suphen-ry-blog

[emily-prentits]

i want to rage about the lack of quality in the meddison tag rn. when will we learn media literacy because i'm real FUCKING tired.

[zeltqz]

niyaaaa do u have any tips for people who wanna get into fic writing? 👀

i don’t really get how the whole posting format for fics works on here tbh 😭 and like your info area it’s so cool

YEAH OFC!! btw dm me your username so i can follow and support you <3

tip 1- the posting format isnt that hard to get used to actually its just you create a tumblr text post and then copy and paste your fic onto it, add the tags and stuff then post it. if you want to add banners, headers and stuff to make it look better then go ahead, just add images to the text post

tip 2- the info area is the same as above, just add pictures of your choice etc to the text post, add your information, name, age, fav things etc and then to link posts to your post, highlight where u want the link to go, then copy the link of the post u want linked then press the hyperlink that looks like two chains linked together when you highlight the text if that makes sense? sounds like a lot but its rlly not i promise haha

tip 3- always type your fics on other apps like word or google docs since they have an auto save feature!! i dont reccomend typing your fics on tumblr since one if the app crashes, it doesn't automatically save your work so everything you wrote will get deleted (some versions of tumblr do have autosave, my laptop has it but my phone and iPad doesn't, so i dont rely on it)

tip 4- idk if you want tips on actual fic writing or just how to get your fics onto tumblr but ill help you with that anyway. with me when i write fics i always imagine it out in my head. theres some of my fics where i just went with the flow and wrote wgatever came to mind and those are the fics i hate the most because they dont rlly make sense to me. theyre always so random and it just seems rushed and bad.

i picture my fics like a scene in my head and whatever i want the character to do, think, say or feel i write that shit down asap. i use other online sources to help get more descriptive like the emotion theasurus <- honestly one of my favourite things to use ever, they have so much body language to use for every emotion in the damn book

dialogue is also something i find difficult. i've improved i personally feel like but its still hard for me especially if im writing a new character. i never want to make the character seem OOC so i do lots of research before hand. i normally use the wiki to read up on a characters personality.

for example i'll use ran for this since he's like 99% of my account lmao. in the wiki, he's described as "naturally whimsical toward others which makes him inscrutable" though ran doesnt have many scenes in the manga (which i hate bc i love him sm) its impossible to actually write him down to a tee so i use that naturally whimsical description to make him playful, charismatic, carefree etc, going off what little information i have with him.

getting a characters personality down is what can make or break a dialogue. for me when im reading a fic of a character and their dialogue is so OOC it puts me off and i dont even wanna read. so i apply my same fic icks to myself and think if I don't like seeing this and that in a fic, why would I incorporate those in my fics and have ppl get put off it if they have the same fic icks as me?

hope that makes sense!!

tip 5- dont rush yourself at all. i used to rush a few of my fics and i just ended up hating it so much after and fought bck the urge to delete them so many times but then i'd see people's comments and realise i was being too harsh on myself. i'd keep them up but i'd just hate seeing them get attention.

rushing only makes you hate your work and the quality of your work will decline if you are not in the right headspace.

thats also why i have the don't rush me thing in my rules because not only is it annoying to see people constantly asking for updates, it also makes me mad because i know i'll just put out a piece of garbage if i did rush.

also another tip don't give yourself deadlines!! if you know your writing consistency can be a little sloppy, don't tell your followers that you're going to upload every so and so day. if something happens and you miss the deadline, you'll feel bad and rush something out and most times out of ten, a rushed fic doesn't do well. so take your time and don't rush.

tip 6- dont listen to what other people say or feel obligated to write something you don't wanna. establish your boundaries!! for example, from day one i started this blog i said im accepting requests but i will not write anything to do with non-con, incest or minors. i made sure that was out there so i wouldn't feel uncomforable writing anything i wasn't comfy with.

there are people on this app that may like your writing and request you to write something for them. you are not obligated to write anything for anyone! don't feel like you have to just because they asked nicely.

if you want to accept requests you can im not saying you shouldn't, im saying don't feel like you have to. you always have a choice. its your blog.

tip 7- remember this isn't a job. you're allowed to take breaks, allowed to have a personal life. don't feel like you need to be updating every day. i used to think i was obligated to be uploading consistently at least every week because i was obsesssed with engagement and seeing peoples comments and was scared if i took a break ppl will unfollow. now i honestly don't care. i'm not active as much as i used to because of school and that's fine! if ppl want to leave, let them. don't feel like you're forced to keep being active in order to keep your follower count stable.

tip 8- this app can get really toxic sometimes. luckily enough i've only had one toxic anon in my inbox and i've been on this app for a year. some people have so many, some ppl get harrassed etc. if that happens to you just be prepared since there's no actual way to find out who's behind anons. you can turn off your anon options which means if ppl want to inbox you something then their account will be showing. some people arent comfortable with that and that's fine! i keep mine on because i want people to feel comfortable on my page.

just remember though if you ever feel like this app is getting overwhelming take breaks! for the sake of your mental health take breaks. i know so many writers on here that took breaks and came back healthier and stronger.

i feel like this tip goes for social media in general. as much as i love social media im aware how unhealthy it is. breaks are so important for you. remember that.

i can't think of anymore tips right now but if i have some more i will edit the post and add it on.

if u have anymore questions about the tumblr posting format dm me and ill help you out :))

[aquaburst3]

I rewatched Snow White a few times over the past several months as research for my fics. Something I notice more and more I watch that movie is that Vil is like if Snow White was a well written protagonist.

Vil shares a lot of the same qualities as her. They both value hard work. They are both stern and able to stand their ground. They're both kind and considerate (most of the time for Snow White), wanting to help out others become better versions of themselves. Where they differ is their intelligence and negative qualities.

Snow White has almost zero major flaws. Everyone minus her stepmother either automatically adores her or are won over by the end. Snow White's negative qualities are her nativity and overly trusting nature, which only get her in trouble at the very end and that might be only for plot reasons. She reminds me of YA heroines from the 2000s/ early 2010s like Bella Swan, whose flaws often consisted of something cutesy like clumsiness and are devoid of any true flaws. In the creators of Snow White's defence, this is probably thanks to this being one of the first animated movies ever, so they probably didn't know how to write compelling characters let alone female ones at the time. However, that's still not an excuse. (This criticism also applies to Cinderella and Aurora as well.)

Vil's, on the other hand, make him more human and compelling. One of his biggest character flaws is his domineering and overly critical attitude. Despite having the best intentions and wanting to help others become their best selves, he is often so blunt that he comes off as an asshole, which gets him into trouble plenty of times. He also takes things way too far and is often times inconsiderate of others' feelings like with how he treats Epel. (I think that could've been hammered home even more in his arc where the team talks smack behind him behind his back and called him out a ton more when he did fucked up shit like paralysing people with his UM. But that's another story.) He's also impulsive, judgmental, in his own head, stubborn and even has a quick fuse at times. These negative traits make some characters in the game and sometimes people in the audience not very fond of him, but that's okay. Not everyone is gonna love us, and sometimes that's thanks to our flaws or things out of our control. The same applies to well written fictional characters.

Snow White is a bit of an idiot. She lets in the Evil Queen and eats the poisoned apple without second guessing anything, ignoring the dwarves warning her not to open the door for anyone she doesn't know. While I know she was barely a teenager in her movie, come on! She should've suspected something was off considering peddlers usually frequent CITIES so people can buy their products, not the forest. That's like if a serial killer, who was pretending to be a door-to-door salesman, came to some farm in the middle of nowhere and claimed they were selling shit. I think most people would think something was off. Why even do that, especially when someone is out to kill her? Being wary of her should've been her first instinct. She also randomly cleans the dwarves cottage, because she figures children live there. Like...what? Whose first instinct when coming to someone else's home is to break in and start cleaning it? I know she wanted to do it to potentially have somewhere to stay, but that still doesn't excuse her breaking into someone's house like that. (Personally, if I wrote that part, I would have them already there and question her presence. Then, she can explain her situation, and then she offers to clean their house, which they allow. That way she's not breaking and entering someone's home.)

Vil is a lot smarter. He's a potion master and well read. (Which makes the ending of Chapter/Book 6 super fucking annoying and out of character for him. But I hate that arc, so I want to pretend like it never happened.) Like anyone, he has his limits and isn't all knowing. Him avoiding a lot of those more obvious pitfalls makes him much more fun to watch and write than her.

I hope Snow White is more like Vil in the upcoming live action movie. Not that I want her to be a carbon copy of him, far from it, but that she is written as more human while still retaining those core qualities from the original. Her good qualities are fine as is and are a part of her charm. While I find a lot of the live action Disney movies to be meh to downright terrible (*cough* Mulan and The Lion King *cough*), sometimes they update stories for modern audiences in a compelling way while containing the heart of the original like in Cinderella or The Jungle Book, which is something Snow White is in desperate need of.

[myaoiboy]

favorite gross nasty mgs fic? 👀

Okay ummm this HIGHLY depends on your definition of "gross nasty" so just a roundup of a few in no particular order (sorry nonnie you're getting dumped on lmaooo):

Actor Out Of Work - FaggotTapedeck

If MGS gave me a gun kink, this fic diagnosed it. It's not that *gross* but it is *fucky* and I love that shit so much. Helped me solidify my HC's about Kaz living past '05.

Hawaiian Red Fruit Punch - FaggotTapedeck

Okay I promise no more of Deck's fics because it feels like cheating, honestly. I love fucked up Snotacon, I love drug use/OD fics, I have mixed feelings about forcefem and some of the specifics of this fic wigged me out but it's so good that I had to keep going.

Also it's posted with PUP lyrics which makes it automatically based.

(I promise no more Deck fics but special mention of Hands Away and Mr. Credit for rewiring my brain in the direction of Zerocelot)

Aren't You Ashamed Of Yourself & The Only Thing That I Ask, Love Me Mercilessly - corpsefluid

Putting these together since they're sort of a continuity? Another account that feels like cheating ngl. Ocelot has Huey strung out on heroin, there's drug use, there's pimping of dubious consent, there's deserved abuse of Huey Emmerich. Nice, sweet, simple, gotta love it. I pray to the Ao3 gods every day that they will have the time and desire to add more to this series

Cat Farts - corpsefluid

If you want gross-nasty? Here's the thing. The secret to writing good gross nasty fic is that you can never really go full /j, there's gotta be a core of /srs in there. The more /srs the better.

I'm warning you now that it's. It's just fart fetish. Very well written fart fetish. That's not my thing, generally.

...But--

l̵i̵s̵t̵e̵n̵ ̵i̵m̵ ̵c̵h̵r̵o̵n̵i̵c̵a̵l̵l̵y̵ ̵i̵l̵l̵ ̵i̵ ̵l̵i̵k̵e̵ ̵w̵h̵e̵n̵ ̵p̵e̵o̵p̵l̵e̵s̵ ̵f̵e̵t̵i̵s̵h̵e̵s̵ ̵s̵e̵x̵u̵a̵l̵i̵z̵e̵ ̵t̵h̵e̵ ̵t̵h̵i̵n̵g̵s̵ ̵i̵ ̵f̵i̵n̵d̵ ̵d̵e̵e̵p̵l̵y̵ ̵u̵n̵s̵e̵x̵y̵ ̵a̵b̵o̵u̵t̵ ̵m̵y̵s̵e̵l̵f̵ ̵l̵e̵t̵ ̵m̵e̵ ̵l̵i̵v̵e̵e̵e̵e̵e̵

(special mention: Personal Business, also by corpsefluid, which I would say exactly the same things about, except it's scat instead of fart fetish)

Methadone - ifeelsodirty

UGGGGHHJHHHHHHHH! Did someone say zerocelot? Oh, no, just me? Well, Zerocelot nonconsensual overdose fic, I don't think I really need to explain more tbh.

Dog Days - doodlebughero

I dunno man all I can say is "knots." And also we all know this was going down behind the scenes.

The Coldest Goodbye - serpenthomosexual

One of the first mgs fics I read bc when I join a fandom I start by checking the fuckiest pairings and seeing what the quality of the fics are like. Snakecest was the only one I knew for sure at the time. Solimiller would follow very quickly behind.

There is. So much going on here. The necro-twincest. The shame. The shame over the necro-twincest bleeding over into snotacon where snake....envisions that otacon is liquid?? Mwah. Serpent Homosexual I want to give you sloppy in return for this delicious meal.

I could literally keep going forever. I mean. I can't at this moment. But in theory I could. I tried to include a variety of pairings and fetishes.

There are DEFINITELY some fics that didn't spring to mind right now, and some that are on the edge of "gross and nasty" but I didn't feel were gross and/or nasty enough to justify making this post even longer lmaooo

[drakkensystem]

Here's a hot take about the TMNT fandom:

I 100% have no problem with people writing whatever they want- even tcest.

As long as they tag their shit

And no, in a fandom with this many incestuous ships, just tagging the ship is not good enough

There are 8 common incestuous ships in this fandom. Are you really telling me you expect people who don't want to see any kind of incest to filter out 8+ ships? If you have to tag your stuff with whatever kind of specific sexual activity it has, Don't you think it also makes sense to tag whatever unique qualities the ship has? You've already tagged it as either m/m, m/f, f/f or whatever. Hopefully you know that things like age play and dubious or missing consent should be tagged. Does incest not fall exactly in the middle of both of those categories (specifics about the ship and "intense" aspects of the fic)? And therefore should definitely be tagged?

Write literally whatever the fuck you want, as far as I'm concerned.

Just.

Tag.

Your.

Shit.

The other thing that pisses me off about this issue;

People trying to moralize and lecture and yell at others for writing "problematic" stuff. It just makes it harder for those of us who really actually need to avoid it

Cuz if you could tag it properly and get hate from a bunch of people who know that that's what it is before they click on it and intentionally sought it out in order to yell at you, or you could just not tag it and then you won't get as many people finding it in order to hate on it- Well the second option is a lot more tempting isn't it?

And then if I try and ask politely for people to tag it more in depth, they're automatically on the defensive. Even though I literally have no problem with them writing it and publishing it as long as they tag it appropriately. And I get why! I would be too and I don't blame them.

It literally does me no harm for people to write and read this stuff.

As long as it's tagged properly so that I can avoid it.

You know what does do me harm?

Going on hate crusades against it. It just makes people less likely to tag it properly, and more combative about the issue in general. It does nothing to reduce the instances of its existence.

So actually antis, when you cry about "What about people who are triggered by this stuff?" you are the ones doing harm.

[siarrawrites]

Rating Various Star Wars Curses

a guide w much real swearing, inspired by a midnight convo with @kckenobi​

-----------------

crink/crinking -- what the actual fuck is this supposed to be. Who came up with this??? We’re only a few letters away from ‘crinkled’ or even ‘tinkled’, god. No self respecting Space Adult is going to use this.---  -2/10 pls try again

sithspit-- a classic. can be found everywhere in fic. kind of sounds like you’re hissing, which the sith would probably appreciate actually. (do normal space ppl use this or is it just a jedi thing tho bc most star wars citizens dont seem to know abt the sith???) --- 9/10 very sssssssmooth

holy sith!-- again with the sith?? ok i guess. a pretty good alternative to ‘holy shit’ but lacks the pazzazz of sithspit which is 10x more fun to say ---6/10 reliable but uninspired

frizz/frizzled -- what is this, the magic school-bus? I love Ms. Frizzle with all my heart of course, which is why im disturbed by seeing her name used as an approximation of fucked (it kinda sounds like jizz too which I HATEE). I can maybe see it as a kiddie swear like frick though. ---3/10 what the frizz is this

dwang-- ...kind of strange but you know what I’ll accept it --5/10 haha dwang the rock johnson

e chu ta-- a solid fuck you. definitely sounds like a space language, and has a nice ring to it when said with passion. works for characters ages 9-->999, thank you kiddie anakin for this gem. --10/10, ‘a fine addition to my collection!!’

sleemo-- sounds like the word ‘sleazy’ and for once the real word association does it a favor. You hear this and just KNOW what kind of person it describes. ---8/10 honestly huttese curses can get it

farkled-- ...this is the name of a fucking dice game. also it sounds nasty                --0/10 get sued pls 

blast-- idk if this is actually a star wars curse or an irl thing, but it absolutely should be. you got BLASTers for cripes sake this shit writes itself -- 10/10 it just makes sense honey

son of a blaster-- ok we get it guns aren’t a thing in space. except they are. sob is great i guess but consider son of a slugthrower boom alliteration plus badass space guns lets go boys ---7/10 alliteration is key

kark/karking-- amazing. inspired. beautiful. I regularly forget this isn’t an actual thing and use it in everyday life. gotta love the hard consonants she is cathartic as kark to use. -- 50/10 she just hits different ok

kriff/kriffing-- basically ‘frick’. Actually sounds like a kid-ification of kark and I just really admire that about her. 10/10 all the cool initiates say kriff

bantha poodoo-- the one that started this whole discussion. listen, this is fine when you’re 9 year old anakin skywalker and say ‘yippee’ unironically but for anyone else this is just embarrassing -- 2/10 ok if you’re baby i guess

skrog/skrogging-- at first I was gonna rate this one low bc it sounds weird and is a synonym for fuck (which just ain’t it). but then I thought about it and realized that if you replace bantha poodoo with bantha skrog you actually have a somewhat decent word for space shit. --- 6/10 we done figured it out boys 

snark/snarking-- this is already a real word. why are you stealing actual live words out of the english dictionary sir that’s  i l l e g a l  --- 0/10 for plagiarism

druk-- a solid replacement for shit, and more serious than skrog (though bantha skrog sounds better than bantha druk imo). gotta love those consonants, and a ‘drukload’ of problems is a phrase that just works. 9/10 will always be there for you

krong-- I just... I dont... know? How i feel abt this. reminds me of king kong donkey kong AND kronk from emperors new groove. maybe thats my own brains fault but also where does this work?? ‘dont krong things up’ just use kark? ‘bantha krong’ just use skrog or druk. In conclusion? --4/10 ok but you can do better

schuta-- we’re branching out folks! finally, a twi’leki curse. she’s catchy and  very fun to say, but it does mean slut, and we respect women in this household. If you wanna make a very despicable character say it though it will help make us all want to beat ‘em up :) ---5/10 all women are QUEENS george

vape/vaping-- ... ill give u a pass bc I dont think vaping was a thing when this word was made, but this straight up doesn’t work in the blessed decade of 2020 ---1/10 you’re on thin fucking ice

shab/shabuir-- not to be confused w ‘shebs’ which is just mandalorian booty, this is mandalorian shit. Sounds like a real word, is mandalorian which automatically makes everything 10x more legit, and has that lovely insult variation! ---7/10 truly some shit I can get behind (heh)

vong-- we don’t mention the y**zhan v*ng in this household --- -∞/10 legends can get right tf outta here

shavit-- friends, I had to look this one up to make sure it wasn’t actually a real swear word. I think I’ve picked this one up through osmosis reading fic bc I’ve definitely used this in real life. that’s quality folks. --- 10000+/10, will unironically say this from now on

-------------

KC, I cried laughing at some of these I truly dont know where they come up with this stuff. 

there’s a lot more where these came from but i didnt feel like doing all of them, heres the link tho , knock yourselves out

[power-chords]

It must be doing the rounds. Twice on my dash now I’ve seen that old post that’s like, “A lot of fanfic is really GOOD, actually! As good or better than original published fiction!” (From what I understand this woman is not a troll, she’s just got weird opinions.) Every time I am like: what the fuck are you talking about? And it’s not that I’m a snob — enthusiastic King and Crichton reader, here — or that I’m goofing around in the wrong sandboxes. The quality:quantity ratio for fanfic is uniformly abysmal, almost as a rule. It’s to be expected. There’s no participatory bar to clear, zero barriers to entry. What are there, like seven million fanfics on AO3 as of 2020? Fiction writers who are good enough to get their original work published for money, who have finite amounts of time like the rest of us mortals, are less likely to be wasting it screwing around. And it is screwing around. Stop pretending it isn’t. That’s why it’s fun. Stop making it less fun, god damn it!!!!

Distribution curve aside, the standards for “good” fanfic* and “good” published original fiction are misaligned. It’s not even that fanfic audiences are more generous, or that fanfic writers are at least partially relieved of the structural legwork that forces you to develop as a storyteller, to earn a reader’s sustained interest and emotional investment. To say something meaningful and ideally vital. The basic motivation is just… sillier. Reading/writing fic is pure fantasy indulgence, it’s imaginary wish fulfillment and play, and it drives me nuts when people insist on taking it too seriously, robbing it of its essential ridiculousness and whimsy. At best you have annoying pedants sincerely arguing that Alighieri is bible fanfic, and at worst you have swarms of key-smashing Twitter psychos litigating the morality of (really, usually very mundane) erotica. Neither of those things are enjoyable for me, which is part of the reason my engagement with “fandom” is so… oblique? Hesitating? Neurotic? Like, embrace your own cringe but have some good humor and self-awareness about it, my god.

*What makes a “good” fanfic? I know what I’m looking for, personally: good prose (and it had better get its hooks in within the first two paragraphs), print-quality copy (no one cares about a stray typo here and there, but command of grammar/syntax is non-negotiable), believable characterization (you can nail all of the above and still just bomb this one, it’s the fanfic original sin of immersion-breaking, the risk you are automatically, continuously taking on), and clear mastery of the source material (writer did their homework). I want a deleted scene, or an aside, an epilogue or a prologue, some kind of in-universe expansion that allows me to spend more time in that world, to treat it as I would a theme park. If there’s some kind of identifiable, self-contained literary merit in there, that’s an added bonus. But the most important thing is that it be good enough — soup to nuts, from how well it flows to the scenario it’s pitching — to accomplish a baseline of faithful mimicry. I’m here to be momentarily fooled and taken along for the ride. I don’t expect complex narrative arcs and sophisticated themes in, let’s be real, 3k-15k words of “What if those two weird-looking dudes fucked that one time.”

But I DO expect them to fuck in a way where I don’t immediately roll my eyes and go, “Oh, come on, get real.” You know? So that’s the appeal. The challenge, the balancing act. This has gotta be the dumbest, most indulgent shit, but it also has to be like, OK, I could see it. I could envision this happening very easily, in my mind’s eye. You’ve sold me. I treat fanfic like a fictionalized research paper at the end of the semester: “Demonstrate a thorough understanding of the curriculum. You can make it horny for extra credit.”

[bisexual-horror-fan]

I only come off lurk mode for serious business. The queen ask-eth and she shall receive...eth.

Not on anon, BUT the obvious answer is clearly anything and everything you write because being able to take part and read the way your passion for writing increases, your skill expands with every fic, and the love, effort, and care you put into every series/fics is frankly astounding. You're an automatic weapon with the sheer amount of content you provide and so deadly accurate with the quality too. I think my favorite thing about your work is honestly being able to see the joy it brings to you. Plus you're always so available to requests and open for discussion, it's just such a lovely thing to see when someone as skilled as you is still so willing to interact and create with your readers!

But gushing about you personally aside, you asked for fav fics!

So OBVS choice is TBABTO bc uhhh I'm contractually obligated as the president of ghost face fan club, but also I just LOVE the series and it being the first fic that brought us together has a real special place in my heart!

Then there's your magnum opus tmomd, like the filth, the skill, and the eloquently plotted descent into Freddy is grotesque in ALLLLL the right ways. You're converting people left and right with this baby.

And of course I love anything house of wax. You know my preferences. Your Vinny and Bo hit so well, no surprise there.

But I think, you might be surprised that my fav fic of yours is actually a Buddy Swanson one. "Dear jealousy" in particular. Partially, bc it's the first fic of him I read, so it being my catalyst of hungry eyes 👀. And here's the thing, I've still to this day never even seen his movies. I plan to at some point, and eventually will, but you know me, epitome of distraction. But does that stop me from read everything you put out about him? Nope. I feel like I have such a clear picture of his character just from your fics alone that I'm not missing out by not seeing the films. Would they add more context? Sure. Would they increase my love for the character and make me start another WIP. Probably. But understand his character? Nah, you covered that inside and out. You have such a way of capturing a character and their essence that it's an art form. Which makes your fics so genuinely within the universe of possibility. Overwhelming talent.

TLDR; Bexxx is the best at writing and everyone else concedes. Love you, xoxo 💋😘💅🏼

HARLEY!

I AM CRYING, SCREAMING, THROWING UP-

This is amazing, TBABTO is so important to me for a million reasons I have talked about before but for how it brought us together is a MASSIVE ONE!

Also hearing how much you love my Bo and Vin stuff when you write like the best of the best is like whaaaaaaaaaaat-

Also NO SHIT!

THAT IS YOUR FAVE?! I love that fic! I love Buddy too and you love him just from my writing?! Fuck me uppp Harley! If you ever wanna watch Stage Fright with Tina and I, since she introduced me to that movie and thus Buddy, please lemme know! We are overdue for another movie night!

[imaginesupply]

Homecoming - Chapter Three

(Gif's not my own.)

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies.

Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

Finally: This will be a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter Three starts after the cut. (Chapter Two can be found here.) Let me know if you wish to be tagged in future chapters or if you wish to be removed from the tag list.

Chapter Three

Chapter warnings: Smut, alcohol consumption (moderate), mentions of contraception and of pregnancy.

I think that’s it, but this chapter killed my brain – it was very difficult to write and I feel like I botched it. There are various important moments in this chapter that I found very hard to translate from my brain into words. And the smut, oh my God, it’s so bad!

"You know, when you came to me all bossy and told me to lose my clothes, I had something a lot different in mind." Sy grumbled from the bed, where he was sat wearing nothing but boxer briefs.

Ada laughed and turned around, sticking out her tongue at him before going back to what she was doing, namely sorting through Sy's clothes in the walk-in closet. She slid a pair of jeans off its hangers and threw it at him without looking back. "I admit that I probably don't need as many clothes as I own, but you're definitely a minimalist."

Sy grunted noncommittally, he was not amused, but tried on the jeans all the same. They didn't fit, he couldn't pull them up past the thighs. "Hey darlin'," he called her, a hint of amusement audible in his voice.

She turned around at the pet name and then forced herself not to laugh at the sight in front of her. Sy had already been a burly man when they had met, but it seemed he had managed to gain even more muscle mass in the past few months, now looking like an absolute bear of a man. Ada grinned and tilted her head at the cardboard box at the end of the bed. "Put those in the donation pile."

"Yes, ma'am," Sy said, getting up and doing as asked.

Ada grabbed her small pencil and added another item to the list. "So, you need jeans, new boots, sweatshirts, t-shirts..." She went on, listing the items. What he needed was a whole new wardrobe and she was the woman for the mission.

Turning around, she found Sy rolling his eyes at her. "I ain't need no new t-shirts, woman. I got the black one, the red one and the khaki one."

Ada chuckled and approached him on the bed, coming to stand between his legs. It was unusual for her to be taller than him, and with him sitting on the bed and her standing up, she still didn't have that much of an advantage. With a grin, she leaned forward and kissed his forehead before pulling back to look into his eyes. Instinctively, almost an automatism, his hands found purchase on her hips.

"Last time you wore your red 'DILLIGAF' t-shirt, three separate kids stopped and asked you what the acronym stood for and you looked at me for help."

Sy held her gaze, not keen on losing the staring contest. Ada didn't want to relent but she didn't want to force him either, not after what had happened while grocery shopping. "It's okay if you really don't want to go, I won't for-"

Sy shook his head, silencing her before she could even finish. "Let's get this shopping over with. But I'm warning you: I'll be complaining the whole time."

For a moment, Ada pursed her lips, seemingly unconvinced but eventually her frown was replaced with a grin. "I would expect nothing else from you, grumpy bear," she teased before turning around, excited about the task at hand.

Sy left to get dressed but not before landing a playful smack on her ass.

°°°

It went just as Ada had imagined. Sy sat down on the sofa at the far end of the store, keeping everything in sight, and she would occasionally come up to him with suggestions. To an onlooker, they resembled a devout worshipper trying to make offerings to a very picky and very handsome god.

His replies to the items she presented to him went anywhere from 'no' to 'not a chance in hell', without forgetting the classic 'you lost your mind, darlin’'.

After visiting three stores and Ada trying to visually guess his size because Sy absolutely refused to try out any of the clothes, they had managed to get most of what he needed. It just turned out to be near recreations of the clothes he already owned, just bigger and newer. And with more child friendly texts.

They stopped for coffee by the center of the open-air mall. True to himself, Sy ordered just that - a coffee with 'none of the fancy shit'.

"You're sure you don't want to go to any of your stores?" Sy asked, watching her sip on her colorful drink.

Well, the idea was tempting but she already had more candles and blankets than necessary. And she knew he was uneasy even if he was hiding it well. "No, it's okay. I know you don't like shopping and I can just ask some friends if I really want to go." Sy hummed.

By the time Ada finished her season exclusive drink, she noticed Sy was staring at a shop window. She was almost excited that he was finally interested in buying clothes before noticing that it was some video game advertisement.

"You can buy the game, if you want. No need to stare," she teased.

He reverted his attention back to her. "It's only compatible with the new console that came out last month and that one's sold out." Ada started beaming as he spoke. "What?"

"Well... a few months ago, I came across the launch announcement on the Internet. And I had seen the old model in the study, so I knew you liked it and since you were coming home soon..."

Sy's eyes became even bluer for a moment, a huge grin threatening to illuminate his face. "Are you saying that...?"

Ada laughed, shaking her head. He looked like a kid on Christmas Day. "Yes. It's wrapped in gift paper in the basement under the utility sink."

"I love you, wife."

Again, she scoffed. "Yeah, yeah... Now let's go get you that damn game."

°°°

Later that day, or rather night, Sy wasn't even paying attention to the movie they, or rather, she was watching. He had gotten the gist of it - superheroes teaming up together to save the world - that sufficed him. His focus was entirely on his wife nested between his legs, her back resting against his chest.

When they got home from the mall and went to sort through his clothes and belongings, finally unpacking the rest of his duffel bag, Ada came across his dog tags. She asked if she could keep them. Sy frowned at the odd request but agreed nonetheless, shrugging dismissively.

Ada then proceeded to put the chain around her neck and slide the tags under her blouse. He had stared at her a little confused; she was smiling, looking all smug as if she had managed to trick him out of something valuable and not just two cheap metal tags hanging off an equally cheap chain.

"The fact that I get to have both your tags means I am very lucky to have gotten you back alive and in one piece. I don't want to ever forget that."

With his height advantage, even sitting behind her, Sy could see the chain disappearing under her pajamas and the tags resting in the valley of her breasts. Somehow, the sight made him feel even more possessive than the wedding band on her ring finger.

Things always had felt slightly uncertain with Ada, there had always been the shadow of a doubt in his mind when it came to her. They had gotten married on a whim and she knew he was a green beret, deployed most of the time. It's an entirely different thing to marry someone you get to see for a couple of weeks every once in a blue moon and to actually live, share a home with someone. When Sy had told her, he was coming home for good over the phone, he had half expected her to ask him for a divorce or to find himself alone at the airport. His face hadn't shown it, but when Ada put on the damn chain he had hated wearing in the goddamn desert where it would chafe his nape or get tangled in his chest hairs, Sy felt as happy as a sand boy.

She seemed honest when she said there was nothing going on with that Tom guy. Not that he could truly blame her if there was, even if it would have broken him. His parents had been married for over thirty-five years and his mom found a new boyfriend not even two years after his father's passing.

And yet, Ada was there, cuddling with him on the couch. She hadn't served him with divorce papers upon his arrival. Instead, they had spent the past few days pretty much glued together as they usually did when he was on leave.

Maybe it was time he started to believe that he had come home to his wife and she really wasn't going anywhere. Especially since she hadn't asked him to wear a condom ever since he got home and he hadn't seen her contraceptive pills on her nightstand either. Sy even checked the bathroom cabinet where he knew she kept some medication, but he didn't find anything there either. This morning, he had even considered asking her about it, but he figured that if she hadn't mentioned anything so far, it was because she wanted it to be a surprise and he didn't want to ruin it. Though he'd be lying if he said he wasn't going to be checking the same cabinet for pregnancy tests in the future.

"You good?" Ada asked as the film came to an end, tilting her head back but only getting a view of his beard. It made her smile, though. Sy really was her bear: big, strong and hairy.

"Yeah, I just," he stammered slightly as if waking up from his thoughts. "I was thinking we should probably change the stairs' railing into something safer before we have kids running up and down."

"Yep, that's not gonna happen," Ada chipped in, jumping off the couch before starting to fold the blanket.

"What?" Sy blurted out, turning all his attention to her. "The railing or the kids?"

"The kids," she replied nonchalantly, now laying the blanket in the basket by the sofa. "If you want to redo the stairs, that's fine. I think we could even paint them white."

In a second, Sy was up on his feet, his imposing stature crowding her. "What do you mean, that ain't happening? You don't want kids?"

Ada frowned, suddenly uncomfortable at his intense stare. "No.”

"Why did you never tell me?"

"Why did you assume kids were a given?" Ada retorted, taking a few steps back to put some distance between them. "I figured that if it was important to you, you'd have mentioned it sooner, at some point at least."

Sy had to fight the urge to yell at her, the feeling of betrayal and even anger overwhelming him. If he never spoke of it before, it was because he didn't want to have kids while he was deployed and miss their first years. Instead, he forced himself to calm down, taking a deep breath. "Is that a not now or a not ever?"

Ada looked away for a second, gathering her thoughts before moving her eyes back to him. "I got a new Mirena coil a couple of months ago, so I'm set for the next three years at least."

He had no idea what the fuck a 'Mirena coil' was supposed to be but it wasn't hard to figure out. Instinctively, his hand went to the back of head, raking through his short hair. "Just to be clear, Ada," Sy paused, his nostrils flaring, "you don't want children?"

It didn't even take her a second to start regretting her counter after it came out. "Do you?" She snapped back, the enunciation of the 'you' harsher than she had intended.

The effect was instant, her question giving him pause. Did he? Now reflecting on it, Sy realized he had never asked himself that question. It was just something that you did. First you got a house, then you found a wife and started a family. He had never thought about it as an option, just as the next step if he was lucky enough not to die in Iraq.

"I'm so sorry," Ada apologized, her tone alone expressing her regret. She took his hand, forcing him to look at her only to find her eyes glistening as she attempted not to cry. "I didn't mean it like that. I wasn't questioning your parenting skills. I know you'd make a fantastic father, Sy." Her eyes closed as she took a deep breath before opening them again, their corners wet with tears this time. "I just never saw myself having kids, but if it's something you really -"

"I ain't gonna force you to start a family with me," Sy rebuffed, offended at the very thought. The abruption of it even making Ada smile, if only briefly.

She shook her head quickly. "What I meant was that if you want to be a father, then I wish for you to become one. But... I won't be a part of that scenario."

"No." He said, dismissing the idea as soon as she voiced it, catching her hands in his and stilling them midair when she started gesticulating instead.

"No, this is important!" Ada protested. "I want you to be happy, Sy. And I won't stand in the way of your happiness. You deserve to live the life you want and if that includes a family -"

"No." Sy ordered, his tone final and resolute, silencing her instantly. He had never used this voice with her in the past, usually reserving it for the soldiers in his unit. "Stop with that ridiculous suggestion, woman." Ada blinked. It was obvious in her eyes that she wanted to argue but she didn't dare defy his hard stare.

Sy closed his eyes and swallowed, searching for the right words. "The choice between having kids with some other woman or getting to be with you, is a damn easy one. I'd rather we be a family of two than have children with some woman I could never love."

She was crying again, tears streaming down her reddened cheeks. Had he said something wrong? Ada didn't let him wonder for too long, her hand fisting in his t-shirt to pull him down to her lips for a ravenous kiss, their teeth clicking together.

"You know," Ada breathed out against his lips once they parted for air. "It doesn't have to be just the two of us. I am partial to pets."

Later in bed, with his sleeping wife snoring softly and her head resting on his chest, Sy tried to process their conversation only to realize there wasn't much to process at all. It didn't feel that much like giving up on a dream, as it felt like defining the contours his future with Ada. All that mattered to him was that it was a future with the woman whose contagious laugh he had manifested in his mind time and time again to drown out the sound of gunfire and make it through. Children might have been a bonus, he wouldn’t deny that, but their absence was something he could live with. He couldn’t same the thing about Ada.

°°°

"Got your," Sy paused, frowning as he read off the label, entering the kitchen, "Willamette Valley Pinot noir. How many do you need?"

Ada looked away from the oven to find him carrying four bottles of her favorite wine. Did he think they were drunkheads? "Do you want for Tom to have to spend the night here because we're all over the legal alcohol limit and unable to drive?" She laughed.

Sy grimaced. "One bottle it is," he announced, making her laugh all the harder as he set down a single bottle on the table that was already set before casting away the other bottles in the pantry - where they did not, in fact, belong.

Just as was his habit, Sy sneaked up on his wife as she leaned over the kitchen counter, putting away the remaining ingredients and hugged her back to him with one arm. He then dipped a finger in the jar she had filled with leftover caramel and brought it to mouth.

She gasped at his manners. "You can't just stick your fingers in everything that's sweet and lick it off, Sy," Ada chided. She heard it as soon as the words left her mouth, but it was too late.

A deep laugh rumbled in his chest behind her. "Can't I?" Sy goaded her mockingly.

Ada took a deep breath. She knew where this was headed and they didn't have time. It was primordial her pie didn't overcook, and Tom would be there soon. "You know what I meant," she groaned, attempting to sound annoyed but he could hear the smile in her voice.

"Do I?" He whispered against her ear, his beard tickling her skin and his warm breath making her shiver as he slid his hand under her skirt until he was cupping her damp sex over her panties. "Are you certain about that, darlin'?"

Her hands held on to the counter and her eyes closed as he started rubbing his hand along her folds over the fabric. He was also beginning to harden behind at an impressive rate. The temptation made her whimper. "We don't have time," Ada protested, even as her head fell back against him and she leaned into his touch, silently begging for more as she not-so innocently ground her ass on his crotch.

A swift glance at the clock on the wall told him all he needed to know. They had seven minutes. It would have to be enough, Sy decided. Time being of the essence, he was determined not to waste any.

“Open up your legs for your captain, darlin’,” he rasped, his nose nuzzling in the shallow of her neck, his hands already busy bunching up the soft fabric of her skirt around her waist.

“Sy,” Ada lightheartedly protested his eagerness. The idea was certainly enticing but they truly didn’t have time and she really needed to keep an eye on the pie. “We can’t-“

“I said, open your legs,” he repeated, gritting out the words as his foot snuck between her ankles, forcing her legs open himself. Sy barely had to apply any pressure, Ada complied instantly at his tone. There were very few situations in which she let him boss her around and this was one of them.

His hands brushed over her naked thighs, enjoying the way she shivered as he did so. Sliding his fingers higher up her inner legs, Sy expertly slid the scanty lace of her thong aside in order to access her clit. Ada keened under his touch, the rough skin of his finger pads slowly circling her already swollen nub. She couldn’t decide between pressing into his touch or attempting to pull away from it; it was both too little and too much all at once. “Already so wet and I’ve barely done anything to you,” he teased, hoping to sound less worked up than he was. Sy was set on keeping the upper hand. “Tell me, what is it that you want, darlin’?”

Ada whined as he removed his fingers from her core, his hands going to her hips instead and pulling her to him, letting her feel how hard he was for her. His wife reacted by rubbing her ass against him, determined to get what she wanted without having to voice it. “Sy,” she complained when he didn’t bite the bait, still grinding on him, surely getting his jeans wet with her slick.

“That’s not how it works, darlin’,” he chastised, going back to teasing her. His touch was ghostlike, too light to provide any real satisfaction and she groaned in frustration. “You have to ask for it like a good girl.”

He felt her body tense up against his as she tried chasing the friction of his fingers where she wanted them most, but Sy drew away before she could. “I swear to God I am going to make you regret-“

Smack. Ada gasped at the sharp spank on her ass, her body bending over the counter at the impact. Her ass was just too tempting in this position and Sy was running out of patience. “Ask like a good girl,” he ordered between gritted teeth, his hand descending to palm his crotch, hoping for some relief. Her little stunt was turning him on more than it should have.

“God, Sy, just fuck me already!” She sobbed, her legs rubbing together out of their own volition but her husband stayed put, rubbing his palm of his covered cock as he watched her. He wasn’t going to give up any time soon, she realized with a strangled sigh. “Please fuck me, captain,” she whispered, relenting.

Within a second, Sy was unbuckling his belt and pulling down his zipper. His cock was red, hard and throbbing impatiently. With time running out, Sy pushed himself into her without a warning. Ada whined at the stretch, gripping at the flour covered kitchen counter as one of his hands grabbed hold of her hips, the other moving to her breast. Then he started ploughing into her like there was no tomorrow.

Ada kept whimpering his name, but even she didn’t know what it was she was asking for. Her hips were digging into the cold stone and she knew there would be bruises come morning. He had barely started fucking her and she was already beginning to tense up with how worked up she was. “Are you gonna cum for me, darlin’?” Sy grunted, his jaw tense as her inner muscles clenched all around his cock. Ada nodded meekly, unable to speak. Just when he was starting to doubt he’d be able to hold off long enough for her to climax, Ada cried out, her tight walls milking him as she came. Sy exploded inside her with a strangled groan, slowly coming to a still inside her.

The doorbell rang. At seven o’clock on the dot.

"Fucking Brits and their punctuality!" Sy cursed, still panting before pulling away from her and tepidly leaving her warmth. Ada chuckled at his reaction, holding onto the counter for support for a few more seconds until she felt somewhat steady on her feet.

Sy tucked himself back into his pants and she adjusted her skirt over her thighs again before letting out a panicked squeak and turning around. Her front was covered in the flour she has spread on counter for the pie and the white handprint on her breast where he had held on to her was very visible on her black blouse. Sy couldn't keep himself from laughing. She looked great if you asked him, especially since Tom would be going to see just how well he took care of her. "I'll go get changed and you get the door!"

°°°

Sy’s eyes widened, positively surprised as he brought the first forkful of boeuf bourguignon to his mouth. The dish hadn’t appeared particularly appetizing on the plate, but it tasted so much better than it looked. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Ada glancing at him with an ‘I told you so’ smirk.

“I received a new shipment of books at the store today,” Tom told Ada in between bites. He owned a bookstore downtown, Sy had learnt. “There’s a new murder mystery I’m sure you’ll love.”

Ada stilled, a look of excitement washing over her face. “Is there… poison?”

Tom laughed. He had expected that question from her. “Ah, yes. And it’s set in the 1920s!”

Sy glanced from the one to the other, forcing himself not to sigh. Ada’s excitement was adorable, but Tom was grating on his nerves. All the conversation so far had been about novels they’d read recently.

“Please tell me that you saved me a copy.” Ada shrieked enthusiastically, prompting Tom to laugh before he suddenly producer a hardcover out of seemingly thin air. As if she was scared that he was only taunting her with it, Ada leaned over the table and snatched the book out of his hand, a smug look on her face before she started reading the back cover. Sy looked at her and chuckled, shaking his head fondly at her almost childish elation.

"So, where did you two meet?" Tom asked, shifting his attention to Sy. "Ada always told me that it was a story for another time."

Sy's grip tightened on his cutlery. Admittedly, the strong animosity toward the man had faded, but he was still not keen on making conversation with the man. "Here in Austin," Sy replied before going back to his food. Ada had to stifle a laugh at the face Tom made at the curt answer.

"I'll tell you," she offered, capturing Tom's attention. "I had just graduated with my Masters and managed to land a PhD position here in Austin. I was freshly debarked out of France and I was only to start to start mid January but I flew over in December already - wanting to fly with my own wings and all that." Tom chuckled as she gestured derisively with the story.

"Anyway, I hadn't found a flat yet, all my stuff was in a storage unit and I had the brilliant idea of going to Vegas. On my own. In a 1979 black Camaro rental."

Sy finally looked up from his plate. "It was from 1980 and it was dark gray, not black, darling’."

Ada found herself staring curiously at her husband as he interrupted her story before laughing. That's what it took to get him to talk?

"So, it was a 1979, dark gray Camaro,” Ada correctly herself. “Anyway, obviously it did not have a navigation system and I stopped at one of the few open bars open at 5pm on Christmas Eve, ordered a beer and tried making sense of the maps I found in the glovebox, making a list of the different exits and turns I would have to make.

"Sy was there drinking with some friends – loud friends, might I add. Well, I am struggling with the maps and he must notice because he approaches me at the counter, takes of his cap and asks me if I need help, in his southern drawl. Actually, no wait, his exact words were” Ada paused, clearing her voice. “’Need some help reading that map, darling?'" Tom laughed at her ridiculous attempt to imitate Sy’s baritone voice. To Ada's surprise, Sy blushed. It was barely visible beneath his beard, but it was there and it was the cutest thing she had ever seen.

"I looked down at the map she was studying and asked her if she was headed somewhere on the east coast. She then slowly looked at me and confidently told me she was going to Nevada, until I pointed out that she was highlighting the road that went East and her face burned up, all self-conscious." Sy recounted, now laughing as well and even Tom scoffed. " I said: ‘At this point, even a navigation system can’t help you, darlin’. You’d need an escort.”

Ada bit her lip, remembering that moment clearly in her mind. She had flushed, staring at the muscular man that towered next to her. He was burly and rugged and yet still exhaled a little softness behind it all. 'Well then, will you be my escort to Vegas? I am leaving tonight,' she had blurted out before she could stop herself.

"I cannot believe you drove from Austin to Las Vegas with a stranger, Ada!" Tom said teasingly, clearly surprised by his friend’s spontaneity and recklessness.

"Yes, I made him miss Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with his family, and the best part is that we got married the day we reached Vegas on New Year’s Eve.” They had stopped a few times along the way, visited some towns and she had only known Sy for seven days when we got hitched at the kitschiest chapel imaginable. “We had to hurry to get a marriage license before the courthouse closed and a half-naked dude officiated because everyone else was already booked.”

Sy chuckled, sitting back against his chair and wrapping his arm around Ada's shoulders possessively. "She made me wear my old uniform that lasted all of fifteen minutes and was presided by an officer dressed as a cherub." He gestured at the framed picture standing on the cupboard next to them.

They looked absolutely ridiculous. Sy's uniform made him look too serious next to a tipsy Ada who wore the only white dress she had been able to find on such short notice and that definitely hadn’t been meant for a wedding because it turned out to be partly see-through under the camera flashes.

Ada shared some more stories about Vegas before excusing herself to the bathroom, the conversation instantly dying out as she disappeared, leaving both men in an uncomfortable silence until Sy’s curiosity got to him.

"So, you and her...?" Sy left his question unfinished. He wasn't sure what exactly it was that he was asking, he just wanted to know all there was to know.

In front of him, Tom gracefully dabbed him mouth with the ivory napkin and shook his head, with a tight smile. "No, nothing of the sort," the Englishman replied dismissively before Sy's inquiring stare forced him to expound. "It's not that I didn't think of pursuing something more with her, but Ada made it very clear from the beginning that she was a married woman and a faithful wife."

Sy hummed noncommittally, though internally he was reassured and maybe even elated. Mike had really filled his head with shit. Deep down, he always knew his Ada wasn't like that, it just felt good to hear it.

"My wife, for whom I left England, passed away only two months before Ada and I met. I was going through a rough patch then - and that's a euphemism. Carla had been talking to me about watching a particular film ever since it had been announced, it was an adaptation of her favorite novel." Tom explained, a smile warming up his features. "When she died before it premiered, I wasn't even sure if I even wanted to watch it without her... But the tickets had already been purchased and part of me hoped that for two hours, it would feel like Carla was sitting right next to me."

Sy listened, feeling sympathetic, if not a little uncomfortable by the man’s openness. He still wanted to dislike Tom but at the same time he couldn't imagine the wreck he'd be if Ada were to die on him.

"The cinema was packed and to accommodate a large group, Ada asked whether I minded if she sat down next to me,” Tom paused briefly, smiling at the memory. “I think it was listening to her laugh, cry and eat popcorn next to me during the movie that gave me the strength to drive home instead of off a cliff that night."

Sy gulped down the rest of his wine, still not a fan of the taste as he faced the Englishman before him. Not that he would ever say it out loud, but if he had failed to make it alive out of that godforsaken desert, he had to concede Tom would not have been the worst for Ada.

Silence fell again and Sy became uncomfortable, deciding to pour Tom some more wine. “I am glad Ada and you were there for each other.” When I should’ve been there for her myself but wasn’t, Sy thought but left it unsaid.

Tom chuckled as he observed the burly man in front of him. For all his muscles and gruff exterior, he carried the slightest of insecurities when it came to his wife. "There's a thick silver notebook Ada has kept for a couple of years. Maybe you should have a look at it.”

Sy wanted to ask what he was talking about but was interrupted by the sound of Ada's high heels clicking on the wooden floor as she made her way back to them. "I hope you weren't talking ill of me behind my back," she teased, squeezing Sy's shoulder absentmindedly. "Now, who's ready for my slightly overcooked tarte tatin.” Ada eyed her husband pointedly.

[merakiaes]

Bésame Mucho - Oscar “Spooky” Diaz

Pairing: Oscar “Spooky” Diaz x reader

Requested: By @harringtoncastle​​

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: Warning for slight OOC-Spooky. Very cute and mushy. This is based around the song “Bésame Mucho” by Andrea Bocelli. You can listen to it here. It’s a really beautiful song so I recommend you listen to it while reading this! Translation of the text is at the end but keep in mind that I’m not a native Spanish speaker so there might be mistakes, and this is my first time writing a song fic so it might be bad xD Not proofread!

Wordcount: 1747

Summary: You’re laying around with Oscar in bed, listening to music together, when your song comes on. 

Quiet, relaxing moments were a rare occurring thing for Spooky with the pressure he was living under because of Los Santo and Cuchillos constantly being on his ass, but whenever he did manage to squeeze in one of these moments into his busy schedule, it was always spent with you.

You were tucked into his side where you laid in your shared bed, your head resting on his shoulder and your hand on his chest while his arms were wrapped around you.

In your other hand you held your phone, the wires of your headphones going from the bottom of the mobile device and splitting into two between yours and Oscar’s heads, the two of you having one earbud each plugged into your ears.

Low music was playing from the earbuds, your phone set to shuffle on a random Spotify playlist of Oscar’s choice.

It wasn’t often that moments like this occurred so you treasured them with everything that you had in you.

Your fingers were absentmindedly drawing circles on your boyfriend’s chest, the grey fabric of his t-shirt soft under your touch. His chest was in turn rising and falling at a slow pace, his breath equally as slow and deep.

He was following your example and soothingly caressing your bare upper arm with his thumb, the feeling sending shivers down your spine and making you feel more content than ever.

The song you were currently listening to came to a stop and the next song started, and the sound of guitar strings being plucked in a familiar melodic tune instantly brought a wide smile to your lips.

Bésame Bésame mucho Como si fuera ésta noche La última vez

The words were all too familiar to you at this point in your life and they never failed to make you feel nostalgic and over the moon; like you were on cloud nine. 

The memory of that night six years ago automatically resurfaced in your head. Your body grew warm as the feelings you had been feeling back then returned like it had only been yesterday that you had been standing there underneath the dim, blue lights.

And judging by the way Oscar’s thumb had now stopped moving over the skin of your arm, he seemed to have recognized it as well.

As the song continued playing in your ear, you opened your eyes and shifted your head on his chest so that you were able to look at him, smiling.

“It’s our song.” You noted, despite the fact that he already knew. “Do you remember? This was the song that was playing the night we first met.”

The memory in your head played out as clear as a movie, like you were watching it on a flatscreen in high quality right then and there. 

The white and red roses were spread out throughout the room, people slow dancing on the dancefloor while the band played on stage.

The room was dark, only dimly lit up by the white and light blue lights in the ceiling as the bride and her groom danced in the middle of the crowd, their loved ones moving in an identical way with their significant others around them.

But you were sitting alone, your third flute of champagne hanging from between your fingers as you scanned the room. 

You remembered it so vividly, the feeling of boredom and longing to go home that you had felt in that moment feeling as fresh in your body as ever as you looked back.

And that’s when it had happened.

That’s when you had averted your gaze from the dancing wedding guests and looked to the other side of the room, meeting the pair of deep, brown eyes that you today loved more than life itself for the first time ever.

Beside you, Oscar hummed, his chest vibrating under your hand, and you watched as he droopily opened his eyes.

“I remember, mamas.” He mumbled, his brown eyes meeting yours in real life like they had just done in your memory.

His voice was groggy from not having been used for so long, the two of you having laid in silence for over an hour. Yet neither of you had fallen asleep, enjoying each other’s company too much.

You smiled at him, scanning his face. “I was forced there against my will because Jessica hadn’t found a date, and you were there with Sad Eyes and his ruca. You were wearing a black button-up, grey jeans,-”

“And you were wearing a yellow sundress.” Oscar recalled, his full lips pulling into a smile of his own.

You snorted at that, remembering how mad you had been about being forced to wear that ugly dress. 

“Don’t remind me. It was way too small for me and I still can’t believe Jessica forced me to wear it. It did nothing for my figure.” You shook your head, still disappointed after all those years.

But Oscar’s smile only widened and he pushed himself up on his elbow, now leaning over you and moving his hand to the side of your face.

“You looked beautiful.” He corrected, gingerly tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Just like you do now.”

A chuckle left your lips. “Well, I must have.” You teased, squinting your eyes playfully and raising your hand to touch the Santos cross inked into the skin on his neck. “Because I don’t think the infamous Spooky would have asked me to dance if I hadn’t.”

The memory changed in your mind, taking you back to when Oscar had walked up to you and asked for your hand in a dance. 

You had only been eighteen at the time but he had already been jumped into the Santos a long time prior to that moment, and you were… well, let’s just say that you weren’t the fondest of human interaction, so neither of you had any experience when it came to dancing.

But still, you had taken his hand without as much as a single doubt in your mind, and you hadn’t regretted it once.

Bésame, Bésame mucho Como si fuera ésta noche La última vez

“I think back to that moment every day. Every time we kiss, I kiss you like it’s our last moment together.” Oscar’s face was concentrated, his fingers absentmindedly touching your face, his eyes following their movements as he listened to the lyrics and reminisced the past.  

His words caused your eyebrows to crease together, your hands moving up to cradle his face. “You don’t have to think like that.” You mumbled, shaking your head. “I’m not going anywhere, papi.”

The fact that he would even think about you leaving him made your heart tug painfully in your chest. You could be threatened to be killed, be held under gun- or knifepoint, and you still wouldn’t even consider leaving his side.

But you understood his worries. All of the people he had loved throughout his life had ended up leaving him in one way or another. 

He knew that you loved him, but he would always be scared that history would be repeated with you like it had been with everyone else.

Bésame, Bésame mucho Que tengo miedo a perderte Perderte después

“I know you’re not.” He agreed, continuing to look down at you with nothing but pure, raw admiration. “But I’m scared. I’m scared that I’ll fuck this up like I’ve done everything else in my life.”

He closed his eyes, leaning closer to your face and pressing his forehead against yours. “I know this shit between us is real, but it still feels like I’m dreaming.” The confession brought another tug at your heart. “Like you’re gonna disappear if I open my eyes; if I let you go.”

Quiero tenerte muy cerca Mirarme en tus ojos Verte junto a mi Piensa que tal vez mañana Yo ya estaré lejos, Muy lejos de ti

“I’m scared that I’ll get caught up in this shit too deep, that I’ll-” He let out a breath of air through his nose, his eyes squeezing shut for a brief moment. “That I’ll have to leave to keep you safe and never get to see you again. Never get to look into your eyes and see the reflection of the man you make me. A better man.”

“You’re a good man all on your own, baby.” You quickly objected, holding his cheeks with just a tad bit more force in your hands. “You don’t need me for that.”

“I do.” He kept fighting back, his eyes narrowing to the point where you could only see his dark eyelashes, his brown irises hidden behind them. “You don’t just make me better. You want me want to be better. Without you, I would have been dead a long time ago.”

Bésame, Bésame mucho Como si fuera ésta noche La última vez

“Then kiss me like this is our last moment together.” You said, your eyebrows furrowing together. “Kiss me as if tomorrow, we’ll be on opposite sides of the planet, surrounded by other people and with no way for you to tell me you love me. Kiss me. Kiss me as if it’s the last time.”

He stared into your eyes and just for the briefest of times, the world seemed to stop around you. The moment between a glance and a kiss where the only thing between you was the intense affection and the anticipation of each other’s lips on yours. 

It was a moment so intense it hung in the air and pulled you closer, and then he did. 

He kissed you like he was drowning and you were his air, like he was starved, like he hadn’t eaten or drank in two weeks and you were the only thing keeping him alive.

He put his hands on either side of your face, the room fell away around you and you had never gotten so lost in a kiss before. 

The space between you exploded, your heart kept missing beats and your hands couldn’t bring him close enough to you.

One of his hands left your face to tug the headphones out of your ears just as the song came to an end, and you allowed him to grab them and your phone and put them somewhere to the side without ever breaking the kiss.

You were intoxicated by the feel of his arms around you and his lips moving against yours in perfect synchronization. 

Slowly, he began to unwrap you; your mind, your heart, your soul. He hadn’t gotten to your clothes yet, but you knew he would, because he just kept kissing you more, truly as if it was for the last time. 

Bésame. 

TRANSLATIONS:

Bésame, Bésame mucho Como si fuera ésta noche La última vez //  Kiss me Kiss me a lot As if it were tonight The last time

Bésame Bésame mucho Que tengo miedo a perderte Perderte después //  Kiss me Kiss me a lot For I am afraid to lose you To lose you afterwards

Quiero tenerte muy cerca Mirarme en tus ojos Verte junto a mi Piensa que tal vez mañana Yo ya estaré lejos, Muy lejos de ti //  I want to have you very close Look in your eyes See you next to me Think that maybe tomorrow I will be far away Far away from you

[contrabandhothead]

Bless your soul for giving us generation kill content, it is so few and far between on this site. A saint. An angel. You are a treasure

i- 🥺🥺🥺

this is so sweet omg i actually cried. thank you so much!!!! that’s literally so sweet of you, i don’t know how to thank you enough. you’re amazing, i’m so happy you gave my blog a chance 💕

this might not be helpful for you personally, but i figured i’d compile a small list of some of my favorite gen kill content creators just to spread the love...

@chlosevignys: makes pretty much all of the gen kill gifs... they’re great quality, 20302392/10 would recommend

@lovinmullen: makes some of the funniest gen kill memes i have ever seen i’m not even joking i’ve laughed for a solid few minutes on some of them. he also posts about the other 2 hbo war shows as well!

@kathikon: my go-to blog for incorrect gen kill quotes! they’re not overused ones i’ve seen in a million other fandoms as well, which is literally so hard to do. ALSO, HE RESPECTS MR. MIKE WYNN, AND I THINK THAT IS THE MOST ADMIRABLE THING EVER SO HE’S AUTOMATICALLY VALID. reblogs good stuff too. this blog is like crack to me

@momecat: a classic. one of the first people i ever started following for gen kill content. THE TEXT POST MEMES. he’s on a semi-hiatus right now, but the content is still immaculate.

@ackackh: made the iconic beginner’s guide to Gen Kill. you must read it.

@zim-zam-goddamn: HI THEY HAVE SOME OF THE BEST, IF NOT THE BEST GENERATION KILL FANFICTION THERE’S LOTS OF NATE FICK (WHO IS MY HUSBAND I LOVE HIM) SO GO FOLLOW THEM BECAUSE HOLY SHIT I LOVE THE CONTENT SO MUCH-

@beinfinite: MORE generation kill incorrect quotes (what’s not to love???)

@order-of-river-phoenix: super sweet, reblogs all the cool shit, AND writes gen kill fanfics. did i mention how nice they are??? actually read the book.

@lavenderhunni: made this one meme about finding pappy in the background and i haven’t gotten over it— she also makes fantastic memes in general and her blog has more than just gen kill

@biggaybrad: do... do i need to explain this one??? LOOK AT THE @ BRO THANK ME LATER

@yeahcurrahee: has gen kill fics coming on the way and i’m super excited for them!!! makes text post memes, talked about starting an HBO war discord, HAS OPEN REQUESTS, AND DESERVES MORE ATTENTION!!!!

@punkgeekchic: has super duper cool gen kill heart memes and i saved a few. they’re super high quality!!! they also have BoB on their account and a ton of other gen kill stuff

@blenalela: does some fantastic headcanons, has iconic memes, and i’ve found a lot of cool stuff they’ve reblogged

@softlieb: simps over Mr. Nathaniel Fick and that automatically makes someone valid. end of story. literally some of the best memes i’ve ever seen, too relatable. stans liebgott for clear skin <3

@lovingunderratedcharacters: literally the reason i started writing gen kill fanfiction. wrote the first gen kill fanfiction i ever read. just fantastic quality overall, please check them out!

these were only a few i could remember off the top of my head, but they all have amazing content!!! please check them out, all of them are extremely underrated and deserve more love.

[arukou-arukou]

A Non-zero Chance

I jumbled the timeline as I was writing this. Just go with it, okay? For @stevetonygames prompt Fluff: Sparring, for team angst. Also adding fic non-linear and tropes: soulmates. Angst with a hopeful ending. Mentions of sex acts. Canon typical violence. There is a read more line after the first section.

 Many many months after that faithful day in Sibera, Tony returned to the scene of the crime. The site was untouched. He hadn’t told Ross about it, and apparently T’Challa had decided well enough was better left alone. The holes they’d put into the bunker of the facility had completely covered over in frost and ice, and Tony had to wonder how Zemo had even dug the little hillock out in the first place. Though there had been a snowcat parked outside when they all first arrived. Without any care, though, it had once again faded into the arctic surroundings. Only someone who knew what they were looking for would find it.

Tony broke in through the holes rather than the front door. He wasn’t really in a mood for digging, and as satisfying as it might be to melt snow with an overloaded repulsor, this mission was also supposed to be stealth and secretive, and he didn’t really need Ross any further up his ass.

Inside, the evidence of their fight wasn’t as big or horrifying as he remembered. There were some structures that had toppled, and a few spots where he’d scorched cement with a repulsor, but it didn’t look nearly as bad as he remembered it being. The Avengers had certainly done worse elsewhere. Tony ran his hand over a shield-shaped crack in the wall.

—

 “This is ridiculous, Cap, we need to know how to fight together, not fight each other.”

Steve smiles back over his shoulder. His ridiculously broad shoulder. “After Wanda mind-whammied us, I’m not taking any chances. We should all know how to incapacitate each other just as a precaution.”

“Only incapacitate, Steve? Not maim?”

Steve chuckles and starts strapping on boxing tape. “No maiming on the docket today. Maybe next Tuesday.”

 —

 Tony followed their trail of destruction back into the heart of the bunker, where the super soldiers still rested suspended, illuminated in sickly yellow. There was the fucking TV, right there. The thing that had ruined it all. Tony stared down at it, wondering where the tape reel itself was located. Probably back in that room Zemo had been hiding in. The bulletproof one. Somewhere in the hallways, Tony could hear water dripping. Impressive, really, given the permafrost all around. He would’ve thought the systems had frozen over long ago. Near his foot, there was a gun, the semi-automatic Barnes had been carrying. It was useless now, its clip and firing mechanisms slagged by his repulsors. He picked it up all the same and aimed it at the glass where Zemo had hidden. The suit’s fingers were too thick to fit over the trigger—what was left of it anyway—so Tony just imagined how satisfying it would be to fill that glass full of shrapnel, to watch Zemo crumple to the ground.

 —

 “Why are you even training me, Rogers? I’m retired. Aren’t you supposed to be looking after the rookies?”

“Just because you’re retired, Tony, doesn’t mean trouble won’t come looking for you. You’re a pretty attractive target.”

“Why yes. Yes, I am. Thank you for noticing.”

Steve punches his bicep gently before offering a bottle of water. Tony takes it, squirting some into his mouth before moving on to his sweat-drenched hair. On Steve’s left wrist, he catches sight of the red band that hides Steve’s words. It would be rude to ask. Totally taboo. But Tony can’t stop himself.

 —

 Tony managed to jimmy his way into the control room, and there he found the VCR, still loaded with the incriminating tape. If he were smart, he would just rip the thing apart, burn the tape and shatter the shell. And Tony was smart. Just not smart in the right ways. He fired up the power to the TV, rewound the tape, and then hit play again. He’d rewound too far. Barnes was in his cryo tube. Some slimy scientists were hauling him out, shoving him into some horrifying chair, pushing down the nodes, saying the words.

No. Tony didn’t want this. He didn’t want to feel sympathy for Barnes. He wanted to let his rage fester and corrode him until he didn’t care anymore. All caring had ever gotten him was betrayal.

 —

 “Do you know who they belong to?” Tony asks, looking up defiantly, refusing to be sheepish about his lack of willpower. Steve glances down at his band before looking up again.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He looks wistful and boyish, sweet and beautiful. Tony wants to kiss away the sorrow he sees in that face.

“Who?”

“Doesn’t matter. He’s dead now.”

“Oh.” Tony touches his own band, thinking of the words beneath. He’s my friend. The most significant thing anyone will ever say to him. The thing that, if the romantics would have him believe it, points him toward his soulmate. He’s never really gone in for that, though. His parents had had each other’s words, and their marriage was anything but blissful and romantic.

No. Tony’s got a different theory about the words.

 —

 There. Tony spotted it before even knowing he was looking for it. On Barnes’ collarbone. Had fate known he would lose the arm? It was unusual for words to be somewhere else on the body. Non-dominant wrist. That was the norm. The tap quality was shit and Tony couldn’t enhance it without bringing the tape back to Fry. And like hell he was bringing the tape home. Were the files somewhere? Hadn’t Zemo had a book? Maybe it was here?

Tony searched the control room, trying to find evidence of the thing Zemo had used to control Barnes. There was no sign of it, but what there were were dozens of filing drawers, all of them covered in a layer of dust. Tony started digging.

 —

 Steve’s off his game today, Tony can tell. He’s distracted by something, mind not in the ring, and Tony takes advantage. Just like Steve and Nat taught him to. He sweeps Steve’s leg, rolls on top of him, pins his leg in a position that's precariously dangerous even for a supersoldier, and applies weight. “Yield?”

It’s late, the halls are quiet. Tony hadn’t even meant to do sparring with Steve today, but Steve had asked, so Tony had delayed his return to New York City and well, the late hour puts his mind elsewhere.

Their eyes lock. Tony’s still on top of Steve, holding him in place, threatening his knee joint. Between one breath and the next, their positions are flipped, Steve on top of Tony, both of them hard, teeth clacking. Tony doesn’t make it back to New York City that night.

 —

 What felt like hours later, Tony finally discovered what looked like a medical log. He’d been trying to learn Russian, but adding a new script was harder than adding a spoken language, and he was a busy man, what with covering Rogers’ ass every other day. Natasha might have been a master spy, but Steve was a puppy who hadn’t learned how to control his tail wag yet, and he left destroyed crockery in his wake. There was always some trail to some terrorist or smuggler or weapons dealer that needed cleaning up, lest Ross take notice. The point being, Tony’s Russian wasn’t exactly sparkling.

But he’d double-checked ahead of time to know what he was looking for and now he was pretty sure he’d found it. Flipping through the file, Tony found what he wanted to know almost instantly. ‘Til the end of the line. The words. Those words.

 —

 It’s a thing. Sort of. Tony comes to the compound. They spar. They fuck. It’s only their third time sleeping together that Steve drags him into the shower, wristband conspicuously absent. Tony touches the thin skin, for once asking permission before he looks down. Steve nods, trusting, contented. I’m with you to the end of the line, pal. “He” Steve had said. Tony doesn’t need to ask to know who “he” is. There was only one really important “he” in Steve’s life way back when. And it makes sense, too. After all, Barnes plunged to his death trying to protect Steve and Steve had tried to protect him just as hard. Of course they’re important to each other.

“Can I see yours,” Steve asks, kissing Tony’s band. Fair’s fair, Tony thinks to himself, and nods.

Steve gently unclasps the snaps and sets the band aside outside the shower. He looks down at the words and then up at Tony with a silent question. “I don’t know whose they are.”

“And you’re still okay with us?”

“Steve, I’m standing naked in a shower with you. I’m pretty damn okay with this.”

The bright grin Steve gives him feels like a gift.

 —

 Tony left, hauling the tape and the filing cabinets behind him. They would be useful sooner or later, he was sure. And it felt so important, hauling his literal baggage along with him back to the US. Well, first a pit stop in Wakanda so Shuri could make copies. Fry flew the quinjet on autopilot, which was maybe a mistake. Tony needed distractions and all he had were files rendered in Russian, which were frankly giving him a headache. He wanted to hate Barnes so much. But fate was literally sending him a message. Barnes. Rogers. ‘Til the end of the line.

Eventually, frustrated, he managed to sink into a fitful sleep, which took him to Wakanda’s borders. T’Challa sent along an escort at the shield wall to make sure Tony was alone and also to make sure Tony didn’t cause any undue trouble. As if he could manage anything more than a nervous breakdown at the moment. Shuri was waiting for him on the platform, and for her and her brilliant mind, he managed a tired smile.

“Brought a present for you.”

“Thank you, Tony. I would get them myself, but—”

“No, no. You’re busy in Oakland kicking science ass and shooting layups with the youth. Let the old guy take care of the analog—” Tony shuddered theatrically “—files.”

Shuri smiled more brightly and kissed him on the cheek. “You look tired. Go see my mother. She’ll be wanting to mother you.”

“I shouldn’t. I’ve gotta—”

“My brother has already ensured that General Ross cannot find you. Go. Eat some food. Get some rest. Perhaps we can talk about your latest arc reactor designs in the morning. I have some ideas.”

“I bet you do.”

Tony knew when he’d been dismissed, and he also knew he was being handled a little, but it felt nice to be handled. It felt nice to not have to be trying to outwit Ross at every turn for a little while. So he allowed Ramonda to stuff him full of delicious, spicy food and then shuffled off to the guest wing, intent on getting at least four hours before he took off.

But the second he laid down, he was awake and restless, unable to settle. His thoughts kept going back to those files, going back to the “end of the line,” thinking again and again about the letters carved into Steve’s skin. How many times had he kissed that wrist? How many times had Steve kissed his? How was it fair, that Steve would be Tony’s words, but Tony wouldn’t be Steve’s?

Fed up, he yanked on a pair of loose cotton pants and a loose cotton T-shirt and wandered the palace, looking for distraction. None of the guards stopped him, though they watched him with considerable distrust. He didn’t blame them. He wouldn’t trust him either. Not anymore. It was only when he heard the sound of skin slapping leather that he stopped short. That sounded like… But it couldn’t be. All the same, he pushed through the door, freezing as he discovered a huge training ground, Steve inside, alone at a punching bag.

Steve froze too, and the bag caught him on the backswing, smacking him straight in the nose. Tony found himself caught between laughing and rushing forward with concern, and ended up doing a bit of both, snorting as he approached, though he remained well out of Steve’s personal bubble. “Smooth, Cap.”

“Tony, what are you doing here?”

Tony scuffed his toes into the mats, which felt solid right up until he kicked them and then gave way like kinetic sand. It felt heavenly and he wanted to play with it and see what it was made out of. “Oh, you know. Just dropped in for a cuppa with the King.”

“Did…did you bring those files?” Steve remained sprawled on the floor, looking up at him, a trickle of blood trailing from his nose.

“And if I did?”

Steve swallowed heavily, rubbing at the blood and smearing it. And then he was up, faster than Tony could react to, holding Tony, kissing him sloppily through mumbled “I’m sorry’s.” Tony didn’t know how to react. Was this what an out-of-body experience felt like? He remained motionless even as Steve broke away, jumping back, looking more unsure than he’d looked since he and Tony first met. “Shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… You don’t want…” Steve took a huge breath and squared his shoulders, looking Tony in the eye. “That was wrong of me. I hurt you. In so many ways. It was wrong of me to kiss you.”

“Also pretty sure you’re cheating on your boyfriend if you kiss me. Don’t forget that bit.”

The little line between Steve’s eyebrows deepened. “Bucky and I, we’re not… We’re just not. I thought we would. But I can’t. Every time I tried, I felt like I was betraying you. And Bucky felt like it was wrong, too. We didn’t…we didn’t click. Not romantically, anyway.”

“You’re not…” Tony could barely dare to let himself to hope. “Didn’t you back in the war, though?”

“No. No, we didn’t. It was too much, running missions, fighting Hydra. Plus, he was afraid I’d get caught and outed. So we didn’t. I should’ve told you. But I didn’t think it mattered.”

All the thoughts Tony used to have about the words, the idea that maybe they had nothing at all to do with romance, came back to him. He ran a finger over his own wrist, where Steve’s words were hidden.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?” Steve stood there, square, looking as though he was waiting to be punched, ready to take his punishment like a man.

“Wanna spar?”

[ziracona]

I think you've said the your first plan for Frank's fate was a lot different than what happened in fic? Do you mind sharing what your original idea was?

Sure!

So, originally, when I added Legion to In Living Memory--which was by far the biggest rewrite I did to my outline--I planned out Susie’s arc and Joey’s more or less as they appear in-fic. However, almost none of what happened with Frank was planned. So, when I write, characters often do stuff I don’t understand at the time or only partially understand, or figure out the reasons behind later, which can be a little bit of a hassle but isn’t too bad. Unfortunately, they also not just incredibly infrequently will decide to do shit I had no idea they would do ahead of time, and like, I can’t stop them, because like it or not, if I did, I’d be writing them OOC, so I just kind of have to go with it. When I got to The Lost, the section with Frank was supposed to be very different. He was supposed to show up, and Jeff was going to be low-key nice to him. I think in the original outline draft, he was a little more fucked up still than he is in-fic, so in the outline, Jeff bumps into him upstairs while looking for the tape, easily incapacitates him when Frank attacks him, and is super surprised by winning the fight in like 0.8 seconds, and realizes how fucked up he is. Frank is kind of freaked out, because he’s super weak and at someone who he would expect hates him’s mercy, but Jeff just is kind of silently like “it’s okay--don’t worry” and doesn’t tell anyone else he’s there so that he won’t be in trouble, and they leave with the tape. When I actually wrote the chapter, that changed to Frank being more healed at this point, and them actually fighting him, and some of what ended up in chapter, but Jeff was mostly just expected to be like “Okay, but we’re not going to kill him. We’re going to show mercy even if he wouldn’t, and let him go.” because Jeff is, well, Jeff. And instead he was like “Hey uh can I do a thing?” and I was like “Uh yeah I guess” and he just went off and was unreasonably nice and compassionate to Frank Morrison for like 40 pages and I was like...This is going to butterfly effect update everything. Shit.

And it did. Thanks Jeff. (Sincerely though, it’s much better the way the cards fell and the way I ended up writing/developing Frank and Julie and also Jeff and Joey and Susie too).  Originally, Frank was going to be slightly conflicted (as Jeff would still have been unexpectedly merciful to him), but to a much, much lesser extent. He was never a monster--he’s kind of a shitty person, but not without redeeming qualities, and he’s still in his early 20s. [To be fair, though, in ILM, Frank gets away with a lot. Like, going back and reading Tenacity, Adrenaline, and Grit alone, he does some sincerely fucked up stuff to Meg that he is allowed by the compassion of the rest of the cast to come back from. Meg doesn’t get enough credit for how nice she is to Frank by the end of the fic. Which I mean, everyone nice to the Legion is going to be automatically juxtaposed with Jeff, who is the most compassionate and selfless man ever, but credit where it’s due, Meg is a super, super kind person. Lets Frank go in Vs. because he helped Susie and because it would make Susie sad, doesn’t try to get revenge on him even though he’s caused her lasting PTSD and some pretty big trauma for petty reasons, is willing to believe he and Julie could/have actually changed, and while at fic-end she’s still kind of at “I am sincerely glad for you that you’re not who you used to be, but also, being close to you is traumatic for me because of what you did to me in the past, so I do not want to be around you,” (which is already a both valid and incredibly generous place to be at towards him), she feels further compassion for him because at this point he really does sincerely regret and feel guilt and shame for the things he’s done and wish he could change them, and extends the possibility that maybe in the future she will heal enough that that’s not the case anymore and there might be a future where they could be okay with each other, or oven become friends. And I know that next to Jeff people don’t all be looking as amazing as they would otherwise haha, but that’s like, that’s such a kind and strong and compassionate choice to make towards someone who has hurt you. Forgiveness is such, such a valuable thing, because it just is never merited, it’s always an act of compassion, and I really love her for that. I know I’m totally derailing the actual question so I’ll get back to it now though--sorry--I just have a lot of love for Meg Thomas.]

But uh yes, back on topic. Frank was never a monster. Legion is super interesting and I love them because they’re in a class all their own, which I know I’ve said before. But like, “teens who murdered one guy once spur of the moment because one of the group was in trouble” is such a different mental/psychological/ethical/emotional place to be coming from than any of the other killers. Frank is kind of a shithead, but he does genuinely love and care for his friends, and would be willing to suffer for them. He’s definitely got Reactive Attachment Disorder too, which is part of why he has such a hard time getting to trust Jeff eventually. 

So, as aggressive and kind of shitty but not wholly without redeeming qualities, his original story would have seen him usually an aggressor (tries hard to stop Susie, hurts Meg, gets on Joey’s case for anything kind he does, kills survivors pretty brutally & threatens people to try and keep them in line, etc), but also having moments of sympathy and humanity (letting Quentin go in Distortion/Iron Maiden, conflicted about Jeff helping him, being willing to get incredibly hurt by the Entity to protect Joey, fighting Ghostface to save Susie even though their relationship is not good right now, etc), and getting kind of mixed results in his ending. He would still have saved Susie in Vs. and been helped by Meg, who would still have offered him temporary Clemency because he saved her girlfriend and she’s got some honor, and would have escaped with Julie and the rest of the survivors and allies and made it back to the world. However, instead of sticking around to help patch up Jeff etc, Frank and Julie would have booked almost immediately in 600 Seconds (I doubt he would have stopped to help the truck driver either), and ended up with an uncertain fate. In the original outline, they kind of go off Bonnie & Clyde style and live together on the run. They send Susie and Joey postcards and such sometimes, but are kind of just MIA at the end, and it is unclear/up in the air if they will escalate into violence again, or be convinced by their old friends to come meet up and maybe try living a different life. I am not sure of details beyond that, because that outline kind of burned to death with the first actual paper draft of The Lost, as at that point I was pretty sure what Jeff was choosing to do would drastically change Frank’s future and decisions. I was kind of unsure how to feel about that at first. 

I’ve never like, hated Frank, but when Darkness Among Us released, I did not like him. Didn’t hate, but like, he was kind of vaguely portrayed as an angry, violent white boy who thinks his sad backstory gives him the right to commit murder, and despite that was wildly not just like, liked, but like, stan-style liked and pretty frequently really woobified too in big chunks of the fandom right after release, while the much more canonically sympathetic Joey got super sidelined (probably for race reasons) and so did Julie. So, I certainly didn’t like, plan to give him as big even a role as he had? I wanted him to be complex because he just was, but uh, it was surreal for me that I ended up having a deep emotional attachment to Frank hecking Morrison, but like, I guess here we are lol. And I’m not sorry. It was a good way for the story to go, and improved the plot. My frustration with the initial portrayals I saw were p valid, but I just didn’t end up writing Frank that way, or seeing him that way when I got to know him, and the person he was in ILM is someone who I am happy got and chose to take a shot at redemption and a good life with people who loved him. I care about him a lot. I think after The Lost, and certainly by the first draft of The Cat I was fully on board with how I knew then that Frank’s story was going to go, and it’s a kinder, softer story than I had planned, but I’m glad it was. I’m glad the stupid rat boy got a redemption arc. It’s so fkn hard to actually choose to change if you do bad stuff in real life, and it’s pretty damn valuable if someone can face the guilt and responsibility of what they did, accept it, and try to find some way to make right. He had a stacked deck in life, and got pretty lost out there for a while, but he beat the world, in the end. Frank let himself get pretty hardened and chose to throw out a lot of humanity before he decided to stop, but he did, and he earned a little bit of hope in the end. I don’t know if his ending is fair or not, considering all the bad shit he did, but I also don’t think it has to be. I don’t remember the exact line, but Jeff’s right when he says that life has always been unfair to them, but never in ways that were good, and that unfair can be a good thing too. Life is so rarely unfair to human beings in a way that is merciful or kind, and it’s really kind of amazing the rare times it is. I’m happy things ended up how they did. : )

[Also: fun stupid fact as a last note here. When I decided to expand Frank’s role, I was like “Okay, I can definitely see the value of this character arc and story change, and I like it and am on board, but you absolutely cannot sideline Joey to give Frank room,” like--I was not going to end up like

nuh-uh, so I literally invented a rule for myself that any time Frank got new content that wasn’t in the outline, I had to give Joey new content too so he wouldn’t get bypassed/sidelined and his arc and narrative would get the value and consideration and time it deserved alongside Frank’s and not accidentally, good intentions or not, end up getting overshadowed, and I really did stick to that. Like it got kind of funny to me. But I’m also glad I did because now Frank has a cool and well developed, hard-earned redemption arc, Julie gets one too, and I get *EveN MOooREe* Joey being a wonderful character screen time. Just good for everything all around. <3 ]

[missywhomst]

Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

Ahh! Okay, big surprise, I’m gonna talk about and i call to you. Genuinely I haven’t been this devoted to a multi chapter fic almost...ever? I nearly always abandon them at some point or another. But this story took on a weird life of its own and has now spiraled into something much more complex and more fun than I originally anticipated. I don’t want to give too much away, but I will say that I do drop hints here and there. They’re very subtle (or maybe I just think they’re hints because I know what’s coming lol), like some of the things that characters take notice of but don’t really dwell on will come into play later. Len, for example, is gonna come back soon. And his previously established anxiety is gonna be a pain in the ass for River. 

I’m also pretty excited about the way I’m building up the Doctor’s relationship with River in flashbacks. I include them partly because I love imagining those off camera moments but also because they establish that while the two of them did have a kind of romance for the ages, it was also pretty messy. I put some examples from the first few chapters under the cut. 

“Surprised to see me? He would ask, and River would hold back a smile, swirling her tea with her spoon, eyes sparkling. Always, my love. Now, what fresh hell have you brought to my doorstep today?” <-- The “always, my love” was supposed to be a sad line like River genuinely doesn’t believe the Doctor thinks about her when she’s not around. I’m not sure if that came across, but it was the intention. 

“She was wearing the same frustrated restraint she had for the Doctor when he’d been so young, traipsing through the Byzantium not knowing her, and her saying I hate you, and him having the arrogance to say no you don’t. It made the Doctor sick to think about.” <-- This is from the same chapter (3). Basically, I just want to keep showing that the Doctor is now mature enough to reflect on how she treated River while simultaneously being trapped in the one situation where she can’t actually make it right. 

“River had been flying her beautifully, as always, and he’d broken the silence with a request so bittersweet and selfish that it rang back in his ears like knives when she gave him a sad little smile. One psychopath per TARDIS. He’d hurt her by asking, he knew that, so impulsive and desperate, and River, grieving, had no choice but to say no.” <-- This was also the Doctor being dumb (in canon!!!) and feeling bad about it. Making River into a substitute for Amy and Rory by asking her to travel with him after Manhattan. In some ways it felt a bit dehumanizing. I know there’s the timelines to preserve and everything, but of course the only time the Doctor asks River to be a permanent part of his life is out of grief rather than genuine enthusiasm. I thought about saying that explicitly, but I genuinely think I just forgot to lol. 

“River wasn’t afraid to look anyone in the eye. The Doctor had always found that to be an admirable quality. It had struck him in the moments before her death. The way she cried and stared unblinkingly into his eyes, yearning and achingly sincere, desperate to get him to understand, to see her like she needed him to at that moment. Because even in her last seconds she’d catered to his innocence, his fragility, the childish frustration he felt for her, for his future.” <-- I feel like this one’s self explanatory. The Doctor reflecting on her dumbassery. This one a bit more unintentional though. I mean he had just met her. But I’m sure that after all they’ve been through together, to look back and only now understand how terrible and devastating that moment must have been for River must eat the Doctor up inside. Anyway, I just like that paragraph a lot.

“Oh, don’t look at them. She’d moan, and he’d frown so deep she often told him he’d split his face right in half if he didn’t stop. Your face? He’d ask like the daft old man he was. The wrinkles, you idiot. She almost laughed, brushing him off when he tried to pull her wrist back. River. He’d chastise so gently, with such mournfulness, that she’d turn with the intention of soothing, an automatic and—as much as the Doctor hated to admit—conditioned reaction to his pain. You don’t need to hide from me. The memory made an ache she hadn’t felt in a long time blossom in her chest.” <-- This one just makes me sad tbh. I’m convinced the Doctor got better on Darillium, but he still wasn’t one to really talk about his emotions. Not that I think River needs to air out her trauma with the Doctor (whether it stems from the Doc or from Madam Kovarian). But I would have liked to see the Doctor truly acknowledge all the shit she put River through. And I think in a way that’s what and i call to you has become about. It didn’t start out like that, but now I think it’s become my way of letting the Doctor and River heal from all those centuries of lack of communication and crossed wires. And that’s partly because of spoilers but also because they’re both idiots and need a nice long hug. 

So, if you’ve actually read this far, you must enjoy my crazy ramble of a story, and I love you for it! I’m sorry this was so long, but thanks for sticking with me. :)

[agentravensong]

didn’t want to add on to the last post, but then i figured this might be a good opportunity to advertise my fics while also showing how they’re kinda the same story for two different fandoms 

so here’s my original examples of the “character who isn’t used to opening up is suddenly hugged by another character and there’s that moment of hesitation where they don’t know what’s happening before hugging them back” trope. under the cut in case peeps aren’t in the mood to feel feels:

I was gonna put screenshots but tumblr sucked the quality out of them so they became impossible to read, so guess we’re copy-pasting.

oh, and, spoilers. if you don’t want that, click the links so you can read them in context ;)

First from the UnderTale fic, “Everything Stays, Everything Changes” (where “you” = Frisk and “I” = Chara):

With a hopeless look, your head droops once more, and you let out a strained, muffled wail. The overstimulation paralyzes me for a moment. Then I recognize that I have the chance to do something I've wanted to do for you before, but never could, and I take it. 

With my free arm, I pull you into a tight embrace. Your body shudders before collapsing into me. I rub your back at a steady pace to help you regain control of your breathing.

[skipping a paragraph or two]

When the silence persists, I cautiously free my other arm from your grasp, so that I can brush some of your tightly wound curls of hair away from your eyes. Almost automatically, both your arms wrap themselves around me and weakly squeeze.

"It's okay. Talk whenever you're ready," I hum. It's not a tone of voice I'm used to utilizing, and to my ears, it sounds like a facsimile, but it seems not to bother you.

...Actually this fic has two examples of the trope, so here’s the other one.

"...If, say, I floated my offer for a hug again," I drawl, gulping air to swallow my rising panic, "would you-"

"You really want one?" You ask, somewhat incredulously but also enthusiastically.

"It is supposed to be for you, not for me," I retort. "...That being said, yes I do."

Beaming, you bound across the space between us and enfold my torso in your surprisingly strong arms, nearly sending us toppling backward. Once I regain my balance, I wrap one arm around your back and use the other to ruffle your hair some, releasing some giggles from your chest. Exhaustion clawing at me, I shut my eyes and take a deep breath. I can feel the pulse of your soul now, reverberating between the two of us, its warmth alleviating my panic.

That is until I open my eyes again and see the red flares flying out from your chest, encircling us.

"Chara," you whisper, as their brightness increases exponentially, "I'm so lucky. I'm so glad you're my friend."

Forced to shut my eyes once more, the light and heat from your soul becoming overwhelming, the only words I can muster in response are,

"Me too."

And then there’s the ending of my more recent Sanders Sides fic, “It Seemed the Better Way”:

“Well, you’re free to go,” Janus sighed. But just before he turned around, he thought to make another offer, to try and lighten the air. “Unless, you might feel better if, say, I gave you one of those… ‘hugs’ Thomas seems to like?”

He regretted the suggestion before it fully left his lips. This was not his thing, and of all the sides, Virgil was the next least likely to appreciate it.

His look of revulsion seemed to confirm it. However, when the shock wore off, and he recognized that Janus was being sincere…

“Sure,” Virgil mumbled. “...Oh. Alright then.”

At first, neither of them moved. Then Janus opened his arms in a stilted manner, like a rusted animatronic. Taking the cue, Virgil sluggishly shuffled forward, until Janus was able to wrap his arms around him. They stayed in this almost-embrace for a moment or two, both holding their breath without either realizing it.

Suddenly Virgil’s arms were crushing Janus’s torso, and he was heaving into his chest, his head buried in his shoulder. Then snot was dripping from his inflamed nose, and hot stinging tears were leaking through his eyelids, even as he was squeezing them shut with all the strength he had left. His jittery exhales morphed into strained cries and ghostly wails, muffled and formless, yet perfectly clear in meaning.

Janus had no experience in this matter. He initially didn’t dare to move a muscle, paralyzed by the fear he would somehow make things worse. But when Virgil’s legs buckled in, he instinctively pulled him into his chest and slowly lowered the two of them until they were kneeling on the floor. Then he grabbed the ends of the falling blanket and had it encircle them both; and despite all the occasions he and Remus had made fun of Virgil for being so attached to the ratty old thing, Janus found it eased his nerves.

Virgil was still sobbing, though softer. Overwhelmed, lost, Janus briefly shut his eyes and reached out to his network, seeking memories of how Thomas’s guardians had calmed him down in similar situations. Soon enough, he was rubbing Virgil’s back with one hand, while he brushed the bangs out of his bloodshot, waterlogged eyes with the other.

“Virgil, hey, buddy, it’s okay. Let it out,” he murmured. It was a new tone of voice for him, this balancing act of coming across as both confident and compassionate. It sounded insultingly fake to his own ears; however, he could feel Virgil’s convulsions slowing, so he continued. “I’m here, Virgil. It’s all going to be okay. Do you hear me? Thomas will be okay. I promise.”

So like. I love this trope. Something about the character who’s learned to suppress or is otherwise out of touch with their more sentimental emotions fumbling to provide support for the more sensitive and prone to breaking down of the pair, the stoic one doing the little they can think to do in the moment to help the person they care about most in the whole world, and in the process their own repressed, messy emotions bubbling to the surface...

That shit fucking gets me, man. And I love, love writing it.

...and hey, while I’m here, looks like there’s a specific idea that came up in both fics...

“...Talk whenever you're ready," I hum. It's not a tone of voice I'm used to utilizing, and to my ears, it sounds like a facsimile, but it seems not to bother you.

“...Let it out,” he murmured. It was a new tone of voice for him, this balancing act of coming across as both confident and compassionate. It sounded insultingly fake to his own ears; however, he could feel Virgil’s convulsions slowing, so he continued.

...Does this count as self-plagiarism? ...Who cares it slaps

[unproduciblesmackdown]

You're so right about the Will Roland fanart problems. It seems like back when Will Roland was only known for Jared people were way more proWill because he could be their funny meme boi who ate bathbombs but now that he's a lead with all these emotional songs it's like God forbid he's not their "twink bby". Idk it annoys me so much especially when people draw the rest of the Broadway cast and still use WillC or do an animatic with WillRs voice and WillCs character ugh like. Accept the Roland pls

lmao we are all just out here grabbing the mic like “attention all bastards: Look, just because will roland isn’t your ideal fancast for most adorable twink of the year - “

really like, i have never come across any signs of there having been any pattern in the deh fandom of ~taking issue~ with will’s Abilities to sing or play the part of a struggling teen or whatever like what crops up re: him being the lead in bmc.....it also is unsurprising yet disappointing that like, jared and alana are so easily completely ignored, but when they Are acknowledged it’s super flattened interpretations like, either they’re both hypocritical jerks (just based on evan’s gfy accusations basically lol) or if they’re actually viewed in a positive way it’s just like, alana is your friendly local Model Student and jared is memes and neither of them are in the way! :3

you litrally cannot ignore jeremy the Whole Entire Main Character tho and also like. can’t ignore the fact that caring about jeremy as a Romantique Lead is ahhh important to many ppl in the fanbase? so him being regarded as ~less cute~ is more of an Issue b/c the character must be taken seriously and is the sympathetic hero and has a lot more solo material / more of Any material / more focus than jared does in deh.........you Have To Look At Him and care about his actual feelings and not just misinterpret the character as “has no serious emotions b/c he doesn’t say serious things in a serious tone” the way ppl misinterpret jared. there’s the assumption that someone who is good / sympathetic should also be attractive / cute / Personally Appealing To Look At and that wasn’t as much a conflict when ppl didn’t think it was important to sympathize / care about / pay attention to jared too much, and the “conflict” of caring abt jeremy’s capacity for a romantic relationship but that’s less important if he’s not as Cute also not being as much an issue when most people don’t care about jared’s romantic feelings or think that they exist despite jared being in love with evan But Anyways

like it is wild the things people will just make up to “justify” their Dislike for will, which has only manifested as apparent Issues thanks to him playing jeremy rather than jared........there’s the classic “mm idk i don’t think he can sing that well” approach which like. some people are just trying to say they do not like the inherent descriptive qualities of his voice, which is more nasal obviously and don’t anyone come in here with the “Actually the Technical definition of Nasal re Vocals is” b/c we know what i mean, alright? nasal voices are not considered ~serious~ and there’s the kneejerk dumb-annoying-loser-nerd association. god knows that jeremy heere canNot have characteristics that could be automatically judged as irritating and unappealing. then there’s the notion that He doesn’t have the (vocal) range!! which like. do you honestly think they would cast someone who doesn’t have the correct range. you’re aware that will roland was being considered for the part of jeremy in the two river run up to the last round of callbacks. you know that the song that was literally written expressly to suit will roland’s individual voice and singing abilities makes use of his falsetto which people go “omg he can’t hit those high notes” except sometimes when they misattribute his falsetto to other singers they suddenly find it worth complimenting. and then you get people who like, want to subscribe to this softened version of it and get all backhanded like “oh i think will’s vocals are improving whew that’s good” in any random video and always Only single him out apparently like. did you think he gets worse with experience? you don’t wanna talk about any of these other professional singers improving or worsening or anything? only wanna give ur assessment of william’s huh

honestly i for real haven’t seen the 1.0 version b/c i’m here via will roland in the first place & i’ve never gotten the impression that there’s some Essential Content i’m missing out on by having only seen 2.0........but between a) people complaining that will r’s jeremy is Too Frustrated He Shouldn’t Be That Angry It Makes Him Less Sympathetic and b) saying just as a point of comparison betwixt the depictions that will r’s jeremy is more frustrated and c) i haven’t read That much bmc fic but people sure talk about jeremy being like five seconds away from bursting into tears at any given moment which like, okay yeah aren’t we all, but also i presume this stems from will c’s apparently Sadder portrayal of jeremy. i almost forgot where i was going with this one but i think it’s just that yeah people truly take issue with will r’s jeremy being more frustrated and it’s like you realize there’s no Right or Wrong portrayal / interpretation even if you prefer one for whatever reasons......theatre just is Like that.......you have a slightly different portrayal during ever performance even from the same actors, and you’ll often have different actors playing the role........yeah people usually are attached to the first performance they see / have that as their Standard and that’s fine, it’s just like, you don’t have to decide that’s an Objective view and that you have Objective issues with everyone else’s take. 1.0 is still there for you

uhhhh oh yeah and the whole Clout idea lmao......people really putting themselves out there shaking their heads at the supposed fact that will was cast for the off bway run to Boost Popularity b/c he was part of the deh obc......besides the whole thing that it’s hardly likely that would’ve been considered necessary anyhow, there’s the little thing that a) again, will roland had already been very seriously considered for the part even before will connolly was decided on for the original run and b) like.....these people had been collaborating for eons and you really think will roland only popped into their minds thanks to being in deh....and c) joe iconis has repeatedly said they specifically did Not want to cast people based on who was Known enough and whose names would be good for marketing and d) maybe anyone has noticed that the marketing never involved any mention of anyone in the cast? no? cool. and yet people like so truly think they’re Wise to ~real reason~ that they’d go and cast will roland as the lead. like people are making shit up and really just thinking it’s true b/c they Want it to be true b/c they Want to be validated in having actual contempt for will’s casting despite the “issue” being that he doesn’t seem as Likeable (worthy of sympathy...cough...) thanks to his deemed-unattractive looks and sweetly-adenoidal voice and more-frustrated portrayal all seeming less cute or whatever

and i mean i haven’t seen it crop up of late but the one particular Grasping At Straws ~justification~ for will being unworthy of the part thanks to perceived acting/singing incompetence which is soooo wild is when people are like “ough i Hate when he just holds his arms out when he sings” like fmslkdj if anything that’s just an individual quirk and the fact that it was something you noticed means you just latched on to it as potential fodder for “the fact i registered this information abt someone whose existence i Resent means it distracted me which means i hate it and it’s bad”...like another thing he does with his hands while singing is when he makes the loose claws and kind of half crosses his arms in front of his chest! where are the complaints about that?? nowhere, b/c people have not really processed it as a particular thing, so they can’t deem it a Particular Thing To Criticize. people sometimes Notice that his jared talks with his hands a lot, which will says is an acting choice that came from an unconscious tendency, but people really only bring it up to juxtapose will’s jared’s dramatic tendencies and nervous habits with sky’s jared’s more outwardly still and smoothed-over behavior. aka they don’t Complain about it or deem it a weakness / bad thing. and yet people caring about bmc are really jumping on that chance to be like oh ugh there he goes again, having a characteristic i associate with him as an individual, disgusting, can’t believe will connolly was murdered for this..

it’s a bit clearer too with bmc moreso than deh that people aren’t super willing to accept how will roland Looks b/c like, thanks to will connolly’s jeremy having the long hair thing you can Tell The Difference In Which Actor Is Represented when ppl draw the character even if the rest of the features are kind of “generic” (and how even the costuming isn’t a dead giveaway since ppl will draw connolly jeremy in 2.0/3.0′s outfits) and it even serves to specify the actor in writing format too if they mention the hair lol........and honestly?? this fact is one of the most damning things lol in that people the reason so many ppl continue to produce connolly-based jeremys is Not because for whatever reason they can’t / it’s too difficult to draw a will roland lookin jeremy......like a lot of the time The trait which serves to distinguish between the two is the hair thing. people are adopting jeremy’s new costuming and stuff but choosing to make sure we know that jeremy does not Look like will roland and the clearest indicator of this is the longer hair thing......which also means that for many people the main effort they’d need to exert to make it clear they’re drawing wrol jeremy would just be to....shorten the hair. And Yet!!!! it is apparently beyond people to do this

like uh nice on making a lgw animatic but really.........really we’re gonna take the song that is specifically from the 2.0 / 3.0 runs, so it’s obvious we’re Accepting that non-1.0 content, okay......and we’re Accepting will roland’s vocals, which, a person’s voice is a physical trait of theirs too, same as The Existence Of Their Body........and yet jeremy Cannot Look Like How Will Roland Looks, that’s too far, can’t do that. we can take material from the specific versions the actor was cast in, that material being a song written specifically for this individual actor’s voice, in the form of this actor’s actual vocals......but can’t have the depicted image of jeremy be based on this actor’s appearance..............of all the......

really all that it is is that more people find will connolly more attractive than will roland and this makes them feel like will roland Is Worse and then the people who just run with that either just embrace that and are crashing around on public forums saying Lol i hate him cuz he’s ugly lmao....and then you have people who don’t wanna do that but don’t wanna actually examine why they ~take issue~ with will being cast and so they’ve gotta leap on any Other things about him that feel more acceptable / Objective like oh the portrayal is “Wrong” (that’s not how this works) or he can’t sing well enough (yeah he can) or high enough (yeah he can) or he was stunt cast (no he wasn’t) or they wanna label every characteristic / trait they can think up that Isn’t his physical appearance as Annoying And Bad like. maybe stop and ask why you find it SO pressing that this other actor has the part and it Must be objectively inferior if not ruinous for reasons you gotta invent about him being incompetent cuz it’s better to make stuff up about how a professional actor isn’t good enough for a part than to say you don’t think he’s cute enough and are bothered by that

it didn’t matter as much to people when they viewed his character as either Just A Joke or Just A Jerk or flat-out disposable material. being attractive is for serious sympathetic beloved characters, natch

unfortunately jeremy can’t be written off as The Unimportant Meme Friend With No Real Feelings so now there’s a whole problem if an actor is not as cute

like b/c of the way he looks ppl can accept that a character played by will roland can be funny or can be rude or can really not be too important to take seriously / consider complex or sympathetic or likeable beyond being a walking Running Joke, but when it comes to a sympathetic main character whose emotional state is so important it’s practically assigned a character and who’s a romantic lead? now people have a problem with him looking the way will roland does