected you nearly jump out of your skin. With your mind focusing on other things, it was easier to pretend that there was nothing unusual about this. 

Blood rushing to your face, you adjust so that you’re more on your side. Facing him. "I thought you wanted me to go to sleep.” 

Joel sighs and you can practically feel his lungs filling and deflating. “I didn’t think tonight would be the night you started listening to me.” 

At least he’s learning. “First time for everything.” The words feel different once they’re out in the air. It’s meant to be a passing comment, not what the darkness morphs it into. 

It’s the second time a realization has come at a terrible time in the last few days. You know that you’ve been lying in his bed, but now you’re feeling the fact. Feeling the little space between you and the dip in the mattress’s fabric where he’s resting. It’d be easy to extend your arm. Dangerously easy. 

You feel his head tilt, angling himself even closer to you. “Do you want to know or not?” 

It takes a second for your mind to cement a connection. “What I remind you of?” You hum once, several jokes that’d make this easier coming to mind instantly. “I have a few guesses.” It’s too dark to make out the details of his expression, but you can feel his halfhearted glare. “Okay, tell me.” 

“There was this story from before. Way before.” You’re patient as he takes his time thinking through what he wants to say. You don’t mind the wait, not when he’s close enough that his casualness is tangible enough to be contagious. “About a kid that saw this white rabbit. She chased the thing down a hole and it took her into this other world, and there were some other things, but she kept chasing that rabbit.”

You would have laugh if he had spoken any less seriously. It’s always been clear that you two aren’t exactly the same age, and some references that are about before the outbreak feel either vague or completely disconnected from you, but not everything. “I know I’m younger than you, but I know about Alice in Wonderland.” 

“Excuse me.” The two words are dripping in sarcasm; you beam. “After you didn’t know that--” 

“I knew you were going to say that.” You don’t get one reference one time and now he feels the need to explain everything. “It was one time.” 

“Even Ellie got it.” 

“I was tired.” He raises his eyebrows at that, a gesture of disbelief. You huff once, sitting up a little to shove his shoulder. “I was.” He lets out a sound that’s a little too smug. You move your hand, but before you can push at his arm, his fingers find their way around your wrist. When you try to tug your arm back, his resistance surprises you. “Asshole.” 

His hand leaves goosebumps crawling up your arm as he adjusts his hold on you. “You’re the one that shoved me.” Like he’s not the one that instigated it. “And you interrupted me.” 

“Fine.” You lay back down. Joel doesn’t let go of your arm and you make no move to get it back. His hands are so cold you find it hard not to worry. Hypothermia’s a thing. “Continue. Alice in Wonderland.” 

“The rabbit,” he says, “You’re a lot like that.” 

You play around with the thought, scraping together the details you remember about the white rabbit. It’s been awhile since you’ve watched the Disney movie version, and even longer since you’ve heard the actual story. Alice got into some trouble with the queen of hearts and her card deck guards. Every time she wasn’t supposed to be somewhere it was because of that rabbit, wasn’t that the gist of it? She just kept chasing and chasing it. 

“So who am I leading astray?” 

“No.” He says it so quickly, the silence that follows is unexpected. You accept it. You’ll wait. “You’re...you’re followable.” Oh. The cold makes no difference to the uncontrollable warmth that rushes to your face. 

He feels tenser, his touch on your arm a little more hesitant. The meaning of that from Joel isn’t lost on you."You are, too.” 

Joel’s fingers brush up your arm. “Not the way you are.” 

You like the way he is, like that he’s the kind of person that can be moody and standoffish for days and still take the thinnest blanket. “I disagree.” 

“That’s not new.” 

“I think it’s good we don’t agree.” He waits for you to continue with little reaction, but you know he’s listening. “I can follow you, you can follow me. Makes it easier.”

He hums once, “Sounds like walking in circles.” 

Rolling your eyes, you finally let your attention fall to his hand. “You’re so cold.” 

Joel mistakes it for a complaint instead of the show of concern it’s meant to be. His hand moves off you so quickly you barely have a chance to reach for him. He doesn’t resist, not even when you squeeze his one hand between both of yours. You’re careful, gentle as you let your fingers move up and down his skin. When he doesn’t complain, you do something a better rested you would have never done. You let your touch wander further, first to his wrist and then down to his forearm. He’s no warmer there. 

“Shit, Joel.” you start pressing your hands against his forearm, your need to make his skin feel like it’s at a stable temperature overriding your survival instincts. “You’re freezing.” You sit up, taking his arm with you. “Are you sick?” 

“Sick’s hot.” 

“Tell that to someone with early stage hypothermia.” You scoot back, preparing to move over to grab your blanket. “I’ll get my blanket.” 

He squeezes your arm. “I’m fine.” You’re seconds away from protest, but Joel stops you. “Just stay put.” 

You’re about to insist. It’ll take less than a minute and make things a lot better. The urgency in his hold makes it impossible. Makes the thought of doing anything that doesn’t involve holding on just as intensely outside of the realm of possibility. “Okay.” 

If he’s surprised at how quickly you give in, he doesn’t show it, he just lets you lay down again. You’re not sure if you can prove it, but it feels like he’s closer than before. “How are you not cold?” 

You almost tell him you do feel cold, he’s just that much colder, but then think he might use that as a reason to move away from you. He’d never understand that you’d rather be cold than know he’s freezing. Or maybe the problem is he’d get it too much, that he’d feel the same way. 

“I run a little warm.” You brush your fingers down his arms again. It’s nice in a way you don’t get. “Except my feet.” 

He tilts his head. “Your feet?” 

You stretch your legs until your feet find his. “They’re cold.” 

Joel lets out a disgruntled sound, moving closer to let his legs cover your feet. “Rabbit.” 

The giggle that comes out would be embarrassing if that had been any less funny. Your forehead pushes forward, dropping against his shoulder. “Please don’t let that stick.” 

“They burrow.” You grin against his skin, deciding that you really like this version of him. A little lighter, a little more candid. “You’re a little jittery, too.” 

“Shut up.” He’s not wrong, which only makes you resent him a little more. “‘M not.” 

There’s no fight in your reaction so you have no idea how Joel finds a way to take it as a challenge. He must have, though, because you can think of no other explanation for the way he stills. No other motive for the way you can feel his eyes focusing on you or the slow way he moves his hand down your arm.

You will your body to stay still, to not react. It doesn’t listen. You shiver. 

Maybe you are a fucking rabbit. 

The only thing worse than this reaction is the thought of Joel being right. So you force your lips to part even though you have no idea what to say. “Think we should go to sleep.” Your voice feels awkward, shallow. “...Get a few hours before Els wakes up.” 

He’s almost smiling, “She takes up a lot of energy.” 

“Yeah,” you agree with an even more open fondness, “Told her I’d teach her how to shoot arrows and french braid hair.” You smile at the thought. It’s good to have someone to teach, to pass something onto. “Feels like summer camp.” 

You’re expecting a similar type of joke, or maybe a snarky comment about archery over actual shooting. Instead, his hand settles a little more comfortably against your arm. “You’re good with her.” 

“She’s easy to be good with.” It’s true. Beneath the smart ass jokes and swear rate that could make a sailor uncomfortable, Ellie’s just a kid, and a good one, too.

Joel’s one to talk about people that are good with Ellie. When you first met, you genuinely thought they were father and daughter until Joel explained to you what they were doing. “It’s more than that.”

His approval means a lot when it comes to this. “You’re even better with her.” 

Ellie’s another factor all together. There’s no way it wouldn’t feel weird for her to know that in the other room, you and Joel are sharing a mattress, holding onto each other because of the cold. 

It’s not like you’re doing anything wrong, it just feels odd when considering her. Like this is some kind of game of house. The realization that you think you might like Joel is still pretty new and something that’s ruined a lot of things. Every time it floats to the front of your mind, everything starts feeling off. 

You don’t want to taint this or to overthink. You want to let it all soak in. The two of you sharing a mattress and a too thin blanket. His leg is still resting over your feet and your hands are still on his arm. You’re a slowly tangling web of limbs and you don’t think you’d have it any other way as you drift towards unconsciousness. 

[bbgnyx]

tamil love songs | skz

-> pairing: skz x fem!reader

-> word count:

-> a/n: ok so these are some of my favourite songs in tamil and I matched it up to each skz member. It brings me immense joy to be sharing my native language songs with you, hope you enjoy it as well! i attached the spotify link with the song title, so when you click it you will be directed to listen to it! if you don't have spotify, please just type in the song name in yt if you want to listen to it. I also wrote down my fav line from these songs that resonate with the members the most and also most importantly I'm not pressuring anyone to listen to the songs, if you don't want to you don't have to, that's completely fine!! I just wanted to share a bit of my origin culture with youu. I hope you can enjoy and share my appreciation for my native language! any questions about the songs are welcome!

->feedback and reblogs are appreciated

->ty @xhavxv for the dividers!

BANGCHAN - 'Nira'

-> The exact translation of this means "Color"

-> Synopsis: The entire song is from a male’s perspective talking about a girl who is the love of his life and how she makes his life glow like the colours.

-> I honestly feel like Chan is the type to totally adore you to death and keep praising you and talking about how important you are to him so this song totally fits! I can even imagine him singing this to you and it sounds magical ✨ Chan is totally a first love trope and this is exactly that kinda song.

-> My favourite line: “Unai Theeramal Pidithen, Uyirin Ulle Maraithen”

-> Meaning: “I engraved your image within me, from head to toe I hid you in the depths of my heart.”

MINHO - 'Seramal Ponal'

-> The exact translation of this means "If we aren't together"

-> Synopsis: It’s basically a song where the guy is telling how without her his world is nothing and that there is no purpose in his life without her by his side and how amazing it would be with her

-> Ok this screams Minho to me in so many ways, its such a beautiful song and Minho is definitely the type to sing a song like this. I feel like once he loves he can’t stop and that you will be his entire world and everything. Minho doesn't usually express his feelings a lot but if he is ever to get in a relationship he would definitely put his all into it by showing how much you mean to him.

-> My favourite line: “Neer Indri Vannum, Van Indri Neeyum, Irundal Ulagathil Yedhadi, Penne Purindhu Kolladi”

-> Meaning: “Water without the sky, Sky without the water. There is no such world, so baby please understand that my love for you is like that aswell”

CHANGBIN - 'Neeyum Nannum Anbe'

-> The exact translation of this means "You and Me"

-> Synopsis: So in this song the guy tells how he and her together can do many wonderful things and be in love happily. In the pre chorus part also he tells how she means a lot to him and that together they can do anything and if they aren't together he will break apart. Its kinda like let's just be together and face the world

-> Binnie always strikes me as the soft or subby type for sure. So I feel like all he'll ever want is to cuddle by your side and not anything else. He will feel satisfied as long as you are there with him. He's such a sweetheart and will love you till death just like how the song says.

-> My favourite line: “Neeyum Naanum Anbe, Kangal Korthukondu, Vaazhvin yellai sendru, ondragaa vazhalam”

-> Meaning: “You and I, my love, lost into each other's eyes, Come Let's live our life together at life's horizon"

HYUNJIN- 'Adiye'

-> The exact translation of this means "Oh Girl!"

-> Synopsis: Basically a song in males perspective talking about how much he loves this girl and desperately needs her touch and needs to be around her. He wishes the night won't ever end so he can just be with her. Its kinda a song dedicated to the girl sorta

-> Hyunjin is definitely a hardcore lover who would want to always be by your side and craves your touch constantly and this song is exactly that in the form of lyrics. Honestly, it will be so cute to see him all wrapped around your finger hehe.

-> My favourite line: “Adiye Neethaanadi Enn Bothai Thene Mutham Konju”

-> Meaning: “Oh girl, you are my drug, please shower me with kisses"

JISUNG- 'Senjitaley'

-> The exact translation of this means "She knocked me off my feet"

-> Synopsis: one of my fav songs ever from my fav actor! this is such a cute song about the guy talking about how the girl he loves totally swept him off his feet and keeps captivating him with her beauty and charm.

-> Han is totally a subby guy who would be completely charmed by you from the start. He's honestly the epitome of "love at first sight" according to me. He would also show how much you mean to him and how much you've charmed him with sweet gifts or songs written for you!

-> My favourite line: “Unna Thedi Thedi Thedi Nenju Alladuthe,”

-> Meaning: “My heart has gone crazy searching for you"

FELIX- 'Unakaga'

-> The exact translation of this means "For you"

-> Synopsis: such a sweet song tbh, it is from a girls perspective at the first and then the boys perspective but it fits felix so much! the song talks about how the girl and boy would do anything for each other and how much she/he loves him herto give him/her his/her entire life also and basically how she/he lives just for him/her at this point.

-> Felix is another case of being totally charmed by you! he would absolutely do anything for you and your happiness. All that matters to him is that your happy and with him. I can just imagine him braiding your hair while you eat his sweet brownies while chit-chatting. hehe

-> My favourite line: “Oru nooru varusham, pesa nenachi, tholil thoongiduven”

-> Meaning: “Wanting to talk to you for the next 100 years as well, I will peacefully lay resting my head on your shoulder"

SEUNGMIN- 'Un Vizhigalil'

-> The exact translation of this means "In your eyes"

-> Synopsis: another one of my favs! the song talks about how the boy's life has become better since he laid eyes on the girl and how she is an angel to him and being with her together every day is merely enough for him to live in peace and happiness.

-> Seungie might seem tough on the outside but I believe he's such a softie on the inside who would love you to pieces and would def worship you since you came into his life. He would shower you with gifts and whatnot to show his life.

-> My favourite line: "Nee thenam siricha podhume, vera edhume vendame penne”

-> Meaning: “It's enough even if you smile every day for me, I'll be smitten babe"

JEONGIN- 'Sirikkadhey'

-> The exact translation of this means "Don't Laugh"

-> Synopsis: fun fact, this is from the same movie as the song I chose for Jisung! gives the same vibes tbh, the song talks about how the boy loves the girl so much and how she is everything to him and can't be without her and her simply laughing is easy to mesmerise him

-> Ayen is absolutely a darling and innocent (*wink*wink*) guy and would love you to bits but would be shy to show it. This song perfectly can be matched with him cause I feel like every little move you do is sure to captivate him and bring him so much joy

-> My favourite line: "Un Peyaril En Perai Serthu, Viralodu Uyir Koodu Korthu, Oor Munne Ondraga Namum, Nadandhal Enna"

-> Meaning: " Adding my name with your name. By threading together our fingers and life. What if we walk together in front of the world"

[asimplearchivist]

(This has been sitting in my drafts long enough…my fear of mischaracterizing Astarion is lesser than the agitation of seeing this beast among my WIPs. @fangswbenefits I’m affectionately blaming you for giving me pale elf brain rot🫣)

Okay guys this may be a very niche concept that will appeal to maybe like two people total but it hasn’t left my mind since I mentioned the idea to a buddy of mine who convinced me to play bg3…(Cullen and Astarion have a lot of similarities, which I would love to elaborate on later, but…) hear me out—it could be a very interesting dynamic to play with in a crossover.

Headcanons under the cut:

I’m not usually one for crossovers unless they’re in self-contained within a fandom (like Pokémon or Dragon Age, for example—there’s a phenomenal fic called The Half-Life of Element Zero by @unhealthynpcobsession which is a DAI/MEA crossover and safely one of the only “cross-fandom” crossovers I genuinely enjoy and adore bc the story and concepts are contextually sound and professionally orchestrated), but I feel like the sheer numbers of DAI fanfiction that explore the concept of the Breach opening up portals into other worlds (namely our modern Earth, thus the Modern Girl in Thedas trope, my beloved) could include adjacent worlds. I believe I have seen Skyrim before, so why not Baldur’s Gate 3? (Now keep in mind I know next to nothing about BG3 bc I am newly introduced to its lore and everything but) I think one could easily get away with having Astarion somehow slip through the Breach, along with the Sole Survivor at the Conclave.

(Holy shit why did this turn out so fucking long?)

The Survivor wakes—chained, cold, and aching—in the cells beneath the chantry, interrogated by Cassandra and Leliana, and denies her involvement with the Temple’s destruction. Forced to cooperate with the Survivor due to their dire need for the Mark and its potential use related to the Rifts, Cassandra casts a scowl at Leliana. “I will escort the prisoner if you will deal with the pale elf.”

Leliana only responds mildly, “I will continue to deal with him as I have been for the last three days—as well as nurse the migraine that he has caused.”

The Survivor doesn’t meet this esteemed “pale elf” until the battle at the Temple, and she only sees him from afar—he accompanied Leliana’s men to deal with the array of Shades and Wraiths that speckled the cratered grounds while the rest picked away at gargantuan Pride. She notices he is masterfully skilled with his weapons, perhaps even peculiarly so—she also notices that he has far greater strength, agility, and stamina than the average elf, easily surpassing the abilities of his peers.

She doesn’t see him again until well after the dust has settled—the Breach has been patched, Haven is able to reassess themselves, and the new Inquisition begins to construct their foundation. The newly named Herald of Andraste attempts to escape it all, fleeing into the grounds beyond Haven’s gates under the guise of fulfilling favors and errands for the various supervisors in the village, and stumbles across an abandoned cabin in the forest—at least she thought it was abandoned, at first.

She’s rummaging through the things there, finds the passed healer’s notes, but the lightest creak of displaced wood behind her tips her off to the presence of another. She whirls, hand already flying to her weapon, and backs up against the table, sending things clattering to the floor. The pale elf stands there, smirking at her startle.

“Act all the victim when you intrude on my space,” he croons, tilting his head and tutting at her, “my, how manners seem hard to come by around here.”

“You’re that—” She stops, hesitates, starts again. “Sister Leliana mentioned you. You’re the only other one who survived the blast.”

“That is comparatively the least of my problems and only the beginning of my present predicament, yes.” His eyes—as brilliant a crimson as the blood that still crusts the wounds that litter her bruised, battered, borderline broken body—scan her form from top to bottom, pause on her bandaged hand, and return to meet her uneasy gaze with a considerate one of his own. “Although I’m afraid I can confidently say that I ended up with the better of the lots drawn between the two of us.” His expression relaxes, just a little, a thready furrow forming between his silverite brows. “Does that hurt?”

She clenches her fist and clenches her teeth. “It’s dismissible.”

“Considering I heard tell that it is in the process of consuming you, I would disagree—but, I digress!” He flashes her a toothy smirk. “I am just grateful that there are no longer demons spewing out of that torn arsehole in the sky.”

She stares at him for a long moment, uncertain what to say in response. She’s exhausted, sore, and reeling from the last week of utter unfortunate bullshit that had befallen her.

“You’re…rather tall, for an elf,” she finally says lamely.

His brows arch into his forehead in clear surprise before he tips his head back and laughs. It exposes his teeth, and…no, those were not fangs. It must have been a trick of the firelight.

“It does seem that my kindred, however distantly related they are, do not possess as generous of traits as I,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “All so thin and lithe and…well, diminutive…it’s truly a marvel how they’re able to get anything done without breaking their hollow little bones. It’s little wonder that they seem so afraid of everyone else around here.”

She frowns, echoing, “‘Distantly related’?” with some dubiousness.

“Oh, your lovely spymaster didn’t tell you? I’m shocked.” The stranger gestures to himself with his arms extended to either side. “You have my sincerest apologies, my dear, I haven’t even introduced myself—I complain of lack of manners, yet fail to offer them in due turn.” He dips at the waist briefly, eyes glittering through his frosty lashes. “My name is Astarion, and…to put it simply, I am not supposed to be here.”

“I imagine anyone is fortunate to have walked away from all that destruction unscathed,” she responds mildly, narrowing her eyes.

“How cute,” he simpers, straightening and bracing his hands on his hips. “I fail to possess sufficient enough knowledge of magic in order to explain how in the hells this happened, exactly, but I originate from a place called Faerûn—not your delightfully archaic ‘Thedas’.”

He goes on to ramble about his companions, at least two of whom would have been far better suited to hypothesize how to rectify this particular ‘magical’ predicament. He tells her about their unusual circumstances of being thrust together, forced to cooperate and work towards fixing their looming health issues and the threat that faces their world.

She studies him for a long moment after he finishes. “…It sounds as if you and I are trapped in similar problems,” she sighs, rubbing her face. “As incredible as this all sounds, I sincerely doubt such a story could be easily invented on the spot…so you have my sympathies. Do you think that you’ll be able to return home?”

“Sister Leliana introduced me to that lovely gentleman who dresses like a vagrant. Supposedly, he’s the resident authority on this…‘Fade magic’, as it were?” he surmises.

“So I’ve heard,” she responds.

“Yes, well, our conversation was cut rather short at the time due to him being rather persistent in keeping his eye on that little souvenir.”

She flexes her hand and glances away. She’s been doing her damnedest not to dwell on the burning in her palm, thank you very much, and she didn’t particularly want to discuss it, either.

“Nevertheless,” he continues lightly, although his tone tempers into something more neutral, “he promised that he would look into the issue.”

“That’s…that’s good,” she replies quietly. “I hope he finds a way to send you back.”

The pale elf tilts his head at her then, eyes contemplative when she looks back up. He offers her a thin-lipped smile—this one actually reaches his eyes, softening his angular features. “As much as I am grateful not to be in your position, I do apologize. It would seem that the weight of your new moniker is not one to be taken lightly.”

“It is what it is,” she grits out. “They will believe what they wish regardless of my input.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier.” He leans in, holding her stare. “…I think it best to remain nearby, for the time being. Sole survivors of a devastating explosion still under scrutiny by those newly in power ought to stick together, yes?”

She relaxes, just slightly. “As long as you’re not the one who caused all of this.”

His expression sobers enough that it jars her. “I am the least inclined to cause spontaneous combustion among my compatriots,” he tells her, attempting humor, but there’s something in his eyes that contrasts his words entirely—a lingering fear, apprehension, borderline horror, if she has to place a name on it. “But no. I did not. And I think I have a few choice words—and daggers—on reserve for whoever did cause all of this devastation. I never asked to be thrown into the middle of this refuse burn.”

“Neither did I.” She offers him a bow in return and gives him her name. “I would say it’s been pleasant to make your acquaintance, but…I think we both are allowed to say that we would rather not have met at all.”

“Agreed.” He stoops to pick up the papers Adan had sent her to find and hands them to her. “I trust I will see you again soon?”

“You do intend to stay?” she asks, brow furrowing as she tucks them into her pocket.

“I’ve nowhere else to go,” he begins, “and fleeing from an investigation would provide rather damning evidence for the prosecution, even if misused. For now I’ll lend my particular set of skills and…services to this delightful little collection of vagabonds. I think you need all the help you can get, given that poor, overworked general of yours is relying on farmers and pilgrims to become your armed force.”

“I don’t speak on behalf of the others,” she says, “but I thank you. You’re greatly appreciated.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he purrs. “Now…do go get some rest, my dear. You look positively horrible for someone who has slept for nearly six days.”

His nonchalant sincerity startles a laugh out of her—the first in what felt like an age. He seems pleased to have done so. She departs the cabin feeling slightly less isolated than before.

[cbk1000]

How would you describe the relationship between kudos/comments and fanfic quality on Ao3? In my experience so far, there is hardly any correlation! I imagine this must be very frustrating as an excellent writer.

There is no relationship. Fanfiction is the same as traditional publishing in that respect: books take off if they've scratched a particular itch for the current market, regardless of quality. Fandom isn't any different. Something might be both well-written and popular, but whether or not it's well-written is coincidental; it isn't popular because it's well-written, but because it's supplied the right thing at the right time for a particular community's readership. There's also an element of pure dumb luck: I've seen fics that I expected to take off that really didn't despite the fact that they featured popular tropes and ships executed in a way that I anticipated would resonate with fandom, and didn't (at least on a large scale level) for no discernible reason, while similar fics blew up.

On a personal note, I've had those screaming into the void moments, and they are disheartening, because making fanworks, be they fic, art, or gifs, is an attempt to participate in a community, and no or very little response feels like a rejection from people with whom you have tried to share something you mutually love.

That being said, I don't expect a certain number of kudos or comments, and I don't compare myself to more popular writers, firstly because it's usually not a fair comparison, i.e. we're writing in completely different styles, on completely different topics; it would be like comparing novels from two totally different genres and lamenting that one didn't sell as many copies as the other. And secondly because, frankly, I almost never like what's popular in any given fandom I've ever participated in, and so I write what I want to read, because there's often nothing, or very little, that scratches my particular itch. So I am limiting my potential audience right from the very beginning, which means I have to go into it with appropriate expectations. And honestly, I have done a lot better than I would expect in terms of feedback, because I would consider myself pretty middle-of-the-road in terms of popularity, and I'm surprised I'm not that super obscure writer one whole person has heard about.

At the end of the day, no one should be basing their self-worth or their perception of their abilities on the amount of comments or kudos they have. Low kudos/comments are not a condemnation of your skills, and are a reflection of nothing other than whether or not you're writing about topics that are popular within one niche subset of complete strangers.

[squirmywuirmy]

The thought of someone pointedly focusing alll their attention into making you fold, teasing you about how ticklish you are, encouraging you to let your laughter out—people being tickled and their reactions might be cute but you know what’s even cuter? Being a ler. Wanting to be the reason people let their guard down, just to watch them become goofy and unhinged??? You want to watch people LAUGH?!? ADORABLE.

That being said! Here is a lil list of different ler archetypes ! Important to note that this in no way denotes that all people that tickle other people fit wholly in these categories!! This is just a lighthearted little collection of tropes I’ve noticed in different tickle situations, focusing on the tickler side!

Meticulous Ler

-they have all damn day to explore different tactics on every likely (sides, armpits, feet, etc;) and unlikely (specific places on the rib cage, palms, ears, collarbone,etc;) spots.

-because of that, they’ll be the most likely to find your ticklish spots you didn’t even know you had

-“How ‘bout…this spot?!? No? Hm..I swore I saw you blush when I tickled right here!”

-Is extremely determined and too too comfortable with destroying people with teases from the outside in seriously these lers are EVIL.

-“Did I hear…a LAUGH?!?” Right when I got to…this spot?!?”

-If they notice something produces a stronger reaction, they are HONING in on it.

-DANGEROUS. They are PATIENT, and are not afraid to try anything. (Within boundaries of course)

-Their thought process is if one spot/method doesn’t work, there’s another one that will! And they’re not shy to try and find it.

Cheeky/Teasy Ler

-Is relentlessly vocal and teasy, observant as HELL.

-ALso evil and incredibly determined, just in getting you to fluster yourself more than physically seeking out each spot

-They KNOW when someone is ticklish, and will not resist the urge to comment on it

-In any future scenario where you’re having a playful spat with someone, or if a ‘fight’ is brought up, this person will comment “Y/n’s ticklish!”

-They are the ones spilling the beans that you’re ticklish to other people, these are the encouragers which honestly feels more flustering a lot of times 😖

-When they DO physically attack, it’s often by surprise, orrrr when they know that their words will be the finishing move on totally melting the lee (ex: they often play the role of someone called in to help tickle a lee, high confidence scenarios where they KNOW where the lee is ticklish)

-Will constantly threaten to tickle you, or they flat out WILL, in public, at home, in front of other friends—they will be sure to make embarrassing and flustering you their first target.

Elder Ler

-Ok hear me out, I don’t usually split things like this into age categories, but this is close to my heart as it seems like this category of tickles come from grandmother/grandfather aged people that you know only have the most playful, pure intentions, and it’s just always so familial and comforting

-Doesn’t need to be an older person, but that’s kind of what I had in mind with all the encounters I’ve had with these types.

-Like when an older person clutches onto you when they laugh and if they do it on your side it TICKLES and that almost certainly makes them poke or squeeze you one more time, which is so wholesome but so FLUSTERING GRAH

-Or the spidering across the back of your neck/shoulders that almost always certainly makes me shiver and cringe into myself oh my goodness

-Cheer-up pokes.

-When they check in on you and just seem to notice when you’re feeling off and they genuinely care, chefs kiss

-They are just so fun and so kind. Oh my god im just like, missing a warm grandma figure tf

Goofy Ler

-Lord have mercy on you if you’re already a person who laughs easily. These lers will use every overexaggerated, over-the-top movement/noise they can just to get you to preemptively giggle before they even tickle you.

-These people just want to see you laughing, and are completely willing to make a fool of themselves to do so.

-Think big claw hands, monster walks, declarations of the tickle monsters arrival, baby talk teases, raspberries, evil villain laughing, etc;

-Are mischievous, will be the kind to tase your sides and quickly bolt away before you realize it’s them

-“TICKLETICKLETICKLE” in the silliest falsetto voice

Sadistic Ler

-Their main goal is ultimately to see how much you can take before completely losing it

-Would never actually break your boundaries on purpose, but if you’re ok with it, will get pretty damn close to making you cry and beg for them to stop

-On the hunt for the places that produce the most uncontrollable reactions/wildest laughs

-Are the kind to tickle for interrogation purposes/punishment/getting someone to admit something.

-Will be ridiculously coy+crafty, and say things like “aww just wait until I ACTUALLY start tickling you!” “Oh, did you think I was done?? You’re not going ANYWHERE” “What was that? Tickle you more? Ok!!”

-Thrive on entrenching the person they’re tickling in complete hysteria, their only escape being the help of another person or the mercy of this ler

-Will target bad spots in such an intense way the lee will be rendered too tickly and weak with laughter to even fight back

[disaster-on-the-horizon]

Feedback Fest let's gooo!

Here's 10 recommendations from me, in no particular order

1] More Than A Sidekick, by Jason_Todds_Thigh_Holster (Henry Danger)

Oh, the classic "I have to pretend I don't care about you at all to save you, meanwhile I would give the whole word to you"-trope (totally official name). Mixed with the character in danger having relatively low self-worth and a usual "rough around the edges"-caretaker/mentor, it's just HMMMM (/pos)! I'm already a sucker for characters in hostage situations, so pairing these together is Such Good Soup. I personally didn't even keep up much with Henry Danger after my childhood, but the characters are already so nicely characterized within the fic itself, that you truly don't feel like you miss anything.

2] [injury] of a salesman, by becki (Deltarune)

It's only a one shot, but everything that happens is so well organized and shown that I keep forgetting. "basically just lots of spamton getting the love and care he needs" (author's tag) describes it well, and I am HERE for it. Especially the part where the two eat together tugs at my heartstrings, I love characters with some form of food-insecurity being allowed to eat freely. Swatch as a character is also such a delight.

3] URL not found, by Aster269 (@aster269) (Deltarune)

Quite a long one, this time; I read it while it was still going, and it was worth waiting for every update! The Addisons have very clearly established personalities and beliefs that are explained through their backstory. It's also very interesting to see every facet of their life, from childhood, to Big Shot Era to reunion. And personally, I can't get enough of the Addison Family unconditionally loving and supporting each other <3

4] The Wake-Up Call, by cookiescrumbles (Wander Over Yonder)

Wander. Has. Issues. And they are very well acknowledged here.

His personality really shines through here, both in the way he acts and talks. The entire concept is also very sweet; and I love Sylvia's and Wander's relationship. Shout out to the Hat, for getting Wander what he needs!

5] Tiny Reverberations, by Sylphidine_Gallimaufry (@sylphidine) (Deltarune)

SO! CUTE! Very short, but that just contributes to how fun of a read it is. It's pure fluff, and that mixed with Spam's reaction due to his low self-worth is balm for the soul <3 It's just so adorable; love the kitty <3

6] Mourning Dove, by LynnCanigula15 (@moonbeam-dragon) (Darkwing Duck)

I must say, I'm always a fan of people talking about the kinda messed-up stuff that happens in DW sometimes. And I think how the other three members of the F4 react to this - relatively complicated - situation is very much in character for who they are. Big fan of angst, and Bushroot's state of mind is especially interestingly described and established in chapter 2.

7] Back Alley Beatdown, by SwoodMaxProductions (@swoodthis) (Deltarune)

I love seeing Spamton fighting tooth and nail, knowing his own advantages. Sweet Cap'n Cakes are also very sweet and considered to the Spam Man here; making sure to reassure him when necessary. The description of the parts carefully placed beside him is a personal favourite of mine here! It also has a very nice conclusion.

8] Last of your Kind, by Vanyel (@boonbeenblade) (Cult of the Lamb)

It manages to say what it wants so clearly and concisely, seeing the length that it is. The use of language is truly phenomenal, and it shows a very cool outlook on the relationship between the Lamb and TOWW. Even though the fic depicts events that you literally play yourself, it manages to give an interesting outlook on them, making one able to experience them again as if from fresh eyes, from the perspective of the character. The second-person writing comes off as very natural.

9] Ever so slightly, by Pancakes_for_Dragons (Deltarune)

Sometimes I need a story that is just unapologetic angst. The fic gives Rouxls a very clear persona that reflects on his literal state as the "Rules Card" very well. How his relationship with Lancer grows is really sweet; and especially "I’m thoust Lesser father, surely that musteth count for something." and the whole event around it, still has a space in my mind, since the first time I read it!

10] breathe, breathe, by SteveSmackdown2014 (School for Vampires)

Again, just a very sweet story. It's very easy to see it both from Oskar's (with all the knowledge we have as viewers) and from Sunshine's (with a more 'normal', human outlook) perspective; and why they both react the way they do. Oskar's fear is shown as so very real, but the actual moment is just as sweet.

(Deviders by yizaicons)