#btw all questions are rhetorical. I do not want them answered.

[ekjohnston]

just saw your takes on Barriss Offee's possible destiny, and wondered: don't you think TCW kind of fundamentally misunderstood her character? also, don't you think her portrayal as a terrorist plays into some latent Islamophobia, given she's not only muslim-coded, but also resonates with muslim women?

i'd just like to know your opinion :) thanks for your time

okay, I am going to answer this to the best of my ability, and hope that we all take a deep breath and try to understand each other.

(I don't know Legends Barriss at all, btw, beyond that she was a healer and also that they aged her down for TCW so she'd be closer to Ahsoka's age. As soon as I thought about it, I got the Muslim coding, but my initial reaction was "nun". I do love people who struggle with their religion, and the balance of the ideals with the worldly practicality.)

To Answer The Question:

I think the way Barriss was written on TCW is fundamentally flawed. The writers fell into what I call The Representation Trap, wherein they (accidentally?) created a character who was coded as Muslim, and then when they needed someone for Ahsoka to react to emotionally, they brought her out again without thinking of The Optics. This happens in Star Wars ALL THE TIME, and even as a book author with a bit more freedom, I find myself fighting it off pretty regularly.

(Example: I super wanted to make Versé trans. BUT SHE DIES. I don't think that's, like, nice? If you're reading your first trans character in Star Wars? AND SHE BITES IT???)

Anyway.

Daniel José Older said that representation doesn't count if the character is dead, evil, or a stereotype. The main problem with Barriss is that her story is truncated and short. At the end of the day, she's CORRECT. Why is it so easy to forgive Saw (or, god help me, Crosshair), but BARRISS has to languish forever, her story cut off and untold while other characters get arcs and redemption options and so on?

(That was a rhetorical question)

This leads, naturally, into: Why me? Why do I think I am the person to tell that story? And it's possible that I'm not! There are a few Star Wars characters I wouldn't write, because I feel like other people should write them, but Barriss is someone that I would like to take out for a bit. I would be just as happy to read someone else's words, but I have been thinking about her and turning it over in my head and I keep coming back to the same thing:

The problem with Barriss Offee's story is that we never got it. They used her for emotional pull for Ahsoka, and didn't really think of the consequences. At least she LIVED (*glares eternally in Steela Gererra*). At least we can tell more of it if we get the chance. We can break through that stereotype and really give her the centre stage that she deserves.

A Twitter post can't really encompass all the things I feel about her, and it wasn't even my ideas for a book! It was just how I react to things I read on the internet, and my preferred order for them. Obviously if I do have my own ideas, I am keeping them to myself for now. :)

I hope that makes sense. I want to fix it, and maybe that's selfish of me. I spend a LOT of time thinking about this, pocket friends. I hope the decisions I make keep me in your good books.

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Request from the dms: yo! could I get another potential friendship story including two local assholes zora ideale and gauche adlai because that's a friendship I'm willing to die for, context is your choice - I'd love to see them being snark together haha! you're free to include other bulls too! please and thank you :DDD

Tag: @the-black-bulls​

A/N: Hiya! Certainly! This friendship is one of those that I need to reason out for myself (but it’s okay because they need to figure it out too, so it’s all just figuring out). Oh, and btw, I had really fun talking to you. The convo brightened up my day ^-^

A03 link

Characters: Gauche Adlai, Zora Ideale, Magna Swing, Luck Voltia, Noelle Silva, Asta, and Yami Sukehiro Genre: General Fanfic type: Oneshot Warning: mentions of alcohol Length: ~1.2k

It wasn’t often that Zora sat down in a tavern for a drink, because sitting there, for all to see, didn’t really suit him. He could practically feel the eyes turning to him, whispering about him.

Not that he really cared. As long as people kept to themselves.

He had no qualms about stepping in on those ‘magic knights’, as they called themselves, harassing and tormenting regular people, if there was a need. But when it came to him, just minding his own business, and enjoying a drink for himself, only for someone to decided that his mere presence was a problem? That, is what he had a problem with.

But. It was a slow afternoon, and the village was relatively small, so he was able to sit by himself on the terrace of a tavern while sipping his drink.

People were walking by, going about their chores, and he let his eyes, along with the train of his thoughts, wander free. There wasn’t anything specific to think, or worry, not at that moment at least. So, it wasn’t a bad day. Though it wasn’t a particularly good day either. It was just a day.

The cold drink was nice though, on such a warm day; it was almost summer.

“Didn’t know you were here too,” spoke a familiar voice, almost as if a scoff, but more of an observation.

Zora glanced to his side, onto the other side of the terrace railing, seeing Gauche there with a bag full of toys.

“On a shopping spree for Marie?” He asked, turning his eyes straight ahead.

“There’s hardly anything new for her,” Gauche remarked. A simple as that.

A moment of silence fell into the air, where neither really knew what to say. If they had been at the base there would have been no need to say anything further. But now, there, in the village, it almost seemed like there was a need to do so.

“Want a beer?” Zora asked, lifting his bottle with another side glance to Gauche.

Gauche replied with a glance of his own, thinking if he should take on the offer. They weren’t exactly buddies, but they’d be in the village for some time longer, and… of he was honest, his feet were aching from all the walking he had done.

And besides, they sat around the same table at the base constantly. That didn’t make them friends, so… there was no reason why this would either.

“Sure,” he replied with his usual, low, monotone voice, before circling around and leaving his bag next to Zora as he got himself a drink as well.

Clouds floated by in the air as just the usual sounds of a quiet street lingered around. The chatter of passer-by’s, the sound of steps, of wind, of carts. Until there was the sound of someone running.

Zora lifted his eyes to see Magna sprinting past the tavern.

Not interesting.

Gauche sat down, placing his bottle onto the table and leaning back in his chair.

There was a sound of more running steps and laughter.

Luck ran past them.

“What are those idiots up to now?” Gauche asked, not needing an answer.

“What are they usually up to?” Zora replied with a rhetorical question of his own.

Noelle ran past them.

They both quirked an eyebrow.

“Noelle doesn’t usually run after them,” Gauche commented.

“That’s because royalty doesn’t run, and certainly doesn’t run after anyone,” Zora said with sarcasm seeping through his tone.

“WAIT FOR ME!” Asta ran past them.

Zora and Gauche turned to look where they were going, and stayed silent for a while. It seemed as if all onlookers were also staring towards the same direction with questioning frowns, wondering what was going on. But for Zora and Gauche, instead of wondering what was going on, they both had a brief thought passing through their minds; the thought of, if it would be better to walk away as if nothing had happened, or was this one of those instances where the numbskulls couldn’t deal with it by themselves.  

But. As if by some shared decision they didn’t voice, they took a sip of their drinks, and decided that it wasn’t worth getting involved. After all, chances were that it wasn’t anything more than just mischief. Of some kind.

“What time did Finral say to meet up again?” Gauche wondered out loud, looking ahead of himself.

“Around five.”

“You think they’ll get manage until then?”

Zora took another sip with a thoughtful hum.

“Oy! Come back here!” There was another voice, this time that of Yami, who was marching through the street. The air around him was thick with his mana flaring up around him, the ground cracking under his feet. His eyes were fixed in front of him, as if trying to lock on a target.

Until they landed on Zora and Gauche.

“That way,” Zora nodded his head, gesturing towards the direction the rest had been running to, which was received with a nod and followed by Yami continuing his way forward.

Whatever the rest had done, seemed to be between them and Yami. And it was going to get settled sooner, or later. Better sooner, than later, for the rest of the Bulls, because Yami was a… good captain for them. But he also called the shots, and put a roof over their heads. It wasn’t good to keep him mad.

“No,” Zora continued, after Yami had disappeared from sight.

“No what?” Gauche asked, tilting his head up and looking at the clouds float by.

“They won’t manage until five,” Zora replied.

It was a strange moment for them both. They rarely talked. Anywhere. And they certainly weren’t talking a lot now either. But there was a strange sensation of calm; like neither needed to explain anything. Things just were. The Bulls were, for the most part, the family they both knew.

Of course, Gauche still had Marie to look after, which was more than Zora did, but… It wouldn’t have been quiet as good with just him and Marie. There was more… security, with this. This felt more like a family, even if he would never admit it out loud.

But even with all of the Bulls… Gauche couldn’t just sit like this, and not say a word. At least not without it feeling awkward on some level. Not all of them would understand the loneliness, the pressure, the spite to get back at the world. The wish to protect… for Gauche it was Marie and for Zora it was his father’s ideals; and the need, the almost need, to do so alone. Because it was theirs to protect.

It was a very strange sensation; a strange moment.

“No, they won’t,” Gauche agreed, downing his drink.

That was when he could have gotten up and left. His feet weren’t tired anymore, but… he didn’t mind having another drink.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 305: Worst Intervention Ever

Previously on BnHA: Shinomori, whose name took me an entire week to memorize, was all, “nice to meet you Deku, I’m ten feet tall, do you want to know how I died?” and without waiting for an answer explained that he kicked it from old age at forty thanks to good ol’ OFA. Deku was all “wait a minute, then how come All Might, who’s fifty-five and is definitely dyeing his gray hair, is still alive?” First and Shino were all, “we really have no fucking clue but we think it’s cuz he’s quirkless, JUST LIKE YOU!” So basically, since quirkless people don’t exactly grow on trees these days, Deku is probably going to be the last user of OFA. The chapter ended with Nana being all, “psst, Deku, about my grandson. Uh, can you kill him?” which is sure to lead to a very interesting conversation this week.

Today on BnHA: Nana And The Gang are all “so, Deku, how can we put this delicately. The thing is, we’re pretty sure that AFO really fucked my grandson up, so on the off chance you can’t save him, how would you feel about, you know... [throat slitting gesture].” Deku is all “idk you guys, I kinda feel like he’s really just a traumatized child at heart and he’s in a lot of pain and stuff and so I should try to help him.” The Vestiges are all “BUT WHAT IF YOU CAN’T” and Deku is all “BUT I WANT TO TRY, DAMMIT” and the Vestiges are all “well when you put it that way, we, uh, were just testing you, so congrats, you passed!” The chapter ends with First being all, “ANYWAY SO WHY DON’T YOU TWO SHY BOYS STANDING OVER THERE IN THE SHADOWS COME SAY HELLO” before we CUT AWAY FOR ANOTHER WEEK, goddammit.

seriously, Nana

just... have you met Deku?? look, if you really want Tomura dead, just sic him on the U.A. first years and tell Shouto and Honenuki that it’s a training exercise

oh my god lmao

we’re too far away to see Nana’s face here so I will just assume that she turned and is staring DIRECTLY INTO THE CAMERA for this one line lmao. “I just wanted to clarify in case anyone felt inclined to take my dialogue out of context and spend an entire week complaining about it”

oh my god?! are you all purposely trying to make me sad??

someone stop me before I launch into an impromptu rant about all my Tomura feels. WHY IS NOBODY STOPPING ME. oh my god but yes, exactly. he’s just in pain all the time. this is exactly why I think Tomura has such high redemption potential even though so far he seems to lack so many of the redemption arc essentials such as feeling remorse, wanting to change, and taking responsibility for his actions. the reason why I’m willing to overlook all that in his case is because Tomura has essentially had zero agency his entire life. AFO molded him into a killer by making sure he was in constant mental agony, and making it so that the only thing that even slightly relieved that agony was killing peeps. like, please don’t think I’m making excuses for him or anything, but if you take a child and manipulate their existence to make it virtually impossible for that child to grow up as anything other than a killer, and basically never give him the chance to be anything else, then no shit he’s gonna be a killer?? he’s basically never had the choice not to be. it’s never been an option for him. anyways I feel like I am EXPLAINING MYSELF SO BADLY but nonetheless I am prepared to die on this hill

anyway so now Nana is all “that’s a rhetorical question btw because Our Hearts And Minds Are One so we can feel everything you feel bro.” so yeah, that’s interesting

now Banjou is getting started on the “let’s try and talk Deku out of wanting to save Tomura because it’s insane” part of their OFA Mystical Space Void Reunion agenda

look, Banjou, I feel you, I really do. you guys don’t think it’s realistic that Deku can defeat Tomura without killing him. so if it’s a choice between killing Tomura vs letting Deku and everyone else in the entire world die, then duh, you think Deku should kill him. I get it! and if this were a real life mass murderer I’d totally agree with you. but the problem is that this isn’t real life, this is a sympathetic shounen villain with a tragic past who might as well have FUTURE REDEMPTION ARC RECEIPIENT stamped on his forehead at this point

so First is all “look, there’s absolutely no doubt my brother has fucked this kid up good and proper by now”, which, again, fair

though, that’s kind of exactly my point though. everything that Tomura is, everything he’s done, he’s done because of AFO. AFO has so effectively shaped his personality and his worldview by this point that it’s all but impossible to penetrate that. he’s AFO’s puppet. but the problem is that rather than treating him like a victim, you all are treating him like a casualty. like he’s already a lost cause. but good luck trying to convince Deku of that

WHOA WHAT, RANDOM SUPER-IMPORTANT AND BIZARRELY UNRELATED EXPOSITION DROPPED IN JUST LIKE THAT??

way to still not reveal Sixth’s name, btw. THE PEOPLE WANT TO KNOW, DAMMIT. but also so this confirms something we basically already knew already, which is that not even AFO can steal OFA. it literally can’t be taken away by anyone unless the owner wills it. SO SUCK ON THAT AFO YOU EGG

(ETA: so I have no idea why this was omitted from this translation, but apparently the Sixth’s name was revealed as “En”, which is obviously not his full name but at least it’s something. also he most likely has a fire or smoke-related quirk based on the kanji used, 煙.)

so Banjou is saying that Deku’s “lack of an iron will” could be a disadvantage against AFO. hahaha what?? Midoriya “I’ll break all of my bones without blinking an eye just to protect someone” Izuku lacks an iron will? do tell

he says this is going to be a test of Deku’s determination. well yeah, no shit. but just not in the way you guys think

OH HELLO AGAIN

darker hair again here! but I don’t trust the contrast in these scans at all after last week. his coveralls are way darker than they looked before too, and you can clearly see he’s standing in the shadows now

(ETA: yep, once again the raw shows that his hair is considerably lighter than what’s shown in these scans here. although there’s no mistaking now that his hair is consistently being colored in this slightly darker shade, and it’s not just the lighting.)

anyways lol First was saying something about how AFO can’t steal OFA, and they’ve spent all this time cultivating it as the ultimate weapon against AFO, and blah blah blah. go on then, keep lecturing

NANA GODDAMMIT NONE OF THIS IS YOUR FAULT

girl what?? you did everything in your power to protect your family, and AFO, fucked up man that he is, targeted them anyway. there is one person and one person only to blame for what’s happened to Tomura, and that potato-faced asshole needs a good kick in the balls

NANA GODDAMMIT DON’T MAKE ME COME OVER THERE

SO HELP ME GOD!! I WILL GIVE YOU THE BIGGEST HUG YOU’VE EVER HAD!! THAT IS A THREAT

so now Nana is all “I’m just going to call my grandson a Thing to ensure that fandom has only the freshest, grass-fed no-hormones-added discourse this week”

I don’t even need to drop into the tags to know exactly which specific people are going to respond to this, and what kind of posts they are going to write lmao. everyone’s all caught up in the “that thing”, and meanwhile I’m over here completely hung up on this “nay” that’s appeared out of NOWHERE you guys. look at that. she really said “NAY”

Nana, my love, my dearest, I feel you girl I really do. but he’s not an unforgivable manifestation of pure evil, Deku is exactly right actually, he’s a boy in pain. you guys need to stop questioning Deku’s shounen protagonist instincts here and just let him work his sparkly magic. “let’s try and convince Midoriya Fucking Izuku that he can’t save someone” is a plan that is NEVER going to turn out well you guys

“DEKU GODDAMMIT WHAT IF WE CAN’T SAVE HIM” lmao it’s like an intervention

“DAMMIT DEKU JUST ADMIT YOU HAVE A SAVING PEOPLE PROBLEM!”

RED ALERT IT’S ANOTHER CLOSE-UP OF THE BACK OF MISTER TWO BON CLAY’S HEAD OMG

(ETA: I was too distracted with freaking out about Two and Three to really appreciate how ridiculously handsome First looks in this panel. but on my second readthrough it stood out so much that I had to go back and add an extra bullet point just to talk about how hot he is. look at him. wtf.)

THAT IS DEFINITELY AN UNDERCUT. THE PLOT THICKENSSSS. also those are fucking exhaust vents on Mister Three’s neck. MISTER THREE COULD YOU POSSIBLY BE RELATED TO THE IIDAS, PLEASE TELL ME YOUR SECRETS I’M DYING OVER HERE

so now Deku is launching into what will undoubtedly be a “saving people problems require SAVING PEOPLE SOLUTIONS” heroic counter-speech!

I mean, they can already feel the “lol nah I’m gonna try and save him” feelings running through him lol. ~OuR hEaRtS aNd MiNdS aRe CoNnEcTeD~ and all that. this is just a formality, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love a good shounen protag speech

oh wait hold up, do you mean to tell me that the whole “hearts and minds are connected” thing I was just mocking just a paragraph ago actually allowed Deku to feel what Tomura was feeling?? like literally feel it??

YET AGAIN these Tomura feels are pounding on my front door you guys?? they just will not quit?? people my house is already full of feels, does it look like I need you to sell me any more of them?? -- what do you mean, they’re free??

AW YISS THAT’S IT DEKU. THAT’S SOME GOOD SPEECH RIGHT THERE

I appreciate the contrast here between the Douchebag Triumvirate of Overhaul, Muscular, and Stain versus the Misguided Twosome of Gentle and La Brava. never let it be said that Deku doesn’t know the difference between a redeemable villain and an unredeemable one

OH NO -- OH MY GOD

someone please help me I need directions to the OFA Spooky Galactic Nebula Realm in this fictional Japanese manga land. it’s not on google maps. I need to give these two babies a big hug and wrap them up in a blanket and treat them to some McDonalds Happy Meals please help

other things: (1) ENDEAVOR CHILLING OUT IN DEKU’S “PEOPLE I HOLD DEAR” PANEL LMAO NEON DISCOURSE EXTRAVAGANZA, (2) “ONE FOR ALL IS A POWER TO SAVE, NOT TO KILL” I’M ABOUT TO CRY DEKU I LOVE YOU SO MUCH HOW IS IT EVEN POSSIBLE TO FEEL ALL THIS LOVE, (3) [SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE] THERE’S YOUR MOTHERFUCKING IRON WILL!!!!!!!! -- I’m sorry, please don’t call security, I’ll be good

I just randomly remembered that Deku is still saying all of this in his muffled “FMMPHHMMPHMM” voice and I’m somehow cracking up lol. so actually it’s a very good thing Their Hearts And Minds Are Connected, otherwise they’d no doubt be all, “...what?”

(ETA: so I completely missed this on account of it literally not being visible in the scan at all, but in the raw you can clearly see Baby Kacchan and Baby Shouto fanboying over All Might in two of these panels, and excuse me, ma’am??

thank you very much Deku for including them in your montage, particularly since you’ve never seen Baby Shouto before lol. amazingly accurate image you managed to conjure up, all things considered.)

SDKFJLSKHG -- AS IF ON CUE???

HE’S SO ADORABLE HELP?? Trippy Space All Might looks like he’s about to cry, and First is all “don’t crack a smile... you have to be Firm and Serious here... dammit, don’t smile” omg

anyways! YOU GO DEKU. “MY QUIRK MY RULES, BITCHES” damn, son

KLJLKKHLG TRIPPY SPACE ALL MIGHT LITERALLY ACTUALLY IS CRYING ALL MIGHT HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME

“I JUST... [CLENCHES FIST] REALLY LOVE SAVING PEOPLE” FUCKING HELL LMAO THIS IS THE WORST INTERVENTION OF ALL TIME

Deku is literally all “sure, maybe I’ll have to kill him, but have you guys also considered, MAYBE NOT??” it’s no use Nana he’s too powerful

LMAO FIRST

“like I’ve been saying this whole time, you should definitely try saving Shigaraki Tomura.” “but, uh... First, didn’t you just -- ” “shut up”

(ETA: clearly it’s not just his brother who inherited those smooth-talking genes.)

so now Deku has turned back into a sixteen year old and his clothes have gone missing again. just OFA things

dskljdlsklgk

yes... sure... “testing” you...

HEY

FIRST OF ALL, DAMN YOU HORIKOSHI YOU MADE NANA CRY. even if I’m pretty sure they’re actually tears of happiness/relief. and SECOND OF ALL, “TELL MY BOYFRIEND I SAID HI” DJSKDLKJJL ANYWAY MAYBE GRAN, NANA, AND MR. SHIMURA WERE IN A THROUPLE

[SCREAMS]

WHY WOULD YOU END IT THERE?? WHY WOULD YOU END IT THERE!!!!!

(ETA: and two-to-one odds that we cut away to some other scene once they finally start to turn around next week. I’M CALLING IT NOW. giving myself a week to brace myself for the rage.)

fucking hell. well if anyone needs me I will be adding Horikoshi fucking Kouhei to the list of irredeemable villains, peace

[metalheadsforblacklivesmatter]

Hi! I'm (very) new to your blog, and I was wondering why transphobia is racist? /gen

Is it to do with the "other cultures have historically had more than just two genders, and ignoring that nb people have existed forever is disregarding the existence of other cultures"? Or is there something else I'm missing?

(No need to feel obligated to answer this btw, I would appreciate it but I'm not going to throw A Fit if you don't lmao)

Thank you!

You know more than most people get, so ⭐⭐⭐

Gold stars for you.

Depending on the culture a lot of the cultures with a "third gender" are intersex people, and a lot of them are nonbinary or trans.

(But either way, intersex people are often the victims of transphobia. So even if they don't identify as trans, I'd still include them in discussions about transphobia if they wanted that space. I follow a couple of cis intersex women on tiktok, and the number of times they've been attacked for being trans...)

But a lot of gods in other cultures are nonbinary. Which makes sense. Think about Christianity. God made men and women in his image? So he's both a man and a woman? I've seen similar concepts in a lot of religions. Even Pokémon mirrors this, the gods in this games are always genderless.

But another reason why I transphobes are racist is because transphobia rhetoric often mirrors racist rhetoric.

So we know trans people are valid because of this experiment. Trans-male brains looked more similar to cis-male brains. Trans- women's brains looked more similar to cis- women's brains. And scientists couldn't guess the gender identity of nonbinary people. Which concludes female and male brains are inherently different, right?

And that's fine.

But keeping that in mind. Transphobia people compare being transgender to being "transracial" (in quotes because transracial actually means a child that was adopted into a family of a different race, so this use of the word is incorrect).

Now, racists during slavery (and even today) would justify slavery by saying Black people are inherently different from white people. You'll often hear a racist saying Black people have a different brain than white people (they use this to imply Black people are less educated, but beside the point).

So, to summarize, because trans people are valid due to scientific research about the brain structure, comparing them to someone that identifies as a different race inherently implies that different races have different brain structures. Which is mimicking racist rhetoric that's been used since slavery.

And ALL OF THAT is why transphobia is racist.

(I don't mind answering questions. I always have like a lot of complex reasoning behind any stance I take. )

-fae

[minubell]

If you ship Angmar/Khamul can you draw something or write something short for it? If you don't ship it or don't want to that's totally fine too I don't want to pressure you or anything (I love your tides of war fic btw).

So I'm like the Schrödinger's Cat of romance so uh....enjoy Part II of the Wrong Way to Write, set 1 week after Part 1. Aka the girls are fighting again!

As always, my ask box is open to requests!

The Wrong Way to Write II

Part 1

“What are you doing?”

Khamul pauses, only for the instant it takes for him to recognize the voice, before he resumes his stirring. He does not want anything to settle to the bottom of the pot and burn, after all. That would be a waste, which Khamul found he hates almost as much as their lord does. Almost.

Perhaps, if he ignores him, Angmar will go away.

“I asked you a question, Khamul.”

Or not.

“Oh yes, I heard you,” Khamul replies, forcing his tone light and jovial, never letting his stirring pause. His back is towards the door, though he must have been rather distracted to have not heard Angmar enter the kitchen. After all, Angmar has a tendency of stomping wherever he goes. Usually, it is hard to miss and usually, it is easy to avoid.

“Then why did you not answer me?”

“I thought it was rhetorical, as the answer is obvious; I am cooking.”

“Why?” Angmar asks, which is only the second stupidest question he has asked in the last few moments.

“…Because I am hungry?” Khamul replies. Why else would he be doing this, if not to eat whatever he has created in the end?

“But you do not have to cook for yourself. The goblins can-“

“I have seen the goblins eat one another if they feel particularly peckish. You’ll understand my apprehension to touch anything they have cooked, if you can call it that.” Not to mention that goblins did not seem to care about seasoning or not burning food. Honestly, it was surprising that Angmar put up with their food at all, given his propensity for pickiness. “Besides, I enjoy cooking, as foreign to you as that may seem. I am shocked you even knew where the kitchens were.” Shocked, and irritated since it seems one less place in the tower is now safe from Angmar’s attention. The kitchens can apparently join is own quarters in places that are not sacred, given that only a week ago Angmar had burst into there with equal amounts of discourtesy and quite literally dragged him out of his bed by his foot in order to try to learn how to write properly.

Which he had failed at.

“I am shocked you decided to take up cooking as a hobby,” Angmar comments from the doorway. Why is he still here? “It seems well beneath you.”

Khamul isn’t certain if he should be insulted by that or not. The comment is not quite jaded enough in tone to openly offend. Apparently he ranks highly enough in Angmar’s perceived worldview that labors suck as cooking are beneath him, which Khamul supposes could be a compliment if he squints hard enough at it and does not try to analyze the words too much.

“It is hardly a hobby, as I have done it near every day since I was a child,” Khamul replies idly instead. Perhaps, if he keeps his answers shorter Angmar will grow bored and leave.

“Every day?”

“As often as I eat, so yes. Sometimes even twice or thrice a day, if I find myself particularly hungry.”

“Does our master know you spend so much time each day devoted to frivolous things?” Angmar says, and Khamul can not only hear the smirk in his voice but can practically feel it upon his back.

“Does our lord know about the half-melted pile of scrap metal in your room?” He shoots back, and that is enough to make Angmar hesitate enough to go quiet.

Quiet enough that the only noise between the two of them is the scraping of the wooden spoon against the bottom of the pot.

Good. Perhaps he will take the hint and-

“It just seems strange, that you would grow up within a palace but still be forced make your own meals,” Angmar says, breaking the silence just as quickly as he made it. “Was it to ensure they were not poisoned?”

Damn.

“I did not grow up within a palace,” Khamul murmurs, having little desire to continue down that particular thread of a conversation. He forces the words out, lowers his tone pointedly.

Angmar, as always, drags him right back into that which he least wants to do.

“Some estate then,” Angmar responds flippantly, gratingly and Khamul wants to shake him. Surely, he has to understand his experiences are not universal? He must understand that. “Regardless, I am sure you had servants that could cook for you.”

It is only by biting his own tongue that Khamul manages to avoid yelling.

“Did you need something, Angmar?” He asks instead, forcing his tone to be as neutral as he can possibly bear.

“…No,” Angmar replies, lies, as if Khamul will not see right through the hesitant pause, the pitched up tone. Angmar is a particular sort of bad liar, the kind that is so obvious yet so oblivious in his obviousness. Khamul has met children who are more fluent in the language of deception, and having already endured this foolish, unnecessary conversation it’s enough to make him feel rightfully frustrated and too much to contain

“Then why are you bothering me?” Khamul hisses, spitting the word like a curse as he jerks the wooden spoon out of the pot and slams it upon the table next to him with a crack.

“Do not snap at me, Khamul!”

“Then stop wasting my time,” Khamul snaps, if only to spite him. “Stop pestering me for conversation I clearly do not wish to indulge in. Stop intruding on my space when there is an entire tower full of creatures that you can bully around.” He is tired of this charade of conversation, tired of Angmar specifically. How often did he have to escape to their lord’s workroom, choosing to subject himself to paperwork just to avoid Angmar? “I am busy, Angmar. For once, go bother someone else!”

There is a loud smack as Angmar slams his hand against one of the wooden tables by the door.

“Fine,” Angmar snarls venomously from somewhere behind him. “I’ll find someone else to help me.”

The door to the kitchen slams shut with such a force the stone archway shakes. It is quickly followed by the angry stomping of boots down the hallway.

Ugh.

Khamul does not know, nor care what Angmar needed help with. Something foolish no doubt. Something that Khamul is certain will only land him in trouble as well if he involves himself in it. It’s far better to distance himself from it. The less he knows, the less he can be punished. Their lord is fair like that, as long as Khamul is honest when he states he does not know anything.

He shoots a frustrated glance towards the door, when his gaze drops towards the table near the door where Angmar was standing. There is something laying on it that was not there before…A scroll? Frowning, Khamul gives the pot a quick stir before darting over to the table to grab the cylindrical scroll and quickly returning to the fire as not to leave the pot unattended.

He unrolls the paper and immediately fumbles the quill that drops out from inside, nearly swatting it into the fire on instinct. He manages to catch it between to fingers by the end of the feather before it is doomed to the flames, however, and sighs before turning his focus to the scroll.

It is blank.

For a moment he wants to be frustrated. He was interrupted and yelled at for what? The damned paper is blank, and a quick turn of his wrist confirmed that yes, it is blank on both sides. Khamul knows their lord hates waste, so the perfectly good scroll will need to be returned to their lord’s workroom. A long trip upstairs awaits him now since Angmar cannot even be bothered to clean up after himself. Oh no, instead he must leave his messes about for others to fix.

Khamul begins to roll the empty scroll back up, and starts to slide the quill back into it when he pauses, noticing something he had not before.

The quill is broken.

Or, rather, at some point it had been broken. It has been repaired somewhat haphazardly with a band of metal that is probably worth more than the quill itself does. The band makes the quill somewhat more awkward to hold now that it is thicker around the middle, and heavier overall than it should be. Moreover, it is clearly not their lord’s work keeping this quill together. The craftsmanship is shoddy, uneven, and bits of the feather have been smoldered as if held too close to the flame while the metal was being cast. Their lord would have a fit if he saw this, both for the wasted metal and for poor quality.

Still, the very familiar quill carries with it an unspoken offer.

“I will help you if you ask it of me.”

…Damn.

[aroaceacacia]

Do you ever get that vague worry that the old discourse is gonna pop up on Tumblr because it’s popping up on other social media platforms like Twitter? Because the idea that discourse could also migrate back to Tumblr (in addition to migrating to Twitter) is very worrying, and I don’t use Twitter so I’m not sure how likely it is, if it’s at all possible, but I just. Don’t want that discourse to come up again lmao

(These questions are rhetorical and just me voicing my thoughts, don’t feel pressure to answer them btw)

-tap dancing anon

hmmm. I understand the concern but I would be surprised to see it? If only because the general culture of overall tumblr has (mostly) so far shifted from discoursing, and hermitblr in particular now is so stubborn about how to avoid fighting and discourse that I dont think we would stand for anything like 2019 again. Weve had some little snags and hiccups along the way but there hasnt been any sort of major discourse in this community afaik despite those, which is a good sign

[metvmorqhoses]

Hey there! I'd like to hear your thoughts about this. Jkr never put a lot of thought into voldemort as a character did she? The fact that his villainy is oversimplified to be "conceived under a love potion and hence can't love" although there are instances where he has loved. The narrative that is put forth is that every child who was conceived through unhealthy relationships, abandoning parents and difficult circumstances is destined to be incapable of love. (There are problems/issues because of these circumstances but it's not a doomed-to-be-unloved situation)

The abuse he faced or the trauma was never explained and neither was his nature which can be either perceived as arrogance or as self-preservation in his formative years..

I love your blog and analyses btw!🖤

i couldn’t agree more. i don’t know if you are familiar with what i usually write about voldemort as a villain and as an all-around character, but what you are talking about is not only something i always mention when i discuss him in a more complex, adult manner, but much more importantly is deeply linked to what i think about the hp series in general and to the one, major issue i have with it in particular. this is something i consider very important and, honestly, a topic that is never stressed enough: jkr wrote an overly black and white children book, where oversimplification is the fundamental fabric of everything and i find it all very problematic, to say the least.

i understand the series started as a children book and that characterizing so generically and so stereotypically serves as a great advantage to sell copies, since virtually everyone can draw their own conclusions about pretty much every single character of the series and therefore identify, but hp more often than not proudly poses as a moral compass, as a good-vs-evil lecture, aiming to accompany children into adulthood hand in hand (both the books and the movies literally grow in tone, length, targeted audience and themes with the children who are consuming them), so it’s not unfair of me to be concerned about what exactly these morals have been teaching children and then teens (myself included) for more than twenty years about reality, even as a fantasy series.

i often say the characterizations of its heroes is the thing that scares me the most about the hp series. the entirely of the “good guys” in these books lack basic normal human reactions. they all went through hell one way or another, harry constantly witnessing every last one of his family relations dying/growing up abused and hated/discovering he was raised literally to be slaughtered by the man he looked up to the most, ginny being possessed/forced to kill/almost murdered in tender age by the literal devil and whose trauma is never mentioned again, hermione having to erase the memories of her parents - you know, the list goes on and on. the one thing that all of them have in common tho, is their non-consequence to horror. and that’s wildly unhuman. aside from a little sadness, some stubborn dementors chasing bad memories and sporadic plot-serving nightmares, none of the heroes is really effected or damaged by what happens to them. when normal people would have spiritual crisis, ptsd, depression, manic episodes, you name it, jkr is feeding us the idea that really good, brave, strong, valuable people remain unaffected by trauma and that only the weak, wrong, damaged and therefore evil ones are. and i find it beyond disturbing.

paradoxically enough, voldemort is the only prominent example (probably along with snape and draco, but in a very different way) of “normal” human behavior when a child is exposed that much to trauma and abuse in tender age. jkr never really explains voldermort beyond her rhetorical “he’s wickedness personified” motto, yet the little characterization she gave him is entirely built around trauma - a trauma that she openly equates to evil. voldemort is a child born out of rape (there’s a metaphorical love potion and therefore he’s unable to love - leaving aside the idiocy of it, how sick is that? as if a child should carry the faults of his parents, as if all children born from rape were emotionally disabled or soon to be psychopaths! what exactly she wanted to prove with this point will forever be beyond me), a child abandoned to abuse and poverty in the middle of ww2, a child i’m sure shunned for his magical powers if not worse, a child without a single resource on the planet but himself, a child to whom no one, ever, not even later in the wizarding world, ever gave a helping hand or genuine affection (he was literally sent back to a world war because “no one can live in the school in the summer”, i mean!). of course he had to react to survive, of course all that left him scarred, because it didn’t leave him annihiliated! tom and harry share the condition of the orphan, but while harry was loved by his dead parents, glorified and rich and adored, voldemort was unwanted, discriminated against, bullied, poor and ignored. had dumbledore treated tom as he had treated harry (not that he treated harry that well if we really analyze it, but still), had his mother not abandoned him and died, jkr herself said lord voldemort would have probably never existed.

is this a correct way to stereotype human nature? is this a good message to give children? the only plausible human in there is the psychopathic super villain who is physically unable to love?

i like to think voldermort differently. i do think he could, of couse he could, actually love - as we all can if we allow ourselves to. he’s too complex, too intelligent, too whole as a character to lack anything, both for the good and for the bad. i like to think that maybe amortentia (aka the entirety of his early life experiences) left him dissociated and unable to *understand* his feelings in general and love in particular. maybe he didn’t dare to love anyone. maybe he dared once.

i like to think this way because the way jkr characterizes is nothing short of a disgrace.

the question people ask me the most is precisely this, if i think i’m giving voldemort much more depth than the author actually intended in the first place. my answer is always the same - yes, of course i do. voldemort is beautiful the way i imagine him, as a real plausible person, as a deeply flawed and multifaceted and scarred human being who turned to darkness in search for a home and a reason and that had ultimately found one, as terrible as it was. he certainly deserved more, from a literary point of view. yet i understand it was convenient and safe for jkr to only ever play with his godly, evil, black and white facade.

[halpertstuna]

Could you do 8 and 10 on the prompt list with JJ?

A/N: i’m so sorry it took me so long to answer, i’ve been pretty occupied lately and so i didn’t really have time to write and when i did it was for ‘someone to stay’, anyway, here it is i hope you’ll like it🥺

and PLEASE don’t hesitate to send me requests, questions, messages whatever you want. i would love to make friends and mutuals on this platform plus i love feedback and would really like to hear your opinions(:

also, this turned out way longer than i intended it to be, it was supposed to be a blurb but i guess i’m just gonna turn it into a whole ass imagine cause why not

-> prompt list <-

word count: 1,899 (oops... guess i got a bit carried away)

prompts: “i’m not jealous!”, “you’re hot when you’re mad”

pairing: jj x kook!reader

warnings: a pretty heated make out sesh, jealousy?, platonic Kie, Pope and John B. oh and typos probably.

btw, i was kinda in a rush to post this so please forgive me if it’s not that good, i’m too lazy to edit this again (and this is the first time i wrote something that’s kinda smutty? i mean this isn’t really smut but you get my point. don’t know how i feel about it), anyways, if you’ve made it this far in my insanely long intro congrats! enjoy <3

-> masterlist <-

(gif credit: @anakin-skywalker )

—

It’s been almost two years since you started attending the kook academy, almost two years since you became one of the pogues.

On your first day there you met a brown haired hippie chick named Kiara. The two of you had chemistry together and were paired by your teacher to be lab partners.

On your first encounter you didn’t really talk, and on the following couple of lessons it developed to only small talk and warm smiles if you saw each other in the hallway.

Kiara didn’t like kooks, even though technically she kind of was one.

Judging by the way you dressed and the people you surrounded yourself, she didn’t think you were really the type of person she’d get along with.

But when the two of you got assigned to do a project together, you instantly proved her wrong.

You met up with her at the wreck, the two of you talked about the project then yourselves and bonded almost immediately.

You revealed that you actually hated the people you usually associated with, thinking they were all fake, stuck up snobs with their heads way too far up their asses, and the only reason you hung out with them was your parents.

You turned out to be really reckless and funny which she wasn’t expecting at all, but she liked, it kind of reminded her of someone, her best friend, JJ.

She was quick to introduce you to the rest of the pogues and they welcomed you with open arms into their group. You instantly befriended them and vice versa.

Just as Kie suspected, you got along extra well with one particular blond.

The two of you had a lot in common; you were both hot headed and impulsive which often got you into trouble. You two were pretty competitive, always challenging one another.

You being so similar was the reason you got along so well, but it was also the reason you fought a lot, neither of you ever willing to admit you’re wrong or be the first one to apologize, but you couldn’t stay away from each other for too long. The sexual tension between you two could be cut with a knife.

Hungry glances, longing touches, needy desires that were transparent on both your faces.

Everyone on the island could see it but you. You were both so terribly oblivious.

You tried treating him like the rest of the pogues, you pushed your feelings for him to the back of your mind, thinking he was just being friendly, knowing he was a flirt, and for almost two years, it worked.

But seeing him flirt with Harleen tonight was literal torture.

Harleen was your neighbour and former best friend. A tall, tan brunette you hated with all of your heart.

The two of you have known each other since birth, you were practically inseparable, but as you grew up you noticed she always wanted what was yours, and she always did whatever it took in order to gain it. Whether it was the new shoes you got for your birthday which she bought herself the following day, or the guy you told her you liked in middle school the week prior to her dating him.

With time your friendship grew toxic and you felt like she was bad for you, constantly bringing you down and never caring.

So you decided to defriend her and ever since that moment you despised each other.

You were sat on a log beside Kie at a kegger, Pope next to her as they argued about god knows what. You tuned them out, far too focused on each and every one of JJ’s actions, watching as he whispered in her ear.

He probably said something funny since she started laughing, leaning forward and grasping his bicep for balance, which made your blood boil, you felt like history was repeating itself.

The grip on your red solo cup tightened, you stared and it seemed as if lasers were about to shoot out of your eyes and burn her pretty face off, but you diverted your gaze down to your hand, jumping up slightly when you felt a cool sticky liquid on your fingers, noticing you accidentally created a hole in your cup of beer with your milky white painted nails.

“Wow, what did the poor cup ever do to you?” Pope joked, his and Kie’s attention averted to you the second they heard a pop coming from your direction.

“Huh? Oh, well it didn’t tell me how pretty I look tonight, take that as warning sign” you trailed, trying not to look suspicious, “are you sure it isn’t because JJ told that to the girl beside him instead of you” she implied winking, causing Pope to cackle with laughter.

“What was that?” You asked rhetorically trying to act intimidating, “oh nothing” she gave you an innocent look.

“Anyways... i’m gonna go get a new drink” you swiftly stood up and started walking until you made out John B. from afar who was stood by the keg.

“Refill?” He questions once he spotted you making your way towards him.

You nodded “I accidentally poked mine” you admitted lifting the ripped cup in your hand and pursing your lips as you came to a stop beside him.

As he poured you a new cup of beer with the tap head connected to the keg by a tube, you searched the crowd with your eyes and focused your attention on JJ again.

You’ve seen him flirt with a countless amount of chicks before - kooks and torouns mainly, but none of those times pissed you off os much as seeing him flirt with Harleen did.

I mean he probably didn’t even like you back, so why where you so pissed? It wasn’t different from any other time, except that this was Harleen. She was a bitch. But he’d probably catch on quickly, right?

He placed his hands on her waist and you clenched your jaw at the sight grinding your teeth, you were irritated by the whole situation.

John B. noticed, a sly smile spreading slowly across his face.

“Hey, want some peanut butter with that jelly?” You turned to face him, a dumbfounded look on your face, “what are you talking about?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’re obviously jealous”, he chuckled at the bewildered look on your face and you felt your cheeks heat up. “am not!” You denied huffing.

“Tell that to the vein popping out of your forehead” he teased.

You gasped and jabbed his chest playfully with your elbow, you mumbled a “shut up” then channeled your attention back to the two.

Her hands were rested on his chest, like that wasn’t enough already to send you off the edge. But when he pecked her cheek you lost it.

Abruptly you stormed off from where you were stood, John B. shouted from behind you “where are you going?“ but you ignored him.

When you approached JJ and Harleen you clutched onto his wrist dragging him away from her towards the chateau, ignoring both her and his protests. You led him inside then turned around to face him.

“Hey! What did you do that for? It was going really good for me! This better be an emergency” he sneered.

“Are you fucking serious? Out of all the people in the party you chose to hit on Harleen?” You scoffed.

“What’s the problem with that?” JJ was clueless, he knew nothing about your and Harleen’s rivalry. You never told any of the pogues, well except for Kie but she didn’t recognise her as the one flirting with JJ.

“The problem is Harleen hates my guts and the other way around. We used to be best friends but she became toxic, trying to take everything that I had and I’m not going down that road again JJ”

Your words confounded JJ, what did you care if she flirted with him? It wasn’t like he was yours, although he really wanted to be.

Does you caring about whether they end up together or not mean you wanted to be his too?

Then he noticed what emotion your eyes held, he’d never seen it before on your face, but he immediately recognised it.

“Wait.. are you jealous?” He questioned, the corners of his lips perking up into a smirk when he noticed the furious look on your face from his revolution.

“I’m not jealous! Would everyone please stop saying that?! I’m mad ok?!” You defend.

“Ok! Ok!” He surrendered lifting his hands up in the air “but just know, you’re hot when your mad”. Your mouth slightly agape as you weren’t able to form words to deny, far too transfixed under the fact he directly called you hot.

He started walking towards you slowly, you didn’t want to cave, to admit you have fallen for his charms, so you backed up until you felt your back gently hit the wall. Chest rising and falling quicker as your breathing started getting heavier and your heart beat faster.

The second his hand landed on your waist you felt a million butterflies erupt in your stomach, he tenderly stroked the exposed skin of your v line between your low cut shorts and crop top. You felt as if the skin under his finger was being set on fire.

He brought his other hand to rest beside your head on the wall, he leaned in, inches away from your face. His breath mingled with yours, fanning your lips, it smelled of cheap beer and weed.

He slowly moved to your ear and extolled in a low voice “I mean, really hot”, his warm breath sent shivers down your spine.

He left a sloppy, open mouthed kiss on the skin under your earlobe and you could’ve sworn you were seeing stars.

When he detached his lips you bit down on yours holding in a whimper at the loss of contact as he brought his face back to yours.

His blue orbs gazed into yours, they seemed darker than usual, lustful.

He waisted no more time and captured your lips with his. You didn’t hesitate to kiss him back.

You wrapped your hands around his neck and pulled on the edges of his hair deepening the kiss. As your tongues fought for dominance, he brought his other hand to your ass and squeezed it causing you to moan, he took the chance and slipped his tongue in.

you tugged on the hem of his shirt and he got the message. He separated his lips from yours and within less then a second, practically tore it of his body and discarded it on the floor. The two of you were panting at this point, completely out of air but you didn’t care. Breathless, you reattached your lips to his, desperate to taste him again.

You caressed his much bigger length with your petite hand, signalling you wanted more and he groaned into the kiss.

“Up” he demanded mumbling agains your lips. You jumped up and wrapped your legs around his waist, he grabbed your thighs and without breaking the kiss led you into the spare room.

Almost two years of yearning and craving dissolved in that night at the chateau, and to think it happened because of Harleen.

As much of a bitch as she was, you did owe her that.

[indiaalphawhiskey]

I respectfully disagree with your last post (as an author). I’ve been in this fandom for 6 years and noticed it’s a little bit toxic when it comes to certain issues that should be normal and obvious to anyone.

I don’t get the “I choose the people I want to take criticism from” part. Ok, so why posting your work on a public page for independent writers where every subscriber will be able to read it and comment on it? Just send it to the people whose opinion matters to you and have a discussion about your work with them. If you post your work on a public page made specifically for independent writers, you are automatically posting it for everyone on that site. And every person has opinions on things and feels invited to express it if that particular thing is public and comments are open (I’m talking about respectful opinions, not slurs and offending someone).

If it was only for you and the people you actually want to get feedback from then wouldn’t it be easier to create an “élite” group where you read your work and then discuss it together? Because your post sends a very negative and exclusionary message to people that are reading your work for the first time or without knowing you as an author. It really seems like you are saying “dear readers, your opinion doesn’t matter to me so unless it’s positive I don’t want to hear it because this fanfic was written for me and this list of people.” Then don’t post it. But why making people feel excluded or bad because they did something normal just because they didn’t know it wasn’t written “for them” as you said in your post. And constructive criticism is just an opinion too as long as it doesn’t contain vulgarities, you don’t have to listen to it. Other’s opinion shouldn’t change the way you feel about your work but you also shouldn’t make them feel uncomfortable and bad for expressing it in a respectful way on a public page.

I know that authors on AO3 aren’t paid and that’s just for fun, but that’s what every page like AO3 is about: putting your work out there for other people to read with the possibility to express their personal opinion in a respectful way (I mean, you CAN disable the comments). Why making it public and then complaining and making other people feel bad for expressing their opinion on it? It’s not a diary or a personal Instagram profile.

So, first off, thank you for saying you respectfully disagree with me. I appreciate that you’re trying to be polite. 

There are many different ways I can answer this ask, because there’s a lot to discuss here, however, I’m exhausted by this conversation and have tackled it many times before, so I’ll link things when I see fit and get straight to the point.

My question for you is this: What is the purpose of you posting negative  (even though well-worded, polite, and tactful) unsolicited comments on a person’s fanfic? Why do you do it?

That’s not a rhetorical question, I really want you to think about the answer, because, for something to be called “constructive criticism” (which is specifically what we’re discussing here, versus the opposite “destructive” criticism) there has to be a point beyond just the fact that “it’s a public forum” and therefore, you feel entitled to express your opinion, whatever it may be. (That reasoning, btw, is called entitlement. No one said you weren’t allowed to have an opinion, but if you’re saying it to the author with no constructive, bettering purpose behind it, then at worst, your intent is to hurt them, which is just mean, no matter how politely you word it, and at best, you’re saying your opinions and preference take precedent over the author’s own.)

There are three reasons that I assume one can have when posting constructive criticism on work/art:

1. You want to help make them be a better writer, both now and in the future. 

I, and other fellow authors, explain why this doesn’t work here and here, and there are more posts about it like this one, if you need to hear it from voices that are not from the Larry fandom (which I assume you do, since you said this is a little bit toxic here particularly.) 

I encourage you to read all those posts, to get a better explanation in context, but the gist of them is this: for something to be truly constructive (synonym: helpful), the source, the timing, and the tact is key. Let me demonstrate: There is a difference between telling a friend while shopping, “I wouldn’t buy that dress, it’s not the most flattering on you,” and saying, while you’re out at a club, “Oh, that dress isn’t the most flattering on you, I wouldn’t wear it again.” -- Both are honest, worded politely, and both will achieve the same outcome: she will not wear the dress again -- but only one of them will cause undue stress, embarrassment, and self-consciousness (under the guise of being helpful), and that is all due to tact and timing. At the store, she can change into something else, and won’t assume you think she looks awful the entire day while you’re out. At the club, the damage is done, there is nothing she can do to change it, and you’ve just ruined her night.

The same goes for writing. I have seen people gracefully and willingly rewrite their entire first drafts based on astute and even harsh comments on their work, by their betas. I have never seen someone take down a fic and edit it based on a piece of constructive criticism given by a stranger on AO3. What I have seen based on that scenario, is people taking that criticism to heart and reflecting on whether or not they ever want to write again, because when they made themselves vulnerable, some people looked at it as an opportunity to ask for what would cater best to their own tastes, instead of appreciating the work as a true product of the author’s personal feelings and experiences. That results in less writers for the fandom, less content, and a whole lot of undue discouragement which is not something we want (nor is it actually constructive).

2. You want to engage the author in a deeper discussion of their work.

This is in direct answer to this part of your ask:

It really seems like you are saying “dear readers, your opinion doesn’t matter to me so unless it’s positive I don’t want to hear it because this fanfic was written for me and this list of people.”

You feel passionate (both positively and negatively) about my work? That’s lovely. I say, start a discussion with me. Ask me questions. Learn why I made those decisions. A discussion starts with an invitation to have a conversation (two ways, you say something, I say something, rinse repeat). It doesn’t start with “I didn’t like” or “This could have been better if”, and it certainly doesn’t start in a public forum, like the comments on AO3, where the writer runs the risk of looking like a defensive asshole. 

But India, you say, what if I don’t have the means to have a private conversation/the writer doesn’t have tumblr/they’ve long since been inactive in the fandom? The answers are, respectively: leave a polite comment asking if they’re willing to discuss, if they are willing to discuss, leave a polite comment asking how to contact them, and if they’re no longer active, find other friends with which to discuss your feelings in private.

But India, that seems like so much work. It is, flat out. But if you really felt that strongly about something I wrote, you would make that effort to understand it. Otherwise, why not just walk away?

3. You don’t know better.

I found this part of your ask extremely interesting:

“But why making people feel excluded or bad because they did something normal just because they didn’t know it wasn’t written “for them” as you said in your post.”

The reason I found it interesting is because it means that there are people who assume that all work that is public was made for them, to suit their tastes, which is, frankly, a bizarre way to consume art. I do not go into The Louvre, look at the Mona Lisa and say “I don’t see the hype, it’s not something I would hang in my living room.” I look at it and think “What does this piece say about Da Vinci and his life? What has this brought to the world? How has this helped people/art/culture?”

(No, I am in no way comparing my talents to Da Vinci, I am not delusional. But, I don’t think my work deserves any less thought than that of a professional artist, simply because I’m an amateur and it’s on the internet and not in a gallery, and you have the superpower of anonymity.) You asked me what the point was in posting my work publicly if I didn’t want to hear every single person’s personal (negative) take on it, and the answer is this: I post what I write publicly, because I hope it helps someone. I hope my thoughts, feelings, experiences, loneliness validate someone, entertain them, help them through a tough time, bring them comfort. I post because I want to invite people to lose themselves alongside me, heal alongside me, dream alongside me. 

(Notice how I said “someone” and not “everyone”. How I said “someone” and not “an élite group that discusses my work”, because yes, I do hope that my work positively impacts someone outside of my betas, my friend group. Does that mean someone can leave negative comments on my work? Yes. But should they? That’s a different question.)

I know my work won’t be a positive experience for every single person, but my goal was never to be relevant to every single person. So, my question is, if I’m not relevant to you personally -- if my work doesn’t touch you personally, heal you personally, entertain you personally, why not just walk away and find something that does? Who does your negative opinion really help? How is it constructive? What is its purpose? Why do you do it?

I will apologize for this, though: I spoke on behalf of all writers, and maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe I should have been clear that though many writers feel this way, not all do. There are some, such as, I assume, yourself, who do view negative comments on AO3 as constructive, whether or not they are solicited, and I’m sorry to have spoken on behalf of you. However, I do still stand by this, though: it is much better to be kind than be right, and that definitely goes for comments on fic.

[kanmom51]

I understand if you don't want to answer, but would love your opinion & others as well. I'm a soft shipper (I've never shipped a real couple) but something about Jikook has got to me. I've been watching a lot of OG content and a series called The Epic Love Story Of Jikook on YT Which is convincing. The thing is, Vmin & Jinmin do seem to have very real moments, esp Vmin. My question is, how likely do you think it is Jikook has never officially been a couple & JM is with Tae or Jin all this time?

Hey anon, I have no problem answering your ask.

I don't know if you have read through my blog, but I am someone that adamantly says she truly believes that JK & JM are a couple, so in my world I don't see a possibility that either Vmin or Jinmin are real.

I will tell you this anon. If indeed JM is Tae's or Jin's bf, well he's a shit ass bf as that.

What loving bf would prefer to spend his free time with another man over you? We have seen this over time how JM would rather spend his time with JK over both Tae or Jin. Beyond us knowing just how much time JM spends with JK, he'd rather ride with JK in the car (Tae having to drag JK from JM's car so he himself can ride with JM, and this is once out of endless times JK rides with JM). JM rather be with JK 'hanging out' then join Tae on his lives. JM rather be with JK then join Jin on his birthday (and where was JM on JK's birthday? rhetorical question, because he was with JK, again, out of choice). JK & JM being joint at the hip ALL of the time (when possible) out of choice. JM must be really bad bf material if he is Tae or Jin's bf then.

Also, JM seems to especially be a bad bf when it comes to Tae, constantly rejecting him every time Tae shows a little too much affection. Season greetings 2020 for instance, JM setting boundaries when Tae is too affectionate, or BTS let's talk Tae telling JM he likes him the most and JM answering "I like you too", ooh burn.

Now seriously. JM is a good friend to both Tae and Jin. A friend. That's it.

When Tae needs him, he'll be there. BV3, BV4, when Tae was in need for a friend or support or care, the first to be there for him is JM. As a friend. Not as a bf. JM sets those boundaries and is very clear about them.

Same with Jin, a good friend. Waiting for Jin to not ride alone at the end of episode 117 (if I'm not mistaken) because Jin stayed back to finish a level in a game. And btw, who you think stayed there with him? One guess. Do I really have to say his name?

With Jin there is no need to really set those boundaries, they are already there. It's clear they are the best of friends, enjoy spending tome together, but again, it's a friendship and no more.

With JK it's soooo much more. Push the skinship aside. Watch original content over time. And then look at these: the way they both look at each other. The way they both talk to each other (a softness in their voice). The way they both talk about each other. The way they choose to spend time together constantly, when the cameras are off, riding together, free time, behind the scenes, just all of the time. Watch those big moments like GCFT, GCFS, RB, Melon 2018 etc. Even with skinship, which I put aside, there is a difference with those two, there being a kind of caution even there when it comes to the touching.

Watch all of that, see just how different JK&JMs interactions are with each other then with any of the others. Then come back to me and tell me you still think Vmin or Jinmin may be the real deal.

[babypinkhearts]

Random idea!!! But could you write something for Killua, seeing as it still is his birthday! Say the reader is super closed off due to a horrible childhood, and Killua opens up in order to try to cheer them up? And they talk about the awful things they went through, and reader realizes that they really can trust him. Something sweet but not overwhelming?? (Btw I really love your writing and I’m so excited for you to write more!!! 👀💕💕✨)

oh my gosh, ah! first request 🥺

thank you so much for your kind words! i’m so excited to start writing here! 🤍

i love this idea - i hope i captured it alright! <3

pairing: killua zoldyck + reader

warnings: a bit sad - killua being a softie and good listener. fluff :)

“hey.”

if it weren’t for the dark room you were laying in, you would’ve covered your face.

killua stood above you, his hands in his pockets. he was staring down at you.

you greeted him with a mere nod, closing your eyes once more and turning away from him.

you assumed he couldn’t see you very well - the only light coming from the fluorescent moon outside the window of the room.

you heard him sigh.

without saying anything else, he let himself sit beside your body.

the bed dipped under his weight, alarming you slightly.

slowly, you opened your eyes again.

the only things you could make out were his frosty white hair and bright eyes.

it was reasonable - they were his two most unique features.

in your confused state, you sat up, tilting your head in question.

“what’s up?” you replied quietly, searching his eyes for any clues.

it was easy to read killua.

his eyes were extremely expressive - they revealed everything about him.

killua rested his head on the palm of his hand, glancing at you for brief second.

he was in thought - most likely trying to find a way to word what he was going to say next.

you looked down at your hands, waiting as patiently as you could.

it was comfortable silence. the faint noise of the rain outside soothed you, almost as if it were singing you it’s own lullaby.

clearly, killua had come to you impulsively. now that he was here - he didn’t really know what to say. but, he knew what replies he wanted from you.

hesitantly, he lifted his head, facing you.

his eyes were trained for the dark - he could almost see you without any trouble.

he watched as you locked eyes with him, noticing a very small smile on your face.

you silently encouraged him to continue, now a bit worried on why he was taking so long.

killua closed his eyes, avoiding your stare.

slowly, he exhaled a deep breathe.

“do you ever wish you lived a life that wasn’t yours?”

for a few seconds, it was silent.

he felt his heart race.

was that too personal?

why weren’t you responding?

did he scare you of?

what if-

“more than i’d like to admit.”

killua’s eyes widened.

his head snapped toward you, almost as if to reassure himself he heard you right.

sure enough, you were looking away from him, not wanting to see his reaction to your words.

this was strange.

originally, he hadn’t expected an honest response.

you kept to yourself - you were just a naturally closed-off person.

that bothered killua.

in comparison with his other best friend, you were nothing alike.

gon was a bubbly, outgoing ray of sunshine.

you, on the other hand, were colder. quiet.

even though you were so different from the energy killua was used to, he couldn’t help but feel attracted to you. strangely enough, he almost felt as though he related to you.

your answer was a shock to him.

not because of it itself, but because you admitted it.

you wished you were living another life that wasn’t yours.

killua felt his heartbeat slow into a more calmed rythym.

his hands messed with the sleeves of his dark blue sweatshirt - an attempt to distract himself from the slight anxiety that had built up.

“back when i was an assassin...”

he paused.

you knew this information.

at least, to an extent.

he had never gone into any real detail.

the torture and manipulation he had received throughout his old job weren’t a part of his past he had ever really mentioned.

but if telling you was enough to get you to open up - he was willing to do it in a heartbeat.

“i didn’t have it very easy.” he spoke slowly, carefully choosing his words.

he wanted one outcome.

one only.

for the possibility of you opening up to him and cracking the thick walk you had built around yourself.

he had seen a peek of what was inside - but he needed more.

he needed to save you from your past.

bottled up emotions could lead to severe damages.

he knew that the hard way.

“i was abused. trained to be the perfect killer.” killua’s tone was bitter - the mere memories of what he had endured sickened him.

you were quiet, giving him your full attention.

it started of with small stories and rhetorical jokes.

though, the more you listened to him speak, the more you felt your heart crack.

progressively, each detail he was giving you grew more and more depressing.

the boy beside you.

he was just as broken as you were.

to go through all of that - to be able to smile and laugh after all of it-

he wasn’t real.

it took you a moment to realize he had finished speaking.

shock still ran through your body.

for what felt like hours, you stared at him.

you were once again searching his eyes.

deep blue.

they held a thousand emotions at once.

though now, you could clearly see another.

pain.

it was so much more vibrant than before.

it hurt to look.

you let out a small sigh, retracting your gaze to look at the window.

water droplets stuck on to the glass, racing each other to the bottom.

watching them was a distraction.

compared to the grim words that had been put in the air only minutes ago, the rain had seemed to take a much lighter mood.

it was no longer aggressively pouring - just sprinkling.

you closed your eyes.

“i... i had it pretty rough too.”

there it was.

the wall had cracked.

you didn’t dare look at killua.

unlike he had, sharing your past whilst having occasional eye contact didn’t seem soothing at all.

but, you could feel his gaze.

the two of you sat beside each other.

you spoke, he listened.

this new feeling was foreign to you.

it felt like a heavy weight was being gradually lifted off your shoulders. the more you talked, the more relief you were granted.

when you felt like you had told enough - you stopped.

admittedly, you were scared to face killua.

you had spilt your past - something you had never spoken about to anyone.

a traumatic reality that had left you permanently damaged.

“i guess our lives have kinda sucked, huh?”

slowly, you faced the white-haired boy.

a small smile was on his face.

it was bittersweet - yet you felt comforted.

it was contagious.

you felt yourself aquire the same expression, nodding as you finally registered his words.

this was all strange.

the atmosphere in the room was different.

you felt different.

“killua.”

you rose your arm. cautiously, you reached for his hand.

you gently interlocked your fingers together.

you paused for a brief second, expecting him to pull away.

he didn’t.

he was looking down at your hands with what looked like... disbelief?

“we’ve been through some god-awful things.” your tone was soft, soothing to killua’s ears.

when your hand touched his face, he almost flinched in surprise.

suddenly - he forgot how to breathe.

you cupped his cheek, gently turning his face to you.

“i think i’d like to change my answer to your previous question.”

killua’s brows furrowed.

his expression of confusion made you smile. you squeezed his hand a little tighter.

to avoid his reaction again, you looked away to the window.

light.

how long had the two of you been talking?

it was morning now - the sun was on it’s way to rise.

from the mountains that were now visible - something colorful peeked from behind.

a glimpse of hope.

a beautiful rainbow.

it felt as though nature was sending you their encouragement.

keep fighting for better days.

there was always light in the dark.

you had found yours.

he glowed so bright.

he was your hope.

a living reason to continue.

killua watched your eyes.

they sparkled with something new.

the faded color was now vibrant.

you smiled.

“i wouldn’t want to live another life if it meant i wouldn’t meet you.”

[sparkles-oflight]

SKK short-story

Finished this yeasteday! I wanted to try out a new writing style, unfortunately, I didn’t like it that much ^^’ I still wanted to share though!

Concept: It’s based of his official mangá artwork

I decided to create a story surronding this pannel. There is some changes, though! Eveyone will be younger to fit Dazai and Chuuya in this panel. I made them ~9 years old so Kouyou is wayyyyy younger. Q doesn’t actually appear, but instead there’s another character that SLIGHT MANGÁ SPOILERS was in the porto Mafia 

DRUM ROLLS PLEASEEEEEE The best lesbian herself-> Akiko Yosano!

BTW, I wrote Chuuya as Chūya and Kouyou as Ozaki Kōyō because god knows why XD

INFO

Name: Double Black Type: AU, short-story Categories: Soukoku, shipping, headcanons, and I have no ideia what more XD Characters: Dazai, Chuuya, Kouyou, Mori and Yosano TW: Suicide

If I jump. They'll care, uh?

If I aim for that dumpster. I'll live. It will hurt.

I hate pain.

With these bandages in my eye, is not like I can actually aim properly, anyways.

I take a deep breath.

It was fun.

I take a step into the void.

The wind guides me to my end.

I blank out for a second.

For some reason.

I'm alive.

I am in the dumpster.

There's a bunch of trash surrounding me, and the smell is disgusting.

But. 

I'm alive.

I open my eyes and I see a face.

A boy laying on top of me trying to catch his breath looking dreadfully at me. He's annoyed. He's sweating. He's a bit flushed too.

It's the middle of the afternoon, it is indeed hot and he's wearing warm clothes. A bit torn up, though.

The sunlight is seen only in the back of his wavy orange hair.

I gaze at him for a moment. He's blue eyes are still mad at me.

- ARE YOU CRAZY!? - he yells breathing heavily. - What do you mean? - I...I saw you...! - Saw what? - If you... took those bandages off... maybe you could watch your step...! - I need them. - For what!? - To hide my inner demon. - Are you fucking kidding me? - I really hate your type. - Uh!? That's how you say thank you!? - For what? - For saving you...! Seriously...! What's with you? - I didn't ask for be save. - Tsh, guess that's true. - he finally catches his breath - Answer this then: do you have superpowers? - Superpowers? Like flying? Clearly not. - Nevermind that. - Do you have superpowers?

The boy stopped.

- Sorta of, kid. - You are a kid too. - One that doesn't throw himself off a building. - You know...I hate pain. - Uh!? - And I kinda black out a few minutes ago. - I pointed to my leg - I think it's broken, and you are resting on top of it.

The boy moves away, sits, and puts his hands in his pockets. He blushed a bit and looks away.

- My bad.

I try to move my leg. It really seems broken.

There's a moment of silence.

- Why did you throw yourself off the building? -  If I say it was because I wanted to fly, will you believe me? -  Of course, n- -  It's a rhetorical question, dumbass. - I sighed - I'll only tell you if you tell me two other things. -  I don't own you nothing, you own me your life. -  A life I didn't ask and a broken leg. You own me two. -  You really don't know life's value. -  And you don't know the value in death either. -  And you do?

More silence...

Why can't I get out here?

- So... - the boy spoke - what do you want to ask me? - What I want to ask you, is to leave, but, what I will ask you is: What's your superpower? - My superpower? - You said you had some sort of superpower and I wanna know what it is.

The boy sighed.

- If I tell you....that I...control gravity will you believe me?

I stay silent for a minute. Then I burst out laughing.

- Oh, it all makes sense now...! - I laugh some more - You thought you could fly or something and tried to rescue me! Thanks no thanks, bud. - I'm being serious! - Prove it.

He tried to touch me to make me float out of the dumpster. Didn't work.

- How's that proving anything...? - Let me think, let me think... - he touches one of the trash bags and made it levitate a bit. - Whoaw. You can do that to objects? - Not only to objects. - The boy was still looking at the trash bag.

I touched his cheek and the bag fell.

- Why did you drop it? - I ask. - I don't know.

I cover my mouth and smile.

- Oh my, did I distract you? - No, it's not that- - You like when other people touch your cheek? - My turn to ask you a question.

I sigh.

- I guess so. - Why? - Why I touched your cheek? - No, why did you jump? We are in a ally, it's the end of an afternoon and you jumped from a building. The chance of someone appearing and saving you is- - Low, extremely low. I would say null if it weren't for you. Way to ruin the end of my times. - Why would you do that!? - Let's see.

I reorganize the events in my head.

- I always get myself injured to get my older brother's attention...

Why am I telling this? One may ask. It's best to entrust someone you never met than someone who knows you for years. If you start a relationship based on trust too, your bond will probably get stronger.

So why him? Maybe because he's around my age. Maybe because I'll never meet him again. Maybe because he told me his secret too. Who knows? I just...trust him, I guess.

- He would always come and save me. He was my hero. It was the way I found to distract him from his work. - Uhm...

I pause and sigh.

- One day, he was hospitalized. I never realized he was sick and now he's been taking cared of...

I avoid looking at the boy.

- I thought my hero would come and save me one more time... - What... - I know it's stupid and childish, but... I am a child after all. - I look at the boy's eyes - Just because I'm different, am I not allowed to act like one?

Come to think of it, I don't remember if I was smiling or crying when I said that. Because all I cared was about his expression.

His eyes were glued on mine. He was...

Paying attention.

Processing.

Caring.

Something shook my heart. 

Something unique. 

Something I never felt. 

But at the same time, the feeling was similar to hate, but not quite...

I rearrange my voice.

- My turn! - I say. - Shoot. - he starts looking down. - Why are you in here? - Uh? - Like, why did you save me and didn't leave already? - You really wanted me to leave!? - Well, of course. There's nothing more interesting in you than that power of yours. - Tsh, don't worry I'll leave. - he closed his eyes - After I answer you. - Uh?

I suddenly became curious.

- Will you truly answer me? - O-Of course - he looks at me - you asked right? I don't back off on my word. - Oh...I see. Like a dog, then? - I'm not a fucking dog. - Thank God. - Anyways...- he sighs and then looks up - I'm currently running away from some guys... And I came here because this is my hiding spot. - Just like a dog in a trash can. - I'm not a dog! - Sure, woof. - I pause - Why are you running away from them then? - My group stole from those guys. - Where are they? - I told them to go away. I said I would take care of them.

Something about that statement made me uneasy.

- Oh I see. But then why? - Uh? - Why did you saved me? - I saved you because I could!

I was shocked.

That's enough reason to change someone's fate?

- Has nobody told you just because you can, doesn't mean you should? - I asked. - But what if I want to? - Uh? - No one should abandon their life, especially a kid. - You are a kid too.

We suddenly heard a sound.

- Get down. - he whispered as he pushed me down and covered my head.

The sound got closer.

Our respiration got thighter.

Then we saw a man looking at us.

He was about 26 years old and wore a white coat, just like a doctor.

I knew that face.

Mori Ōgai.

The doctor who was taking care of my brother. 

He had next to him a little girl with straight short hair. That was dressed as a nurse and had her arms crossed.

- Dazai-kun, are you alright? - I broke my leg. - Oh dear. Grab my shoulder.

I grabbed his shoulder and he helped me to get out.

- Are you okay, kid? - Mori asked. - I'm fine. I'll stay here for a bit more. - That won't be necessary. - a voice from a far said.

A voice that belonged to a teenager, red haired, tall and really beautiful. She couldn't be that much older than us. Maximum 13-14 years.

- I already took care of the bad guys. - she went towards him. - Uh? -  Akiko, please, help him out of there.

The other girl offered her hand to him to help him out. Instead, he jumped out of the trash dumpster, hand still in his pockets. He looked suspicious of us.

- Who...are you...? - Kind people who want to help. - The red haired says.

The boy suddenly dashes towards the wall. Instinctively, I touch him just before he could start climbing them. He immediately fell.

How did I know he was going to escape? The speed? The route?

I don't know.

Instinct.

That's the only answer.

- What are you doing!? - he yelled. - I don't know! - UH!? -  Stop it, boys. - Mori said - I know it's war time, but you mustn't fear me.

I looked at Mori dead in the eyes.

- So don't worry, that girl will only take you back to your friends. We won't ask you for anything else.

He then looked at me.

- As for you, Dazai-kun, you are now under my care.

He grabbed me softly by the shoulder and start guiding me towards to the left while, the other boy was going to the right.

- Hey! - I yelled.

He turned away and stoped

- I hate you! - Uh? What the hell!? Why!?

I slowly got closer to him since, I could only use one foot. So, he also got closer.

I whispered into his ears.

- Why were you my hero today?

He doesn't answer. So I look at him.

- If you hadn't saved me.

I pause

- I could have met my brother again.

He looked shock.

My brother was dead.

I was the first one who saw him dead laying on a bed of blood.

- I'm sorry for your lose. - he said. - We live in a world of war, there must have been a reason for this to happen. - I said as Mori got closer to me to help me go to my new place.

The boy looked confused, but at the same time he understood.

There must be a reason for this, if there's not, why even live? He should understand it. We are one in the same.

He grew in a world full of war and depression. Why? Why do we do that?

I still can't understand.

I came to realize later that I had a "superpower", and ability to be precise, that could nullify other abilities.

The boy was Chūya Nakahara, the guy who would later join me and be one of the most important people in my life.

Those two girls were Kōyō Ozaki and Akiko Yosano. Kōyō would play a big role on Chūya's life, he would later look up to her as a bigger sister. Yosano would become of the most important people I knew too.

Mori wanted me to prevent ability users from going on a rampage, so he took advantage of my ability.

I joined the Mafia when he became the successor.

And Mori was the one who killed my brother.

No sickness killed him.

Mori did.

And I don't know the answer to my question, yet.

"Why do humans kill themselves in war?"

[burninglilys]

83 for Phutian. (I really love your fics btw!) :)

Hi lovey! Sorry for how long this took! Hope that it is worth your time! ahhh thank you 🥺💕

For this fic, imagine that during ep 5, Dr Nam tells Phupha that Sakda + his henchman talked to Tian and that Tian got a little more injured during the 'altercation' (nothing too serious! I can't bear to see him in pain fjsjs). Phupha comes visit them to just check if Tian is safe!

CW: mentions of blood and injury!

Regardless of what people in Tian’s life say, Tian does not want to be a ‘trouble magnet’. At least, not anymore.

It is not as though Tian actively looks for trouble; it is just that trouble finds him, inconveniently, almost always, with no concern for whether he is actively disregarding his life, or whether he is actually trying his hardest to break out of the harmful way that he's lived, before.

It's not his fault that Trouble — this time in the form of Khun Sakda and his goons — adamantly whiffs him out. This evening, especially, is not entirely Tian's fault and this time, particularly, it is not That Huge a Deal.

The tense silence that stretches over him, Tul, and the chief — who had miraculously appeared here, out of nowhere — says otherwise.

As far as Tian can tell in the darkness that surrounds them all, the chief is livid. Silently, of course. His jaw clenched and his nose flaring, all that lasting for only one stretched moment across time, before it snaps, the chief's anger melting into blatant concern.

“You were attacked,” he says again, this time more furious than before. “Because of Khun Sakda’s men.”

“We’ve covered this already, Chief,” Tian repeats. He is exhausted. He still feels breathless, his arm throbs, and he just wants to lie down and forget that he was ever attacked by those goons only for pointing out what was obviously wrong.

Phupha, who had always been at an arm’s distance, comes closer. He suddenly seems a breath away. From the corner of his eye, Tul, who was silent ever since the Chief found them panting underneath the motel, perks up. Tian actively avoids looking at him. “Tian…”

“Look,” Tian says, stretching his hands — which, in retrospect is a bad decision. His arm throbs at the sudden movement, but he ignores it, for the sake of not alerting anyone. “I am perfectly fine—”

“Tian!”

Phupha’s eyes zero onto the reason for the pulsating, burning sensation that erupts from the top of his arm all the way to his fingers. Oh. This was why it was hurting. Distantly, he remembers getting scraped on his arm, but the pressing need to run away from them, successfully losing them in the crowd, and subsequently meeting the chief underneath their motel had made him forget that one maddening moment in the thousands that led him here.

Phupha’s fingers immediately circle his elbow, and perhaps it should feel restricting, but it only feels comforting, grounding.

His voice, much less. “You are bleeding!” he exclaims — although it doesn’t come across as an exclamation, only an astute observation. But, Tian knows him a little too well to know that this is the most discomposed he has seen Phupha.

Tian tries pulling his hand away from him, only for him to grip it tighter. “Let me look,” he says.

“I will have to remove my clothes off then,” Tian says, trying to diffuse the heavy tension in the room. “Is that what you want, chief?”

Tul coughs a little. Tian does not feel bad for him.

Phupha remains undeterred.

“Take your clothes off for me.”

“At least take me out on a date first!”

“You are bleeding. You were stabbed—”

“Chief!” Tian says and pulls his arm away — another bad decision. His entire arm starts hurting tenfold. “I wasn’t stabbed!”

“You are bleeding!”

“I am not, not anymore, I don’t think!” Tian denies. The bleeding does seem to have stopped, but the top of his sleeve has a patch of blood that is… not something he can fathom looking at. “It is only a scrape, I am sure! I don’t even remember how I got it!”

Phupha lets out a highly exasperated breath. “Let me help you, Tian. Why are you so reluctant?”

Tian is not reluctant, per se, he just -- does not want to remove his t-shirt. Despite knowing that the chief has accidentally seen the scar, it is different here, in the broad light of the motel room. The scar on his chest aches -- a phantom reminder as to why.

Phupha must see something on Tian’s face for he nods in understanding.

He looks at Tul and gestures him to come closer.

Tul looks startled but edges closer anyway. He inclines his head towards Tian, a silent question, are you okay?

Tian nods. He doesn’t need people worrying over him for something that isn’t even a huge deal!

“Clean his wound with warm water and a clean cloth,” Phupha says in a voice that can’t be described as anything but stern. “Put pressure on the wound if it is still bleeding. I am going to get some first aid.”

Phupha leaves without another glance.

In the bathroom, with his injured arm dangling off of his clothes, Tul cleans his wound (which hasn't been bleeding for a while) diligently. It stings and it burns, but it is nothing as sharp as the look Tul keeps giving him, coupled with a question as clear as the moon in the cloudless night sky.

“What?” Tian asks, regardless.

Tul raises his eyebrows. “That is the person you like, right?”

“Tul!” Tian hisses, looking at the door on the off-chance that Phupha is back without a fuss.

Tul does not look perturbed. “What?” he asks. “Am I wrong?”

Tian does not have to answer in an affirmative for Tul to know. “You have it bad, my dude,” Tul says, turning the tap off. “Like really bad. I did not think it was this bad for some reason.”

Tian scoffs in response, though he can’t stop the small smile from curving his lips. “What does it matter? You saw how strict he was, wasn’t he?”

“Look at you!” Tul amusedly exclaims. "You're smiling when you say it. You're glowing bright pink!"

"I am not, shut up," Tian says, trying his hardest to stop smiling. He does not succeed.

"Besides, he didn't seem strict at all!"

"How did he seem then?"

"Like he cares. A lot," Tul says, matter-of-factly.

"It's his duty to care for me," Tian says, despite that making his stomach flutter.

"He came all the way from the village to check on you just because he heard that those jerks talked to you in the morning. That isn't out of duty," Tul points out.

"Well, it isn't out of whatever it is that you think either! So, no!" Tian denies vehemently.

Tul gives him a long, suffering look. He's about to reply when the door jingles open.

The chief stands against the door frame mere seconds later. He doesn't even have to ask; Tul gives him a detailed report about Tian's stab wound.

Phupha nods approvingly, holding the first aid box awkwardly in his hand.

Without prompting, Tul rhetorically asks, "It's too small for the three of us, no?" and slips out of the bathroom.

Tian, from where he sits on the cover of the toilet seat, stands up on instinct, but Phupha's hands firmly push him down.

He inspects the wound, humming disapprovingly. "They're getting too bold," Phupha sighs. "This should not be happening."

Tian gently touches Phupha's elbow. "Will the villagers be safe?"

Phupha opens the first aid box and takes out the antibiotic cream. "They will be," he says with certainty. "I will make sure of it."

Then, softer: "You're lucky that the wound isn't that deep."

"I told you," Tian sighs. "You don't have to do this."

Phupha gives him a Look™. "You won't be able to bandage yourself, Tian."

"I can ask Tul to do it, chief."

"Why won't you let me take care of you?"

"I am just saying that you don't have to," Tian says. "It's not on you."

"It is my duty to take care of you," Phupha says.

"Is that all it is? Duty?" Tian asks.

The way Phupha looks at him now, under the glaring fluorescent lights of the bathroom, is almost inscrutable. His hand freezes where it was bandaging his arm.

Tian probes again. "Do you only take care of me out of duty?"

That seems to break Phupha out of his reverie. "Tian." Phupha's voice is low, calming. "Don't you know it already?"

Tian's heart seems to glow golden, slowly at first, and then all of a sudden in haste, burning bright enough to light his way back to the village. To his home.

There are a lot many things that Tian wants to do at this moment, but he decides on covering Phupha's hand with his, giving him the warmest smile that he can muster.

The smile that Phupha gives him is nothing short of undisguised fondness.

[howlinchickhowl]

Is the bath over? Am I too late? (Those previous two are rhetorical questions, btw, not the ones I want to actually pose! Though by all means go ahead and answer them if you like.) But can you tell me if there's life after death, if you use bath bombs and if so do you have a favourite, and whether you find it at all plausible that Ian and Mickey will have another go at a romantic bath and will it go better this time? Hope you had a lovely soak, now it's time for another cuppa! (Isn't it always?)

Bath time is over, but of course I shall answer you anyway! I can’t tell you if there is life after death, but I can tell you that I don’t personally believe that there is. I think we’re worm food, and frankly I can’t wait for the day I no longer have to suffer consciousness.

I don’t care for bath bombs! I feel that they are an inefficient method of bath product delivery as they never want to fully dissolve, and they also always smell vaguely powdery and I don’t like that. I’m all about either salts, or a good bubble bath. Or both! Both is good. 

I think if ever they bathe together again, it’s gonna be in one of those jacuzzi tubs, or at least a big soaker tub, in a hotel room or something on their anniversary or whatever. They are too large to fit comfortably in the Gallagher tub, and I don’t see them necessarily prioritising it in their own housing searches. But I do think it will happen again at some point, Ian doesn’t just give up on romance so easily. Perhaps he actually books a hotel for their next anniversary and makes sure the one he books has a fancy tub so he can convince Mickey to give it another go. And this time they sit at the same end of the tub as they rightfully should, shame on you hall of shame.

Cuppa time! I’ll get the biscuits 😊☕️

[nestacorvere]

acosf rant review

i finished acosf a while ago and i just can´t stop thinking about it so this is an attempt to get it all off my chest cause i have a lot of thoughts. 

spoilers below the cut 

i read the first 6 chapters when they were “leaked” and honestly that just set the bar really low. all these years that i´ve waited for the book i always thought nesta was going to illyria and that she would be away from the inner circle (except for cassian and azriel). but then came those chapters and i realized the ic would actually be in the book and i was pissed. 

the first few chapters were hard to get through. what mor said about sending nesta to the court of nightmares (and cassian not saying anything about it), what amren said about putting her in the dungeons in hewn city made me want to through my phone across the room. sure, send a depressed person dealing with ptsd, which is something they have all gone through before, to a place where she´ll feel more tortured. yay that´s so smart. it will certainly make her feel better (/irony). 

also this thing feyre says and sjm apparently forgets about it throughout the book to make us believe feyre acted solely on nesta´s wellbeing. (i dont´t hate feyre yall it was just clear to me she had ulterior motives to send nesta away and that quote proves it)

“It is about how it reflects upon me, upon Rhys, and upon my court when my damned sister spends our money on wine and gambling and does nothing to contribute to this city! If my sister cannot be controlled, then why should we have the right to rule over anyone else?”

but then the part where nesta calls rhysand “an arrogant, preening asshole” got me laughing so much. this whole scene is a fucking disaster but that part was funny af. 

i only began to really like the book after the scene where nesta helps gwyn by trading the books in merrill´s office. when nesta trully smiled for the first time i literally teared up. 

also nesta´s friendship with the House was amazing. one of the best things in this book. and the whole “the house likes romance books” made me laugh all the time. 

“The book,” Nesta said, a bit breatlessly, “is about...” Her nostrils flared and her eyes went a bit unfocused. “A book”. 

“Interesting”, Cassian murmured, “Sounds great.” 

and this dialogue... pure gold. i’m also like that when i’m reading smut and someone asks me what the book is about hahaha. 

now another thing that bothered me:

“Because illyrians are backward and horrible”  

why is sjm constantly depicting the only POC in acotar as monsters? wht tf did she make them to be abusers? it´s a rhetorical question btw. i think we all know the answer. i´m a firm believer that even though this is a fantasy book, stereotypes like this are still damning and wrong. 

the fighting scene between cassian and azriel and nesta fantasizing about a threesome was funny and weird. i understand sjm wanted to show us who the threesome would be with if she hadn´t deleted it and it actually made me glad she did. it would not have fit the narrative at all.

the sex scenes were great in the beginning but then i got tired of them. i always get tired when there´s that much sex scenes and ik sjm warned us. but it was nessian so i made myself read and care about them. 

nesta´s power damn i was shook. i loved it. all the scenes that showed her power were absolutely amazing. 

now moving on to the worst part of the book. nesta Made the weapons. with her power. therefore they are her weapons. they happened to end in rhysands hands but that doesn´t give him, or feyre, or the ic the right to choose not to tell her about her weapons. the whole high king thing sjm threw out there just to make us see that hey rhysand is not bad yall he doesnt want to usurp power even though he has the weapons for it and his friends actually suggested it. amren could go to fucking hell for all i care after this. also for the things she say when nesta confronts her about it. 

when rhysand and all them found out the baby could kill feyre and didn´t tell her i was already pissed. who the fuck they think they are to deny her the information that she might die and that her son would likely die with her? nothing and no one has that right. not even her fucking mate. no one. i think it was wrong of nesta to tell her the way she did and to only do it out of anger. but i was actually fucking glad someone told her at all. and rhysand threatening to kill nesta only makes me more angry. even feyre can see it was because of the parallel she saw between them not telling her about the weapons and she isn´t even angry at nesta. but rhysand thinks he has the right to be angry after not telling his mate she could die? oh fuck off. 

i actually enjoyed the major plot of this book. the dread trove thing, the queen and koschei was actually pretty interesting to me and i wasn´t bored. it actually made me more interested to read the next books. i had promised myself i would be done with sjm after acosf cause all i ever cared about was nesta but i might keep reading cause i enjoyed this plot. 

since i´ve talked about the worst part (to me) let´s talk about the best parts now. nesta´s, emerie´s and gwyn´s friendship was absolutely everything to me. i love them all so much. i was just so happy to see nesta happy and i fell in love with emerie and gwyn as well. i also love nessian and although some things they said to each other and the way cassian behaved toward nesta in some scenes didn´t really make me happy, i will always love this couple. i just like the version in my mind and fanfics better. and nesta´s whole healing arc was amazing to me. it made me so so proud of her.  

azriel´s present to nesta made me soft. i love them so much omg i wished they had interacted more.  

the scene where it´s revealed nessian are mated is so heartcrushing. it made me sad to see cassian say he was “shackled” to her because she had already admited she felt unworthy of his love and by saying that he just made her feel it all over again. sad sad sad sad sad. i actually cried. 

the whole blood rite thing to me was only to prove to us readers that nesta was strong even without her powers and it was preparing us for what would come. that being said i actually liked it. i think the bond the girls created there and nesta realizing how strong she was made it worth it. 

now to the ending. i unfortunately read spoilers of the ending before i finished the book. so throughout it was already preparing myself for that scene. i think that was part of the reason that i wasn´t pissed by the end of the book. i don´t think power means strenght and i also believe nesta is strong regardless of her power. but i just loved her power, you know. i don´t think she´s any less strong now because everything she learned makes her strong in a different way. but i was just sad. it made me think sjm just didn´t want anyone more powerful than rhysand. 

also sjm really made nesta think of rhysand as her brother, seriously. out of nowhere. he never did one good thing toward her. never. and he also didn´t apologize for the bad things he did. no one apologized actually. nesta and feyre were the only one´s that actually said they were sorry and that realized they were wrong. sjm made nesta apologize to everyone. but only one person apologized to her.  disappointed but not surprised. 

i think that´s all i have to say. this book was truly a rollercoast of emotions to me. i was angry, sad, i laughed, i cried (of sadness and of happiness) and in the end i was just happy. all the things i wrote here were because i couldn´t stop thinking about the book after i finished it and i started realizing some stuff. but i still loved it. nesta is my favorite character and in the end i´m just happy she´s happy. 

[phati-sari]

Hi!

Sorry the font selection wasn't intentional,how it got selected Idk.

And thanks for responding quickly 😊

Btw,if one sister would become bahu and other will be family destroyer who eloped with damaad,then that also applies when Arnav thought Khushi would run away with Shyam,so he needs to stop them by marrying her! As Arnav knew Khushi loved Payal and her family devotedly,why would she have an extramarital affair with Shyam whose wife is Payal's in-laws most Important member,Anjali? Khushi not marrying Arnav would destroy Payals marriage as same as her eloping with Shyam would do. And Khushi would never do it, she values marriage so much,he knew,why would she break a happy marriage and elope with a simple lawyer, while Arnav understood that khushi realised Arnav was attracted to her. And if she was greedy as he thought,she would choose ASR. As he clearly said on the terrace ,"Jis shadi shudha insaan ko tum PHANSANI ki koshish kar rahi ho wo kisi ka pati hai". He was clearly declaring she tried to Entice and frame Shyam,with her masoom chehra.Why didn't Arnav think if she could've married him despite being in a relationship with Shyam for saving Payals marriage,she wouldn't tarnish her family's face by loving Anjalis husband? Was he being irrational?

I know this is an inappropriately big question,you don't have to answer it if you don't want to.

Thank you and take care.

Hi!

Firstly, this ask is very long and full of (mostly) rhetorical questions as you try to unknot a very complex situation. I realise Tumblr has increased the character limit but I generally do not react well to babble in my inbox.

Secondly, I reckon you should read my recaps of these episodes, they explain my point of view on this issue in great detail :)

Essentially, the logic you're trying to force Arnav to see doesn't, in my opinion, have a place here because he wasn't trying to solve a puzzle. He wasn't trying to match up every single one of Khushi's actions to a motive or emotion like you are. He was trying to save his sister. Plus, you seem to be overlooking the fact that people lie all the time. Just because Khushi said something doesn’t mean she believed it or that it was objectively true.

Khushi's love for Payal wouldn't have stopped her from having an affair with Shyam if the affair started first. Arnav had no idea when it started. There were entire flashback sequences dedicated to this because he had no way of knowing whether Khushi was always pretending to feel something for him. 

And honestly, if this sort of stuff stopped people from acting on their feelings, then Arnav wouldn’t have acted on his feelings for Khushi while he was dating Lavanya. I don’t think Arnav ever drew a direct comparison between the two situations, but you’re literally arguing that Khushi wouldn’t do what she already proved she would during Diwali -- pursue a man in a relationship.

Khushi marrying Arnav under coercion doesn't prove anything about her values or her loyalty to him. It only proves what he already knows: people are selfish and care more about their own flesh and blood than they do others. He didn't leave her much of a choice that night, he can't then turn around and decide that her agreement was an indication of honour. For that, she would've had to make the choice of her own free will.

And please miss me with the irrational stuff. Arnav followed lines of logic pretty well in this scenario. Most of the time, the kind of logic the fandom wants him to pursue in this situation isn’t logic at all.