#i can write my whole thesis on this and this alone

[tricksterlatte]

There was this post I saw awhile back that asked what was the one thing you would get pretentious about since everyone has at least one. I didn’t reblog it at the time, but my god if I have to see any more bad faith or media illiterate surface level take about Chainsaw Man, I’m going to become the literacy devil

[thepersonnamedsam]

she got this - op81

pairing: oscar piastri x academic!girlfriend

summary: oscar visits his girlfriends bachelor thesis defending

word count: 1.3k

face claim: phoebe bridgers

warnings: a swear word, some angst - mentions of a panic attack

note: this is for my baby @lissyontour, you got this, pls wish her good luck for today <3

oh and it’s my first oscar fic, hihi, enjoy it

and there is some of the bachelor thesis… i had to include some of it, thanks to chat gpt

masterlist / taglist

Fuck, was she nervous. Her head was spinning and her legs were jelly - no, scratch that - her legs were liquid.

Her eyes were trying to focus on something, just something that would help her back to reality. She knew she was somewhere else right now, somewhere where she shouldn’t be.

Why wasn’t Oscar with her? Why was she alone? This was not how she planned it!

Her heart was beating, she felt it nearly pop out of her chest. It almost hurt. Oscar should’ve been here with her, but a last minute meeting with Zak just threw her plans overboard.

Her breath quickend and her hands searched for the only safe thing she could think of, her phone. Her fingers quickly glided over the screen and Oscars answer made her hold her breath for a second.

Standing in front of the auditorium, the heavy red doors made her uneasy. It’s gonna be time soon.

Oscar had to hold himself back not to text her that he was actually sitting in the front row and waiting for her to enter the room. He knew it was cruel. But he just had to do it.

He was so much more nervous than her. He watched her write that bachelor thesis for over six months now. At every race she was sitting in his drivers room with at least ten books and her laptop. Only just for the last five laps she came out of the room to watch him race.

He appreciated her coming, she could’ve just stayed at home and studied, but she always came with. Multitasking her way through her studies. And he was so proud of her. There was no way he would miss her final step of the way.

And he knew his cruelty was all worth it, as she stepped into the room and her eyes spotted his. Her whole face lit up and he could almost spot some tears of relief.

„What are you doing here?“, she mouthed. A small smile on her lips. „Supporting you“, he mouthed back, matching her smile.

„Welcome Ms y/l/n!“, her professor welcomed her. „I am exited to hear you defend your bachelor thesis about; How Greek Mythology influenced modern literature.“

She smiled at her favourite teacher and took out her thesis. She closed her eyes for a second, breathed in and out again. She was ready. Oscar knew she studied English literature and oh did that make her sexy.

But he had no idea of Greek Mythology or modern literature by any means. Yes, he read her thesis at least twice, but did his brain understand anything she meant? It did not. Being the smart one was all her job.

„Welcome Professor McAllister, dear colleagues, guests and friends. I hereby welcome you dearly to my defending of my bachelor thesis: How Greek Mythology influenced modern literature.“

Oscar listened intently and always smiled when she looked at him for reassurance. His heart was swelling with proudness. He soon had a girlfriend with a bachelor degree.

„In the vast tapestry of literary evolution, Greek mythology stands as an enduring thread, weaving its timeless narratives into the very fabric of modern literature. As contemporary authors navigate the labyrinth of inspiration, they find themselves entwined with the rich tapestry of gods, heroes, and mythical creatures that originated in ancient Greece.

The resurgence of interest in Greek mythology can be traced to its profound impact on archetypal storytelling. From the lofty heights of Mount Olympus to the depths of the Underworld, these tales resonate with universal themes that transcend temporal and cultural boundaries. Authors draw from the exploits of Zeus, the sagas of heroes like Achilles, and the tragedies of figures like Oedipus to explore complex facets of human nature. The gods' capriciousness mirrors the unpredictable forces that shape our destinies, while the struggles of mortals against divine intervention echo the perennial human quest for agency in the face of cosmic uncertainty.

Prominent literary figures, from James Joyce to J.K. Rowling, have paid homage to Greek mythology, infusing their works with echoes of ancient narratives. The hero's journey, a concept rooted in the mythic structure of heroes like Perseus and Hercules, serves as a narrative template for protagonists in contemporary novels. These echoes are not mere nostalgic nods; they represent a perennial dialogue between past and present, a dialogue in which timeless themes find new expression.

Moreover, the enduring allure of Greek mythology lies in its malleability. Authors wield the myths as allegorical tools to explore issues ranging from power dynamics and hubris to the nuances of morality. The Hydra of Lerna becomes a metaphor for societal challenges that sprout anew when seemingly eradicated, and the labyrinthine trials of Theseus mirror the complexities of modern ethical dilemmas.

In essence, the enduring influence of Greek mythology on modern literature is a testament to the universality of its themes and the perennial resonance of its characters. As authors continue to delve into the wellspring of ancient tales, they discover not relics of a bygone era, but rather a living reservoir of inspiration that fuels the imagination of generations, perpetuating the eternal dance between the ancient and the contemporary.“

Her voice angelic as it could be, drew in people who never even heard of the topic. You didn’t have to be interested in Greek Mythology to listen to her thesis, because she delivered her speech that even Oscar understood and left him wanting to know more about it.

My god was he proud. He was in awe, his beautiful girlfriend standing up there, speaking about her passion and delivering it in a way he never thought she could.

Even the look on Professor McAllister made him proud. She looked at his girlfriend with a proud smile, nodding along with her and reassuring her. She was gonna ace this.

Oscar was snapped out of it when the whole auditorium clapped. She was standing with the biggest smile on that stage. Oscar just had to get a picture of her. His new wallpaper.

„Thank you, Ms y/l/n. This was magnificent! We‘ll just discuss real quick and we‘ll be back with your grade. You can be proud of yourself, Ms y/l/n“, Professor McAllister told the young woman on stage.

And as soon as they left the room, she squealed and ran to Oscar. He opened his arms and let the girl spring into his embrace. „Hi“, he whispered. „Hi“, she whispered back. „I thought you weren’t coming?“

He laughed, a real deep belly laugh. „I had to surprise you!“ She hit his shoulder and said: „I hate you, but I’m glad you came.“

„You did so well, my love. I am so proud of you! We have to celebrate afterwards, anything you want.“

The time together was cut short, when the door opened again and the four professors walked in again. „Ms y/l/n, please, have a seat“, her professor said and pointed to the chair sat in front of the four.

She nervously walked over to them and smiled at them. „No need to be nervous, you did well, you can be proud of yourself.“

They talked stuff Oscar didn’t understand. But when he saw a big smile form on her face, he knew she received the best grade she could’ve. Proud, that’s the only word that came to Oscar’s mind.

„I love the boys“, she told Oscar. He smiled up at her and said: „I know you do, but only I can celebrate with you today.“ She giggled and would’ve almost kicked her feet, if it weren’t for the others in the room.

Professor McAllister handed y/n her diploma and told her they’d see each other at official ceremony. After that, Oscar and his girlfriend almost sprinted out of the auditorium.

oscarpiastri

liked by yninsta, landonorris and 82‘729 others

oscarpiastri how did we get from that to this?

view all 22‘219 comments

yninsta the first one is NOT me, idk where you got this from

user1 weren’t we all at that point during our studies?

user2 yes, yes we were

yninsta glad i wasn’t alone…

oscarpiastri so it was you

yninsta oop-

landonorris congrats, y/n! when we gonna get a lecture about greek mythology from you?

yninsta any day you want

landonorris now?

oscarpiastri no, now she’s busy with me

landonorris ewww, my eyes are scarred, don’t ever come back to the mclaren garage

oscarpiastri i didn’t mean it that way

yninsta he did

landonorris you’re just kids

user3 we love an academic wag

user4 so proud of you, y/n!

mclaren congratulations, y/n, next podium is for you 🍾

yninsta thank you, admin

yninsta thank you, baby

oscarpiastri i am so proud of you, darling

loganseargant i cannot believe i have a friend with a bachelors degree…

yninsta better believe it, american boy

user4 do u even know what a bachelors degree is..?

user5 american slander, we love it

alex_albon we are all proud, y/n

user6 we really are

yninsta thank you all so much, i love you guys so much

georgerussel63 oh no, she’s getting sentimental, let’s stop here guys

°°°

@ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @biglittlesecret , @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan , @angelwithoutmywings , @elleeeee21 , @youkissedareaderinthedark , @mikauraur , @thybulleric , @lpab , @fdl305 , @mellowarcadefun , @teti-menchon0604 , @vildetry06 , @bibissparkles , @aurora-maria , @lunnnix , @sya-skies , @Buckywifeyy , @dakotali , @rechtrecht , @noncannonships , @1eclerc16 , @pitlanebabe , @sopheeg , @avengersheart , @thatsadsmallchild , @peachiicherries , @idkiwantchocolatee , @callsign-scully , @mehrmonga , @badbatch-simp24 , @lissyontour , @din0nugs , @elliegrey2803 , @gay-for-victoria-de-angelis , @10vely-yutazen , @daggersquadphantom , @azriel-the-shadowsinger , @i-love-scott-mccall , @darleneslane , @mikauraur , @heartmetaphor , @darleneslane , @ellswilliams , @thxtmarvelchick , @nataliambc , @dontjudgeabookbythecover , @hockeyboysarehot , @thehistoryone

[sneezypeasy]

Why I Deliberately Avoided the "Colonizer" Argument in my Zutara Thesis - and Why I'll Continue to Avoid it Forever

This is a question that occasionally comes up under my Zutara video essay, because somehow in 2 hours worth of content I still didn't manage to address everything (lol.) But this argument specifically is one I made a point of avoiding entirely, and there are some slightly complicated reasons behind that. I figure I'll write them all out here.

From a surface-level perspective, Zuko's whole arc, his raison d'etre, is to be a de-colonizer. Zuko's redemption arc is kinda all about being a de-colonizer, and his redemption arc is probably like the most talked about plot point of ATLA, so from a basic media literacy standpoint, the whole argument is unsound in the first place, and on that basis alone I find it childish to even entertain as an argument worth engaging with, to be honest.

(At least one person in my comments pointed out that if any ship's "political implications" are problematic in some way, it really ought to be Maiko, as Mai herself is never shown or suggested to be a strong candidate for being a de-colonizing co-ruler alongside Zuko. If anything her attitudes towards lording over servants/underlings would make her… a less than suitable choice for this role, but I digress.)

But the reason I avoided rebutting this particular argument in my video goes deeper than that. From what I've observed of fandom discourse, I find that the colonizer argument is usually an attempt to smear the ship as "problematic" - i.e., this ship is an immoral dynamic, which would make it problematic to depict as canon (and by extension, if you ship it regardless, you're probably problematic yourself.)

And here is where I end up taking a stand that differentiates me from the more authoritarian sectors of fandom.

I'm not here to be the fandom morality police. When it comes to lit crit, I'm really just here to talk about good vs. bad writing. (And when I say "good", I mean structurally sound, thematically cohesive, etc; works that are well-written - I don't mean works that are morally virtuous. More on this in a minute.) So the whole colonizer angle isn't something I'm interested in discussing, for the same reason that I actually avoided discussing Katara "mothering" Aang or the "problematic" aspects of the Kataang ship (such as how he kissed her twice without her consent). My whole entire sections on "Kataang bad" or "Maiko bad" in my 2 hour video was specifically, "how are they written in a way that did a disservice to the story", and "how making them false leads would have created valuable meaning". I deliberately avoided making an argument that consisted purely of, "here's how Kataang/Maiko toxic and Zutara wholesome, hence Zutara superiority, the end".

Why am I not willing to be the fandom morality police? Two reasons:

I don't really have a refined take on these subjects anyway. Unless a piece of literature or art happens to touch on a particular issue that resonates with me personally, the moral value of art is something that doesn't usually spark my interest, so I rarely have much to say on it to begin with. On the whole "colonizer ship" subject specifically, other people who have more passion and knowledge than me on the topic can (and have) put their arguments into words far better than I ever could. I'm more than happy to defer to their take(s), because honestly, they can do these subjects justice in a way I can't. Passing the mic over to someone else is the most responsible thing I can do here, lol. But more importantly:

I reject the conflation of literary merit with moral virtue. It is my opinion that a good story well-told is not always, and does not have to be, a story free from moral vices/questionable themes. In my opinion, there are good problematic stories and bad "pure" stories and literally everything in between. To go one step further, I believe that there are ways that a romance can come off "icky", and then there are ways that it might actually be bad for the story, and meming/shitposting aside, the fact that these two things don't always neatly align is not only a truth I recognise about art but also one of those truths that makes art incredibly interesting to me! So on the one hand, I don't think it is either fair or accurate to conflate literary "goodness" with moral "goodness". On a more serious note, I not only find this type of conflation unfair/inaccurate, I also find it potentially dangerous - and this is why I am really critical of this mindset beyond just disagreeing with it factually. What I see is that people who espouse this rhetoric tend to encourage (or even personally engage in) wilful blindness one way or the other, because ultimately, viewing art through these lens ends up boxing all art into either "morally permissible" or "morally impermissible" categories, and shames anyone enjoying art in the "morally impermissible" box. Unfortunately, I see a lot of people responding to this by A) making excuses for art that they guiltily love despite its problematic elements and/or B) denying the value of any art that they are unable to defend as free from moral wickedness.

Now, I'm not saying that media shouldn't be critiqued on its moral virtue. I actually think morally critiquing art has its place, and assuming it's being done in good faith, it absolutely should be done, and probably even more often than it is now.

Because here's the truth: Sometimes, a story can be really good. Sometimes, you can have a genuinely amazing story with well developed characters and powerful themes that resonate deeply with anyone who reads it. Sometimes, a story can be all of these things - and still be problematic.*

(Or, sometimes a story can be all of those things, and still be written by a problematic author.)

That's why I say, when people conflate moral art with good art, they become blind to the possibility that the art they like being potentially immoral (or vice versa). If only "bad art" is immoral, how can the art that tells the story hitting all the right beats and with perfect rhythm and emotional depth, be ever problematic?

(And how can the art I love, be ever problematic?)

This is why I reject the idea that literary merit = moral virtue (or vice versa) - because I do care about holding art accountable. Even the art that is "good art". Actually, especially the art that is "good art". Especially the art that is well loved and respected and appreciated. The failure to distinguish literary critique from moral critique bothers me on a personal level because I think that conflating the two results in the detriment of both - the latter being the most concerning to me, actually.

So while I respect the inherent value of moral criticism, I'm really not a fan of any argument that presents moral criticism as equivalent to literary criticism, and I will call that out when I see it. And from what I've observed, a lot of the "but Zutara is a colonizer ship" tries to do exactly that, which is why I find it a dishonest and frankly harmful media analysis framework to begin with.

But even when it is done in good faith, moral criticism of art is also just something I personally am neither interested nor good at talking about, and I prefer to talk about the things that I am interested and good at talking about.

(And some people are genuinely good at tackling the moral side of things! I mean, I for one really enjoyed Lindsay Ellis's take on Rent contextualising it within the broader political landscape at the time to show how it's not the progressive queer story it might otherwise appear to be. Moral critique has value, and has its place, and there are definitely circumstances where it can lead to societal progress. Just because I'm not personally interested in addressing it doesn't mean nobody else can do it let alone that nobody else should do it, but also, just because it can and should be done, doesn't mean that it's the only "one true way" to approach lit crit by anyone ever. You know, sometimes... two things… can be true… at once?)

Anyway, if anyone reading this far has recognised that this is basically a variant of the proship vs. antiship debate, you're right, it is. And on that note, I'm just going to leave some links here. I've said about as much as I'm willing/able to say on this subject, but in case anyone is interested in delving deeper into the philosophy behind my convictions, including why I believe leftist authoritarian rhetoric is harmful, and why the whole "but it would be problematic in real life" is an anti-ship argument that doesn't always hold up to scrutiny, I highly recommend these posts/threads:

In general this blog is pretty solid; I agree with almost all of their takes - though they focus more specifically on fanfic/fanart than mainstream media, and I think quite a lot of their arguments are at least somewhat appropriate to extrapolate to mainstream media as well.

I also strongly recommend Bob Altemeyer's book "The Authoritarians" which the author, a verified giga chad, actually made free to download as a pdf, here. His work focuses primarily on right-wing authoritarians, but a lot of his research and conclusions are, you guessed it, applicable to left-wing authoritarians also.

And if you're an anti yourself, welp, you won't find support from me here. This is not an anti-ship safe space, sorrynotsorry 👆

In conclusion, honestly any "but Zutara is problematic" argument is one I'm likely to consider unsound to begin with, let alone the "Zutara is a colonizer ship" argument - but even if it wasn't, it's not something I'm interested in discussing, even if I recognise there are contexts where these discussions have value. I resent the idea that just because I have refined opinions on one aspect of a discussion means I must have (and be willing to preach) refined opinions on all aspects of said discussion. (I don't mean to sound reproachful here - actually the vast majority of the comments I get on my video/tumblr are really sweet and respectful, but I do get a handful of silly comments here and there and I'm at the point where I do feel like this is something worth saying.) Anyway, I'm quite happy to defer to other analysts who have the passion and knowledge to give complicated topics the justice they deserve. All I request is that care is taken not to conflate literary criticism with moral criticism to the detriment of both - and I think it's important to acknowledge when that is indeed happening. And respectfully, don't expect me to give my own take on the matter when other people are already willing and able to put their thoughts into words so much better than me. Peace ✌

*P.S. This works for real life too, by the way. There are people out there who are genuinely not only charming and likeable, but also generous, charitable and warm to the vast majority of the people they know. They may also be amazing at their work, and if they have a job that involves saving lives like firefighting or surgery or w.e, they may even be the reason dozens of people are still alive today. They may honestly do a lot of things you'd have to concede are "good" deeds.

They may be all of these things, and still be someone's abuser. 🙃

Two things can be true at once. It's important never to forget that.

[ludi-ling]

Woooooow... just saw ep 9 of X'Men 97. I may not like all of their choices, but damn do they go hard and I appreciate the execution of it. The last minute was soooo much wow. Prof X mind controlling Magneto, Magneto helmeting him and about to kill him, Wolverine stabbing Magneto and Magneto un-adamantiuming Wolvie...wooooow...

I do not know what they're going to do next. I knew Rogue would go to Magneto based on her costume alone. That's the OG terrorist Rogue/villainous Rogue costume. I might not love that decision of her going to Magneto... but based on what's happened, it makes sense. And omg, her wearing Remy's trench coat? Cryyyying. The one thing I can see with Rogue going back to the X-Men is Magneto wanting to kill Deathbit because Deathbit is dangerous.

Because I still believe Remy is coming back. I cite X-Treme X-Men and everything Rogue says to bring him back. Absolute Points? Nexus Events? They don't matter. X-Men make their own miracles. I literally said this as my thesis for why Gambit is coming back and then hours later the panel appeared on my feed lol.

One more week of me screaming, crying and throwing up.

Rogue is pissed. She's had to face a trauma she hasn't had to ever face before. I can completely understand this trajectory she's walking. It makes sense for the arc that her character is going through in this universe. The bit where she handed back the trench coat though? That killed me.

Gambit will come back. It's just a matter of how and when. I can't believe people truly think he's going to stay dead. 🤷🏻‍♀️

I truly appreciate this series for taking something we all loved as kids and spinning it into an adult story. I know it's hard - literally everyone is miserable in this show - but damn, I suppose that's life. And I guess it's hard for some fans to accept the turn this show has taken when we all expected the gentle fluff of Romy in TAS. What Romy have had so far in XM97, and eventually will have, is something far more adult and something I'm far more interested in than the non-committal flirting we got in TAS.

Don't get me wrong - there are plenty of things in XM97 I don't agree with or like. But on the whole I think it's done a really good job in (let's face it) a short amount of time of achieving something smart and thought-provoking and visceral despite its flaws. I'm actually kind of excited to see what happens next. I'm ready to be disappointed again, but I'm ready to be pleasantly surprised too.

At the very least, it has got me inspired to write Romy again. A LOT of the heartache and anger and admiration I have felt watching the show I have channelled into writing The Tailor & The Seamstress, and it's been the first time I've been genuinely excited about fic in a while. So I have a lot to thank the show for, despite all the anxiety and angst it's given me.

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

A Case of the Exam Season Blues

A New Installment to the Once In A Blue Moon Anthology

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Reader

Description: You've never realized how much you relied on Jake to keep you on track without running yourself into the ground before this moment. But he's in New York, working on a high profile case for his firm. You're still in San Diego, working yourself to the bone to graduate. School is hard. Correction, it is really fucking hard. What can you do when your worries that Jake will miss your graduation couple with your stressing over your degree?

Disclaimer: Female Reader, Slight BDSM, Sugar Daddy/Sugar Baby Relationship turned full relationship. This is also very clearly an AU! In this universe, Jake is a high flying, jet-setting lawyer, a very successful one.

This is a story completely full of adult elements. It is for adults 18+ only. Minors Do Not Interact.

Word Count: 5035

A/N: Here we go again! Once again, my lovely houseplant @desert-fern crawled into my asks and asked me to write her a oneshot where Baby Blue graduates and where Jake is cheering her on in the audience. Can I just say that the reward and dom/sub elements in the story were not in my plan?

Chronologically, this story is between the events of Mm, Daddy Daddy and Money, Money, Money.

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

You hate exam season. You hate it with as much passion as your exhausted, wrung-out soul can muster. You thought exams were challenging when you were an undergraduate. The all-nighters, caffeine-fueled paper writing sessions, studying and writing until the words swam before your eyes and your eyes were gritty from lack of sleep seemed like torture then. If only you could know that there would come a time when you would long for those days again. Because doing the same while preparing to defend your Master’s thesis? It feels like a torture worse than death itself. You still have the exams and the papers, but now, at the end of it all, rather like the icing on top of the saddest cake you’ve ever seen, you have an interview with the thesis review board to approve your Master’s degree.

You feel like you’re at the end of your wits. Your sanity is fraying faster than the cheapest rope, disintegrating into a mess of strings that seem to snarl your every thought and movement. It doesn’t help that you’re all alone in the big penthouse apartment, either. Jake’s working on an important case in New York, so he’s been out of the state, in the City that Never Sleeps, for the past month and a half. You miss him like you’ve never missed anyone before. It feels like a part of your very psyche is missing. The scent of his cologne, the bitter almond and saffron with undertones of jasmine and cedar you've come to love so much, still spills through the air. It permeates the shirts hanging in the closet, organized by color and purpose. It’s on the pillows of the big bed you starfish on when your eyes are too heavy to keep open, and you have to steal a half-hour nap here and there to keep yourself functioning. But it’s not the same as having Jake home with you.

He’d hate what you’re doing to yourself. He’d hate that you study for hours, sometimes days at a time, without pause, forgetting to sleep, eat, or complete anything necessary for basic hygiene. If Jake were here, you can almost hear the admonishments, the way he’d push you into a hot bath filled with bubbles. You can almost feel the careful pressure of his hands in your hair, the way he’d wash you clean before quieting your mind in only the way he can, with soft words and sweet kisses, drugging your body with his own until there’s nothing left in your head except for exhaustion and him. But he's not here.

Jake's been in depositions and meetings from early in the morning to late at night, and you can't, you won't disturb him when he's on a case that could decide his whole career. The three-hour time difference doesn't help either. Either you're sleeping - fitfully, barely - when he calls, or he's busy when you do. So you've had to con yourself, delude yourself into believing you can make do. You've completed years of grueling coursework without a cheerleader before, right? So how come it feels like an insurmountable obstacle the minute your one cheerleader has to go on a business trip for a bit over a month? You're stronger than that. You're better than that.

Your thesis will be done and defended in three days, and you'll have a Master's Degree in Marine Biology. Two days after that, Jake will be home. Home in time for graduation. Home for hopefully a good long while, and you're not going to let him out of bed until you can't feel your feet anymore and have slept for at least 48 hours. 

Three days to your degree and five until you’ll see Jake again. It's a motto you find yourself chanting mindlessly as you chug down energy drinks and scarf down instant ramen when your stomach growls disinterestedly between bouts of review and last-minute paper edits. Three Days. Then Two.

It may not have been healthy, but it worked. The door latches with a soft snick as you tiredly kick your heels off. The wool of your skirt itches, and the button-down and cardigan you're wearing to complete the outfit feel like the most oppressive pieces of fabric you've ever worn. There's concealer caked under your eyes in a futile effort to hide the dark, deep-set bags. Your hands tremble as you remove your jewelry, and your fingers are uncooperative as they fight with the tiny latches and closures. 

But you did it. Your exams are done, every single research paper has been submitted with perfect APA formatting, and your thesis has been approved. You're done with school. A part of you can’t believe it. If you squint, you're pretty sure you can still see your thesis in front of your eyes. Hell, you're sure if you get a couple of drinks in you, you could probably recite the damn thing, all thirty-plus pages and citations from memory. The first thing you'd done once you'd left the building was text Jake the news before you headed home. Now all you want is to sleep and then eat your weight in something home-cooked. The order is non-negotiable - you're sleeping first, even if it feels like your stomach will stage a rebellion and make you walk the plank!

You're less than gentle as you rip all the clothes off, leaving a trail of dour black fabric behind you as you walk into the ensuite. Your motions are mechanical as you roughly swipe the makeup off of your face and collapse into bed wearing just your panties. The mattress feels like heaven, the fabric cushioning your every curve until you feel like you could float away at the slightest provocation. Your eyes are even heavier than they were a minute ago, and you're nearly asleep when your phone rings.

“Baby Blue,” Jake’s groaning into the phone, his voice gritty and deep, indescribably sweet as it spills down the microphone. “You beautiful, gorgeous thing. You did it! You’re graduating! You’ve got your Master’s degree!”

He sounds so excited, even though he must be exhausted. It’s already 7 PM in San Diego, which means it must be around 10 PM in New York, and you can still hear the sounds of the office around him in the background. 

“I did it, Jake.” You’re barely able to muster the requisite enthusiasm for your latest accomplishment.

“You did, beautiful girl. You did it!” His sigh sounds so fond, and you can hear the creak of the chair as he closes the door and another squeak as he settles back into the chair. “Now, why aren’t you as happy about it as I am, honey?”

“I - I am happy, Jake. But I’m just so tired right now. I just want you home. I want to sleep for a good long while, and then, maybe then, I’ll finally be happy, Jake.” Tears are gathering in your eyes to your embarrassment, and there is a heavy pressure on your chest.

“Awww, baby doll. It’s alright to feel exhausted and numb about what’s happening right now. You sound shattered, sweetheart. Definitely tired, and maybe a little bit like you haven’t been taking care of yourself, right?” You just hum in response, something lighting up inside your chest as your sniffling hum makes Jake chuckle. 

“It’s been hell for me, too.” You can almost picture it, how he’s leaning back in the chair, his tie undone with his hand in his hair. More than his pose, though, you’re sure you can see the exhales of breath inflating his chest, stretching taut the crisp button-down shirt he’s wearing. You’re just as sure that there are bags under his eyes that are a perfect match to your own. “Fuck, I’ve missed you so much, my Baby Blue.”

“God, I miss walking into the apartment at night to the sight of you in the kitchen, shaking that ass to music playing while cooking, belting the words at the top of your lungs. I miss the sleepy weekend afternoons when you had your head buried in one of your books on the sofa while I was working at the table. And fuck, sweetheart, I miss waking up to you in bed next to me.”

Shit, you love this man. His voice has you aching and longing in minutes. “Yeah? I miss you too, Jake. I don’t sleep as well without you in bed with me.”

“I'll be home soon, sweetheart. I'm not going to miss seeing you walk across that stage. Sleep tight!” The screen goes dark as Jake hangs up, and your final thought is how, if you weren’t exhausted, at least Jake would have made sure you got off. But it's not a problem. You'll make sure to show him how much you missed him when he gets home.

Of course, you’re not sure when Jake will be home. He promised he’d be home to see you walk the stage for your graduation. He promised. But you’re lined up alphabetically in your cap and gown, the nylon fabric stifling in the San Diego heat. You keep nervously checking your phone, but there’s been radio silence. You’re done with school, and you should be ready to celebrate. But you’re not sure you can - not without Jake. The nerves are swarming like butterflies in your stomach, but you have a feeling that what you’re feeling isn’t just nerves but disappointment. Your family hadn’t been able to fly to San Diego for graduation, opting to watch the video feed instead and call you later.

So you’re alone in this big auditorium—just you, wearing your horrible graduation robes, dark purple dress, and nude pumps. You aren’t even wearing any lingerie underneath the dress for Jake. More likely than not, you’re going to be going home alone, and the only person who’s going to see you in this dress is the mirror for a second time as you crawl into bed, buck-naked. You have to screw your face into a pleasant expression as the dean and your program heads each give their speeches and as you stand for the school anthem. The whole time, you're praying it'll be over soon so you can Uber home and face-plant into bed before you burst into tears.

Your grin is forced as your row stands and progresses sedately down the aisle. You thank the dean and your program head, smiling for the camera, hoping your mom won't pick up on how melancholy you are as she sees you walk across the television screen. You let your grimace drop the minute you're back in your seat. You scramble for your phone, pulling it out. There are loads of messages - from your parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and close friends back home, all overflowing with congratulations - it wouldn’t surprise you if your parents made an event of your graduation. You can almost see your childhood living room decked out in the school colors, everyone overage with a drink in their hands as they toast to your success. But there is nothing at all from Jake. This isn’t like him, not at all. But it’s a Tuesday, and he’s probably at work or in the courtroom. For all you know, he might even be on a plane home at the very moment.

You're on autopilot as you flip the tassel over to the other side and toss your beadboard hat into the air. Soon after, the hall is inundated with everyone here. You're still exhausted, and your social battery is far from charged as you battle your way through the crowd.  The sudden influx of people is too much, too soon. You feel lonely and cold as you skirt around groups of people, holding your phone to your ear as you call Jake. Each ring makes your heart sink lower and lower.

On the outskirts of the crowd, you keep calling your boyfriend. But you think you must be hearing things because the more you call, the more you hear Jake’s ringtone. He’s not here, and you’re sure of that fact. Jake is still in New York or on a plane. If he is in the building, why didn’t he come to find you right after the ceremony was over? Why aren’t you being hugged and kissed like you so badly want to be?

You’re fighting back tears, eyes burning as you push your way through the crowd. Nobody notices your distress or pain, even as you pass friends, your lab colleagues, and even your professors. You feel like you can finally breathe in the outskirts of the arena, and you tug your robe off with no little relief. That's when you see Jake standing there wearing a blue suit, a huge smile, and a bouquet of blue roses in his hands. Today, he cuts a gorgeous sight in the stadium, the navy blue fabric of his suit offsetting his gorgeous tan and fitted perfectly to his slim muscles. You faintly register your fellow graduates giggle at the sight of him because, damn, does he look too good to be true. But he only has eyes for you. Your heart skips a beat as you unbelievingly walk towards him.

“Happy Graduation, Baby Blue.” You collapse into his arms, your mortarboard hat crashing to the ground, not caring that Jake nearly drops the bouquets, petals cascading to the floor around you as you wrap your arms around him and hold tight like you can’t believe he’s there. His arms wrap securely around your frame as he presses gentle kisses against the top of your head. When you step away, he grins wide, dimples indenting his cheeks, fine wrinkles crinkling the corners of his eyes as he hands you the two bouquets. They haven’t lost many blossoms, and you tenderly bring the gossamer blooms to your face so you can sniff their beautiful scent.

“How did you get blue roses in San Diego in the middle of May?” He shrugs, smile softening at the sight of your face. You sniffle softly, and it feels like the rest of the world fades into silence. His hand rises to your face, carefully brushing your stray tears away. “For you, I’d do anything. Always. Today, when all I want is to celebrate all of your accomplishments? I’d do anything. So, I placed an order at a rosarium for their last bouquets of blue roses. I came straight here from the airport after picking it up. I didn’t get a seat, but I was standing at the back when you walked across the stage.”

This time, when you launch yourself at him, you’re smiling from ear to ear, and he’s laughing as he kisses you.

“Sweetheart, looking at you, I’d almost think you thought I wasn’t going to make it to your graduation!” He squeezes you around your waist and kisses your temple. You melt into the easy actions even as you momentarily hide your miserable thoughts from him. He’s right, though you’re not sure how he knew. You hadn’t expected Jake here today, and the lack of faith in the man you’re in love with stings in that place in your chest where your love for him grows. You feel guilty, plain and simple. The more you find yourself looking into those clear green eyes, the worse you feel. It’s only a matter of time before Jake discovers your deceit and before he tries to hold you accountable for your disloyalty. 

“C’mon, baby.” He grabs your mortarboard and robe from the floor in one hand and wraps the other around your shoulder. Obviously, he wants to have this conversation far away from the crowds of giggling girls and proud, crowing parents.

You’re walking through the parking lot in the blistering San Diego sunshine, sniffing at the tender blossoms of your bouquets, when Jake speaks again.

“Baby Blue. I want you to listen to me. Can you do that for me?” You nod because, over the past year and some change in your relationship with Jake, you’ve come to recognize the promise in that dark, sweet tone. “It sounds to me like you’ve been tired and stressed while I’ve been in New York. I know you haven’t been eating properly or sleeping properly. My baby Blue’s not been taking care of herself, has she?” He says it like it’s a fact and not a question, confident like he knows exactly what the answer is. “Maybe somebody should take their bratty baby in hand and show her how much she’s loved?”

You nod carefully, letting Jake crowd you up against a hot vehicle in the lot. His hands keep you from burning yourself on the hot metal, and when he tips your head up and to the side so he can kiss your throat, you realize you're pressed up against Jake's truck. How come you didn't notice? When Jake pulls away and smirks at you, you nod in response to his question, each jolt of your head punctuated by greedy, heaving breaths.

“Use your words, Baby Blue.” Jake’s eyes aren't the soft sage green you've come to adore, the color darkening until it’s the green of forest undergrowth, dark and rich. The heat in those cool, dark green eyes makes your voice dry up in your throat.

“I- I'd like that very much, Sir.” He kisses you once more, a firm yet tender press of his lips against yours at your polite response. “Get in the car, baby.”

Arousal swims in your veins, heady and potent, as you clamber into the seat and buckle up. He sets the bouquets carefully in the backseat along with your mortarboard, certificate of graduation, and robe. When Jake slips into the driver's seat with a heated look, you shiver in the seat. The A/C kicks on when the engine does, blasting cold air over your bare arms and legs. But you were shivering far before that, trapped by the heat in Jake's green gaze.

You can barely breathe by the time you get home. There's an ache between your thighs, and it feels like your entire body is strung tighter than a bowstring. Jake ushers you into the elevator, his hand a breath away from your skin for the entire ride up. It feels excruciatingly long, especially since you're rubbing your thighs together the whole way up. Jake's kept a low litany of filthy-tinged promises spilling into your ears, one brawny arm curled around your waist. When the door opens with a ding, you stumble, blue flowers nearly spilling out of your grasp as you toddle across the floor.

“Set the flowers in a vase, Baby Blue.” Jake's voice is a purr you couldn’t disobey if you tried. Your hands shake as you pull a vase out of one of the cabinets and fill it with water. You’re not sure you can think straight if you tried.

“Come here.”

Arousal curls wickedly through you as Jake pulls each of your shoes off, rubbing at the tense muscles of each calf. His hands leave burning trails across your skin as they trail up your sides. Your nipples furl into hard points, goosebumps rising up along your arms as he rises to look into your eyes.

“My beautiful, Baby Blue.” His cologne surrounds you in a heat-induced haze, big hands gentle as they tug your purple dress down until it pools around your bare feet. He growls when he sees what you're wearing under the dress, his breath hot against your bare skin.

“Fuck, baby doll. All this for me?”

You whimper, drugged by the feeling of one of his calloused fingers dragging torturously slowly over the peak of your bare breasts.

“Use your words, Baby Blue.”

“Y-yes.” You're stuttering, your knees close to giving out as he leads you towards the bedroom. This is even sexier, you're sure, because of how you're naked and he's not.

When he settles on the bed, jacket off and shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows and stares at you, you shiver again. Unbidden, you lean in, unconsciously chasing the feeling of his lips against yours. Jake lets you get close, close enough that your lips ghost over his. But you don’t get to kiss your boyfriend. His calloused fingers trap your right nipple, tugging gently at first, then pinching cruelly when you don't stop your crusade.

This time, your whine is of pain, pain which Jake soothes with broad strokes of his tongue against your abused flesh. Your arousal, which had been temporarily banished to the recesses of your mind by the sudden sharp sting of pain, slips to the forefront again.

“Baby Blue. Don’t be a brat.” His hands tip your chin up, squeezing your cheeks until your lips part and your eyes open to meet his. There's only the thinnest rim of green surrounding his pupils now. “I'm going to make you feel good, darling. I promised you I would. But we're doing so on my schedule, not yours. I'm aware how this greedy little pussy,” and oh, he's running his fingers through your folds in a way that makes your spine turn to water, “aches for me. But it's my greedy little pussy tonight. Not yours.”

You nod so hard you think you can feel your thoughts rattle.

“C'mere, darling.”

You fold into his arms easily, your hands resting obediently on his shoulders as your legs rest on either side of his slim hips. The new position puts your core in direct contact with the stiff bulge in Jake's perfectly tailored slacks, and you can feel his heat even through the layers of fabric.

“We're going to take things slow tonight.” Finally, he captures your lips in a kiss, teasing moans and whimpers from you as he plunders your mouth with teeth and tongue. You melt into him, carding your fingers through the soft silk of his hair, relishing in the prickle of his stubble across your cheeks and decolletage as he peppers kisses across your goosebump-covered skin. You lose yourself in the heady, tender kisses and the feeling of his mouth and hands all over you. 

It comes to you in vignettes of color and sparks of sound, your memory of that first whirling orgasm. Jakes's moans when you grind down onto him. Your whines as he nips at your skin. His growl as you tug on his overly long hair. When he kneads your bare ass, you come with a scream, back arched, chest heaving, your cunt trembling from the aftershocks. Your eyes are blurry, and you can barely breathe as Jake kisses you again and again.

“Fuck, darling.” Jake’s growl makes your pussy pulse in need. “You came so hard you soaked my pants, Baby Blue.”

His voice darkens, the growl deepening as he manhandles you as he wants. “Did Sir tell you to come?”

With your ass up across his lap, nipples so hard the soft fabric of the slacks are nearly too much, you can’t reply. Jake's big hands smooth over the curve of your ass, making you whimper as they part your cheeks, long fingers delving through your wet folds and making you moan. Your eyes flutter closed until a sharp smack is delivered to your exposed cheeks. You jolt forward across his lap, a sharp gasp leaving your lips.

“Baby Blue, count your punishment for Sir.” Jake’s hands massage soothingly over your flushed skin. “Loud and proud, baby. We'll keep going until you say every number. We're going to ten. Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Yes,” Your voice is a breathy gasp mixed with a moan as Jake's hands rub across your skin.

“Count, doll.”

The first official smack on your ass makes your skin prickle even more with arousal and, surprisingly, relief. “One”

Your skin feels hot and flushed. Your cunt twinges and throbs.

“T-two”

“Th-three, sir, please.”

“F-four, please, Jake!”

“F-five.”

You're sobbing, cheeks wet, ass stinging and heated, voice catching as you spit the numbers out. 

“S-six. Seven. EIGHT. N-nine.”

“P-Please, Sir. I can’t. No more.”

“One more, my beautiful baby. You can do it.”

You’re babbling and sobbing as Jake smacks your sore ass one more time. You’re not sure you choked the last number out. You feel like you’re floating, every inch of your stress and worries over school, graduation, and when Jake will be home melting away. You grab at Jake's hands as he pulls you up until your face is pressed against his shoulder. Your ass burns as you perch on one of your boyfriend's thick thighs.

“Shit, baby doll.” You hum vacantly, snuggling against his shoulder, your hands curling into the fabric of his shirt. He moves your face back and forth as he wipes away your tears. “You look so beautiful like this for me.”

“Wanna be beautiful for you, sir.” You’re slurring, words seeming to slip from between your dry lips unbidden.

“You’re so beautiful for me always, my Baby Blue.” He lays you carefully down on the cool satin sheets, fingers gentle as they trail over your bare skin.

“Can I show you how beautiful you are?” It’s a question. It's not an order. For the first time since your night began, you feel your arousal drain away.

“S-sir?” Your voice is hoarse and quiet. “C-can we cuddle? Missed feeling your hands on my skin. Missed feeling your skin against mine.”

“Of course, baby.” You watch while lying on your stomach as Jake strips off hurriedly, vacantly noting the dark patch at the front of his boxers. It’s quiet and dark in the room, and if you concentrate, you can hear clanking in the kitchen. He bustles back in with a tray in his hands but doesn’t stop to do more than kick off his boxers. When he walks back in from the bathroom, this time with a cool, soft cloth that he lays on your aching ass, you hum, lifting yourself up on your elbows and pursing your lips instinctively.

“You came?” Unbidden, Jake swoops in to kiss your pursed lips.

“Of course I did. You looked so beautiful for me, my Baby Blue.” He shrugs, a chuckle shaking the bed as he drags the cloth across your skin, leaving a cool, soothing dampness behind. “Seeing you come like that, in my lap? It was too much to handle.”

“You have no idea how in love with you I am, do you, Blue?” You slide under the sheets, taking your customary position with your back against his chest. You’re both seated, for now, in a position that allows Jake to press the cool juice from a glass against your lips. You sip until you’re sated, nibbling on the cheese and crackers he hands you obediently. “I’m not sure I ever told you why I was on icanbeyourbaby.com all that time ago.”

He chuckles at your open mouth as he presses a cherry onto your awaiting tongue. “It was a dare, in all honesty.” 

You turn in unease at his words, needing to see his face all of a sudden. Your chest is tight, and it feels like you’re struggling to breathe at the connections your mind is making because of his words. He pecks the tip of your nose, still smiling even at your confusion and the hurt pout on your lips. One big hand finds your hip as he sets the bowl of cherries back on the tray.

“To be clear, sweetheart, you weren’t a bet. Joining icanbeyourbaby was.” All of a sudden, you find you can breathe again. 

“You remember Bradshaw from work?” You nod because Bradley Bradshaw is Jake’s biggest competition to make partner at the firm. “He got tired of seeing me in the office at all hours of day and night, working endlessly. Before I met you, I’m pretty sure I wasn’t home more than once a week. I napped on the sofa in my office, and I used the gym in the building to shower. I didn’t have a life. You, my gorgeous Baby Blue, changed everything. You made this lonely apartment home. You made me want to live my life and, moreover, made me want to enjoy the life I have.”

Your face feels red hot and flushed as you bury it into his shoulder. He still smells like his cologne, and his skin is smooth and warm.

“Don’t get all shy on me now, sweetheart.” His chuckles shake your body.

“I love you, my Baby Blue.” You smile in your curled-up position against his smooth, warm shoulder. “Anything you need, I will make sure you get.”

“And I promise you, I will always be there to support you.”

You sniffle, and that small sound is enough to have Jake pulling you up until he can see your eyes. His hands cup your face and brush away your tears once again.

“I'm sorry, Jake.”

“What're you apologizing for, baby doll?” He sounds adorably confused.

“I should never have doubted you. You're so sweet and kind and worldly. Meanwhile, there's me. I just graduated from school, and I feel like I barely know what I'm doing with my life.”

You press your hand over his mouth because you can tell he's gearing up to say something. “Wait, wait, wait! It's true, I don't know what I'm going to do next. I'm just tired of this relationship always being you taking care of me. You say I've changed your life. But I didn't even do it consciously. But since the day we met, you've been taking care of me over and over again.”

“Sweetheart, our relationship has us both on an equal playing field.” His eyes are beseeching as he holds you securely against him. “We’re in this together. It doesn’t matter that we're in different stages of our lives. The only thing that matters is how much we love each other.”

Much later that night, after a bath and a massage, your limbs feeling like jelly as you melt into bed, Jake's words stick with you. It's at that moment that you vow to be the best girlfriend and partner you can be. No matter what happens, you'll be there for Jake, however, and whenever he needs it.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON TUMBLR, AO3 AND WATTPAD BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN ON TUMBLR, AO3 AND WATTPAD BY ME, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @callsignspitfire @roosterforme @cherrycola27 @thedroneranger @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @mamaskillerqueen

[deadeyeedangel]

trial run - moira o'deorain x intern!reader

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩ hi ! it's my wife's birthday today, so naturally i thought i'd finally get around to those hcs i was planning on writing! these posts will probably never be formatted with those pretty little headers i see around and i'm pretty unapologetic about it, i can't lie i kiiiinda care a lot less about the presentation and more about the actual writing and i'm a pretty busy person, soooo... sorry i guess? anyway sorry for yapping and i hope you all enjoy, HAPPY BIRTHDAY DOCTOR O'DEORAIN!!!

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩ TAGS: sfw, reader was meant to be fem but tbh no gendered terms are really used so reader can be seen as gender-neutral, age difference (reader is implied to be a doctoral student in early 20s), canon-divergent/au because i'm projecting my own internship problems here i cannot help it, moira being moira but it's way tamer than usual, actually kinda really fluffy i needed some comfort oops, mayyy make a part 2 with the date if you guys reeeeally want it :p

✧˚ · . suffice to say she wasn't a fan on your first day- to be honest she wasn't a fan even before then. the doctor preferred to work in solitude and silence, and hearing that she would have to practically babysit a doctoral student for a whole summer? forget it.

✧˚ · . she very begrudgingly opened up to the idea of having a shadow, however, after she found out her lab would be receiving more funding as a result of the research you were being hired to do. unfortunately that still didn't mean she liked you, though.

✧˚ · . you were young, fresh-faced and naïve, and when you shuffled in through the doors to her lab you were met with a cold presence that you didn't necessarily care for at all. it was what you were expecting when you were told who you would be working with, though, so it didn't come as a surprise. after all, no matter how much better you thought you would fare working alongside your sweet professor dr. ziegler, there was only one in the facility that could find even some use in a bioinformatics student.

✧˚ · . you barely had a moment to introduce yourself before the lanky irishwoman waved off your extended hand.

"wasting time will get you nowhere. unless you wish to bring me my coffee and just sit there every day, make yourself actually useful."

you were silent after that, doing exactly as she said and leaving her alone. no words were exchanged for the rest of the day.

✧˚ · . your first week was pretty unremarkable, but you were easing into the schedule you had made, making a small dent in the large workload you had to do for your thesis. moira was always just moira, working silently in her own corner of the lab and occasionally taking a break to examine your own work but saying nothing at all. by week two, however, the silence was beginning to drive you insane.

✧˚ · . your first real conversation was initiated, surprisingly, by moira. the older woman was hovering over your shoulder as usual, examining your catalogs of the dna structures and compositions of the various modified rabbits she kept in the lab, and she decided to snarkily point out you had missed a section. expecting that to be the only thing she had to say, you sighed and corrected it before moving on but she kept speaking, pointing out areas that you missed in a tone that you could only describe as pointed and patronizing.

✧˚ · . in certain... other situations, you'd find being talked to in this manner by a quite attractive older woman to be much more pleasant, but this was your hard work she was critiquing.

✧˚ · . don't worry, though, it's her love language. she might not say it but she wants you to succeed.

✧˚ · . expect more conversations about your work and hers. you begin to speak more in the mornings when you first walked in, and at nights when you left.

✧˚ · . as the days went by and your final deadline for your thesis was approaching quicker and quicker, you ended up spending nearly all 24 hours of each day in the lab, and of course, moira had noticed.

✧˚ · . she leaves small things out for you that she'd usually leave for just herself: two mugs of coffee now, two plates with some small meals, two shot glasses in case things got rather dire... but don't ask her about them, she'll shut down that it was her doing quite quickly.

✧˚ · . one very early morning she returns from the bathroom to find you slumped over your desk, fast asleep. your face was smushed against your keyboard, keying in a constant and ever-growing string of the letter h into your catalog. if you ever found out and asked, she would have simply said she didn't want the data to be messed up. however, that was most certainly not the case as she gingerly lifted your head up carefully to delete the keyboard smash, saving your work and turning off your computer before leaving you back to your rest.

✧˚ · . she was back at her work for a good five minutes before she decides to take her lab coat off, draping it over your still-sleeping form like a makeshift blanket. you woke up that morning confused but grateful, with a slightly flushed doctor o'deorain saying she simply didn't want you to get sick, as it was cold in the lab anyway.

✧˚ · . your thesis was due the day before your last day of work, and moira was quieter than usual. you've been stressed and working dilligently all day, but when you finally submit it right before the clock struck midnight, moira got up from her side of the lab, and retrieved two glasses and a bottle of champagne.

✧˚ · . you never thought she'd be the type to celebrate this sort of thing, especially when it took her away from her work, but when she motioned you to come over, you couldn't help but listen.

✧˚ · . clinking your glasses together, moira congratulated you on your work, and over the alcohol, conversation brewed quickly. you spoke of your plans for the future, your research, her research, discussion flowing for hours, as if it were meant to be. a well-received moment of relaxation for the doctor, you assumed, surprised she'd spend it with you rather than alone.

✧˚ · . she never got the chance to ask if perhaps the two of you could see each other... outside of the lab, maybe for dinner or a coffee. a trial run if anything, she said.

✧˚ · . or- well, she didn't really say it. angela came up to you after a class and told you on her behalf. nerd with a crush doing nerd with a crush things, i guess.

[moongothic]

Tbh I wanna see crocodile fight someone so we can see how strong he is because the last time he’s gotten in a real fight was in marineford. Does crocodile have haki? Does he need it at all to survive the new world? Like with most of the relevant pirates knowing haki, retroactively or otherwise, it’s kinda hard to gauge what he’s capable of

Anon I am so sorry I'm gonna go slightly off-topic/become deranged because I've been thinking about writing a whole ass post about this very subject and now you just gave me an excuse to word vomit incoherently instead. So I'm just gonna do that. I'm so sorry

(Hey won't you look at that I actually came back and edited this so it's vaguely legible and there's like a proper point to my thesis lmao)

Also I am. So sorry. For how obscenely long this got. Holy shit I have no idea how this happened I am so sorry

I can not put into words just how badly I want to see this man have an actual, proper 1-v-1 fight with someone. Oda, for the love of god let him fuck up someone, please, I c̵͍͛r̶̢͠a̴͕̾v̷̠͆ḛ̶̐ ̸̤͝t̷̟̋h̷̳̓ḙ̵̀ ̷̱͌b̶͓͑l̸̦̚ô̶̠ȯ̸͇d̴̲̕

No for real though, the one, true, proper 1v1 we ever saw Crocodile have WAS with fucking Luffy and like, to be fair they did fight three times, but still, during Summit War? Sure we see him exchange a few blows but it's never a proper 1v1 because we keep on cutting from one thing to another and the opponents keep on changing etc. So there was no time for a proper battle with anyone

So out of principle alone I want to see him have a proper fight with someone (who isn't a Strawhat preferably) at least once before the series ends (though honestly if we could have more than just one fight scene with Crocodile I would not complain at all, but I might be asking too much at that point)

But also yes. I want to know Croc's actual Power Level in the story right now (and I don't mean that in a powerscaling-kinda way, just in a "I want my husband to look cool because it's what he deserves" kinda way)

Like. The Crocodile we've seen in the past absolutely under no circumstances deserves the fucking unit of a bounty he has on his head right now. And I mean, to be fair Buggy doesn't deserve his gigantic bounty either, canonically the numbers don't matter or mean THAT MUCH-- They just reflect what the WG thinks a person is worth, not the true level of threat the person actually poses But also. Croc's bounty has literally gotten like 24 times bigger from his OG pre-Shichibukai era bounty. To be fair, according to trivia his OG bounty would've at least doubled had the WG known about Baroque Works, but his current bounty would still be like 12 times bigger than before. And god fucking knows Crocodile does not fucking deserve a bounty this fucking big if he hasn't gotten any more powerful since Alabasta. No amount of hanging around with Mihawk and running evil organizations should beef up his bounty that much

So surely, he must've gotten more powerful since we last saw him action, right? Surely? Somehow?

But indeed, how?

And that's where we kinda get to the interesting part, don't we? We have no idea what Croc's been up to for the past two years. Like whatever he's been doing, surely it's been better than spending a decade sitting on his ass and barely ever lifting a muscle when overpowering rando pirates attacking Alabasta with his Logia powers, right. Like surely being in the New World alone would be enough to make him break a sweat for a change

But then like, the only two times we have seen Croc post-timeskip (pre-Cross Guild) he has been just sitting around reading the news (to be fair, the scenes were also about him catching the news about Luffy, it's not like he can't do anything else outside of those scenes). So like. I feel kind of conflicted, like on one hand to get stronger then surely he must've been working out or something. But also I do kind of mentally associate Training Arcs with much younger characters, and Crocodile is quite middle aged, like is he even allowed to go through a training arc anymore?? Especially when he's like a such a Proper Gentleman, it's so hard to imagine him to go back to the basics or anything

But also?? How else would he get stronger?? Like?? Maybe there really was?? AN OLD MAN TRAINING ARC??

But also, to be fair

Crocodile did make a big point about how he "keeps on honing and developing his Devil Fruit skills instead of stagnating like some other losers" back when he and Luffy had their first match. So I really would love it if Oda kept that actually true for the character, I'd love to see him actually whip out some new tricks, techniques and attacks instead of us seeing Sables again for the 839423th time

And really he can't really whip out new attacks if he hasn't at least tried to come up with new tricks (and preferably tried them out)

But that was just the basics right, Croc's Devil Fruit capabilities

Then there's the whole mystery of Crocodile's Haki Status. A whooole different can of worms. Considdering how the only actual damage he seemed to take during the entirety of Summit War was because of Jozu's Haki, and the fact that even fucking Blackbeard can use Haki now, it'd feel deranged if he doesn't have any kind of Haki capabilities. Like everybody knows Haki is going to be Croc's persona kryptonite, including Croc himself! And Haki Mastery really is The Thing that decides whether a pirate crew can actually make it or not in the New World (Kaidou made a specific point about that too). So surely, considdering Croc's supposed to be A Smart Boy and all, he knows he'll need to actually figure out how to use Haki if he doesn't want to lose another limb, right. Like surely he's figured that shit out, right???

Now people have been speculating for years if both Crocodile AND Moria used to be Haki users who lost their Haki after getting their asses kicked in the New World. Which, in theory would make sense, since Haki is essentially just willpower, and getting crushed the way they did would give them good in-universe reasons to why they didn't use the ability, as their traumas could translate to them losing their wills. But also it is willpower, that's not really a tangible thing you can really lose, and the idea of "Haki loss" isn't actually canon (yet at least). So although it's great fanon, we can't assume it's true. Like just as an example, we know Hancock can supposedly use Conqueror's Haki but we've never actually seen her demonstrate the ability

And to be fair to Croc (and Moria), the concept of Haki didn't really start to get Truly Solidified in the story until post-War, so expecting Alabasta!Croc to use it a whole decade earlier in real world time would be ridiculous since Oda hadn't figured out the system yet.

And while that is 100% true and fair.

Thing is. Although extremely vague, I do think Oda had been slowly starting to build the IDEA of Haki already in Alabasta. Like we know the concept gets properly introduced during the Skypiea Saga where Blackbeard both namedrops it and we get to see Observation Haki in action, under the name Mantra. But already in Alabasta, when Zoro is trying to figure out how to cut steel (to defeat Daz), that whole "breath of things" and hyper-awareness he gains when near death... I'm not the first one to point out how much that sounds like rudamentary Haki. And like, yes, on paper the idea of the battle was that Zoro became strong enough to cut steel. But also, learning to use Haki would be what would allow anyone to cut through a Devi Fruit ability like that. The same applies to Luffy's final attack on Crocodile too, his punch destroying the sand blade that before would've sliced his entire hand in half before is poetic on its own, but makes even more in-universe sense if you considder the possilibity Luffy might have subconciously been using Haki at the very end, his sheer willpower allowing him to punch Croc.

The reason I'm pointing all that out is that I kinda wonder if we might've gotten hints at Crocodile having not just Haki, but fucking Conqueror's Haki in Alabasta

This is based on two things:

First, Crocodile's pet bananawani. Yes, he could just be Really Good with animals and that would be adorable on its own. But we know Conqueror's can be used to intimidate and tame animals, including really fierce beasts. Keeping in mind that bananawani are meant to be one of the few species of animals that prey on Sea Kings, IDK, if you told me the reason Crocodile was able to tame them and keep them as pets thanks to Conqueror's, I would believe you. It's nothing solid, there's no proof one way or another, but it would make sense in-universe, it is plausible.

Second, this scene.

Does that blast of Ominous Air/Energy on the third page not remind you of one of those Conqueror's Haki shockwaves?

Of course, considdering Luffy was able to knock out Bon-chan with his untrained, uncontrolled Conqueror's in Impel Down (though to be fair, in the Impel Down scene Bon-chan was in rough condition anyways), if Crocodile was displaying his Haki here, either

A) Shit's real fucking weak or

B) He must've intentionally "kept it down" in this scene just to make sure his agents didn't actually pass out on the spot

But of course, if Croc had fullblown Conqueror's that he was able to control that well, you'd think he might've actually used it to subdue weaker enemies at some point or something (though, again, Hancock also supposedly has it and we haven't seen her use it, and if we had seen him use it on Luffy or something then the story really would've ended in Alabasta). So if that really was Conqueror's, I'd personally maybe rather lean on it being weak as hell (especially if Haki Loss was canon) over him having perfect control over it

Of course, just because that ominous blast of air in hindsight might resemble a weak ass Conqueror's Haki Blast, it doesn't mean that's what it was. Just like with the Bananawani example, there's nothing solid here to go off of, it's just plausible

(Also just for clarity's sake, Crocodile doesn't need Conqueror's Haki. I just think there could be evidence to suggest it if you overthink it just right)

All of this to say

Regardless of what Croc's Haki Status was during Alabasta and Summit War, the fact is that the dude really does kind of need Haki just to survive in the current storyline. So if he can't use ANY KIND OF HAKI, I'm just gonna be speechless. Like Luffy could kill him by just farting on him at that point Not to mention I'd actually love to see the Haki Loss-concept explored in the canon. Like either have it debunked, or somehow confirm it's a thing and show off what a horrifying threat Crocodile can be when he's actually putting his everything into a fight (same for Moria btw, if all he has to protect rn is Perona I'd love to see him go apeship and use Haki to protect her)

BUT THEN THERE'S A WHOLE DIFFERENT DIRECTION WE COULD GO WITH CROCODILE'S POWER LEVEL

OH DID YOU THINK I WAS FUCKING DONE WITH THIS POST? NO, WE'RE STILL FUCKING GOING MAN

So I've seen a lot people speculate about Logia Awakenings and what they could be like. Most people seem to agree on the theory that Punk Hazard being the way it is could be a result of two awakened Logias (namely Akainu and Aokiji) clashing. Similarly that Enies Lobby could be where an Awakened Light Fruit did a thing in the distant past, causing the eternal daytime on the island

I'm not sure I'm entirely convinced that's what Logia Awakenings will be like (some people have also suggested Enel's Final Form was a Logia Awakening, which I kinda doubt but okay), it's a neat idea in any case, we'll just have to wait and see what Oda has cooking for us

Regardless. On a mere narrative level, if they're even possible then I think it'd be cool as hell if Crocodile could act as an introduction to Logia Awakenings and what they're actually like. Because, depending on the role the bastard is going to take going forward, it could prepare us and Luffy for what's to come with Akainu (the real threat)

And again, depending on his role in the story, I think he could be an actual candidate for someone who could deserve to be Awakened-- like the whole Awakening State is sliiightly OP, and Logias are also kind of OP by default. So between OG Croc being kinda weak as hell (by current standards), but also him being an experienced pirate who's known his abilities for god knows how many decades... IDK I think he could deserve The Honors, y'know?

Like compare him to someone like Sabo or Blackbeard who got their Logias only recently and are still learning to use their abilities (more or less). If either of those fuckers somehow Awakened their Logias before Sir Fucking Crocodile I'd be kinda pissed off y'know?

The Admirals are kinda OP to begin with anyways too, I kinda just don't want Smoker to get The Honor of being the first on-screen Awakened Logia either, and really that would leave us with like... Ceasar and Enel as our only remaining options

And Dragon, if he does have a Wind Logia (which remains to be seen)

So. Yeah. If Logia Awakenings can be a thing, I think Crocodile could be the perfect guy to actually introduce them in the story (depending what his role will be).

All of this nonsense to say

Mr Oda, please, I would like to see Sir Crocodile in action pwease

And I want to know what the hell that weird spike thing was

Mr Oda please, I wish to see the Husband and see what kind of tricks he can do now after all these years, please allow him to commit a murder or two or three

[fishfingersandscarves]

unsent - 1989

[Excerpt from an unsent letter found on Robert “Hob” Gadling’s shelf in the Library of the Dreaming]

Dear Stranger,

Funny.

You know, you’d think with all my years of writing letters and sending letters and burning letters I’d be better at writing them. Maybe I’m just too talkative for my own good. All these words get jumbled up in my head and stop just before they leak out of my pen; it’s easier to talk it out. Stream of consciousness and whatnot. I shall endeavor to do my best, but I’m no James Joyce.

Anyway, letters. I didn’t exchange letters with Eleanor, though I learnt them some twenty-odd years before we met. Ironic, nowadays, for a printer to be illiterate, but you know how it was in those days. I’m sure you’re well-read, you seem the type to love stories. Grand ones, probably. Myths and folksongs, and those crappy paperbacks that Summer lends me.

(We met in Lucerne. Cloud topped mountains, clear waters. Lots of cows and cats everywhere you look. There’s this lion relief that’s there, looks straight from those C.S. Lewis books. Anyway, we saw the lion, walked the bridge and ended up having a drink. She was on break and was working on her thesis on Gender Communication in Germany during the 1400’s and I was drinking my way through the rest of Europe. So it goes. She’s a good friend.)

Eleanor had wide handwriting. Probably wasted more coin on journals for her than I could afford, but it was worth it to watch her smile and worth it more to glimpse her doodling in the margins. I started copying her O’s, I think. A reminder.

Elspeth and I exchanged letters like currency. A last-ditch effort to resist the novel of the telephone on her part. She loved old things. (ha) But was so excited when we sat for a daguerreotype the very first time. As always, she was late to the trend, but I remember the moment afterwards, when everything had cured and the photographer had tilted the copper plate to catch the light and I could see us standing there, clear as a reflection in glass, all miniature and solemn. I kept it until I couldn’t anymore. Lost it on a sailing ship out from Bombay in 1912, I think. I remember it though. She had spidery print, like she was always pressed for time. She filled both sides and more every time she wrote me. Tried to learn shorthand to save time but she would get it all mixed in with her cursive instead. I swear it was like I was deciphering code at times! Her long spiking Y’s still follow my hand. It gets messy and I tend to smudge, as you no doubt can tell.

I don’t know if you know any of this already. You know everyone so… I suppose you probably know this all too.

Well.

Enough stalling I suppose.

I waited for you. Into the wee hours, until Martin, the bartender, clicked on the lights and told me to go home. Smoked a whole pack and then some out back afterwards, loitering by my car like some bloody dolt. I kept thinking, “Maybe this’ll be him.” Stupid, I know. I feel like a sucker. Some great idiot. Like this is all one cosmic joke. I know you’re not human, I’m no fool. You’re long-lived like me, that is certain. You were interested once. In my experience. In me. I wonder how long you can hold a grudge. Two hundred years? Three? I’ll wait for you. Of course I will. I shouldn’t have said what I did back then. I should’ve thought it through. But, here I am, talkative, stream of consciousness. All fancy words for someone who doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up. When not to push.

I should’ve just said it outright. That I’m lonely too. It gets hard and then it gets better. But it’s easier when we’re not alone. People need people. And who knows? Maybe you’re not people. But you’re my friend Maybe I’m not either, not anymore. And us not-people need to stick together. I would weather the loneliness with you if you’d have me.

I wish I could see you. I wish it wasn’t like this. Me, waiting and wanting. I want to see you. I want to know you. I want more of you, in every way.

I’ll be here, in 2089.

I promise.

I promise.

[Torn and crumbled, here, the letter ends]

now on AO3

[back-in-2037]

What is it about Meet the Robinsons that you love so much? (Big fan of the movie myself, so I'm curious!)

To be completely honest I feel like I could write a whole dissertation as to why I love this movie as much as I do.

From the designs, both in the environments and the characters, to the music, to the script itself, you can tell that a lot of love was put into this movie.

It is vibrant and fun and colorful but it also has a deep emotional core, and I feel that the movie's main theme of learning from one's mistakes and moving forward is something that can apply and resonate with anyone. It is kind of ironic how timeless the movie's message is really.

I love the characters and how they are written. The way that the writers had two and a half character arcs in the movie (Lewis, Goob, and Wilbur respectively) and they had them all feel complete and like they all had a satisfying conclusion each is a feat that will never cease to amaze me. The Robinson family are all really fun and interesting characters to watch as well. And I've said it before and I'll say it again, Lewis and Wilbur's dynamic is my Roman Empire (I could write a thesis just on that alone).

I also love how re-watchable the movie is as well. Because this is a movie that uses time-travel, once ones watches it a second time one becomes aware of so many details one might not have noticed before and that ends up enhancing the story and the characters even more, at least in my opinion.

Again, I could go on and on about this movie, but if I start listing everything I love about it right now, I'll probably stay here until we reach the historical day in which Wilbur forgets to lock the garage door. So yeah.

Thank you so much for the question!

[sn33z3s]

in defense of “if you weren’t a fucking asshole”

(what better time to write “meta” than hours before a season premiere. after all, style is dead. or was it that it’s just boring? no, wait, it’s toxic??)

this doesn’t have a thesis, it’s just some leftover thoughts from last year - mostly pertaining The Church Scene, because of course - and featuring some hot stan marsh characterization takes i guess

let’s start with the gay glancing at your ex-childhood best friend

so, this framing is loaded because it's the narrative of their whole thing: kyle chasing stan. stan usually comes to kyle's rescue in absurd (but solvable) situations, whereas kyle often has to fight stan to provide emotional respite. they're thinking of each other here; it's distinct how stan looks back, rather than this shot cutting at kyle. stan's explosive reaction is still pretty presumptuous, but kyle was, even if unintentionally, asking for stan's attention - which is typical

in a sense, this scene is their wordless language; the kind you share with said ex-best friend but it’s gotten worn from overuse, and as a result, you’re both communicatively stunted, so now that you’ve reached out again after 40 years, the first step to any comfort or solace is [the scene above] and a homoerotic spectacle:

well, i don’t need to tell you what that public spectacle is; you already know

stan leads his paranoid outburst in the church by accusing kyle of knowing something which would be impossible for kyle to know; in You’re Getting Old/Assburgers kyle also reaches out to stan, who turns him down, yet still asks that kyle basically read his mind and comfort him

kyle is not a stranger to demanding unrealistic things from stan as well, but kyle calling stan “asshole” packs that punch since contemporarily the fandom usually assumes stan as more emotionally forward or in-touch with himself. however, in the church, kyle is pointing out that stan is clearly repressing his feelings, desires, traumas, etc. and kyle has used a similar approach before:

in my last meta, i wrote about how stan is pretty firm in not instantly accepting kyle's olive branches. of course, the thing is, kyle's olive branches are bent sometimes, let alone how he approaches asking for stan's forgiveness before the broship splits. kyle doesn't apologize: he just expects stan to move on

(also, i love the "divorced couple" coding before we even reach Post-COVID.) anyway, the show clearly acknowledges stan as "agreeing with kyle no matter what," and the first time stan and kyle fight in canon, it’s a big deal

i always return to how i don't see kyle or stan as at fault in most of, if not all, of their fights. this especially applies to YGO & Assburgers since it's one of their most significant “break-up” arcs. still... kyle's "if you weren't a fucking asshole" in the church scene is so satisfying. (and 100% excellent voice acting on matt stone's part; the punchy delivery at the end of that line is what makes me revisit it often.) when i put my tin foil hat on, it does sound like decades of resentment built up. if this post had to have a thesis, it’d be, “here’s why kyle had every right to call stan an asshole in that moment,” but the Stan Can Be an Asshole, Too meta is for another day. after all, my last meta also revolved around the trouble i have with framing stan as an exclusively passive character (rather than predominantly passive) 

by “decades of resentment,” i mean simmering for kyle since, you guessed it, episodes such as You're Getting Old and Assburgers. i talk about YGO & Assburgers a lot, i'm sorry. but i was thinking about the church scene as i browsed the south park wiki on the official site: "Kyle can only deal with so much of Stan's negativity." (obviously, matt and trey themselves do not write or even moderate the Comedy Central studios wiki, so take all of it with a grain of salt.) i like that wording, though, and this other part of the blurb too: "Stan's ego can get in the way of their friendship [referencing Guitar Queer-o]" 

kyle not being able to handle stan’s negativity these days is more often harshly critiqued than anything about stan’s ego. that detail does, in many forms, relate to the stan jock characterization discourse, but that’ll also have to wait for another meta. i can say a couple of things about it to tie up this post, though 

yes, kyle fails to comfort stan in the YGO arc. at the same time, i don't think his positivity is always maligned. after all, the YGO arc isn't stan vs kyle, it's stan and kyle vs. growing up; this is their contemporary theme. and yes, for a kid, kyle can have that emotional maturity

Tegridy Farms and Post-COVID have cemented stan as south park’s protagonist – though, in my opinion, he always has been it, especially since Bigger, Longer, & Uncut – and protagonists are like, the character archetype that receives the most self-projection. yet this emotional angle is comparatively still a fairly new framing of stan’s character. now that this show is narrated in such a way that we see even more of the world of south park through stan’s eyes, fans watching may feel extra inclined to think of him as only ever depressed. but being sad is not all stan does and never has been

not only is this frequency fairly new to his character, i would go so far as to say that there’s a difference between the contemporary stan angst arcs and older episodes like Raisins, YGO, and Assburgers. being sad is not “natural” to stan (whatever that means), it is thrust upon him. most recently, this is randy’s fault. yes, we are meant to - and i hope that most do - sympathize or empathize with stan, but my point here is that he’s a little bit more belligerent and bullish than the fandom currently gives him credit for

[letsidekicksgrowup]

Let me start by saying that my favorite character of all time is Dick Grayson and I could write a thesis paper on why. But let’s talk about Stephanie Brown

This girl brought herself up, taught herself things her parents could’ve taught her and didn’t and then made a mission she was damn good at- being Spoiler. Her treatment from Bruce was… ugh. I love Bruce and all that he stands for but he treated her like shit because he didn’t value her the same way he valued Tim. She and Tim were similar in certain aspects and so incredibly different in many more. Bruce could’ve worked with her strengths like he did with all the other Robins but he didn’t. She was just and an example- a tool to get Tim back. I honestly have been in this position as a woman in a large corporation.

She could’ve become a fantastic Robin and she got so far on her own. The place she holds in the Robin legacy is a shadowily one which is not doused in the gold of success the boys all had. Everything about her was her own- her own conception and implementation. What she did on her own is what Bruce wishes he could’ve done on his own.

Everything that happened to her and her legacy was unfair but how is that anything new for a woman in a man’s field/profession. Women in tech have to work twice as hard as the men just to have their opinions heard let alone implement major changes they recommend. Stephanie Brown is the modern professional women- particularly in “male professions”. Any woman in IT, engineering, the military, or any hands-on jobs like building and such have experienced being treated as the “we tried to add women” person while getting the short end of the stick the whole way.

I would love to make War Games become required reading in like college so we can see people’s takes on Stephanie Brown. It paints a picture of the reader for sure.

[snorlaxlovesme]

what is your favorite line/section of your sick CXS fic? It is so good and I love when authors can share some of their thoughts!

i feel so spoiled with these messages from you, thank you for being so kind my godd

(aforementioned sickfic)

it's hard to choose favorite lines bc genuinely i do love the whole fic so much. a lot of the time i'm writing off the cuff and it just flows out of me in one or two sittings (it's why i'm a one-shot writer) but this was a story that took me months to complete because of all the planning involved (and absolutely fruitless research into Chinese herbal soups, since literally NONE of that research made it into the fic lmao) and so the whole thing feels really special and different from my other stories just because of how much thought was put into it.

it took a long time, but i adored writing the second half, getting to write the same day over again and try to make it identical while FEELING totally different. having Lu Guang totally in pieces over every little change he accidentally makes to the timeline was mwaa *chef's kiss*

i think my favorite line was what i eventually pulling from to make the summary on AO3

"Lu Guang is so tired. He wishes he could freeze this conversation, this whole day, and go nap for a thousand hours. The stress of it all is sucking the marrow from his bones. He wishes he could do today over again. He doesn’t know if he’d have the strength to do today over again."

idk i just feel like it really encapsulates the struggle Lu Guang goes through in this fic and might literally go through on a day to day basis trying to re-live the timeline. like i'm sure every misstep feeling like something Lu Guang would want to do over, but how many times can he handle that, emotionally? like this day mentally broke him and it's literally the most nothing day. Lu Guang forgot to make one phone call and almost suffered cardiac arrest because of it.

plus its very sweet that Cheng Xiaoshi, sick as a dog and feeling down on himself for being left alone all day, comforts Lu Guang after this moment because he can see Lu Guang is going through like a panic-induced existential crisis and mistakes it for Lu Guang ALSO feeling ill, sweet boy ♥

i also really liked the simplicity of these lines (it includes spoilers so look away if you wanna read the fic first. )

But Lu Guang thinks of the tear-streaked smile after Cheng Xiaoshi took that first bite. Spending every waking moment agonizing over his next step won’t get him anywhere. Instead, Lu Guang folds up that smile and tucks it into a corner of his mind for safekeeping. Cheng Xiaoshi thanked him for today. Maybe that is enough.

that part wasn't in the original draft. these lines are in response to CXS thanking Lu Guang for caring for him and i think i had a bit of prose where LG internally laments that he spent half the day ignoring CXS and only took care of him when it was clear Qiao Ling wasn't going to be able to, so the thanks wasn't really deserved. or something self deprecating like that

i had sent my "final draft" to a friend after revising some bits in the flashback and said "i wanna post it but i feel like i need to mess with the ending still. it feels off" my friend insisted what i had was great but i didn't know if the last line of the fic ("Timeline be damned") felt earned. Lu Guang had been a slave to the timeline for the entirety of the story, allowing him to kind of/sort of say "fuck you" to the timeline for a brief moment felt like it was going against everything i had just established, of how IMPORTANT keeping to the timeline was to Lu Guang for the sake of being able to save Cheng Xiaoshi in the future.

it was my friend that gave me the idea to write a simple thesis line that shows what Lu Guang has learned from this. that disaster is definitely a potential outcome in Lu Guang's crazy plan, but seeing Cheng Xiaoshi at peace is enough to make him want to try. like you said in your comment on the fic, if you went back in time, you'd want to be kinder. those lines are Lu Guang reminding himself that seeing CXS at peace has an emotional effect on Lu Guang as well.

ALSO idk the "fold up his smile and tucks it in his mind" bit is cute okay? it's a very cute sentence and i'm proud i wrote it lol

this is very long so i'm gonna stop rambling but again THANK YOU so much for asking me this and for all your sweet messages. i truly can't get over how wonderful it's been talking about this story with you, it's only made me love it more and i already thought it was my magnum opus lmao

[bonni]

it's true that i've been living alone for 9 months and my apartment is still kind of a mess and i haven't organized/decorated it in the way i would like to but i think i haven't given myself enough credit for how busy i've been the whole time. i left a dv situation in the middle of the fall semester and had to scramble to finish it just as the trauma started to really hit me, the first few months i was also continuing to field frequent phone calls from my emotionally abusive and deeply suicidal ex, i spent my winter break struggling with seasonal affective disorder as i attempted to process what a farce my life had become over the last 4 years, then when the spring semester started i was immediately thrown into writing a graduate-length thesis. and then as soon as the semester ended i immediately took 2 trips! luckily my next semester i'm only taking 2 classes so hopefully i'll have more time for myself and i can organize all my little toys and put up some posters and stuff. and maybe finally clean the floors

[aliveandfullofjoy]

Review: Unforgiven (Eastwood, 1992)

(I haven't posted a review on Tumblr in a hot minute -- I've been keeping those to Letterboxd -- but I tried to get a few words out about this movie and wanted to share here as well. I love it a lot. Those are always hard to write about for me. This is embarrassing. Thanks for reading. Or not! Consider watching Unforgiven if you haven't!)

"It's a hell of a thing, killing a man. You take away all he's got and all he's ever gonna have."

Unforgiven is just one of those movies for me. It hits me like a bolt of lightning every time I watch it. I first watched it when I was in high school, when I was first getting into movies by way of poring over Oscar history. I didn't think of myself as a westerns guy at the time -- I'm honestly not even sure how many I'd seen by that point -- but Unforgiven almost immediately made me fall in love with the genre as a whole. It was a little bit like discovering my first Stephen Sondheim musical: "Oh, that's what this can be?"

Admittedly, I've been way less rabid about consuming westerns than I have been with musical theatre (and I'm certainly not a Clint Eastwood megafan). Still, it's a genre I find endlessly fascinating, and it's almost entirely because of how deeply literary they often feel. More than any other genre, individual characters in westerns seem to represent so much more than just themselves. I'm sure there's a great thesis to be written about the ideologies represented in Unforgiven in just the characters of William Munny and Little Bill Daggett alone, to say nothing of Ned Logan or the Schofield Kid or Strawberry Alice or English Bob or W. W. Beauchamp or Delilah.

(My God, what a cast of characters. What a script.)

And then there's the beautiful prologue and epilogue, perfectly bookending the film -- the cruelty, the loss, the violence -- with a bittersweet sense of poetry. Maybe cinema was invented so Eastwood could match Jack N. Green's cinematography with David Webb Peoples' words and accompany them with an aching guitar (the gorgeous "Claudia's Theme," which Eastwood wrote himself). All I have to do is think about the final words of the epilogue, to visualize Mrs. Ansonia Feathers visiting her daughter's grave, and I feel my eyes begin to well up.

I think that love story is what keeps me coming back to Unforgiven. We never see Munny's wife, just like we never see Munny before his marriage, that "man of notoriously vicious and intemperate disposition." To us, he's just a widower -- an aging man with a surprising gentleness who can barely take care of his hogs. Eastwood, it should be said, gives a gorgeous performance.

I love everything about this movie, even the parts that make me feel queasy. I love the Munny/Ned dynamic (Morgan Freeman is great in his short screen time). I love how vile of a bad guy Little Bill is (Gene Hackman's second Oscar was well-earned). I love getting heady about it and thinking about it as a deconstruction and an elegy for the westerns of Eastwood's youth. I even love how almost fatalistic the film gets near the end ("I'll see you in Hell." "Yeah.").

But it's the entirely offscreen love story that lingers with me. On this watch, the following exchange Munny has with Delilah, the brutalized sex worker at the center of Unforgiven's conflict, caught me completely off-guard and made me start crying almost immediately. Munny's wife, a woman we never meet, is a symbol of hope and redemption in a vicious world. Their love for one another is the heart of the film.

"Is she back in Kansas?" "Yeah, she's watching over my young ones."

[crystallinestars]

Hello! I stumbled upon your blog (I dunno still pretty new to tumblr despite being here for years. I don't interact much >_<) while gobbling up the Avenstelle buffet here in tumblr <3.

Anyways. I read the anons asks and your response and omygosh…I've never felt such a relief to find people who shares the same sentiments T_T. Especially the ones with Kaveh and Alhaitham? Gosh. I've never felt so validated about my feelings. Let me get started with Alhaitham.

Okay so in gacha games, (wuwa, hsr, gi, ak, r1999, etc.), I'm a husbando collector. I love collecting the men because they're hot and my eyes love them lol. So…essentially, I also pulled for Alhaitham. I loved him so much, like his personality, his design…I'm smitten. But after how I am bombarded with haikaveh shipping almost every socmed I go, twt mostly, I began to loathe it. Like, I don't really care about shipping. The shipping I only liked is Avenstelle in hsr, yet the incessant shoving of Haikaveh as canon to my face, even though they are not really canonized, just turned me off with Alhaitham, and subsequently, Kaveh as well even though I wanna love him too :(.

It makes me sad that the fandom pushes the only "correct way" to see this characters. How about us, who just wants to have some pixel husbandos for ourselves (lol sorry for the self insert). Kaveh also looks nice and he seems nice and I wanna love him too seeing as we are of the same profession (I'm an architecture student, hopefully passing our thesis and graduating next year!). I am also still on a mission of finding his mom in Fontaine rn (still waiting, hoyo, still waiting…)

Anyways, I am truly glad to see the same sentiments and knowing that I am not alone in noticing this toxicity happening in the fandom coz, what happened to platonic relationships? I dunno, but I really wanna see a heartmelting one and not a shipping one. Aaa I rambled too much haven't I? I'm nervous since this is my first asks. But I just wanna say that you made me feel safe and my heart is overjoyed. Thank you so much. <3 I'm gonna go for now because it's 12:51 am in my country and I need to sleep hahaha! Have a great day!

(Ah, may I please be 🌊 anon? Thankiees!)

Hello 🌊 anon! Thank you for working up the courage and taking the time to write to me. It made me so happy to read that my discussions with other anons made you feel safe. You are definitely not alone in feeling ostracized by the loud portion of fandom. And oh my gosh, you're an architecture student?! That's so cool! Good luck on passing your thesis!

I completely relate to your feeling of losing the love you had for a character due to their popular ship. I'm a Kaveh girlie, but I also like Alhaitham quite a lot since he's a very interesting and relatable character. Unfortunately, the prominence of haikaveh on every social media I visit, and the obnoxious claims of shippers that they're undoubtedly canon, tainted my view of him. I want to love Haitham, but some days it can be hard because seeing him triggers some negative feelings, though I try to push them down. I didn't care for the ship originally, but the behaviours of it's shippers really ruined my perception of it and BL as a whole.

It's only natural you feel that way since so much of the fandom looks down on self-shipping and gatekeeps characters from us. The way Mihoyo handles Haitham and Kaveh in particular doesn't help the situation for yumejoshi, which makes it feel worse.

The only way I find I can have fun is to block and mute all accounts who support the ships I don't like, and peacefully enjoy the content I like. Don't look at comments or the character tags for the sake of your mental health. It sucks that you have to restrict yourself so heavily, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do to keep yourself happy.

If you want to find more people with similar sentiments, feel free to join my discord group! There are lots of people who share your views (and who love Alhaitham), and we also have discussions about fandom and characters, and share fanart and fics. It's a bit like a support group for those of us terrorized by the toxicity of fandom. If you don't want to join, that's perfectly fine. No pressure.

I'm glad you found me, though I'm really curious how that happened lol I don't post any Avenstelle here (though my twt is basically pure Avenstelle and Kavehlumi), so it's a wonder how you found my blog by browsing Avenstelle posts. Regardless, welcome! I'm happy to have you here 😊

[lonesome-witching]

How did you start shipping Ronance?

This is a bit of a long story but I will give it because I have time.

So before season 4 I had no interest in watching Stranger Things. It didn't seem like a show for me and in a way I was right with thinking that. And the story also doesn't start with the release of season 4.

It starts a few years earlier with the release of the Fear Street trilogy. Which I fell in love with. I even wrote my thesis on Fear Street: 1978. But in the first Fear Street Maya plays a character that gets killed in the first 10 minutes and yet it was enough to make me fall in love.

So, slowly I got into her music which caused my tik tok to become all Maya Hawke by the time I got tik tok. And it evolved from just edits to To Love a Boy to clips of her in the Stranger Things recap song on Jimmy Fallon. And so I watched the Stranger Things recap song like on repeat for her part in it.

Which then caused my tik tok to turn into clips from Stranger Things and a lot of them included clips from the Library ronance scene. And yet that wasn't entirely enough yet.

The last push came from a friend who totally tricked me. I wanted her to watch a show I was into and she said she would if I watched Stranger Things. I remember joking and saying I'd start at season 3 for Maya but she went ballistic so I watched the whole show. The reason I say she tricked me is because she never ended up watching the show I liked.

Anyway I ended up watching the show and the show on its own doesn't interest me that much but I quickly fell in love with the characters. Especially Nancy in season 1 and 2. I very quickly started seeing her as a comphet lesbian. So, when I get to Nancy and Robin actually meeting... I felt the love for the ship instantly.

It did take me a while to start writing fanfiction. I used to write for other fandoms (on a different account) and I was a bit hesitant on getting back into that because it takes up so much time. But then I was at work (my previous job at the same company I work for now, what can I say, they love me) and my boss was working somewhere else so I was alone and I get this idea for the very first ronance fic I ever wrote: Peaceful (With You). And well, I just had to write it. And the rest, I'm afraid, is history.