#he's first and foremost a self insert

[troutfur]

In relation to your recent reblog: do you have any other ocs besides Troutfur? Also does this mean you'll tell us more about Troutfur?

My OCs would be just the supporting cast of Troutfur's story but I do want to make more OCs someday yeh!

The primer on Troutfur you can find it in here, but for some quick and easy fun facts if I may offer:

Has a non-RiverClan father he hasn't really ever met but whose name he knows because apparently he looks like a dead-ringer to him from behind and has gotten called by that name a few times.

Still does the occassional chore for and is the go-to warrior escort of his former meddie mentor Iciclenose.

Iciclenose's new apprentice does not like him though, she can intuit there's something fishy about Trout quitting meddie training and though she's not quite sure what she's definitely judgemental of him for it.

Within the continuity of the meta story of @bonefall's Better Bones AU he was probably the involved one in helping Professor Erin Hunter figure out the nuances of Clanmew grammar while Bonefall was most involved in helping her compile the history of the Clans.

I also like to imagine that between the two Troutfur picked up English the fastest. I don't know if the Better Bones AU version of Trout necessarily could be said to speak English but at least he understands it.

Staying within the Better Bones AU, within the gender trinary system Bones has set up I see Trout as a tom-aligned gib! Assigned tom at birth, shuffled into the gib category through his childhood as he displayed more of the characteristic behaviors but then shuffling back into the tom category as he ages.

(Yes, he's an AMAB calico. No, I do not care about cat genetics. If you want an explanation it's YOUR job to come up with one.)

[yaoibanker]

jay? who even is this guy?

ososan self insert time… to make myself feel less insane i hc all the brothers as 5’2”. the accepted height is mainly 5’7” but i think they deserve to inherit those matsuzo genes

extra jay info i couldnt fit:

• dark brown irises that have been mistaken as fully black on multiple occasions

• big into fishing and mushroom foraging

• had a bird phase as a child and can still recognize certain species by song

• hair grows fast so he just gave up on cutting it

• bonds with some of the brethren through sharing music they may like

more on how i met them under the cut ↓

the first brother i meet is ichimatsu, as we are both showing up to feed the alley cats. it was only a matter of time until we crossed paths since this is a common activity for both of us. we’re both very reserved at first but over time we keep meeting and find we get along quite well. as we start hanging out casual style something gay asf begins brewing between us

it was also inevitable that the 5 demons would get nosy about what ichimatsu has been up to and learn of my existence. none of those guys can hide anything from each other. poor ichimatsu eventually has no choice but to introduce me to them.

now REALISTICALLY i would be a bit frightened of the brethren but in my minds eye i would come to find that i love wasting time with these shitty neets. just like. tagging along and observing. sometimes doing nothing but sit around, maybe watch videos on my phone. i would hang out with them enough that they probably wonder what i even do for a job or how i support myself which i purposely do not answer.

theres way more but i think only 3 ppl will read this. hi.

[ysaefinn]

Pairing: Dilf!Satoru Gojo x gn!reader x Dilf!Suguru geto

In a marriage you pick up each other's slack.

It's a partnership first and foremost, spouses don't have to necessarily operate as a merged unit but it should always be them against the problem.

Suguru is an extraordinary cook, nothing short of an artist with his tools and ingredients. An alchemist with spices and sauces, and a surgeon with knives. Two big calloused hands coming down on the freshly put-together batch of dough, effortlessly kneading away at the mass, shaping it so ~so~ easily into whatever shapes he desires. It's a little odd to think this but there's something...~sensual~ about it, maybe it's the casualness, maybe it's because it almost feels like a subtle reminder of what he can do, that you are yet to see his physical abilities meet their limit. Regardless, the display coupled with the golden rays of the sun, shining on his unwavering gentle smile, reflecting on the silver strands of his contrasting inky locks, giving the illusion of crystals meticulously woven in each strand. Suguru puts angels to shame.

Satoru rests on the other side of the coin. According to the silver-headed man, brute force is the only way around a car engine, you can't possibly get a vehicle to start moving without giving it some maintenance with your fist. Lifting heavy parts and maneuvering them requires a lot of strength and stamina, both are qualities that Satoru has managed to retain throughout the years. Rough fingers easily popping small pieces on and off, inserting rods and poles with a swift push of his hip. The black engine oil that seeps out is quickly nipped in the bud with a rough thumb shoved into the leaking hole. And once the problem is solved he runs his whole hand through his pure white hair and cracks his typical joke of turning into his husband before giggling to himself every time. It's very sloppy and messy the way he goes about things, but as long as it gets him where he needs to be, he won't be changing the way he operates.

It doesn't make Suguru the happiest man in the world watching his husband beat a non-living object somehow to death, he couldn't even entertain the thought of going about things the way his husband does. But that's what Satoru's here for! To take care of the things Suguru would rather not and vice versa, –since the white-haired man doesn't have the patience for marinating chicken or baking food for hours–.

Because in a marriage you pick up each other's slack!

–

"That's my baby.." you finally reach your peak with a drawn-out whine, coating Suguru's entire hand in the process, the man wastes no time licking his finger clean from your slick while running his other large hand up and down your tummy "you're doing so well, sweet thing" he moves his palm around your waist before squeezing at your flesh gently and you shudder in response "making us so proud like always, sweetheart". "Satoru, focus on keeping those pretty wrists together, we're working on being braver and not hiding our face, right?".

Right, this was a lesson.

By the time your vision clears from your orgasm, Satoru has finished wiping off the juices you left on his face from your earlier climax, and he takes the chance to kiss your drowsy self rough and messy catching you completely off guard. He's ripped away from you just as quickly by the hair.

Suguru's hands are more than capable of being cruel and unforgiving when it comes to you.

"Be gentle" Suguru scolds, an icy cold tone –almost unrecognizable– "they're still sensitive" and he's back to cooing sweetly again, Suguru is only ever this mean because he knows his husband can handle the heat.

The silver-haired man falls back with a grumble "Ugh, you never let me do anything" he whines childishly, earning a playful raised brow from his husband. "That's only because you don't know how to be gentle" Suguru counters "You brute.." A warm heavy hand rests on your head before petting you like a well-loved kitten, as if the smallest of sudden movements can hurt or distress you. "You have to be gentle with them. They can't handle how rough you get at times, Satoru".

Oh he doesn't have the slightest idea.

You can definitely without a single shadow of a doubt handle Satoru when he gets his hands on you. Unlike his husband, Satoru listens to your requests of a rougher pace loud and clear and gives you exactly what you wish for –something Suguru has never approved of. But on the other hand, he is much softer and more intimate with you when his head is between your thighs. Suguru however, would rather watch you squirm and whine and cry from that same angle. Now that is what you can't handle.

And it makes sense because in a marriage you pick up each other's slack!

"Can't handle how rough I get?" Satoru scoffs before looking back at you and lovingly rubbing your thighs "Seems Sugu doesn't know the first fuckin' thing about what you can and can't handle sweethe–A-ah!" Suguru interrupts his husband's sass by yanking him by the hair again and pulling him in for a kiss. All teeth all saliva.

Satoru pulls away to catch his breath, lips bitten and swollen crack into a smug grin. "Daaww you mad? Jealous that you know you hold yourself back? What kind of boyfriend are you Sugu~?"

It's really all in good fun –it would be at least, if this didn't question his dedication to caring for you to a degree– but his jaw still clenches and his eyes narrow as if challenging the man. He is undoubtedly bothered, yet still chooses the high road to ensure you continue to be in the spotlight. Classic.

The long-haired man releases his grip and moves over to scoop you up in his arms, he slides his hands from your waist down to your thighs before spreading your legs wide open for his husband. You jolt back and sink more into his plush chest, clearly still overstimulated from the previous peaks they forced you to reach. Suguru coos before kissing your cheeks sweetly and whispering something about not being shy or trying to hide from them.

"Use your mouth for something useful for once" he gestures to your aching core "come on, don't keep them waiting".

And Satoru gets into position without another word– for now–, moving forward and placing your legs over his shoulders, he pecks your left inner thigh before looking straight at you, –Azure flames shocking your senses, a strange cold sensation washes over you– sending shivers down your spine. It doesn't pass unnoticed, your men exchange fond looks.

It's like your little reactions are bonding moments for them.

But as long as Satoru's in the room, it wouldn't last.

"See? Very responsive. There's clearly a favorite~" Satoru purrs, and his husband rolls his eyes "Giving good head doesn't make you a better lover, Satoru" he scoffs, but still refuses to derail "But keeping our baby needy certainly makes you a terrible one, doesn't it sweetie?" Again, a noticeable softness in his tone when he turns to address you. "Now come on, get on with it"

"I want you to admit it first"

Suguru sighs "...you are good with your mouth".

"Just picking up your slack. That's marriage after all!"

[boymeetsluve]

Another strange solangelo hc that I’ve seen creeping around (though less than about a year ago, the world is healing) is Will getting the shovel talk? How on earth did you all see a character that, even if we erase 90% of his actual personality, is described as a Healer and was the only person actually trying to reason with Octavian as his most Unwell and decide anyone would see him as a threat. Especially because the 7+Reyna are usually tasked with giving the talk?

First and foremost, Will saved Annabeth’s life back in Manhattan. There is NO WAY that Percy “Annabeth is my mortal tether” Jackson would forget that fact. And neither would Annabeth plus we see them at least friendly with one another in TLH when they crash the Apollo cabin’s chariot bringing the lost trio back to camp. Also, I love Nico/Percy and Nico/Annabeth friendship but they are in no way, shape, or form close enough with Nico to make threats on his behalf like that.

The lost trio are largely the same. Jason is the closest but none of them are close enough to weigh into his romantic life. And they all must have gotten some level of familiarity with Will over their months at camp between Will being cabin councilor and head healer. There’s no way any of them would clock Will as anything other than a chill dude (which is how Leo describes him during their tour).

Frank also doesn’t make sense. He does his best to be chill with Nico but most of their relationship is through Hazel. Frank isn’t going to step in unless absolutely necessary, probably with promoting from Hazel (not that she would bring him into it). I think he spoke to Nico like 5 times across HoO he isn’t exactly on the front lines of the Nico Defense Squad.

Reyna and Hazel are often the main offenders of this trope and I find that they make the most and least sense. Yes they are most protective over him by the end of HoO but they also greatly respect him and his strength. They would never undermine him and his autonomy by threatening his boyfriend. They (unlike most people here) respect his ability to keep moving forward and to Handle Shit when needed.

I think the shovel talk trope is stupid overall so that’s probably why I’m so sensitive to it but there is no way it works with solangelo, you all just woobify Nico and are using the characters to be self-inserts to do things They Would Never Do.

[mejcinta]

Come to think of it Otto Hightower, the Wisest Green, was kind of out of character in s2. And this has much to do with the writers self-inserting so as to 'put Aegon in his place' when the dude is literally mourning.

Otto Hightower first and foremost has been shown to be tactful, calculated, wise and manipulative for his benefit. He wasn't in this scene, invoking even Viserys' name to insult Aegon...and then proceeding to walk out, thinking Aegon would still let him be Hand!

But the most heartbreaking part of this is how in s1 the show presents us with an Otto that understands the tremendous weight of loss, when he keeps bringing up his beloved dead wife! How is it that he has suddenly lost empathy for his own grandson and doesn't seem to care much about Jaehaerys either?? Why is he more pressed about the 10 ratcatchers than the dozens, if not hundreds, of people Rhaenys massacred in the Dragonpit who he could have used as propaganda against the Blacks? Calling that tragedy an 'omen' for their wrongdoings was also a stretch... are these not the same people that fought tooth and nail for years to facilitate Aegon's ascension?

Otto was wise in the book and his dismissal was purely blamed on Aegon's impatience, because he wanted swift revenge...something we can all understand.

Book Otto in no way deliberately triggered Aegon into getting fired but the show would have you believe so as he relentlessly goads his grandson and then acts shocked that Aegon's had enough of him!

A wonderful scene yet again lost to the burning urge the writers of hotd have to humble Aegon and bash him for existing, I guess.

[dranosh-haran-of-paleoworld]

Hey there! If you're still doing asks, I have a question

what you think is the reason Sasuke is hated widely while Itachi is a beloved character? He is considered the best brother in anime when looking at the canon all I see is this guy ruining his little brother's life by torturing and abusing him mentally and physically. He even told Sasuke to kill his best friend to get power that made Sasuke afraid of even making any bonds. He even said to sasuke he was worthless to kill so Sasuke saw love and connections as a weakness. He tortured Sasuke when he was 7, when he was 12, also in their final battle. After the truth reveal, Sasuke is ready to make the whole world his enemy for Itachi. He tries to understand him; he again sees him as the same way the kid him saw his older brother; he even calls him perfect. This just shows how much of a better brother Sasuke was compared to Itachi. But this Naruto fandom will tell you that Sasuke doesn't deserve a good brother like Itachi and blame him for not acting according to Itachi's fascist village wishes. What the actual fuck?

And Sasuke is considered a genocidal maniac psychopath, even without doing any genocide. While Itachi, the actual genocidal maniac psychopath who killed innocent children and women and literal babies and who even abused his little brother's life in the name of protecting him, is considered the best brother and hero. Is it the narrative problem or the fandom's? Like the narrative really is white-knighting Itachi after the truth reveal. If Itachi stabbed a child 50 times, his cult will tell you how much it hurts Itachi-sama to stab the child 50 times instead of the pain of the child getting stabbed. That's how much Kishimoto wanked his character. It's like he wanted everyone to like Itachi's character, at the same time he demonizes Sasuke the genocide victim a lot throughout the series.

Even Studio Pierrot was clearly wanking Itachi by making that OVA where he was making eggs for Sasuke so people perceive him as "look the best bro Itachi taking care of Sasuke" when the canon says otherwise. And do you remember Tsunade's Infinite Tsukuyomi filler arc? The character assassination Sasuke got in was terrible. Again, Sasuke would never turn a jerk if the massacre didn't happened. Even in canon where the massacre happened, he still was the kindest selfless kid compared to Naruto who was constantly bullying him and annoying him for jealousy and Sakura who were constantly harassing him over her stupid selfish crush while Sasuke was ready to sacrifice his life for those kids. In that filler also there was the usual Itachi glaze. It's like the studio wanted Sasuke to be perceived in a certain way while making Itachi a saint.

Is this Itachi glorification and Sasuke slander tied to Naruto and Sakura self-inserts? I've seen plenty of meme posts of Itachi torturing Sasuke by pinning him in the wall and the comments were always like Sasuke deserved to getting tortured for being emo and for being a jerk to Naruto and for rejecting Sakura etc.... If they are referring to Part 1 Sasuke, he was the nicest kid in Team 7 so why are they adamant in humbling a 12-year-old kid? And people were crying for Sakura when Sasuke rejected her and left the village and laughing at Sasuke when he gets tortured where he saw his parents getting killed half a million times. How can people have sympathy for Sakura a girl who can't accept rejection but Sasuke, a traumatized genocide victim? And why is this fandom using Itachi to put down Sasuke in moral Olympics when Itachi is a far worse human compared to his little brother who got fucked up by the consequences of Itachi's actions?

This is a mammoth of a question, and one I don't know if I'll be able to properly answer, but in short, it's very much the result of the fandom first and foremost, however, as a quick aside I will admit that Kishimoto isn't completely innocent, the man sure as fuck can write and Naruto as a series is awesome, however, Itachi is definitely one of his biggest shortcomings as a writer because Itachi as a character just ruined everything, and as a someone who's currently pursuing creative writing that's a mistake I don't want to make for myself. But again the fandom is definitely the biggest reason why Itachi's so glorified. Let's get the obvious out of the way first, Itachi glorification, like the glorification of Kakashi, Naruto, Sakura, and Tobirama all have something in common, these characters all in some way are opposite to Sasuke and everything he stands for, by extension his clan.

The main reason why Sasuke is hated and Itachi isn't is bias, especially from the Western fandom. Sasuke's got absurd looks, talents, wealth, and popularity all of which most western viewers desire, envy, and don't have, this is why Naruto and Sakura stans project onto those two because they're just like them, they all want what Sasuke has without the young man himself, just like everyone else wanted the power of the Uchiha Clan without the clan itself. Additionally, Sasuke, as I and others have said before, is very clan-oriented and obedient, everything he does, including his training and growth, is in devotion to his clan and parents. I don't know the specifics, but from what I know Sasuke's very well-liked by the Eastern portion of the Naruto fandom, because his clan-first mentality and mindset, the fact that he puts his clan before himself is why he's liked in the East in stark contrast to Itachi who himself has a very western outlook on life. I mean seriously, Itachi maligns his family and clan, and vigorously worships the state, he quote on quote "put Fugaku in his place" for trying to "control", which a lot of people here in the west relate to, nevermind the fact that Fugaku was doing everything in his power to ensure the survival of his clan and family in the dire times they were in, but these fans like Itachi don't fucking care about that, actually I'm currently working on a post about Fugaku so I'll be expanding him at some point.

Sasuke's refusal to sit back and let the pain and suffering he and his clan went through go is another reason why he's hated, he rightfully can't ignore the fact that his clan was discriminated against, and segregated since the founding of the village, nor the genocide of his clan, nor the pain, suffering, and torture he was put through, as well as the isolation and the village flourishing over his clans graves is all shit he rightfully can't stand. You see, loyalty to the state and individuality are considered paramount for people here in the West, with Western media having this obsession with glorifying war-criminals and war-crimes with this "killing your people made our men cry" bullshit, all in the name of " freedom and democracy!" and all that crap. Western media loves to demonize the victims of state-sanctioned violence who naturally and rightfully lash-out at the state and powers at be that ruined their lives, I mean look at Jet and Hama from Avatar the Last Airbender, and even here in Naruto, Sasuke, Nagato, Obito, the Ame Trio, the Kaguya clan (Kimimaro's clan) and even Neji, all of them are despised for lashing out at what the powers that be did to them, Western media loves saying that true victims accept what happened to them and move on. Sasuke, however, doesn't do that, and this is PRECISELY why Sasuke's hated more than Itachi, it's because anytime he's presented with a scenario in which he's expected to follow the path typical of a shonen rival he instead does the exact opposite, he defies the readers expectations and doesn't bend over for others both in and out of universe. He never acknowledges or validates Naruto or Sakura, he doesn't return the latters creepy, one-sided obsession, nor does he play her games, he chooses his family and clan over those shitheads and the village that screwed them over, he tells constantly to fuck off and leave him the fuck alone, he never forgets or puts aside his clan, and he never forgives the village for what it did to him and his clan.

I will say that the Naruto fandom does some Itachi glorification, as Itachi both validated and acknowledged Naruto, while also treating him "nicely".

I can't say anything about Sakura fandom's glorification of Itachi, as frankly it doesn't make any sense to me as it does to you though, as Itachi never once acknowledged her, much less even looked in her direction, hell the first and only time they potentially interacted was in the Kazekage Retrieval Arc, and even then Itachi felt that Sakura was so beneath him that he didn't even acknowledge her, he acknowledge Kakashi and Naruto, and in the anime even Chiyo, but he said NOTHING to Sakura in that chapter or episode

These are the scans from the manga and they showcase literally the ONLY interaction Sakura and Itachi have, and again Itachi literally doesn't acknowledge her, so I have idea what's Sakura fandoms deal with Itachi, but even then they've always been delusional as hell so no surprise there. I will also however not that it's especially ridiculous that Itachi is seen as a gentleman who knows how to treat women by the fandom when, as you've correctly pointed out, the bastard slaughtered all of the women in his clan, including his own mother who was slowly dying via the Tsukuyomi he cast on her and Fugaku before cutting them both down with his swords like he did with the rest of their clan.

SP has always done its own thing, which is why we have these terrible fillers, so I'm not even going to begin touching that.

But again outside of Western bias and media illiteracy, Sasuke's hated more than Itachi because of self-insertion from the fandom.

I apologize if this doesn't completely answer your initial question or if it's not suitable for you, I will come back and add more to this at some point, but for now this is my answer.

[gorbo-longstocking]

Do Not Blame the Sea | Chapter One

Pairing: Emperor Geta/Reader, Emperor Caracalla/Reader

Summary: Everyday, you woke up and performed the steps necessary to complete your routine. It was monotonous, like clockwork, as you traveled down the tracks laid out for you since birth. With a mind uncontested, you found yourself graduating college before you were legally an adult, and at the behest of your controlling parents, you continued on to medical school, then further on into a surgical residency at a nearby hospital. You had always wanted to help people and this was the best way to do it.

So, why, with everything you had ever wanted at your fingertips, were you so unhappy?

Maybe that was why when you awoke in the past, surrounded by farmland instead of your blankets that you decided to ‘just roll with it’ rather than scream. That was your motto now as you were unceremoniously dropped from your assigned path onto untrodden ground with no hope of going back. So, even when you saved the life of a soldier and were carted off into the heart of the corrupt Roman Empire to be the twin emperor’s new physician, you barely batted an eye.

After all, you would do anything to save your patients.

Tags: Time travel, transmasc reader, no use of y/n, eventual polyamory, no incest, period-typical attitudes, Caracalla doesn’t have syphilis but he has PTSD, mentions of slavery, both historical accuracy and historical inaccuracy, obsessive behavior, eventual smut in later parts, medical inaccuracies,

Read on AO3

Playlist

Part Two

Authors Note: Hiiiiiii, I’m back at it again, starting another fic. Those freaky gingers have bewitched me, let me tell you. Anyway, some important things to note about this little fanfiction that I feel the need to clarify before we get into the real meat and potatoes.

First and foremost, Geta and Caracalla won’t show up until chapter two. Maybe even chapter three, it depends on how much more set up I write, so if you want to wait ‘till then to read this, you’re welcome to :3

Two, and very important, unlike my other fics where the reader is trans, but referred to with they/them pronouns or neutral language, this main character will be referred to with he/him pronouns and masculine language in the text because, as a plot point, they are assumed to be a cis man. Along with this, they have three descriptions in the text. They have dyed green hair — original hair color shan’t be mentioned — they have top surgery scars, and they have a vagina. I miiiiight make an accidental reference to heights (ex. ‘ooked up at him/looked down at him) but I will try my hardest to not.

While their real name will never be mentioned in text for self-insertion purposes, Geta and Caracalla come up with the nickname ‘Alga’ for them due to their green hair. It means ‘seaweed’ in Latin. It also means ‘something of little worth.’ :) So, that is how they’ll be referred to. Generally. It’s either that or ‘medicus’ or ‘physician’ or ‘you there.’

Third and finally, I am a huge nerd and fan when it comes to the Roman Empire. As a society, they have a bunch of hangups, taboos, and beliefs, mostly around sex, that I find incredibly funny and will pepper in here and there. I will try to make this fic as historically accurate as I possibly can using all the resources I have at my disposal (google, a few academic texts, and my best friend whose studying classical history) but there’s no guarantee I get all of it right. Half the reason I’m using a modern character as the main POV is so they have an excuse not to know things 😭 Also when it comes to conjugation of Latin words, please, PLEASE give me leeway, I haven’t taken a Latin class since high school.

All that said, I hope whoever reads this fic enjoys it, because that is my main goal. Writing is seriously a passion of mine and my favorite part about it is sharing it with people. That means YOU person reading this, I think you’re awesome.

Okay I’m done talking, on with the show!!

Chapter One ///

This dream sucked — because that was what this was, a very bad dream — and, if you had to guess, it was the worst dream you had ever had in your life. Which was saying something. As a surgical resident who did most of their studying in a hospital, you were chronically sleep deprived and had a lot of stressful material to work with. Whatever aid you used to help you get some semblance of rest had a tendency to give you weird dreams. Very, very weird dreams. You had a few recurring ones, like being chased by a sentient pool noodle — whatever that meant — and several where the ghosts of your patients blamed you for their deaths — far more self explanatory than the pool noodle — but none quite like this one.

Out of everything you had ever experienced in your bleak and desolate mindscape, this dream was long and boring. That was its only crime. Along with being terrifyingly vivid, of course, which you didn’t particularly enjoy thinking about. If you were any less logical, you’d almost be convinced this was reality. That you had woken up in a small farming village, close enough to the capital of one of the most infamous ancient empires that you could see it on the horizon. Sometimes, when the sun set, you would stare at the shadow of Rome dancing upon the skyline. It was beautiful, albeit impossible. Sure, the people who surrounded you only spoke Latin, and they didn’t trust you as far as they could throw you, but it wasn’t as if that mattered. Soon, you would awake in your bed, one day closer to your exam and the beginning of the rest of your life.

Why did the thought only fill you with a sinking sense of dread? Being a doctor was everything you had ever worked for. Helping people, saving people, it was your purpose, the very reason you were born with your exceptional mind. It was your destiny, so why did it feel like you were marching to the gallows?

You shook your head to rid yourself of these thoughts. Focus on the present, focus on the dream, it was far easier than the constant ever present march of time. It was why you were so certain that the predicament was a figment of your imagination. Time hated you, constantly pulling on your leash, dragging your forward even as you dug your heels into the muck. It would never, never move backwards. Not for you.

Never for you.

A low groan of despair rumbled in your throat as you tried your best to wash your filthy scrubs in a nearby river. The water wasn’t murky, but it wasn’t clear either. Unsurprising, considering the nearby village used this water for practically everything. They were close enough to the city to have access to aqueducts, carrying waste hopefully further downstream. You were determined not to think about it. Any other denizen of this small settlement would wash their clothes themselves. The village was too small for a fullonica, and you were pretty sure they were mostly meant for the wealthy. That said, you also knew that Romans used urine to wash clothes — thank you to the ancient civilization classes you took for fun — and you’d be damned before you let a random person’s piss touch your scrubs.

Outside of work, at least.

With your pants rolled up to your knees as you waded deeper into the water, you continued to do what you could to clean the few clothes you had on you. Considering you only had a little bottle of soap you stole from a hotel a few months ago, it was easier said than done. You wanted to ration what you had in case this dream went on for much longer. Just because this was a fictional scenario conjured by your stress addled mind didn’t mean you weren't going to go about things logically. You had already been asleep for three days now, who knew how much longer this neverending dream would last? Perhaps forever. The thought of avoiding reality as you waste away in your bed was far more comforting than it should have been.

A loud shout echoed to your right and you fought the urge to shoot a nasty glare at the <i>obviously</i> young soldiers goofing off several yards away. Well, young was a strong word, they were the same age as you. Probably. You couldn’t really tell considering how staunch you were in your decision to not make eye contact. Out of the handful of men playing in the water, they were all naked. It wasn’t that nudity bothered you, you were studying healthcare for Christ’s sake, it was the unfortunate fact that soaking wet, muscular hunks were a particular weakness of yours. You weren’t sure the soldiers would appreciate your ogling, the villagers already avoided you like the plague. Judging by the dirty looks you received from some of the, unfortunately armed and notoriously xenophobic men, they’d heard enough about you to be wary.

You let out another sigh, your scrubbing becoming a tad more vigorous. Soapy bubbles rose to the surface of the water and your face was screwed up in concentration.

This particular Roman century had arrived at the village only a half-day after you did. From what you could pick up from eavesdropping, instead of being sent to North Africa to get a little conquering done, their legion was shipped to Gaul to put an end to some dissent. Once that was over, the officer in charge received orders to head back to Rome so they could be sent to North Africa with the rest of the troops. They had only stopped at the village for a last bit of rest before their next assignment. Or something. You had been noticed, and you had scurried off the second you realized you were caught.

Letting out a small huff, you examined your scrubs and decided that they were as clean as they would get. Once you were back at shore, you wrung out the fabric the best you could before laying them flat on a rock beside the only other outfit you had, aside from the one you were wearing, to dry in the sun. Another bark of laughter drew your eye to the soldiers playing like schoolboys in the river. Weren’t these men hardened warriors of one of the most regimented militaries to exist? Surely, they should be more disciplined. Still, you couldn’t help the small smile that caused your lips to twitch upwards. Even thousands of years in the past, and in your dreams, humans were the same as they had always been.

The sun was warm, hanging overhead like an unripe cherry tomato. You closed your eyes to bask in it a bit more than necessary. Your skin prickled, indicating that there were eyes on you, though you didn’t particularly care. No footsteps approached you and the sound of laughter didn’t stop, so you figured you were safe enough to show your belly. You didn’t realize you had laid down until you felt grass tickle the back of your neck. Perhaps a little nap wouldn’t hurt. A dream within a dream would be rather funny, you thought as you fell into a light doze, lulled by the sound of soldiers playing.

You didn’t know how long you slept for. It was the sound of panic that woke you, sending you upright so fast, your head spun. The first thing you noticed was the merriment had stopped and had given way to an oppressive sense of desperation. You looked in the direction you had been avoiding all day to see a gaggle of soldiers, some clothed, some naked, dragging an unconscious body onto shore. One man was running with his tunic halfway over his head in the direction of the village, yelling for the centurion in charge. You were moving before you could stop yourself.

“Make way! Make way!” Your Latin was shaky, but not the worst in the world. While you were sure your accent was strange, you knew you were at least understandable as some of the men turned to block you from getting any closer. They didn’t look particularly pleased at your arrival, eyeing both your hair and your odd attire with an air of skepticism. You didn’t have time for this. “I am a doctor. A physician. I can help him, we must act fast.”

One of the soldiers raised a singular thick eyebrow. “A physician, you say? You look like no medicus I have ever seen.”

“Does that really matter?!” You shouted, your voice a harsh bark. The longer this went on, the less of a chance you had to save this man. While you were nervous to plow through the wall of stout muscle that blocked you from your prospective patient, you realized you might have to.

The soldier looked like he wanted to say something more, when an authoritative voice broke through the ranks. “Let the man through! We have lost too many as is without losing another to a few hours of games.”

Every head snapped in the direction of whoever spoke. All except yours. The second you saw a gap in the crowd, you slid through and fell to your knees beside the drowned man, the one you determined to save.

First thing you did was check for responsiveness. It was out of habit mostly. A tap on the shoulder, a shout, another tap. He didn’t respond, that was unsurprising.

When you checked for a pulse, you found none, so you began chest compressions. Placing your hands together on his chest, arms straight, you began to push. The rhythm came to you naturally — you had made sure to pay attention in class, and this wasn’t the first time you had done this. Despite the fact that you knew no support was coming, that if you couldn’t get this man back by yourself, he would die, your head remained clear.

Do not lose sight of your goal, do not lose hope, go until you can’t anymore.

After thirty compressions, you took a deep breath, pinched his nose shut, and tilted his head back, placing your mouth over his. You heard a few gasps, and even a cry of disgust as you pulled back to push another breath into his lungs. Determined to pay the growing crowd no mind, you placed your hands on his chest and began to pump his heart again.

This went on for… like with your nap, you didn’t know. All you knew was that you were drenched in sweat, your arms were sore, and your breath coming out in harsh pants. Thirty more compressions, you inhaled a ragged breath and pushed oxygen into his lungs once more. If this didn’t work, you’d have to call it.

There was a hand on your chest, shoving you away, a watery cough filling your mouth with spittle before the drowned man flailed back to life. You didn’t take offense to the harsh treatment. He had woken up to a kiss. That would startle anyone. You rolled him over on his side and rubbed his back as he hacked up a lungful of murky water and whatever he had eaten for breakfast.

“You’re back,” You muttered softly, as comforting as you could. “Breathe. Slow and steady. It feels good to be back, doesn’t it?”

The man met your eyes, his own a startling shade of honey, a confused, but grateful, smile on his lips. “I thought I was gone.”

“Yeah, we all thought that!” A soldier with a shaved head nudged him roughly with his toe. “Medicus here worked a miracle with his lips.”

A hand reached down to clasp your shoulder, shaking you firmly, if not playfully. You looked up to see a man with floppy blond curls grinning down at the man you just saved, his lips pursed. “The kiss of life!”

You let a small, uncomfortable laugh titter from your mouth. Being surrounded by so many people was awkward, and their banter was even more so. You felt entirely out of place. Rather than focus on that, you fixed your attention back on the man you saved.

“What’s your name?”

“Sextus Aelius,” He answered, voice hoarse.

With a small smile, you gestured to another soldier to hand you a nearby tunic. Sextus — you wouldn’t laugh about his name, you wouldn’t — had begun to shiver, even in the hot sun, and you wanted to keep him warm. Not to mention he was still naked. You tried not to study him too much, focusing on the sharpness of his jaw and the gentle slope of his nose rather than his nudity.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Sextus, I am—” You were cut off by a cacophony of noise, a few whistles interspersed within. A bit of heat rose to your face when you saw Sextus’ bewildered expression. “I fear I have made a blunder.”

To your relief, he merely laughed. “Aelius. Call me Aelius.”

“Right. I apologize, Aelius. How do you feel?”

Once you had given him the tunic, he slipped it on over his head, covering his modesty — not that anyone but you seemed to care all that much about it. When he stood, two men came to his side to steady him. Despite this, he still offered you his hand. It would be rude to deny him, though you didn’t feel comfortable accepting help from a man who had been, by many’s standards, dead a few minutes before. You gave him a small smile and pushed yourself to stand on your own.

“I could be better.” His grin was lopsided, the boyish kind that showed off his teeth. It was endearing enough for you to be proud of saving a good man, rather than a mere man. When he spoke next, there was no small amount of awe in his voice. “You saved my life, I am not sure if that is something I can repay.”

A snort pulled from your throat as you waved him off. “No repayment necessary, I only did what needed to be done.”

Aelius looked about to argue when he paled, his gaze flickering behind you. There was a creeping sensation of unease crawling up your spine, similar to when you had earned your parents displeasure. Standing behind you was a presence, one with enough authority to cause the men around you to stand at attention.

Thankfully, it didn’t seem directed at you. For now.

“What is the meaning of this, boy? I allow a bit of slacking off and you go and die on me?” It was the voice from before, the one who commanded his men to let you through. Taking a guess, you’d say this man was the centurion leading this particular century back to Rome. You didn’t dare look behind you, you didn’t dare move. Anything to keep his frustration off of you. It didn’t last long. A large hand clasped you on the shoulder, grip firm, but not harsh. “And to be saved by a foreigner! You should be on your knees thanking him for whatever trick on the gods he played at your behest.”

“That is unnecessary,” You tried to argue, only for the centurion to give you another shake.

“A humble medicus at that! Lucky boy! Very, very lucky!” He let go of you and gestured for Aelius to be taken elsewhere. “To the tents with you while I think of a suitable punishment. No man has died and lived to tell the tale on my watch, so I must be creative.”

Aelius, at least, looked ashamed, though the man with the floppy blond hair leaned down to whisper in his ear, a smirk dancing on his lips. Whatever was said earned him an elbow to the ribs. Men never change.

Before they could get too far, you found your voice. “Monitor him through the night! Fetch me if he stops breathing again!”

It was only once you heard the affirmative did you relax. Which lasted a moment before the centurion turned you around so you were facing him. His gaze was hard and his arms were crossed over his chest. Unlike the men before, the centurion was wearing his full armor, save for his helmet, another thing you were thankful for. You were not easily intimidated, but this man? He could crack you like a peanut.

After a moment of sizing you up, his eyes trailing from your clothes, so different from his own, with trousers instead of a tunic and a graphic t-shirt in an alphabet he knew, but words he couldn’t understand, to your green dyed hair. He didn’t seem impressed. In fact, he seemed suspicious.

“Lucius Marianus.” Unfurling one of his hands, he held it for you to shake.

With an awkward smile, you took his hand and introduced yourself. His grip grew a bit tighter at the sound of your obviously foreign name. You fought the urge to run away.

“A pleasure, Marianus.” This time, you called him by his second name, determined not to make the same mistake as earlier with a less forgiving man.

“Where are you from?” Quick and to the point, you could respect that. Logically, you knew that this wasn’t real, that ultimately, this was your dream and you held all the power, but there was a little voice in the back of your head telling you to be careful. “Are you a citizen, a slave, or a free-man?”

Licking your dry lips, you let your hand fall to your side, shoving it in your pocket before Marianus could see that you had begun to shake. “I am from a country far away. Across the western sea, farther than any have ever gone. I am a citizen of my country, but not of Rome, and I am no slave, so I suppose that makes me a free-man.”

“You suppose?” He pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow. “Well, I ‘suppose’ I won’t assume you’re a liar and a runaway. If I hadn’t just witnessed that…” Marianus paused, searching for the right word, and you hoped it would be one you recognized. “Technique of yours, I would figure just that. Tell me, medicus, what exactly did you do to one of my men?”

“I, uh…” Your tongue felt too big for your mouth. Whatever answer you gave this man, it better be satisfactory. All you could hope for was that the truth would be enough. “His heart was no longer beating, so I pressed upon his chest as hard as I could in the same rhythm that his heart would take.”

Marianus nodded, his expression contemplative. “And the kiss?”

“It was not a kiss!” The words burst forth before you could stop them, your face flaring even hotter. This entire conversation was reminiscent of one you would have with your father, and Marianus’ disapproval was getting to you more than it should. “I was breathing air into his lungs. I inhale, pinch his nose shut so the air doesn’t escape through his sinuses, and then blow into his mouth. If his chest rises, I am doing the procedure correctly.”

“Still, an intimate gesture to bestow upon a stranger.” His lips twitched upwards ever so slightly. You got the feeling he was teasing you now. “From what I can gather, this technique of yours mimics the functions of life in order to coaxe the spirit back into its vessel.”

You blinked, opening your mouth to argue with scientific facts. A beat passed before you snapped your jaw shut with an audible click. Better to not look a gift horse in the mouth. “I, uh, yes. It does. That is exactly it. You are a very intelligent man, Marianus, perhaps a career in medicine is calling your name.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, medicus.”

An awkward grimace pulled at your lips. “Right.”

Marianus was both unmoved and undeterred by your lame response. You expected him to leave you be. After all, despite the fact that you saved one of his men from drowning, you were still an outsider to both the village, the army, and Rome. In your head, he owed you nothing, all you did was your duty and you expected nothing in return. Marianus seemed to think otherwise.

“Where have you been sleeping, medicus?” With a sharp nod of his head, he gestured to your duffel bag and drying clothes. “I assume outside in the heat considering how poorly you are spoken of in town. Looking and speaking as you do, it’s no wonder anyone is hesitant to even allow you to sleep in their barn.” Again, the edges of his mouth curled upwards. “You are far more useful than previously anticipated. For once, I am happy to have my assumptions proven false.”

“Um, thanks?”

“Fetch your belongings, there are more men waiting to be your patients back at camp.”

You blinked, dumbfounded, before a sharp raise of Marianus’ black eyebrows broke you from your spell. If there were more people to be treated, you didn’t have to be told twice. With a bit of pep in your step, excited to have something to do rather than waste away in tedium, you stuffed your, now dry, clothes into your bag and slung it over your shoulder. Marianus eyed it with no small amount of reservation.

“Do you carry any weapons?”

You thought about your taser and pepper spray tactically placed in an easy to reach pocket on the side. “No. As a doctor, I consider myself a pacifist.”

Marianus snorted. “A good way to die.”

“Better to die giving life than taking it,” You replied easily. This wasn’t a lie. While you didn’t fault other’s for violence — how could you fault human nature? — you would rather heal before harm. A part of you hoped to balance the scales, do enough good to make the bad seem worth it. It was a lofty goal, one you tried not to dwell on. So long as you managed to help even a single person in your life, you would be happy, though you’d never confine yourself to such a meager goal. “If you don’t mind me asking, do your men not already have a doctor to treat them? Why take on a stranger’s help?”

“We did. He is no longer with us.”

You frowned. “A shame. Lose one soldier, and you only lose one man. Lose a doctor and your losses double. I never met him, but I’ll remember him fondly.”

“You’re soft. It’s a shame.” His words made you raise your eyebrows, and, when you looked at him, there was pity in his dark eyes, though it was only there for a second.

Marianus clamped his hand on the back of your neck and began to steer you in the direction of the camp. With few trees in sight, only lush farms and tall grass, the countryside was a sight to behold. You glanced over your shoulder to see the river and the village disappearing in the distance. While the road the two of you walked on was dirt, it was well trodden, no stones or holes to trip over. This truly was the Roman Empire. How your mind managed to conjure an image so beautiful and so unmistakably alien was beyond you.

“Has there been anyone caring for the injured?” You asked.

“Our veterinarius has been doing what he can, though I don’t like it. These are men, not animals.” To punctuate his displeasure, Marianus spit on the ground.

You nodded placatingly as you approached the first cluster of tents. Some of the soldiers recognized you, though you didn’t recognize them in return. Word traveled fast when you save someone’s life, you supposed. “I’m sure he’s doing his best.”

“His best is not enough,” Marianus grumbled.

Before you could respond, the stench of infection and sick filled your senses. If you hadn’t done clinicals or worked in healthcare while you completed your studies, it would have caught you off guard. Instead of blanching, you took your last deep breath of clean air, and braced yourself as much as you could. Marianus almost seemed impressed by the determination on your face as you pulled back the flap of the tent, joining a frazzled looking man — the veterinarius, you assumed — in his rounds.

All you could do was your best, and you intended for that to be enough.

Even as a student, you had steeled your heart to the worst suffering had to offer. Growing up as you did, with parents more interested in results than feelings, it became all too easy to turn off your bleeding heart and do what was necessary. By now, it was as simple as breathing.

Your bedside manner was gentle as you helped a few men, too injured to move, drink water from a ladle. If you were any less busy, you would have insisted it be boiled. Marianus would likely scold you, it was unrealistic for an entire century to boil water for every sick man, let alone every soldier, no matter how sound your advice was. Posca would do for now, as it always had.

For hours, you worked tirelessly, cleaning wounds and calming fevers. You were lucky modern medicine wasn’t all that you studied. In order to help as many people as you could, you focused on ancient and holistic practices as well, though you had an easy preference for the tried and true methods. There was no denying that you were a medical prodigy, a genius for all intents and purposes. It wasn’t that you had an ego — well, maybe you did — it was the fact that it was the truth. You had graduated college before you had turned eighteen and gone through medical school soon after. Right now, you were the youngest student going through their surgical residency in your state, perhaps even the country if you dared to let your pride swell. All of this, your parents would call their doing, that you would be nothing without their guidance.

You grimaced in the middle of setting a skinny man’s broken arm. Better not think about them now, it would only serve to stress you out even further. For all your skill, you caught yourself floundering inside the medical tent, Marianus watching from the entrance as you flitted from patient to patient, and the veterinarius sitting back to take a much needed break. While you had some supplies on you — a stethoscope, a sphygmomanometer, a Taylor hammer, none of which you’d utilized yet, a bottle of antiseptic, some ibuprofen, and three clean syringes — it wasn’t enough for you to feel comfortable. Which was ridiculous, this was your dream, you could do whatever you wanted.

Then again, if that was true, then why were you fumbling through even simple procedures? You didn’t feel comfortable using more invasive methods, not unless you had no other choice. The likelihood of survival was low, even with your steady hands. Perhaps this was a nightmare, a look into what life will be like once you were done with your schooling. Your slumbering mind was preparing you to be the failure you were always meant to be.

Shaking your head, you focused your attention back on your patient. No one seemed to notice your lapse, not even you. You were quite good at multitasking, mixing self-deprecation with stringent work ethic like a talented seamster. The skinny man was lucky it was a clean break, and even luckier, it wasn’t his humerus, which would have been more complicated given your lack of equipment. A bit of sweat trickled down your forehead as you stood, surveying the men around you. You had done well given the circumstances, but you still couldn’t help but feel as though it wasn’t enough.

Nothing was ever enough.

Even dreaming, you felt tired.

Three men had infected wounds. One was oozing pus, which apparently was a good thing according to the veterinarius and Marianus, though you still took care to clean the wound thoroughly. Another man had a fever due to the infection, and, after washing your hands, you took care to clean it as the other. After much reassurance that it wasn’t poison to Marianus — consisting of taking one yourself — you also gave him an ibuprofen for his fever, though you decided you were going to ration them unless it was an emergency. The third man was a bit harder, enough necrotic tissue forming around the infection that you considered surgery. For now, you introduced maggots to the area, a treatment Marianus seemed to approve of, if not with some disgust. In the morning, you would check the wound, and then surgically remove the decayed flesh if the maggots didn’t do enough.

Four men had broken bones, one, his arm, another, his finger, and two, their leg. That was simple enough, if not time consuming getting all the bone fragments to set properly. While you would have much preferred a cast to a splint, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

That wasn’t even to mention the handful of other men with various ailments that filled the tent. Apparently there was someone quarantined elsewhere, suffering from dysentery. According to the veterinarius, the treatment for that particular disease was rest, fasting, and dehydration, which you were in the middle of giving him strict instructions to keep the man as hydrated as possible, it didn’t matter how quickly he discharged it, he needed to be drinking as much water as he could. You didn’t hold out much hope he’d make it, though you’d be damned before you gave up on someone who needed you.

It wasn’t until Marianus clamped his hand on the back of your neck and began to steer you towards the tent’s exit did you realize how exhausted you were. Your eyes burned and your head throbbed. If you were any less of a man, you would have taken one of your ibuprofen to ease the dull ache in your temples. Ultimately, you decided against it. If there came a time when they were necessary and you had run out because of your own weakness, you would never forgive yourself.

“You did well, medicus. Better than I expected, you are very skilled at what you do,” Marianus said as he led you deeper into camp. By now, it was dark, well into the night too judging from the full moon directly overhead.

How long had you been working?

“Thank you. I am usually better than that. I fear my nerves of being in such an unfamiliar country are getting to me.” With the heel of your palm, you scrubbed at your face.

Marianus frowned down at you. “Keep your foreignness to yourself, medicus and you will go far. Though, that will be hard to do with hair like yours.” He looked you up and down, hesitant curiosity creeping into his features. “That strange color… it is not natural, is it?”

A laugh bubbled from your throat. “No, I dyed it. Green is a color I am rather fond of.”

“I am fond of red, but you do not see me painting my hair that color,” He grumbled under his breath, and it reminded you so much of the comments some of your superiors made, that you giggled.

Before you could respond, he gestured to a tent with an outstretched arm. A lantern was on inside, casting the shadow of the single occupant, who was busy sitting cross-legged and writing what seemed to be a letter. While you had reservations of interrupting, Marianus did not.

“Out here, now, boy!” The shadow visibly jumped before pulling back the flap to reveal Aelius. He looked as tired as you did, and truthfully, he stank to high heaven. You struggled not to wrinkle your nose so as not to offend him. Aelius seemed like a nice man.

“Sir?” Was all he managed before Marianus continued to bark his next set of orders.

“Since the two of you were acquainted earlier, and the fact that you were supposed to be monitored, you’ll be bunking together. In the morning, we set a course for Rome.”

You blinked. Did that include you? While you wouldn’t mind getting out of the village and seeing more of what this dream had to offer, you couldn’t help but feel a bit of uncertainty. There was no telling how long this dream would go on, nor how vast it was. You couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you strolled ‘out of bounds,’ so to speak. Would you be trapped in an infinite void until you awoke? The thought was enough to send a chill down your spine.

“And I will remain here,” You finally said.

Marianus barked out a laugh. “No. You will join us. I still have a use for you.”

As much as you didn’t want to abandon your current patients, you would rather not push your luck any further than you already had. Crossing your arms, you met Marianus’ furrowed brows with your own. “And that use would be?”

To your right, Aelius made a little noise. Your gaze flickered over to him, catching his motion for you to cease, before you ignored it and fixated back on Marianus. He was looking at you like you’d lost your mind. At least enough to question him. A bit of discomfort made your skin itch, you always hated earning the negative attention of a superior.

For a moment, you feared that Marianus would yell at you until the sun rose. He puffed up, shoulders squaring and his lower jaw jutting out before he deflated with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his angular nose. “You are too soft for the army, medicus, and you are too foreign to hope to set up your own clinic, especially without citizenship. There is very little hope for you in the Empire.”

You looked away, feeling cold even as a summer’s breeze blew against your skin. An argument began to boil in the back of your throat, an insistence that this was a dream, so none of that mattered, but you managed to swallow that poison before it could spew out of you.

Marianus paused, waiting for you to respond. When all he received was a defeated look, he continued, “There is, however, hope for both me and you. The emperors require a new physician and I believe they would be taken by your skill and your…” He looked at your hair again. “Novelty. In return for discovering you, if they choose to take you on, me and my men will be rewarded.”

“I see,” You muttered. Perhaps this was the route your dream wanted you to take. At the end of it all, there was sure to be a lesson or even a vision of sorts that could help you in reality. All you had to do to get it was allow the plot to pull you forward. “And Rome is not far?”

Marianus’ features softened, bordering on fondness, guilt, and pity. “Barely a day’s march, medicus.”

“I will go, then. To Rome with me, I suppose.” Though you smiled, when you turned to Aelius, he stared at you as if you’d been sentenced to death.

—————————————-

Tag list: @snazzynacho

[neyafromfrance95]

i know i have talked about this already, but there is not much else to talk about at this point and i still can't get over how much ick s2's finale gives me when it comes to galadriel's storyline.

everyone except for sauron invalidated galadriel's trauma and treated her like a burden in s1, then they shamed and humiliated her in s2. and it all could have had a good narrative reason... if it hadn't led to a really sexist conclusion.

the whole narrative of the good guy who slut-shamed her "fixing" her, resulting in her putting down the sword and putting on the dress instead? yikes...

i love galadriel's characterization in trop. she is a perfect blend of feminine + masculine. saying this could get me crucified but i think she is much more queer-coded than sauron is; in a way that i can see her being nonbinary-coded. she is gender-nonconforming! she is abrasive and proud and a leader!

and this makes the insinuation of that ending all the more painful - from being this authentic, complex character to being... a tradwife to be.

she did not actually turn into a tradwife ofc. now that would be a real blasphemy against tolkien, lol. as galadriel was always a leader first and foremost, never defined as a wife/mother. but narratively, it felt like that was what happened.

some people will say that it's her transformation, that she must learn not to rely on her sword, yada yada. and sure, it can be a character development. BUT! in what direction? they have to be very careful with this direction if they don't want it to come off as a regressive and bio-essentialist "embrace your inner divine feminine, woman" conservative propaganda. it can be done if they lean into "the witch galadriel" arc.

and man, it's somewhat a similar case to killing eve. one reviewer of ke's finale said that women live their lives told to sit still, be accommodating, be self-sacrificial, and there comes a point in their lives where they have to decide if they are going to conform to all that even if it's inauthentic to who they are. villanelle recognized eve's darkness (which really was her authentic self) and wanted to nourish it. so the framing of eve "surviving" villanelle and being cleansed of her "darkness" felt wrong to many.

in many ways, that's how trop s2 finale felt to me. it's so interesting how haladriel's dynamic turned out subtextually. sauron saw galadriel's trauma, her darkness and yet he alone saw galadriel's greatness in her authenticity, and offered her authority - something that all others stripped her off of. yes, he stabbed her (and villanelle shot eve, btw), but told her that he would make her into an overlord of the universe at the same time, lmao.

worst of all, it doesn't make sense legendarium wise - galadriel is going to continue being a leader; yeah, she is not going to be as abrasive, but she will grow into a stone cold bitch (affectionate) instead; she is going to have a push-pull dynamic with sauron till he evaporates. so what was all that supposed to mean? i do believe they catered to the whiny "make galadriel tradwife again" crowd, and maybe inserted a mormon propaganda where it's the most misogynistic in its' message.

anyways, i still have my fingers crossed that they redeem the story direction in s3 by dismissing the undertones of s2 finale. or else it would really leave a sour taste in my mouth.

[sorry-moots]

Well-Read

it makes me sick to the very core of my being that the majority of subject two x reader fanfiction is one-sided, forces him to share with albedo, or just makes him a second choice in any way (not that yall shouldn't write fics like that) so this word vomit is my contribution to rubedo nation characters: subject two/dorian/rubedo, albedo tags: reader insert, gn!reader, reader is not traveler, y/n is used sparingly, subject two is called rubedo, rubedo is somewhat whimsical, rubedo is insecure, canon divergence ig wc: 2,068

Canon Revision

first and foremost, let's fix that tiny little error in hoyoverse's writing. albedo totally went to durin's heart for some samples and just found subject two plotting and scheming with a bunch of mimics, all of whom stared blankly at him upon being discovered

he was quickly surrounded by the creatures with subject two at the lead and, having realized it would be a losing battle, just asked, "Is there any chance we can come to a compromise?"

subject two reaaallly wanted to kill albedo and move forward with his original plan to assume his identity but he was willing to listen

the compromise was this: if subject two a) quit trying to kill albedo, b) stopped conspiring with durin's... corpse, and c) helped albedo with his little project, albedo would allow him to live a normal life in mondstadt as his twin brother

of course, subject two was more than willing and together they dispatched the imitations, who were displeased but not exactly surprised by subject two's betrayal

once the mimics were dead and the samples had been collected, they went back to the campsite together to craft a backstory that didn't involve multiple counts of attempted murder

Before Moving to Mondstadt

subject two was desperate to leave the frigid mountain but albedo insisted that he needed to learn how to be his own person before talking to new people. he was great at impersonating albedo but had no personality (or style) of his own, something that might arouse suspicion

in the months that followed the formation of their alliance, rubedo, finally bearing his own name, worked hard to discover things that were unique to him and not just echoes of albedo's character

after long hours running numbers in the lab and calculating the necessary quantities of the materials they sought for their experiments, he would stay up reading every night, hoping to gain some insight about the human experience from literature

his favorite genre by far is mystery, especially whodunnits, but he occasionally reads romance novels if they find their way onto his designated bookshelf. the best one, in his opinion, is called The Wind Whispers Her Name, which is a story about barbatos falling in love with a mortal. strangely, the book has no cover. almost like a manuscript, it's bound by punched holes but written lovingly by hand, albeit with poor penmanship and many grammatical errors

(he likes the genshin impact equivalent of 13yo wattpad fanfiction)

whenever he got frustrated, sad, or even just bored, he would leave the camp to feed the foxes. they were cute and he didn't feel self-conscious about his lack of personality when they kept him company

nearly a year after joining forces with albedo, rubedo had made significant progress. not only had he leaned into his more charismatic and emotional demeanor, his wardrobe had changed as well. he started wearing more red and black clothing and began to adorned himself with moons, not stars. he had also developed an interest in social experiments, which he read about when he tired of fiction

since rubedo has no job and is quite veritably broke, albedo suggested that he move into an apartment that he keeps for when he visits mondstadt. he really only uses it a few days every month so it's perfect for rubedo

When He Meets You!

albedo wants to wait until dawn to start the trek but rubedo is mad impatient. like bffr, this man has been stuck in dragonspine for so long with his oh so perfect brother when there's a whole world out there, he wants to leave NOW, even if it's midnight

rubedo doesn't have a lot of stuff to take (it's mostly just books and clothes) so, as soon as they arrive in mondstadt, he dumps everything at the apartment and runs off, leaving albedo to chase after him

it isn't long before the mouth-watering scent of food that has actual flavor reaches his nose. as talented as his brother is, albedo rarely cooks anything appetizing so this is the opportunity of a lifetime for rubedo

his intentions are pure when he approaches the stand but once he looks up and sees your face, his objective changes

"Good morning, Mr. Albedo!" you greeted him warmly, not realizing this was a different person. "Would you like to order something?"

Too eager to care that you had misidentified him, he summoned his romance novel wisdom and responded in kind.

"That depends... are you on the menu?" he asks, elbow resting on the counter and his face contorted in a smolder that could rival Flynn Rider's.

The Albedo you know is always polite and never says anything untoward so to say that you're shocked is an understatement. As you stand there with your eyes peeled wide open, the real Albedo catches up and quickly infers that Rubedo has Misspoken™.

"Good morning, (Y/n), I see you've met my twin brother, Rubedo. I apologize if he's done anything to offend you, he doesn't get out much," Albedo explained before turning to Rubedo and quietly scolding him. "What did I tell you about flirting with random people?"

"I only called Swan 'hot stuff' because I thought it would be fun, this is different!" he whined not unlike a child.

When they finish arguing with one another, Albedo turns to you to order. "Sorry about that, (Y/n). I'd like two of my usual order."

You count the mora he hands you and confirm his order. "So two egg white omelettes with spinach and bell pepper, no tomatoes, cheese, salt, or pepper?" He nods and you respond, "Coming right up!"

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rubedo grimace. Maybe he's not a huge fan of flavorless food? you think to yourself.

When you bring out Albedo and Rubedo's food, there's only one bland omelette to their confusion. "There weren't enough egg whites to make two omelettes,” you lied, “so I made one omelette and fried up some bread in the yolks. I won't charge you extra of course. I hope you like it, Rubedo!"

Albedo has a contemplative expression on his face but Rubedo looks at you like you put the stars in the sky. Before his brother has a chance to respond, Rubedo blurts, "It looks great, thank you!"

the serving of french toast is super cute, the bread is dusted with powdered sugar and topped with sliced strawberries; you even used chocolate syrup to write out "Welcome :)" on the plate

after he takes his first bite, his eyes well with tears and he looks back up at you because this is literally the best thing he’s ever eaten?? and it’s coming from someone who knows he’s not albedo?? (and is gorgeous?????)

suffice to say he has a crush on you from day one

Rubedo's Day-to-Day

after your first encounter, he stops by Good Hunter every morning for breakfast (which burns a hole in his pocket), partly because the food is good but mostly because he thinks you're cute when you laugh at his pickup lines

albedo is glad rubedo is adjusting so well but he's like bruh,, can you get a JOB your allowance is cutting into my research funds

he starts working with the knights of favonius but in a more administrative role. he's basically an HR rep but he uses it as an opportunity to observe people's behavior and collect qualitative data (ik this is unethical without consent but dw he's not publishing anything, it’s more like a diary)

rubedo with his bag up is something to behold. he likes to toss mora in bards' hats and instrument cases, pay for rounds of drinks at the tavern, and tip extra when he goes out to eat, all in the interest of being mondstadt's preferred twin

he does things for himself, too, though; the man was deprived of everything that being human entailed and now he’s greedy for any and every kind of human experience. when he he’s not working or currying favor, he volunteers, he participates in community events, sometimes he even goes to the church of favonius to people watch. if it rains, he’s splashing puddles with kids. if it snows, he’s helping them build a snowman or DEMOLISHING them in all-out snowball fights

he likes giving you flowers. he could use alchemy to make perfect flowers but he still looks down on alchemical creations so he mostly buys them from flora. occasionally, he’ll give you a random one he found while walking around the countryside that reminded him of you. he gives you one every day because he thinks you deserve them, not so he can upstage albedo.

Your First Date

he's very sweet to you but, until he asks you out on a date, you think he's just Like That

other people ask him out all the time but he only has eyes for you. the only reason he hasn't asked you out is because he's insecure that he's not perfect, not human enough for you

what finally pushes him to ask you out is when he overhears someone else planning to do so. the minute he hears them talking about it, he hurries over to good hunter and just asks if you want to spend the evening with him

the two of you go to the cat's tail tavern and play genius invokation well into the night, leaving only a few minutes before they closed

it’s late but the two of you are having so much fun that you leave the city and chase each other around in the whispering woods. your game of tag turns into a firefly catching competition and that gradually turns into the two of you murmuring about whatever comes to mind-- dreams, anxieties, loose ends you don't think will ever be tied up

yall totally would’ve slept beneath the stars if laying in the dirt was any bit comfortable but it’s not so he walked you home to springvale. he has the most euphoric grin on his face as he walks back to his apartment and it only fades when he goes to sleep. even then, a smitten little smile remains on his visage

Dating Rubedo

the MOST affectionate; holds your hands, links pinkies with you, hugs you (from the front, side, back, any way that a person can be hugged). many cheek, nose, and forehead kisses await you, you just have to get to that point in your relationship first

olympic gold medal in spoiling you!! uses alchemy to make extra mora so he can afford to buy you all the nicest things in teyvat <3 albedo quickly grew wiser to his tricks so he has to use real mora when he's in mondstadt but anytime you travel to another nation, he turns into mr. mora

makes sure that his apartment is to your liking; he cleans, tidies, reorganizes, repairs, repaints, and reupholsters his home and everything in it to make you feel comfortable. has a drawer set aside for you but hopes you'll need more than just a drawer one day

he's always there for you no matter what you're going through. he's empathetic, good at problem solving, and a true believer that you deserve nothing but the best. he's your ride or die (even if you're being problematic and pushing over senior citizens)

does NOT let you be there for him. he 100% subscribes to the whole "errare est humanum" ideology but doesn't allow himself the same grace. he tries to make up for being an artificial human by having fewer flaws, which is part of the reason he's so generous (i.e. trying to embody virtue)

you can tell he's upset when he starts acting like albedo. all of his flair disappears and he speaks monotonously

terrible at communicating his feelings en vivo; he writes so eloquently but if you make him explain what he's feeling in the moment he'll have a meltdown. he apologizes whenever he snaps at you but he doesn't always tell you why he was so upset in the first place

he's afraid to tell you about his true nature. the thought of you finding out keeps him up at night, even when he's tangled up in your warm embrace

when he tells you/you figure it out, there's a lot of sniffling and hugging but you don't dump him so he considers that a win

realizing that you love him for who he is and not what he is helps him feel more secure but isn't an instant cure (obvi). you're there for him though and he adores you for it

a/n: that's all i have, i hope i captured his character well enough. i probably won't make revisions to this, i just want it out there

[jojossillywalk]

wow. SO. here are some language distinctions that can be a little mixed in translation!

disclaimer that actual talking is very very different from the vocal performance that shows up in anime.

first and foremost, english (the dub more than sub) can sometimes miss the fact that there is a very distinct difference in how avdol and polnareff speak!

it's no joke when i say that polnareff has a "bro-y" way of speaking. he uses "俺" (ore) which is very informal, can be considered rude, and is conventionally considered to be masculine. he speaks a lot more casually/informally in general, he and jotaro are sort of even (polnareff just talks more).

also polnareff's speech is generally just much more rude than either the dub or sub really convey. this man is crass.

avdol uses "私" (watashi), which is used in formal settings, it's also like a polite default- that said, he's distinct in using that pronoun among the crusaders! among close friends (for guys), it's like. got a stiff/stuffy vibe. casually, it's got feminine connotations, but by and large it's formal (kakyoin uses "僕" (boku), which is just a Younger Guy way to identify yourself)

when jotaro is talking about how avdol seems like he "thinks highly of himself" (the phrase jotaro uses is straightforward telling someone that they come off as arrogant), avdol's speech lends to the image of him seeming smugly intelligent.

the one time that we hear him use "ore," he adds "kono" before it- there's really no good way to translate that in english, it's like "i, myself, etc etc."

this is not the only time avdol puts "kono." this actually lends more weight to jotaro saying that avdol comes off as self important. "kono [insert personal pronoun/name]" has an implication of distinction- "me (and explicitly only me)." so "a stand i, avdol, have not heard of."

when avdol says "i've heard of [this stand]," he often uses "噂" (uwasa). however, he uses "見かけた" to describe his experiences with the illness- ie, he's seen people with the stand sickness, but more often than not, he's heard of the assassins (devo being an exception).

when he's stopping polnareff, the sub says something like "you're getting wool to come back shorn"/"tough talk for a man digging his own grave," both are localizations! his direct phrasing is more like "this one's going to steal mummies when he'll become one."

another note is that avdol uses formal pronouns to refer to himself, but the pronouns he uses to refer to others are less formal (joseph being an exception). he speaks formally, but like someone with seniority!

this is because, in this situation, he's literally someone with seniority.

that said, polnareff is a) very vocally independent, b) has an ego taking up 5/6 of the known universe, but more importantly, the comment that makes avdol try to punch him isn't "holier than thou," it's "go keep pretending to be more of an adult/above it all like always."

there's already jotaro's comment about avdol coming off as arrogant, but polnareff is accusing avdol of putting up a front/acting like someone he's not (the verb is "otonabutte").

there are more but here's some for now

[bartxnhood]

lost stars | c.b

colby brock x reader

summary: colby is always there for you. even at your worst.

warnings: mentions of depression, anxiety, thoughts of suicide, etc.

a/n: i’ve been kinda in a slump lately so this is kinda a self insert, but also if any of my followers or you come across this i genuinely hope you know that it will get better. if you need someone to talk to me, please reach out to me. i’ll always be here for you. ❤️

requests open

not proofread

Copyright © 2023 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

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you were overcome with a familiar sensation. the sensation of having everyone around you but still feeling alone in the world occurred often. the need to curl up under your covers and wither away, the pain in your chest, the random tears, the feeling that you're going crazy. everything was wrong, but you were unable to express your feelings.

you surrounded yourself with toxic people over the years, hungry for any type of attention, even if it was unpleasant. you desired to feel something. even if that meant it hurt you more, it was better than nothing. you weren't numb.

you tried to block out your thoughts with music, but the songs only served to highlight how unhappy you were. your life was uninteresting, and you feared you'd never feel genuine happiness again. until you met colby, you saw everything in black and white.

he was a colorful person who saw the good in the world while you only saw the terrible. it has been said that opposites attract. despite this, you two had a lot in common after the meeting.

first and foremost, both of you had excellent musical tastes. if one of you discovered a new song or band, you'd tell each other about it. alternatively, if colby was droning on about the paranormal and his love for hunting the unknown, you'd be all ears, staring at him with the brightest smile, seeing how his eyes lit up. colby often enjoyed movie marathons with you; you'd both choose a few films you hadn't seen before and watch them together, along with the occasional old favorite you both adored.

“oh cmon, there was totally enough room for jack!” you exclaimed with the remote in hand. you just finished watching titanic for probably the hundredth time with him and you were back to arguing about the ending. “i’m not saying there wasn’t, jus sayin it would’ve been hard to balance!” he laughed, standing up from your sofa with the popcorn bowl in hand. “okay yeah maybe, but that’s why she had the life jacket!” you heard him snicker from the kitchen, “y/n, the movie is twenty years old, i don’t think it’ll change anytime soon. sorry darling” he walked back into the living room falling by your side.

though, it wasn’t always glamorous. you knew colby was famous, you know girls practically threw themselves at him and it did make you uneasy.

not that you thought you weren’t good enough for him, but the fear that once you had another episode, he would leave you.

colby understood about your mental health; he was always there for you and would do whatever to help you the best he could. you never wanted him to see you at your lowest; it was a difficult period for you, and you didn't want colby to bear that burden.

you were going through that again. everything went back to black and white, and the color faded day by day. you began to lose that sparkle in your eyes, you stopped smiling at his texts, you slept most of the day, you didn't leave your bed, and you even forgot to eat some days. your body was once again being overwhelmed by that sensation.

colby began to notice your absence, your one-word texts back, or even not messaging back for hours. it was like a complete shift. he was aware of what was going on and did not hold it against you. you needed time to deal with everything, but he didn't want you alone. he didn't have much experience with what you were feeling, but he would spend every single day with you just to understand; he wants to help you. he doesn't want you to suffer any longer, and even if you didn't talk to him or tell him how you felt, he wanted you to know he was there for you no matter what.

you lay on your bed, a mountain of sheets covering your body. all of your lights were turned out, and the only light came from your window. you couldn't recall when you last showered, maybe four days ago if you had to guess.

when you tried to close your eyes, you felt that familiar aching in your chest again. you began to cry as memories flooded your head. it was annoying not to be able to sleep without your mind taking control. reminding yourself of all you could have done better or things that have contributed to your depression. you felt guilty for everything, even if it had nothing to do with you.

you rolled over, facing your window and door. It was almost midnight. you just wanted to sleep, but following your previous naps, you doubted you'd get any. you tried to close your eyes and rest, but were interrupted by a knock at the door. "y/n?" you heard your boyfriend's voice and opened the door, only to be met with darkness. you opened your eyes and looked at him. "colby?"

he entered, closing the door behind him. "you vanished, and I just wanted to check on you." he left his spare key on your desk. "im okay," he knew you weren't, so he moved over to your side and perched on the edge of the bed. "you sure?" he asks, reaching for your hand. "i know you're having a hard time; whether you let me in or not is up to you." "but I hate seeing you suffer like this, y/n," he implored, his thumb sliding over your knuckles. meanwhile, you chewed on the inside of your cheek as you stared at the wall, fighting back the surge of emotions. "I just," you began, exhaling the breath you felt you'd been holding.

“I'm not sure, colbs. "I just don't know," you hesitated, "I always end up like this again." I can't express how I feel. "I've spent so much time suffering that it's normal," you explained, a few tears falling from your eyes. I don't want to put you down because you deserve so much more."

colby rose, had you scoot over, and took your place on the bed. he drew you closer, allowing you to cry with your head on his chest. "please don't say that." knowing how depressed you were shattered his heart. "i want to be there for you no matter how many times you go through this. “its a part of you that i still adore. you closed your eyes, fighting back tears as he smiled sadly.

"youll get through this, and I'll be right here until you do. you don't have to be alone anymore."

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

When you think about Raven and when you look at and remember other people’s Yuusonas, when does it feel too much or is there a line for Yuusonas? Because sometimes I look at my own Yuusonas and feel that I am doing to much for him. Like what he can do, what he likes, his lore. I shame myself that I am doing too much but it feels right.

I was surprised when I learned that (Ms./Miss/Mrs.?) Raven was similar to my own Yuusona, Maeve. The biggest that I did was made him related to Crowley,being able to use magic and fight, and I already feel like I crossed some line. It fits on how I see his story play out and I don’t want to overhaul him.

I just vented a bit, I’m sorry about that. What I’m trying to ask is that what do you do if you start to feel that your character becomes too much? Because for me, I want to brain dump and put out every little detail about Maeve to people and get feedback from other people. Outside of the one person I can actually talk to about Twisted Wonderland.

It sounds to me like you’re tackling two different things here? 😅 Both are related to OCs, but one seems to be focused on activity/frequency of content and the other one seems to be focused on originality or how one's OCs compares to others.

Before I address both points, I'd like to clarify that while many people OCs in the Twst fandom are Yuusonas, it's not the case for every OC. "Yuusona" refers to a character made as a stand-in for Yuu, oftentimes acting as a self-insert or a "better version" of the creator. However, characters that aren't stand-ins for Yuu by definition are not Yuusonas. Residents and NRC students hailing from Twisted Wonderland, for example, are OCs, but NOT Yuusonas (since Yuus are generally magicless and/or transmigrated from another world). In other words, Yuusonas are OCs, but OCs are not Yuusonas. By these measures, my own Twst character (Miss Raven) is an OC but NOT a Yuusona.

To your first point: it depends on the individual. Every person has their own threshold for when they’ve shared their creative works “enough”. For example, there are entire blogs dedicated to just posting about a Twst OC, whereas I scarcely post about my OC unless I am asked about her. I know people who only indulge in their ship, while I prefer to build extensive lore for my character beyond the initial ship. Some people are just shier than others and keep their stuff private, some people are more outgoing and want to be publicly active. That’s a metric you need to gauge and set for yourself, because 2) no one else knows you like you know yourself and 2) again, everyone’s comfort level with this varies.

I noticed that you mentioned not just one’s own creations, but also “[looking] at and “[remembering] other people’s Yuusonas”. This phrasing makes it sound as though you may be in the habit of comparing your work to others’ work, and I’m always going to be of the mindset that this is a mistake. Comparison in certain instances is fine (maybe you like someone’s art style or writing technique)—but becoming fixated on what others are doing is the start of a slippery slope. You may then set arbitrary standards to meet or try to use other people’s posting schedules as a yardstick to “judge” your own performance. This can feed into a viscously unhealthy cycle. “I’m not doing the same amount as X”, “I’m doing more than X”, “X has more engagement than I do”, “I have more engagement than X”, etc. It’s setting yourself up to be in a constant competition, and there’s no winning with a game that doesn’t end.

You should do whatever you think is most fitting for yourself. If it “feels right” to you, then go for it. Find ways to push past the shame and the little voice that tells you “that’s cringe”. Whatever others are doing is the pace they’ve set for their own comfort, and you shouldn’t let what other people are doing dictate your own actions. Remember that making and playing with OCs is, first and foremost, self-indulgent—so put yourself first and have fun with it!!

To your second point: there is no such thing as an original idea. I certainly am not the first to have an OC that is Crowley’s relative or the first to give their OC magic. However, even if I was somehow the pioneer of these things, that does not grant me the exclusive rights or the trademark for them 😭

Two separate people could come up with similar traits for their OCs by pure coincidence; you’ll find tons of overlap in any fandom, especially in Twst if you find two characters twisted from the same Disney inspiration. So long as there wasn’t blatant art theft, plagiarism, tracing, malicious intent, etc. there’s no issue if your OC is similar to another person’s OC 🤷‍♀️

No line was crossed. You don’t need to overhaul anything. And again, you shouldn’t worry about what other people are doing; it has no bearing on what you’re doing. Think of the fandom like a massive sandbox. Everyone has their own little slice in it and has their own toys to play with. There’s no need for anyone to step into someone else’s slice of the sandbox or to worry about the toys someone else has or what they’re doing with those toys. You have your own toys that you made and are happy playing with, so just stick to your slice of the sandbox! As long as you’re having fun and not hurting anyone or imposing yourself on them, it’s fine.

Last thing I have to say is 💦 while I 100% understand being eager to share and chat about your creations, it’s… unfortunately not a guarantee? Validation is nice, but not necessary, and no one is for certain going to engage with the posts they come across. We have to learn to be accept that and carry on. Maybe it would be good to start small or just focus on sharing with a group of friends to build confidence first? It’s much easier to interact with familiar faces than the entirety of the internet. This is what I tend to do when I want to get feedback on big ideas or projects I have.

I hope that you find this advice helpful ^^ Good luck with your creations!

[fligniuz]

hey flig how do u think would lu react to a reader who's introverted/or not as active in life in general?

maybe it's my depression and low self-esteem talking, but i often think, after reading fics with luigi, that there's not a single chance he would fall for me😭 because from my experience with extroverted people and their intimidating and overwhelming aura - i would be scared to talk in front of his ass lol

i would be overthinking, trying not to sound dumb in front of him, and then will definitely say something cringey, so for me it's definitely hard to insert myself into any situation with him

idk if this makes sense, just my stream of consciousness ask at 10 am lol

anon i’m the same exact way omfg

i actually think luigi is more introverted than extroverted; he’s just really good at playing both parts, if that makes sense? so there is definitely a side to him that understands your apprehension and anxiety

i think he would want to try and help you overcome it first and foremost, but he would also be very accommodating and accepting. he’ll encourage you to order for yourself when you go out to eat, sparks convos with strangers he runs into when you’re on dates just to see if you’ll feel comfortable enough joining the moment. he reminds you that communication is a part of life that we all have our own ways of dealing with while simultaneously understanding your insecurities and how they impact your ability to interact with others

he would absolutely never make you feel weird or wrong for the way that you are. he may not personally struggle with social phobia but he knows enough to realize that what you’re experiencing isn’t uncommon or strange in any way. he helps you come out of your shell with gentle guidance whenever possible, and at the same time he’s more than happy to talk to the manager for you when they get your order wrong :-)

[mrs-pondwater19]

•🌻MASTERLIST🌻•

This is just a place where I'm gonna keep all my works, whether it's fanfics, art, or moodboards. Hopefully it'll help a little with navigation and finding things a little easier :)

First and Foremost; Most of these works are NSFW/ 18+ Minors DNI. I will Not be held responsible for the media you consume.

I typically write for Fem/Afab perspectives. It's not that I'm uncomfortable writing for other perspectives/genders, I just feel I write for those perspectives the best.

I write for just about all genres, anything from cute, soft fluff to darker content. No real in-between, just whatever I'm feeling for the character I'm writing for.

My older content does include the usage of Y/N, however my newer works do not.

Content I will write for:

Anything SFW and NSFW *with specific topics/themes being excluded*

Angst

Some manipulation/dubcon

Anything really that doesn't fall under my guidelines I don't feel comfy with.

Content I Will Absolutely Not Write For:

Gore/torture

Straight up rape/ forced non consensual content

Abuse of any kind

Incest

Any sexually explicit content with characters who are under the age of 18/ Minors

🌻🪻Happy Reading🪻🌻

All My Works

•~Newest to oldest~•

°Supernatural°

•"Sunsets And Pepsi Cola" — Sam Winchester x Fem Reader; After a hunt leaves you and the boys a bit roughed up. Sam comes up with an idea and a sweet little surprise waiting for you.

•"Slow Recovery" — Sam Winchester x Fem Reader; Sam relapses on demon blood after a bad hunt. Coming home to you to bare his shame. But you're more than understanding and supportive. TW: Themes of Addiction/Blood

•"Fallout"— Lucifer Possessed Sam x Fem Reader; Takes place in the endverse of Season 5. You live in isolation after the apocalypse wreaked havoc on the world. And in the aftermath of the fallout you receive an unexpected visitor.

-Part 2

-Part 3

-Part 4: NSFW 18+

°Self Inserts and F/o's°

•Homelife With Sam Winchester — Lore dumping + moodboard about my home life with Sam. Very cottage core, very sweet and fluffy.

•More Jelly Asks feat. Sam Winchester — More lore dumping and moodboards with my pookie.

•Outfits for Relationship Milestones feat. Sam Winchester — Fit moodboards and lore for when I met Sam, when we had our first date, and shared our first kiss.

•Jelly's Ask feat. Sam Winchester — F/o self ship lore, headcannons + moodboards. Suggestive but no smut.

•"The Vibes Me and My Bestie Would Bring if We were in Seasons 1&2 of Supernatural" — Personal aesthetic moodboards if my girly and I were in the early seasons of Spn.

°Miguel O'Hara°

•"Random Miguel O'Hara Headcannons that Plague My Mind Daily" — Miguel O'Hara x Shy Civilian Fem Reader; Headcannons of Spider man 2099 and a cute, shy, soft little civilian girly going from friends to lovers.

-SFW

-NSFW 18+

°Art Pieces°

•"Anya" — Mouthwashing. TW: Themes of death.

•"Silly Goose Spider Sona" — ATSV

°Old Misc. Works°

•"Heartbeat" — The Onceler x Fem Reader; You and the Onceler had been friends since he moved into the forest. Growing closer with each passing day. But when his family comes for a visit after his newly found success. Both your true feelings come out. NSFW 18+

•"Some Alone Time" — Shinjiro Aragaki x Fem Reader; Somewhat similar to the romance route in the game. After a dungeon, Shinjiro asks you to meet you in his dorm room for some alone time. NSFW 18+

•"You Remind Me Of Her" — Spike Spiegel x Fem Reader; You and Spike both dig into your pasts after an argument and try to better understand each other with the trauma they carry. NSFW 18+

•"I Miss You." — Kasuga Ichiban x Fem Reader; You had to step away from the party and adventuring in order to sustain a balanced life. After one particularly long work stretch Ichiban comes to your flat to check in on you. NSFW 18+

🪻🌻🪻

Likes, Comments and Reblogs Are always Appreciated. Thank you All for Your Support. Have a Wonderful Day My Hunnies💕❤️💕

[paulkleestan]

More Random Invader ZIM facts!

Jhonen was only 22 when contacted by Nickelodeon to make a series for older children, specifically one that could recreate the success the network had with Ren and Stimpy as the network felt it was losing the “edge” it used to have

Ms. Bitters is in her 50s. She looks old because the show is supposed to be seen through the eyes of Dib/other children

ZIM, like Gaz, is a gamer but is generally terrible at them and a sore loser

ZIM was originally going to hug and kiss TAK’s hand in the “romance” montage of TAK: The Hideous New Girl but Jhonen took it out because he didn’t want viewers to think he actually liked her (sorry ZATR fans)

Jhonen had to fight with the Nickelodeon higher ups to keep Dib’s trenchcoat in after the Columbine massacre made them controversial

The PAK that Irkens have comes from Jhonen’s own habit of wearing a backpack everywhere

IRKENS TYPE IN ALL CAPS WHEN USING THE LATIN ALPHABET

Gaz was never intended to be “goth”. That’s why her outfit changed dramatically when the comics started - Jhonen wanted her to be a gamer first and foremost

ZIM’s eye color was originally purple

TAK was conceived as a parody of self-insert Irken OCs on the internet who are commonly paired with ZIM or Dib

Dib’s personality was based on Jhonen as a kid while ZIM’s personality consisted of Jhonen’s self-perceived worst personality traits as an adult

Irkens don’t need to eat as their energy source is in their PAKs. They eat snacks purely for recreation.

ZIM is ambidextrous

Most of the technology the Irkens use was developed by Vortion engineers, not Irkens

[tmasc-confessions]

I know this is a generalization based on what I've read and no shade to transmasc authors

but I've read a lot of transfem romances with polycules of trans girlfriends that see the girlness in the main character's closeted self and bring her out with enthusiastic encouragement and support. And I've read a lot of transmasc romances where gender fulfillment comes from maybe a couple cis friends but primarily the cis male love interest. Cis allies are all good and well but why is the transmasc always alone. Feels true to my life and I'm jealous.

What you have to realise first and foremost is that the all-transfem supportive polycule books are wish-fullillment and not remotely biographical so there’s no need to be jealous. Of course all-trans polycules exist, they’re just not anywhere near as common as semi-cringey author-insert corny romance novels would make you believe.

Based on the experiences of the people I know, both transfem and transmasc, the latter is far more common (so cis boys helping trans boys and cis girls helping trans girls).

Keep in mind that the last time a transmasc wrote a semi-cringey author-insert corny romance “book” where he was in a gay polycule that supported him (the Boyfriends webtoon), he got clowned on into oblivion and to this day people still hate it.

I’d guess the difference in representation is that trans guys are more afraid to fantasise because they have a bigger fear of being scrutinised since our community’s presence in both the media and the real world is significantly smaller than transfems’?

I’d say… maybe put the books down if they’re making you feel unwell.

Anyway. You’re not gonna be alone forever, dude. There are plenty of transmascs out there who are in the exact situation as you and one day I’m sure you’ll find one (or more!) that you truly click with. It just takes time :)