#i can’t take the misinterpretation problems anymore

[explode-this]

Is it the ADHD or the autism that makes me feel embarrassed to be alive? 🤔

[m1d-45]

man red and shade make me Insane because first of all. the age stuff. red is the version of diluc right after the whole shit w his 18th birthday while shade is current-day kaeya, so it'd be reasonable to assume that shade is most likely "older" than red bc of timeline stuff, BUT ALSO. like you cannot tell me that they don't completely ignore that and still go by the older-younger dynamic that both of them remember. you simply cannot. add on how apparently diluc was a Bastard Of A Kid, and boom. full dynamic right there.

so anyways what i'm saying is that if you leave them alone together red will absolutely rope shade into whatever scheme he has. like i imagine that they still have to be led into reconciliation with each other at first, but your god personally asking you to talk out your problems and try to reform your relationship with your (technically kind of) estranged brother is a really good motivator it turns out! it makes it easier to leave them alone together, but give it a week and shade is also glaring at diluc whenever he's nearby and oh no red what did you tell him.

i keep on picturing you coming home after a long day of meetings and walking in on red and shade coming up with an elaborate murder scheme (shade is the one making it elaborate. red would rather just go in and Fuck Shit Up) - teddy anon

you understand my vision

putting shade and red together in a room is. one of the ideas you’ve had.

they’re very different from their base selves, but red still holds a strange animosity. he’s diluc with all the anger and none of the time for it to cool, and shade has a permanent guilt lingering in his chest he never can place. he just feels… off around red, and doesn’t really know why.

it takes quite a bit of work to get red to adjust to shade, but the process only burns shade more. it’s complicated, to put it simply, and takes time.

but that time passes. with enough quiet interactions without you there, with enough trust that the other truly has your best interest in mind.. they can connect. red shares the fire that drives him, shade chipping at the ice digging into his heart. they talk around the ashes of your campfire, slowly coming to a conclusion.

once shade and red fully reconcile, it’s… dangerous. shade’s constant need for your attention mixed with red’s need for your safety and immense distrust of anyone but nikki or the other reflections makes for a startlingly effective team. you’re happy they’ve made up, really, but shade seems to be pulling you away from your obligations more often, and red sticks closer to your side than ever. on one hand it’s nice to see them get along, and you do appreciate the affection, but on the other, it’s more than a little concerning. you just hope that nothing bad comes of it..

(you’re a bit too late for that)

[won4kiss]

𖠵 . ׅ ࣪ ⌇ 𝑆𝑈𝑃𝐸𝑅 𝑆𝐻𝑌 !

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 𝑛ishimura riki x 𝑓! reader. 𝒢enre fluff. 𝓢ynopsis. in which you write a confession to riki ! 𝑤𝑐 𐙚ㅤㅤ 1287 ⸝⸝ not edited, kissing ⸝⸝ ୭ৎ — 𝓵𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗋𝔂 ᥫ᭡

for @bywons’s on our love event ! ‹𝟹

THE SOFT HUM OF CHATTER AND THE GENTLE RUSTLING OF PAPERS FILLED THE CLASSROOM AS YOU SETTLED INTO YOUR SEAT, trying your best to look occupied.

you had spent almost two years harboring a secret crush on nishimura riki.

he was the effortlessly cool, funny and incredibly kind boy who always seemed to catch your eye.

he was everything you admired; confident, talented, and strikingly handsome.

the only problem was that you had never spoken to him in those two years other than probably eight words? — more under cut !

your friends often teased you about your obvious infatuation.

every time riki walked by or glanced in your direction, your heart would race, and your cheeks would flush a deep shade of red.

you couldn't help but steal glances at him, and more often than not, you found him looking back at you, a curious expression on his face.

today was no different. as you sat pretending to read, you felt his eyes on you.

you looked up, meeting his gaze for a brief moment before quickly looking away, your face burning. he caught you again!

this was becoming a pattern, and you could tell he was starting to find it amusing. his soft chuckle and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners made your heart skip a beat.

riki had noticed you a while ago. at first, he found it odd that you were always looking at him, but as time went on, he started to find it endearing.

there was something about your shy demeanor and the way you blushed whenever he caught you staring that he found incredibly cute and endearing.

it didn't take long for him to develop a crush on you, but every time he tried to approach you, you would get so flustered that you'd hiccup and then run away like a damsel in distress.

it was after one of these encounters, where you had practically sprinted out of the classroom after riki had simply said "hi," that he began to doubt himself.

maybe you didn't like him at all. maybe you were just being polite, and he had misinterpreted your shyness for something more.

the thought made his heart ache, and he started avoiding you, thinking it would be best to spare both of you the awkwardness.

days turned into weeks, and you noticed riki's absence quite quickly. he no longer looked your way, no longer smiled at you from across the room.

the realization that he lost interest in you because of your shy demeanour and the fact that you can’t speak a few words to him hurt more than you cared to admit.

your friends noticed your growing sadness and decided to take matters into their own hands.

"y/n, you need to do something,"

your best friend, eunchae, said one afternoon as you all sat in the cafeteria.

"you can't just let this go on forever. you like him, and he clearly liked you too before you kept running away."

"but what if he doesn't like me anymore?" you asked, your voice small.

"he does," eunchae insisted.

"trust me. you just need to show him how you feel. write him a letter or something. leave it on his desk."

you bit your lip, considering her suggestion. the thought of writing down your feelings and leaving it for riki to find made your heart pound with a mix of fear and excitement.

after much encouragement from your friends, you finally agreed.

that night, you sat at your desk, the blank page in front of you feeling like the most intimidating thing in the world.

after several false starts and a lot of crumpled paper, you finally managed to write a letter that you felt conveyed your feelings without being too over the top.

dear riki,

i don't know if you've noticed, but i've liked you for a long time. almost two years now. i know i get super shy and always run away whenever you try to talk to me, but it's just because i get so nervous around you. you're amazing, and i didn't want to make a fool of myself.

i'm sorry if i made you think i don't like you. i really do, i just didn't know how to show it.

i really hope you feel the same,

with love, y/n.

the next day, with trembling hands, you slipped the letter onto riki's desk before class started and quickly took your seat, your heart racing.

throughout the day, you couldn't concentrate, your mind occupied with thoughts of how riki would react.

would he laugh? would he be angry? would he ignore you completely?

when the final bell rang, you gathered your things and left the classroom, your steps slow and hesitant.

you were almost at the school gate when you heard someone calling your name.

turning around, you saw riki jogging towards you, holding the letter in his hand.

"y/n, wait!" he called out, his expression serious yet hopeful.

you froze, your heart in your throat as he reached you.

"r-riki, i..."

"come with me," he interrupted, gently taking your hand and leading you back into the school.

you followed him, your mind racing with endless possibilities.

he led you up to the rooftop, a place you often went to when you needed to think.

it was quiet and peaceful, with a beautiful view of the city.

once you were there, riki turned to face you, still holding your hand. "i read your letter," he said softly.

you swallowed hard, unable to meet his gaze out of the cheesy words you had written.

"i'm sorry if it was weird. i just... i didn't know how else to tell you."

riki let out a small laugh, shaking his head.

"it's not weird, y/n. it's actually really sweet. and it made me realize something."

you finally looked up at him, confusion and hope pooling in your eyes.

"what do you mean?"

riki took a deep breath, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand shyly.

"i like you too, y/n. i have for a while now. i thought you didn't like me because you always ran away, but now i understand why."

your eyes widened in surprise.

"you... you do?"

riki nodded, his expression sincere.

"yeah, i do. and i'm really glad you wrote me that letter. it gave me the courage to tell you how i feel."

tears of relief and happiness welled up in your eyes.

"i was so scared you'd hate me."

"how could i hate you?" riki said softly, stepping closer.

"you're amazing, y/n. and i'm really happy we can finally be honest with each other."

before you could respond, riki leaned in and kissed you, his lips soft and gentle against yours.

the kiss was sweet and warm, filled with all the emotions you had both kept bottled up for so long.

when he finally pulled away, you were both smiling, the weight of your unspoken feelings lifted of your shoulders.

riki took your hand again, intertwining his fingers with yours.

"so, what do you say we start over? hi, i'm riki."

you laughed, your heart soaring in love.

"hi, i'm y/n. nice to meet you."

he grinned, his eyes sparkling with happiness.

"nice to meet you too. now, let's get out of here. we've got a lot of catching up to do!"

with your hand in his, you left the rooftop, your heart lighter than it had been in years.

it had taken almost two years of shy glances and unspoken feelings, but you had finally found the courage to open up to riki.

as you walked out of the school together, you knew that this was just the beginning of something beautiful.

© won4kiss 2024

taglist open ‹𝟹 @mioons @nshmuras @suneng @pnghoon @shawnyle @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @greentulip

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hii not sure if your requests are open or not- so ignore this if they’re closed! <3

Can I request some Obey Me! Headcanons?

So reader is the 8th sister of the brothers. So she’s the youngest.

Just some general headcanons of her relationships w the brothers

( And some of the side characters if it’s not too much trouble :>)

Thanks <33

I've already done something like that but I love the concept so I'm just going to build that 🖤🖤🖤🖤

Youngest Sibling Reader Headcannons | Yandere Obey Me

Lucifer

Before I said he was the worst one and I mean it

He’s an amalgamation of someone who understands you but undermines you at every moment

Because he understands, he does listen

He just doesn’t hold your opinions on the same level as his own

But worse 

Of course his brother’s constant chatter about aimless things isn’t on his level

But every now and then he’ll enjoy hanging out with them 

But not you

Never you 

“Ah so you do pay attention to the political atmosphere. Good job.”

Or

“I don’t expect you to know but I’ll tell you anyways.”

It’s degrading

It’s disrespectful

And he does not care

You can cry and yell all you like 

it’ll just sound like a tantrum to him 

So he’ll treat like one

“If you can’t behave, I’ll have to send you to the attic.”

Leviathan

As previously stated is apart of the group that just misinterprets everything you say

It’s hard to say if it’s delusion or denial 

Because sometimes he’ll slip up 

You’ll catch him crying or a single mumble in his late night rambles 

“Aw my baby is so grown up…I just can’t believe it anymore.”

If you try to address it he’ll pat your head and ruffle your hair (if you have any)

Before telling you it’s nothing for the baby to worry about anyway

It’s incredibly annoying 

When he writes off your achievements in gaming as button mashing 

Or saying your just a genius so you’d get on his level eventually

Any protests or ‘grown-up’ conversations are often just outright ignore

Now doing things outside of the ‘baby’ image he has of you mostly has him ignoring that too

Unless you come back hurt or specifically crying for his help 

He will actually start flooding places and going into an absolute rampage

He won’t listen to you about calming down

Its going to take all the brothers to de-aggro their brother to save everyone from drowning

“Sorry guys I just want to make sure our baby sib is doing okay!”

Asmodeus

Also a part of that ‘doesn’t listen to you’ crew

Accept while he might actually here you his brain literally just never let’s him hear your real voice

“Can you please stop trying to rearrange my closet?! It’s weird to find you digging through my stuff–”

“Okay okay no need to cry what’s the problem baby sib? C’mon you can use your words! Tell big bro Asmo what’s the matter?”

It’s almost a concern when he does it in front of your other brothers 

Especially the ones you can hold an actual conversation

“Hey (Y/n) can you pass the salt and the salad.”

“Sure, man.”

“Hey Hey! Why are you bothering (Y/n), they’re trying to focus on eating? Not to mention your being such a meanie, trying to make them reach with their tiny arms!”

“(Y/n) is sitting closer to me than you…”

“So? How do you expect them to know good manners if you don’t show them! Here I’ll show you how! Watch me baby (Y/n)!”

He honestly doesn’t compute when you’re getting older

He’ll celebrate birthdays, milestones, awards

But he doesn’t believe you are growing and can’t see it either

Reprimanding you when you went out with your own car

“I’m all for playing with your toys, but you have to have a chaperone. Okay?”

That being said any advances from others are met with extreme animosity

“Not my little (Y/n)! Try that with someone else’s little baby!”

[demilypyro]

Your streams are fun and your personal blogging is enjoyable, and I hope that, even if they won’t like or forgive you, the people spreading the exaggerations, bad faith readings, and outright misinterpretations or lies will drop it. Having memory problems myself, I can’t imagine I’d be able to remember a specific mean or shitty thing I said years ago, and would likely need someone to remind me unless it had deep emotional impact on me. You’ve acknowledged and apologized, and there’s not much else you can do if you’re already not saying things like that anymore, and it doesn’t seem like you do. So I hope that, whatever you have to do to take care of yourself emotionally, it helps, even if it might be disappointing for your fans. You, what I have seen in the last half a year of following you, seem like a cool person who’s trying to grow and live and be happy. So go have fun dating, streaming, and collecting gunpla, and I hope this doesn’t hold you down for long.

This is the most understanding message I've seen... Thank you for saying all that...

[barbarianprncess]

bad dreams & bedsheets

read on ao3

or

There aren’t any bedsheets in the Big House

Fresh ones that is. There aren’t any fresh smelling or soft feeling bed sheets in the Big House. Annabeth knows this because she tore apart every storage closet and supply room in said Big House. And she’s found exactly two sets of sheets. One of which with a mystery stain she wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole—let alone sleep on—the other with so many holes she’s convinced an Apollo kid was using it for target practice.

“Damn, Chase.” She’d been so preoccupied with Mission Find Fresh Sheets that she hadn’t noticed Clarisse wander past the disaster zone that Annabeth was sitting in the middle of. “What’d the closet do to you?”

“It doesn’t have any new sheets. There are no new sheets in this goddamn camp.”

Clarisse nods thoughtfully, as if the mess at her feet and the tears in her eyes are a rational response to not finding new sheets. “Have you checked—,”

“I promise you, wherever you’re about to say, I have in fact, checked.”

“Mm.” One of the best things about Clarisse is the fact that she never questions her. She takes whatever Annabeth says and works from there. “Why do you need new sheets in the first place?”

And therein lies the problem.

Why does Annabeth need new sheets? Because she does. She really needs new bedsheets. She really, desperately needs new bedsheets. Depending on the target, she can honestly say she’d kill a man for new bedsheets.

“Is this a Percy thing?” Annabeth shakes out of her train of thought to scowl.

“What, now that we’re dating, anything I do must have something to do with Percy?”

“Okay, so it’s a Percy thing.” One of the worst things about Clarisse is her uncanny ability to see right through Annabeth's bullshit.

“Okay, yes, fine, it’s a Percy thing.” Clarisse raises a single eyebrow. “Oh my gods, no, it’s not that. Jesus, we’ve been dating for nine days, we’re not animals.” Clarisse shrugs then smirks in a way that Annabeth is definitely going to have to ask her about later.

“Okay, then what is it? Like you said—it’s been nine days, you can’t be having problems already.” Annabeth picks at her nail beds. She feels a wave of grief as she’s reminded that the person she would go to—for nail beds and the Thing—isn’t here anymore. Clarisse misinterprets her silence. “Shit, are you having problems already? Is he being an asshole? Because I can—,”

“No, no, we’re actually great. He’s great. I don’t think anyone’s the asshole which should make me feel a lot better than I do. It’s just…complicated.”

“Percy’s a complicated person.” Clarisse says, almost unthinking. “You are too.”

Like Annabeth doesn’t know that. Like their joint complicatedness isn’t one of the main reasons she spent the entirety of last year with a knot in her stomach.

“I’m guessing the reason you’re not telling me what the thing is, is because it’s all personal and you wanna respect the privacy of your shiny new relationship.” Annabeth smiles a little subconsciously, the way she has been the past nine days when someone teased her about her and Percy's couple status. Clarisse notices—the observant little shit—and mimes gagging before she continues. “Well, whatever it is, I can tell you right now the answer isn’t bedsheets. It’s to talk to your stupid boyfriend about whatever stupid thing is bothering you.”

Annabeth looks down at her fingers and thinks that if she phrased it a bit differently, Clarisse would sound an awful lot like Silena right now. She wants to tell her that, but it might just make her sad, so she holds back and instead says what she’s been pretending wasn’t the case since she set off on her warpath to find sheets. “I’m scared of what’ll happen if I bring it up.”

“Why?”

Annabeth shrugs.

“You know he fucking loves you, right?” Another lumps pushes at her throat as she attempts to shrug.

“He hasn’t said it.”

Clarisse rolls her eyes. “Just because he’s afraid of the word doesn’t mean he feels it any less.” The statement of fact shouldn’t scare her as much as it does. Because yeah, objectively, she knows. She knows it the same way she knows that the war is really over or that Luke is dead or that she loves him back. Of course she knows Percy loves her. She’s aware it’s a fact, but it's gonna take her a while to get used to. It’ll take her a while to really believe it, at least on his part.

But she does. The more she thinks about it he’s told her a thousand different times in a thousand different ways. It caused him to forget consequences if it meant making sure she was safe, whether he realized it or not. It made him a special kind of pissed at her when she did something dangerous, and it made him kiss her like it was the first time every time. Or like it would be the last time every time. She isn’t sure. She hopes it's the first option.

(It’s probably the second.)

But she doesn’t say any of that. Clarisse might actually throw up if she did. Instead she says, “Wow. I never thought I’d see the day Clarisse LaRue would give me love advice.”

Just as she predicted, Clarisse narrows her eyes and turns to walk down the hall to wherever she was going before. “Yeah, well, this will be the first and last time.” For some reason it sounded like even Clarisse knew it was a lie, but Annabeth didn’t call her out on it. She sighs and goes to pick up the mess at her feet.

She hears the squeak of Clarisse’s sneakers and squints down at where Clarisse had come to a stop and half turned back to Annabeth. “Seriously, you’re good? You know what to do?”

Annabeth nods at her sullenly because yeah, she knows what she has to do.

She just really wishes she had found the bedsheets.

The night Percy and Annabeth got together was perfect.

From the way he tasted like her birthday cake, to the way he touched her ankle to dry her socks off in her shoes, to the way he whispered in her ear to use her hat to meet him back in his cabin after her siblings fell asleep. And how, when she climbed invisibly through his open window, he was bouncing on his heels at the other end of the room, like he was too excited to sit down. Or how they had to keep shushing each other’s giggles as they lie face to face in his too small bunk bed. Or how he kissed her through delirious smiles because he couldn’t seem to help either the smile or the urge to kiss her every thirty seconds. Or the fact that they never actually got around to sleeping.

They never got around to sleeping, but she couldn’t seem to mind the swollen lips or the bags under her eyes when Percy spent the whole morning looking at her like he’d never seen anything so wonderful in his entire life.

She’s snuck into his room every night since—partly because they’re sixteen and stupid and sneaking around is fun and partly because she spent five years thinking he was going to die and then he didn’t and she can’t quite believe that either—and it’s always the same. He’ll light up when he sees her like they hadn’t seen each other an hour ago, and they’ll make out on his tiny bunk bed, and laugh into each other’s necks until Annabeth falls asleep on his chest.

And then she’ll wake up alone. In sea salt smelling sheets with no sea salt smelling boy.

The first night she heard a strange noise at four-thirty in the morning, and blinked awake to the sight of Percy’s back. He was sitting up at the other end of the bed, telling her that she had to go back to her cabin. He’d kissed her quickly and then locked himself in the bathroom and she was too disoriented to realize at the time, but looking back he hadn’t looked her in the eye once. He was tense at breakfast, she could see from her table, but she didn’t think much of it because he relaxed when he saw her again after the fact.

The next day, and every day after that, she woken to him crouched next to her head, to tell her he’s going to the beach, and not to let the harpies find her in his room. It was on the third morning that she noticed his side wasn’t nearly as rumpled as her side. It was on the fifth that she noticed the empty bunk across the room was significantly more rumpled than hers. On the eighth she noticed how tired he seemed when he thought she wasn’t looking.

(On the ninth morning, she decided he needed new bedsheets.)

After her conversation with Clarisse, she spent the rest of the day agonizing about the conversation she had with Clarisse and using her work to distract herself from the fact that she was agonizing about her conversation with Clarisse. In fact she brought her laptop with her to Percy’s room when she knew he’d be showering, just so she had something to do with her hands.

Percy waltzes out of his bathroom with basketball shorts hanging low on his hips and wet hair dripping onto a remarkably bare chest and Annabeth hates him a little. Hates the way he’s a bit too beautiful , and it distracts her from important things like the fact that she has to have an important conversation with him. Hates the way he looks at her like he’s never seen anything like her, like he can't believe he gets to continue to look at her, like he’d be perfectly content to do nothing but look at her for the rest of his life.

“Hey.” His voice still takes her by surprise. The deepness of it. The sureness of it. She loved him when his voice cracked and wobbled—but she doesn’t hate this. “How’s Olympus?”

“Beating my ass. Mercilessly. With a stick.” His laugh is muffled by the tank top he’s pulling over his head—which doesn’t do much for her concentration because really all it does is define his arms more—and he crosses the room to stand beside her. He squirts at the program she has running to structure columns and says, “Okay, I would love to help you but everything on that screen means nothing to me.”

She tries to laugh but she’s so anxious it comes out more as a puff of air. He seems to notice, because he furrows his brow, removes one of the pillows behind her and slides in its place, and before she knows it, she’s being pulled back flush against his chest, and he’s drawing nonsensical patterns on her arms and he’s asking if her work is the only thing bothering her.

‘Okay Annabeth,’ she thinks, ‘this is the part where you tell him you know something��s wrong, that it’s alright if he doesn’t want to sleep in the same bed as you, that you can stay in your cabin and you aren’t mad, you just want to know he’s sleeping because it seems like he hasn’t slept in nine days and all signs point to her as the reason that he isn’t sleeping and—,’

“You need new bedsheets,” is all that comes out.

“That’s what's bothering you? My bedsheets?”

“Yes. You need new ones and I looked for some all morning and I couldn’t find any, so you have to ask Chiron for new bedsheets.”

She feels more than hears his shudder of laughter and he burrows his face in her neck. “Okay… what's wrong with my bedsheets?”

And now she’s angry that he seems to think her ridiculous request is funny but she’s only making this ridiculous request because he’s not talking to her and he’s not sleeping. “I don’t know Percy, you tell me what's wrong with the bedsheets.”

“I wasn’t aware there was anything wrong with my bedsheets.”

“You weren’t aware?”

“No.” He says the word slowly, seemingly detecting the lack of humor in her voice.

“But there has to be something wrong with your bedsheets,” she insists.

“Why?” It’s the hint of mirth still in his tone that sets her off.

“Because you aren’t fucking sleeping in them!”

His hands go completely still. He goes completely still, and stays that way even as she takes a deep breath and turns to face him.

“I know you’ve been sleeping in the other bunk.” Percy is looking at her like a deer caught in headlights. “Your side is way too neat next to me and that bunk is always all messed up. Like you were moving around a lot. And every morning you wake me up, and you can’t look me in the eye. I’m not upset if you need space—that's fine, I get it. I just don’t understand why you didn’t say so.”

Percy doesn’t say anything, he just puts his head in his hands. She scoots over and reaches out to touch him, but he flinches away, stands up and begins to pace. He’s shaking his head violently, and he’s fighting back tears; she can tell.

“You can’t—” he starts, and then shakes his head again.

“What can I do? How can I help?” She’s trying not to cry but the look of anguish on his face is making it really heard.

“It’s not—,” He cuts himself off. “It’s just—

“What? What is it?” she pleads, “Tell me what’s happening, Percy, it’s all gonna be okay, just talk to me—,”

“I can’t!” he bursts, his breathing heavy and erratic. “ I can’t talk to you and I can’t look at you and I can’t sleep because it’s all my fault! Every time I close my eyes I see it over and over again and I can’t—,”

He’s having a panic attack. It registers in Annabeth's head a little too late, but once it does she goes into autopilot. She’s telling him to breathe, and helping him feel his heartbeat, and maneuvering them into sitting on the bed as she lets him sob into her collarbone. She’s running a hand up and down his back and he’s still shaking but his breathing is a lot more steady when he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I’m right here and—,”

“No,” He shakes his head as best he can, while staying curled up into her. “I’m sorry I stressed you out. That was the opposite of what I was trying to do.”

“What were you trying to do?” She cups his cheeks and lifts his head to wipe his tears. He looks exhausted and sad and wearier than what should be possible for a sixteen year old. “I know you feel like you can’t, but please. Tell me what’s going on.”

He sniffs. Untangles his arms from her waist. Closes his eyes.

“When you took that knife I thought you were going to die.”

Oh.

“The sound you made, you’ve never screamed like that before—not ever. The way you fell, you just crumpled to the ground. And the blood…gods there was so much blood, too much blood. Will’s face, it was like he was looking at a ghost, like you were already—,” He takes another tremulous breath. “You took that knife for me and I thought you were going to die because of it. When I sleep, I watch you die over and over again. I banged into the wall thrashing around in my sleep that first night and woke you up. I didn’t want to worry you or keep waking you up in the middle of the night. That’s why I started switching bunks when you fall asleep. It’s not that I needed space…I actually needed the opposite. I can't go to sleep unless I can see that you're alive and breathing and in one piece with my own eyes.”

Annabeth is in shock. Even if she knew what to say, she couldn’t speak; her voice simply doesn’t work anymore. It doesn’t seem to matter though, because words keep spilling out of Percy.

“It’s not always the same. Sometimes me and Will are too late and it happens at the hotel. Sometimes Ethan hits you in the chest and you die in my arms on the bridge. Sometimes you’re in so much pain you ask me to do it. I can never bring myself to, and I just have to listen to you beg me to kill you. Sometimes…” He trails off and shakes his head like what he’s imagining is too horrible to be put to words. “It doesn’t matter how, all that matters is that it happens and I can’t look you in the eye when I wake up because it’s my fault. It was my knife and you took it and I feel so guilty I can barely breathe, and I’m sorry, I’m so, so fucking sorry Annabeth—,”

Annabeth finds her voice. “Percy.” He freezes again. She wishes he would stop doing that. “Look at me.”

He doesn’t move.

“Percy, I need you to look at me.” He heaves a breath, and finally turns his head. The look in his eyes is similar to the one he had on Olympus. Like he was drinking in the fact that she was alive. Like her being alive was the only thing that mattered to him. “It was my choice to take that hit.”

“But—,”

“No. I chose to take that knife. I don’t know how, but I knew it was going to save you. And I was willing to take that knife if it meant you would survive. Even if it meant—,”

“Don’t.” He warns, something primal in his voice she doesn’t recognize. She changes tactics.

“I didn’t die on the bridge, Percy. I survived because you got me out. You called Blackjack and brought Will and you did everything right and I survived. I can’t stop the nightmares. But I can tell you I don’t mind if they wake me up because I want to be there for you. I can tell you that you shouldn’t look at me and feel guilty, you should look at me and feel proud. Look at me and know that I’m still here because of you. Know that you saved me. In every way possible.”

He’s looking at her in awe and disbelief, like he can’t believe someone would do for him all the things he’s willing to do for others. And then he kisses her. He kisses her and she can feel the I love you on his lips. She wraps arms around his neck and kisses him til she’s sure he knows she loves him back.

Somehow they fall asleep wrapped up in each other, and Percy still has a nightmare, but this time he lets Annabeth card her fingers in his hair and touch her lips to his forehead and this time when she tells him that she’s here and everything is going to be alright, he believes her.

This time, Percy falls back asleep in her arms, tangled in his old bedsheets.

[writing-for-life]

Let's go choose violence:

3, 8, 9, 25 for The Sandman :3c

Rubs hands gleefully…

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr 

Of course not screenshotting as everyone’s entitled to their opinion, so this is just a thing *I* find hard to understand/get my head around:

“Neil Gaiman ran out of ideas, and that’s why he killed off Morpheus.”

I mean, you could say he wanted to conclude his arc, and with that I agree. And thank fuck he did, because if Murphy were still alive, we would need to suffer the horrible takes that DC has foisted upon us ever since. But it is so completely incomprehensible to me when I read that there was no sign that Morpheus would off himself before World’s End or TKO. That it came out of nowhere, that it made the whole thing completely depressing and insufferable and sends a "bad" message. 

It all was right there, from the start. You can’t read "The Sound of her Wings" and not see that he’s absolutely haunted by the narrative, and how much comfort he finds in her. And you don’t need to read the whole thing and then just see it in hindsight (it's something I hear/read quite often). It’s clear as day if you are willing to go down the line of thinking that the Endless aren’t people but concepts. I personally think that’s where people can trip up. And I even get it--of course we want to humanise them because we are human. But they are not. They are mirrors and foils that are supposed to make us think about our own humanity (and we recognise it in them, but that still doesn’t make them human--they just show us human traits and what this mortal coil is about. Carry it and abandon it in equal measures).

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about 

Everyone apart from me of course 😂

"Hob Gadling is any shape or form the personification of hope, and his sole purpose is to (squee! UwU) save Murphy from his bleak existence".

No he ain’t. Hope is Hope, and she is a little girl (blows a raspberry right in your face). If Hob''s anything, he is humanity in a nutshell: ugly, self-serving, opportunist, but also feeling, caring and redeemable. But especially the first part is harder to woobify.

Did I also mention I have this take that making Dream's relationship to Hob all about romance and sex forgets about the importance of friendship, and why it's actually so important for the plot? Plus, that we have a tendency to erase male friendship and hence lean into toxic masculinity if we make every glance and every touch and every close emotional bond about: "Oh, they want to fuck?", and that's decidedly *not* progressive? Yeah, about that... (ship them, it's fine, no problem whatsoever, just be aware it's not the *only* take, and I will stick my neck out now and say: it won't be canon).

9. worst part of canon

That’s a tricky one because I can make sense of pretty much everything to be fair, but if I had to choose, it’s that Morpheus’ failed relationship to Nada created ripples that basically doomed every black woman connected to his arc (not *all* black women, I think that’s actually a misinterpretation, as is that Morpheus is racist, which he conceptually can't be). And as soon as he’s dead, we get token Gwen who isn’t doomed by the narrative anymore. And said Gwen *really* is a token black woman with no true agency of her own—her entire purpose is to serve the redemption of the slave trader. And that Neil actually confirmed this was *intentional* in The Sandman Companion. I get why he made that narrative choice, but to me, it still looks bad. I have hopes though he moved on from that take and we don’t get to see it in the show (the signs are there, so fingers crossed).

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

Ties in with 3: That The Sandman should have a different, “more hopeful” ending. 

But quite a few others: 

You *should* write fanfics about XYZ because there’s not enough of it. 

You *should* elevate supporting characters to main characters because they are ABC.

You *shouldn’t* focus so much on the main character because he’s a guy/male-presenting (I mean, he’s the protagonist, so there’s that).

You *should* ship m/m because it makes problematic dynamics less problematic. 

You *shouldn’t* ship m/f because it’s heteronormative. My favourite: Johanna Constantine is bi, you *shouldn’t* ship her with a guy, because again: Heteronormative. Erm, I hate to break it to people (and speaking from experience): That’s how being bi works, and we like m, f and nb equally? And we happen to want sex with m, f and nb? And we pretty much have blinkers on when it comes to falling in love with a *person*, or what we find hot/sexually arousing? And I swear if I read shit like that once more, I’ll get heteronormative out of sheer spite and will smite people.

You *should* or *shouldn't* ship. Both fine. And/but there's certainly more to The Sandman than blorbofication and allosexualisation of everything.

So yeah, pretty much anything that involves a *should*. You can do whatever the fuck you like as long as you don’t lose your ability to critically engage with it. Plus, the space has to be welcoming for everyone, and that’s sometimes hard for creators and people who don’s serve/like the main flavour. And therein lies the problem, because critical engagement doesn’t always happen, and a lot of good stuff disappears in amongst the noise…

[imogenkol]

— WIP WEDNESDAY

tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton and @inafieldofdaisies to post a wip! Thank you both! 💕💕💕

as always, no pressure tags (and pls let me know if any of you don’t want to be tagged in wip days anymore): @detectivelokis @marivenah @jacobseed @aceghosts @jinfromyarikawa @phillipsgraves @corvosattano @unholymilf @simonxriley @roofgeese @chuckhansen @queennymeria @florbelles @risingsh0t @minaharkers @nokstella

I honestly just wanted to write Imogen getting bullied by the Mantis Crew, but this is her attempt at making friends. First time she’s tried. She wasn’t a fan.

“You know,” Imogen said as she sauntered into the Mantis crew’s hideout. Cal was the first to react, igniting his lightsaber and shifting into the defensive stance of a Jedi. The ghost of an amused smile curled at the corner of Imogen’s mouth. She remained nonchalant. “Despite your very best efforts, it was not that difficult to find you.”

If anything, Cal tensed further at the sight of her familiar face. “We weren’t hiding from you.”

“Have you been waiting for another opportunity to challenge me?”

“No, we just have bigger problems than a failed Inquisitor.”

She ignored the slight and stepped forward. The Jedi mirrored her advance, his blue blade humming excitedly. “And yet here I am before you once more.” 

“What do you want?” 

“Contrary to your perception of me, Cal, I am not here to fight you.” In an effort to lower his guard, Imogen placed her hands behind her back.  

“My perception of you?” Cal asked, exasperated. “Exactly which betrayal and murder attempt did I misinterpret?” 

Imogen resisted the urge to roll her eyes. His dramatics were unnecessary. “That was a long time ago.” 

“Not nearly long enough for me to forgive and forget. Not without one hell of a good reason to trust you. And it’s going to take a lot, Imogen.”

“My priorities have shifted. It may benefit our interests if we again become… allies,” she said, narrowly avoiding choking on the word. Imogen couldn’t quite bring herself to suggest friendship. She still had much to learn when it came to her romantic connection with Bix, navigating a whole new dynamic didn’t appeal to her.

Cal shook his head. “Fool me once.”

“It’s been more than once,” Imogen pointed out smugly. 

“I’ll ask again. What do you want?” 

“I have joined the Rebel Alliance.” 

Greez, who had previously remained as silent as the rest of the crew throughout the tense exchange, released a hearty laugh. “Here I thought you didn’t have a sense of humor, but I gotta give it to you, that was a good one!” 

Cal noted Imogen’s steely expression. “She isn’t joking.”

“I’m not,” she confirmed.

“Why?” Urgency willed the Jedi closer to his old adversary. “What’s your angle? What do you have planned?”

Imogen kept her body still. “I’ve told you. A lot has changed, Cal, and because of that I must reevaluate who I consider to be an enemy.”

“That’s not good enough.”

Irritation shot up Imogen’s spine. Her patience at his persistent questioning wore thin. She knew Cal wouldn’t just openly accept a change of heart, but she didn’t feel comfortable revealing the details of her new outlook. Imogen Kol would not willingly expose her neck to a fool like Cal Kestis. Though… she had to acknowledge he wasn’t entirely foolish. Otherwise she wouldn’t be here. 

“I’m not who I was,” she said. 

“You want me to just trust you when you won’t even trust me enough to give a real reason.” Cal scoffed and finally put his lightsaber away. “You’ve wasted your time coming here. Whatever you want, I can’t help you.”

Imogen should have left it at that, but a part of her actually wanted this to work. “You’re right, I don’t trust you. Not yet. We both have things we need to protect and I cannot risk –” She had enough self restraint to cut the sentence off before she showed her hand, but the sudden intensity her tone had taken caused her face to flush. 

Weakness, her thoughts bitterly chastised. 

“Can’t risk what?” Cal pressed. 

“Not what,” Merrin chimed in. Imogen often forgot about the Zabrak’s existence until she spoke. “Who. She has someone.”

Imogen sharply glared at her. Merrin stood unfazed by the way the former Inquisitor’s eyes burned with hatred. She stared back as if she had simply recited an obvious fact. It made Imogen fume. “Perhaps I should have cut out your tongue when last we met. There is still time.”

Merrin ignored the threat and looked to Cal. “That’s why she’s here. She’s fallen in love and has dared to consider fighting for something other than herself.”

“I’ve already fought for her,” Imogen fiercely snapped. 

Another misstep. 

The outburst all but confirmed Merrin’s accusation. Imogen didn’t believe that Cal or the crew posed a threat to Bix directly, but she learned from her time as an enforcer for the Empire that to surrender the knowledge of what matters most is to guarantee it will be used against you. With all the enemies she has made, it only takes one loose end to lead back to her relationship. Cal may be a valuable asset in protecting what she holds dear. Or he could be a fatal mistake. Imogen originally intended to draw a definitive conclusion to that uncertainty before her true intentions had been revealed. 

“Tell me about her,” Cal said. 

Imogen answered immediately and firmly. “No.”

He shrugged. “You want me to believe you? That’s my price.”

“You are asking me to freely confess the one thing that can truly hurt me.”

“I’m asking you to trust me with it.”

[voidthewanderer]

🍅🍌🍇 for Arsenic, Crow, & Ripper?

@bokatan || OC Interview Questions

🍅 [TOMATO] How misunderstood is your OC? In-universe or IRL.

Arsenic: He both is and isn’t, in universe; if that makes sense. He intentionally puts up a front because he feels the need to protect himself from the world around him, despite being in a place where he’s safe and can be more laid back. Unless people actually know him, they just keep their heads down and keep quiet; which does hurt him a bit. Yes, he wants to be viewed as someone to not fuck with, but not as someone you can’t do anything around. His character as a whole, I think everyone pretty well understands him. I haven’t seen anyone misinterpret him yet.

Crow: In universe, they’re pretty well understood. People know why they act the way they do; being a bit more skittish with new people and keeping to themselves. Their character however? It’s less of a misinterpretation or misunderstanding of their personality and more of their design (or should I say lack there of now). Crow has skin like The Ghoul; always has. When all that shit happened complaining about how he looked, despite the fact that I made Crow well before any reveals for the show, I am now terrified to make any art of them and have them mistaken for me just “trying to be lazy” with ghoul skin. I could explain a million times how they turned, I feel like people still wouldn’t understand.

Ripper: The reasons why he’s not misunderstood as a character are why he is in universe. Most people get to see his jovial, goofball side. There’s only one instance (currently) where someone has seen just how strong he can be (kicking down the door). Yes, they’re aware of what he did before the war, but in universe; especially post war, they find that taking down a protectron isn’t exactly a crowning achievement anymore.

🍌 [BANANA] Have parts of your OC been lost to time (in-universe)? What do they wish they could lose from themselves?

Arsenic: He’s lost a lot of his morality. As the years passed and the clientele grew, he became less and less concerned about the consequences of his actions; no matter who the client was. Killing people and selling their parts to others who partake in cannibalism? Ah, it’s just money! He’s not physically bothered by it at all anymore. He wishes that it had been some of his attitude problems; or even his sex drive cut down massively.

Crow: Cliche, yes, but they lost their innocence. They always viewed the world through rose tinted glasses, always trying to keep hope that things would eventually change for the better. That the war could be ended and maybe life would go back to being somewhat normal. But it never happened… things got worse. And slowly their whimsy of the world, always trying to view the bright side faded away. They wish it had been their timidness to have been lost. It’s hard to live in a world where, if you’re around the wrong crowd, you can get used and abused to the point of death.

Ripper: He lost hope. Hope in others, hope in himself. Although he didn’t see the world quite like Crow did, he knew that people could still work together and make things right; or at least right enough. He lost hope that he’d ever get to be the same man he was before his incident. Although he’s also glad he didn’t, he sometimes wishes that he’d lost some of his laid back, lackadaisy personality. Trying to make jokes and light of everything. It wasn’t that type of world anymore, he started to view it as people seeing him as a just making his own form of dark humor to offset his time on earth.

🍇 [GRAPES] What's their circle of people/their species like? What dynamic would they be called?

I can actually answer all three of these guys together because they have the same exact circle of people. Life in The Slog and how everyone treats one another is almost like family. They take care of each other, get into fights sometimes over the pettiest of things. Arsenic is actually the only one who has someone within his circle that isn’t in the others; and that’s Cyanide, the 19 year old he employed when she was 17 and ran away from her vault. He used to have a close friendship with her, letting her be clingy and cuddly, but since she’d confessed feelings to him not long after she’d turned 18; he set a hard boundary with her: they could be friends, but if she acted like they were actually a couple or if she tried to force a closer relationship, he’d ship her back to her vault. Their dynamic weakened into he views her as a colleague, but she acted like a jealous teen who had her crush taken away from her. He scolds her for how she acts now, but he’s since stopped threatening to ship her off.

[zaunrising]

What’s a hobby they used to have that they miss?

and

What do they commonly misinterpret because of their own upbringing / environment / biases? How do they respond when realizing the misunderstanding?

Let’s start with Silco. It was both a hobby, and also an important necessity so people wouldn’t get lost, but map making. I think I touched on that on my old blog, but not that this one. Regardless, Silco used to do map making, particularly of tunnels and hidden routes throughout Zaun. He even still has some of his old maps, and misses making them but he just doesn’t have the time anymore.

Do I think how I’m about to answer is exactly what you meant by the question about misinterpreting things? No. Am I going to use this answer anyways because I find it amusing? Yes. So there’s a thing about water. You take Silco out of Zaun, be it to Ionia, or wherever else and just drink water fresh from a river or something in front of him and he will look at you like you are crazy. You invite him to drink that fresh water himself, and he’s going to fully believe you are trying to play some weird joke on him. Everyone knows you can’t just drink water without filtering it first at the very least. That’s how you get sick. When he realizes that yes you can drink that water his reaction is a mix of amazed delight, and resentment fueled anger. Amazed delight because it’s nice not having to worry nearly as much about the environment itself trying to kill him. Resentment fueled anger because it brings into view even more just how badly Piltover harmed Zaun.

For Jinx, I’m not sure if this counts as a hobby, but how about fixing up (and playing at) the arcade. Putting back together the shooting game, and messing with the animatronics there, and getting to go there with other people, and all. I don’t think she does that anymore because it reminds her of the past, and it either makes her sad or angry.

Something she misinterprets… a lot of stuff to be honest. Jinx does not have the most normal view on things in general. I’ve got a couple things in mind be it someone trying to flirt with her, or criticism, or fear, but let’s go with something easy yet important. How common, and acceptable violence is. Even in Zaun she’s a bit of an outlier when it comes to how quick, and easy violence is for her, let alone anywhere else. If Silco sends Jinx your life is over. You can negotiate with Sevika, you might be able to make a deal with Silco, but Jinx? Jinx is simply going to kill you. Might be slow, might be fast, but when she’s sent it is to permanently deal with a situation. Over the years she has become more, and more comfortable with violence as a first and last resort. It even happens with Silco, when she gets upset and uses his injector to hurt him. As for her response if someone tries to get her to understand things? Disbelief and derision at best, anger at worse. Even if it’s from Silco, Jinx still won’t get it.

Last, but not least, Sevika. A hobby she misses, pit fighting. Yes it was to make money, and yes it was a competition, but she still considered it a fun hobby. Sevika had other ways to make money be it smuggling, or whatever else. The pit fighting was more a way to burn off steam, and the money as well as attention it got her was a useful byproduct. Sometimes she contemplates going back for a couple fights, and then her attention gets pulled to something else be it work related or other wise.

Misinterpretations, someone bumping into her on the street. She’s not going to take it as an accident, and will assume it was either disrespect, an attempt to pickpocket her, or a potential attack. Sevika does absolutely 100% expect people to move out of her way, and if they don’t she will make them move. What’s that? A misunderstanding? They were just distracted or something? Not her problem, do better.

[wishing4nuclearwinter]

For Agustin(and any others you'd like to answer these for!): 17, 43, 47, & 54?

Answering for Allegra as well since she’s been on my mind :3

[character building questions]

17. What do they notice first in the mirror versus what most people first notice looking at them?

Agustín: He usually notices the dark bags under his eyes. He doesn’t care much about his appearance outside of it’s impact on other people’s perceptions of him and he hates how tired and burnt out the bags make him look.

Other people usually notice his size first.

Allegra: She notices her eyes or chin. She has very bright green eyes that she’s a big fan of. Her feelings on her cleft chin flip flops, but on good days she thinks it’s cute.

Other people notice her hair first. It’s so insanely long.

43. What do they commonly misinterpret because of their own upbringing / environment / biases? How do they respond when realizing the misunderstanding?

Agustín: Years spent with the Legion have definitely warped some of his world views. I think the most common one is him assuming bad intentions all the time. He misunderstands genuineness as manipulation, always expecting a knife in the back and ulterior motives.

His response to people actually having good or transparent intentions is usually disbelief, confusion, and/or (secretly) fear. He tries to return it with honesty of his own but that’s not the easiest for him so he’s more likely to try to separate from the situation/person. What’s that quote about destroying a good thing so you’re the reason you can’t have it?

Allegra: Honestly, hers is similar. Being born into the Legion then fending for herself in the wasteland as a child post-escape cemented a certain weary survival instinct in her. But it’s less that she expects a knife in the back and more that she knows nothing comes free in the wastes. Not expecting bad intentions per se, just assuming that any offers of help come from morally neutral self interest.

When she’s met with generosity or empathy instead it makes her extremely happy. It may take her a minute to believe it fully, but once she does she’s quick to befriend the person.

47. Who have they forgotten about that remembers them very well?

Agustín: The woman who gave him his first ever courier job as a kid, Hope. He hasn’t forgotten her exactly, but just doesn’t think of her anymore. She lost contact with her own daughter who she sent away when she knew the Legion was planning to take Prescott. She was always very fond of Agustín and watching him grow up he reminded her of her daughter. She never knew what became of him after he got conscripted, but she often thinks of him and prays he got out.

Allegra: Antony, actually. They didn’t know each other for long, maybe a couple of months in the time between when the Hangdogs were enslaved and when he began his legionary training. He and Allegra went through some pre-training together (mostly just strength and agility routines to prepare for actual combat training) when they were 10-ish and Antony was kind of enamored. They were friends and Allegra was just. a very bright presence in his life after everything he knew and loved had just been burned to the ground.

Then Allegra just disappeared one day and it took months of digging to find out she’d escaped. He was just another of many friends she’d had in the Legion so she doesn’t really remember him, but he continues to be a bit heartbroken about it.

54. What’s their instinct in a fight / flight / freeze / fawn situation?

Agustín: His natural response is inclined toward freeze, but years of training have rewired him to fight (in the literal sense). Even so he’ll still sometimes freeze if faced with a situation that is extremely emotional with little physical danger. Deer in headlights.

Allegra: Flight, usually. Definitely in actual combat situations, but also just in general she tends to run away from her problems. If she can’t see them they can’t see her, right :)? If the stressor involves someone she cares about (read: someone she’s afraid of upsetting), she tends to follow up with fawning.

[gordontheengineswifenirmal]

Saw arsehat yesterday

Things are getting better. I have no desire to be in love with him anymore. And honestly, I’m fine with that. To be honest, as much of a shock the divorce was, I was glad he initiated it. It was something I had considered, but never wanted to bring up.

However, I’m coming to terms more n more with the pain he caused me after. I was NEVER jealous of him having a kid. I’ve never wanted kids. I was hurt by his secrecy, and his weird behaviour. Furthermore, his lack of ability to be responsible for his actions hurt. He did a stupid, and still can’t own up to it. He also tends to flip flop on things (like kids!)

The pain is lessening, and that’s good. He doesn’t feel so awkward to be around. He is in many essences, still a child.

He picked me up from auntie n uncles place last night. He says to me ‘I didn’t know adulting would be so hard. I don’t have time for anything. Does it ever go away or get better? You remember how badly I wanted to leave auntie n uncles n be in my own?’ I said we’ll move back then lol. He says ‘I can’t, because their place is a mess n it made me sick.’ I said well that’s fair, but then u gotta deal with adulting lol

He then says he still would like a kid. I said if u think adulting alone is insane, adding a kid multiplies it. I didn’t say jt, but I thought If you’re having trouble doing basic adulting, having a kid is not for u.

I’ll let that sink in.

He kept the baby thing secret, because he was afraid he’d be judged by friends and family, because in Indian culture, gossip is particularly common n takes on a certain flavour. The problem with this is that he deserves it. He did something shady, and was afraid to own up to it. He made things worse by being shady. If he hadn’t been so shady, he might not have to worry as much.

Also, if u havnt done anything shady, then have confidence. When people falsely accused me of being a paedophile, racist, misogynist, etc. (different occasions over the years) I stood me ground, because I knew I had never done any of these things, and they were manipulating the story for their benefit. They purposely misinterpreted my actual intentions. I had nothing to be guilty of, and was gaslit. Their accessions often contradicted themselves and made no sense in reality. (Such as above, when people thought I was jealous of Arsehat for having the kid, or when they thought I was sexually into kids. I have stated many times that I never wanted kids, and I prefer them kept away from me, and fully clothed. I was actually more into older men, and that’s why I like the engines. I see them as older men with a variety of personalities. Yes, even Percy.) As for racist - I actually like all cultures. I don’t like when people manipulate or exploit others, and I hate gratuitous attention seekers. These things often work hand in hand, especially on social media soap boxes. So yeah. I have pure intentions, n I stand by that. Me physical record can attest - I’ve never been arrested, n I try to avoid drama, but I do try to help n guide others to do right n be happy. When I feel they are deserving of/ are willing to b helped.

Anyhoo, it feels good to be processing the lingering confusing feelings, and allowing them to go their way as well. I’m finally starting to move on from it more emotionally, n it feels good. I feel less uncomfortable being around him. This is why I don’t like being around men who belong or belonged to other women and why male virginity/purity is important to me. They make me feel deeply uncomfortable in an unsettling way. They make me feel always on guard. I don’t trust them. This is what causes the panic attacks to get ugly and cycle. It’s me body warning me that there’s danger ahead, and that if I don’t get out fast, she’s gonna blow.

This is not to say that blokes who have never had relationships and are virgin cannot create problems or drama, but there’s less of a chance that others get involved n make it worse. I have a long history of experience with abuse. I have ptsd. This is what I deal with. To be fair, I don’t have this issue with gay blokes (whether they have/had a man or not) or with sex/romance repulsed blokes who havnt been with anyone. Im not interested in them sexually or romantically, but i do feel I can trust them more.

I used to trust arsehat in that way. Though he wasn’t particularly sexual towards me most of the time, he also wasn’t a womaniser. I felt secure with that. When he had the secret baby, and I wasn’t filled in on details, it wasn’t the baby party that really disturbed me. It was the leaving out of details that got to me. I found out when me own roommate discovered his roommates instagram posts. If he had been honest n clear from the start, and maybe if I’d heard from her, I’d have felt better from the get go. But whatever. It’s hard to let go, and I’ll never forget the experience- however, I’m processing those negative feelings, and starting to finally let go of them. It feels good. He’s still an immature weirdo, but that’s what makes him family I guess. lol. He’s not a bad guy….hes just Peter Pan with a turban.

And me, I’m happier with me trains. And cats. And without sex/romance. Me own imagination is satisfying enough.

[moonsluvr]

— on repeat.

synopsis: short enhypen scenarios as my fav songs <3

pairing: ot7!enhypen x gn!reader

word count: 900+ (116 exactly for each hehe)

genre: fluff, pining/crushing, friends to .. idk u tell me

warnings: implied mental problems in jungwons (not stated), mentions of kissing, may be a lil angsty ?

authors note: i had to “misinterpret” some lyrics SO HARD because my whole playlist is sad but i wanted to write fluff so i yes i am aware the scenarios may not represent the song/lyrics. i didn't rly go word for word, it's more like taking inspiration.

jungwon ᝰ washing machine heart — mitski

“baby, will you kiss me already, and toss your dirty shoes in my washing machine heart?”

every night you feel alone is another night he’ll make sure you aren’t. it’s another night he’ll hold you tight, and tell you he’s there for you, just like he always will be. he knows your tired feet have been walking for far too long, and he wants nothing more than to be the calm in your storm. it’s all too easy to melt into his warmth that seems endless. it is endless, when all he has to do is smile for your world to flip upside down for the better. you haven’t always been strong, but he’s made up his mind to stay by your side regardless. he’ll be strong for you when you can’t.

heeseung ᝰ boyfriend, girlfriend — carwash

“pretty and prettier you get in every way, every day.”

what was supposed to be a movie marathon has now turned into a sleepover. neither of you wanted to part ways for the night, even as the clock strikes past midnight. you play the next movie, even though your eyelids close on their own. it’s okay, you don’t need to watch it. it’s just an excuse to have him by your side, anyways. he stares at you, but when he sees your tired state, a pang of guilt hits his chest at the thought of you staying up for him. you snuggle closer into his arms to get comfortable, allowing yourself to fall into slumber. his guilt fades away, happy you find peace next to him.

jay ᝰ august — taylor swift

“but i can see us lost in the memory, august slipped away into a moment in time.”

he swipes through his phone, admiring every photo. they’re all he has at this moment, during these cold months. he can’t help but miss the way he had you in the past, the way he could hold you, the way he could kiss you. the way he could call you his. his phone ringing cuts the air as he finally removes himself from his melancholic thoughts. photos of you are replaced by your contact followed by a “<3” flashing on his screen. you’re probably calling to remind him you’ll be with him soon. all he had to do was make it through another winter before you’ll be his again, just like you were in the past.

jake ᝰ affection — between friends

“you're saying what you want right to me, no filter on your mouth.”

he wonders when you’ve become so honest. your words slur into each other to the point he can’t comprehend what you’re saying anymore. instead, he decides to track your lips. this was a mistake, it would seem, because now he can’t get the thought of kissing you out of his head. you say something about how good he looks at this moment, and his heart picks up. you flash him your friendly smile as he returns it softly, still wondering what intentions lie beneath such an innocent smile. just to clear up his confusion, would it be appropriate to lean in and taste your true feelings? you lick your lips, and he hopes you taste him.

sunghoon ᝰ stargazing — the neighborhood

“i can feel your heart beating with mine, underneath the stars looking for a sign”

the stars dance amongst each other in the cold night, and he pulls you closer when he sees you start to shiver. his body heat transfers to you, and through your body like electricity. the drums known as your pulse speeds up. you don’t notice how he’s become a drum himself against you. such a breeze acts almost like a universal force, pulling two beautiful stars closer than they ever dared to be before. you stare at the sky, and you see beautiful freckles decorating an otherwise blank canvas. he stares at the sky and sees a dark night. you’re a better sight to him, anyways. he turns to stare at you. he sees his future.

sunoo ᝰ talk to you — ricky montgomery

“you’re in my head more often than i want, more often than i want to tell you.”

from his desk, he can hear your friends and you chatting away as if the whole world was only in that very room. he raises his head from the notebook lying in front of him, and his eyes catch you immediately. he takes notice of every habit you have while talking to your friends. from the way you nudge your friend on the shoulder when they say something that embarasses you, to the way you throw your head back in laughter when they say something funny. it’s not his first time noticing these things. his eyes return back to his notebook, continuing the messy sketches he takes of you, each portraying his favorite expressions you carry.

ni-ki ᝰ ok — between friends

“i think we should stay up, can we stay the same?”

he peeks out from his pillow fort to look for you, only to see you doing the same. when you raise your nerf gun at the sight of him, he quickly buries himself in the pillows again. from inside the thick blankets and his oh-so strong fortress, he can only faintly hear your muffled laughter. like a siren’s song, your laughter draws him towards ‘danger.’ unable to resist any longer, he pulls the pillows away from himself, looking you straight in the eyes as you aim at him. you shoot him right at his chest, and he makes no moves to dodge it. he’s not too sure how much longer he can be just your friend.

TAGLIST: @giyyuzz @zederaya @levisrealrealwaifu @jakeyuni @beibybtch @vbxrin @soobin-chois @linoragi @rubysluvbot @lil-iva @hiqhkey @jungwonerz @torruuu @ilandsghost (bolded accs couldn't be tagged!)

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Desperate Measures.

Pairing: Yandere!Kaeya/Reader (Genshin Impact).

Word Count: 2.2k.

TW: Kidnapping, Emotional Manipulation, Implied Stalking, and Delusional Mindsets.

Kaeya was a man, distracted.

Distracted. Divided. Not inattentive, but pulled away from his responsibilities by a force he couldn’t name and couldn’t say he cared for, either. He wasn’t a stranger to romantic inclinations — fantasies, sudden flings, slow-burning inclinations that died the moment his attention was called elsewhere. Predictably, the few relationships he allowed himself were short-lived, at best distasterous at worst, but he didn’t have a problem with that. If anything, Kaeya appreciated it. He’d always thought of company as optional, and what little loneliness he was still capable of feeling could be drowned with a generous glass of wine. He wasn’t one to linger. He tried not to overstay his welcome. He’d been sentimental, once, too emotional for his own good, and he’d learned his lesson. He didn’t intend to change.

He didn’t want to change.

And yet, here he was.

Distracted.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t focus. It was all he could do to look like he might’ve been trying to read the most recent document left on his desk – this one from Jean, a directive for the younger knights or legislation she needed him to review or another vague, important report that he probably would’ve dealt with weeks ago, if he’d been able to concentrate.

He made a half-hearted effort to straighten his back as the door to his office began to open, but Kaeya dropped the act quickly, abandoning it completely by the time he heard the sound of heeled boots against hollow tile, caught a glimpse of a familiar (albeit, rarely used) catalyst, searched for eyes and found the cover of a thin book, instead, your face still buried in your newest novel as you stepped through the threshold, not bothering to knock. It was you. He should’ve known it would be. Who else did he deserve?

You, Lisa’s new assistant. You, the latest addition to the Knights of Favonius. You, his current, infuriating, unshakable fixation.

You, the new recruit who hadn’t paid him so much as a passing glance since your arrival, much to Kaeya’s frustration.

You didn’t look at him. You rarely ever did, but it hurt more than it usually did, today, as you dropped another form onto his desk, letting it replace the greeting you’d forgotten to offer. “Lisa needs you to sign this,” You started, laying out your priorities clearly, a skill Kaeya was beginning to resent. “It’s just next year’s budget. If you don’t want to read it, I think I’ll be able to look the other way.”

He glanced over the rows of numbers, the messy hand-writing, the columns of meaningless gibberish that blended together into a mess of ink and digits, and took your suggestion, scrawling his name across the only blank line. It was a lost cause, especially with you in the room. Especially with your unoccupied hand resting on his desk, your fingertips idly tapping an unsteady rhythm into the wood, and all he could think about was who he’d be willing to kill to feel that hand pressed against his cheek.

He considered asking you, for a moment, giving you an order and hoping you'd absent-mindedly obey. He thought about touching you, or running his fingers through your hair, or pulling you into his lap and mumbling sweet-nothings into your ear until someone else dragged you away.

He thought about a lot of things. Then, he said, “I take it your silence comes at a price?”

“Do I seem that selfish to you?” You were selfish. You had to be selfish. If you weren’t, then surely you would’ve been kind enough to put him out of his misery months ago. “I like helping people. Just remember this when I need a favor from you.”

“I’m sure we could work something more immediate out,” He went on, but you were already starting towards the door, calling the conversation to a close before Kaeya could begin to finish. In the back of his mind, something flared, the urge to catch your wrist, to go after you, to put himself between you and the only exit and refuse to move until you looked at him, but he forced it down, swallowing the temptation before it could eclipse his common sense. He couldn’t be impulsive. He couldn’t make rash decisions. He wasn’t prepared to deal with how difficult that would make things, not now.

Not yet.

“Join me for a drink?” He tried, again, attempting to sound unbothered. Nonchalant, casual, normal. Like he wasn’t itching to burn every book you’d touched. “I know you don’t have anything better to--”

“Another night, Captain.”

And just like that, you were gone, leaving Kaeya’s muttered response to echo through his empty office.

“Of course.”

~

Kaeya was a man, desperate.

Like a starving dog. Like a traveler who hadn’t seen water in thirty days. Like a distraught, distressed, disturbed knight, wandering through a maze of a library, cursing the existence of every shelf that separated him from you. He knew where you'd be. You were a creature of habit, and he’d already had more than enough time to memorize your routine. He’d had enough time to memorize everything about you, as ashamed as he was to admit it. It was a testament to his devotion, to how much time he’d spent trying and failing to win your favor.

It was evidence of how pathetic he’d gotten, over the course of his one-sided pursuit.

You were in your usual spot – tucked into the far corner of the library, perched on the edge of a windowsill, your attention monopolized by the tattered scroll spread across your lap. You were still pouring over it by the time he reached you, slumping against the nearest wall, taking in how brilliantly the muted sunlight looked as it danced across your skin. He didn’t try to hide the way he stared, anymore. He was long past worrying that you’d care enough to notice. Your hair was unkempt, proof that’d you slept in the archives again, if you’d slept at all. Your lips were bleeding, too, the lower one chewed raw and split down the middle, but it might’ve been stranger if they weren’t. It must’ve been a nervous tick, but Kaeya found it cute. Kaeya found it endearing. Kaeya found everything about you endearing, and to the archons, he wanted to see those lips wrapped around his co--

And he hated it. He found everything about you endearing, and he hated it. That was all.

He sighed, the sound airy, exhausted. You didn’t look up, but that was fine. It would’ve only hurt him further if someone as simple as that drew out your concern. “I’m in love with you.”

There was a hum, soft and contemplative. A rather generous response, by your standards. “I’ve noticed.”

“You’re all I think about.” It was an awkward confession, one he’d already used a hundred different times. He didn’t care. He’d use it a hundred more, if he had to. “I’m a wreck. I can barely remember my own name, and some days I can’t even do that. I can’t fight, I can’t eat, I can hardly breathe. Every morning, I wonder what it would be like to wake up to your smile, and every night, I stare at my ceiling and loath myself because I’m not holding you in my arms. For fuck’s sake, just yesterday, I almost kissed Albedo because the chemicals he was working with reminded me of the way your favorite kind of flower smells, and I’m just so fucking desperate, I convinced myself that was the closest I’d ever come to kissing you.”

He was rambling, by the end, panting, yelling, but you only blinked when he was done, once, then twice. Your dull nails bit into the edges of your scroll, but you didn’t seem to mind, nor did you move to roll it up as you finally turned to face him, the confusion written clearly across your expression. “You kissed Albedo?”

“You don’t get it,” He said, and you nodded in agreement. “You don’t fucking get it.”

“I think I do,” You admitted, more earnestly. Your gaze dropped back to the ground, and instantly, Kaeya deflated. “I just… I just don’t think it’d work out, if I’m being honest. I’m still new. I still have to give everyone else a reason to trust me, and I don’t think it’s in my best interest to start a relationship with one of my superiors so early on.” You paused, laughing to yourself, and something in Kaeya’s chest tightened. It was the happiest he’d been since he met you, and he still felt like you’d pushed a sword through his heart and twisted. “But, you don’t really want a relationship, do you? You’re just bored, and you need something to fixate on. I’m the most available option, so...” You trailed off, finishing your sentence with a vague, stilted sweeping gesture. “It’ll be easier for both of us, this way. I like you, Captain, but I don’t like you enough to put myself through that.”

It was all he could do to remember how to open his mouth. Once he did, the words came stumbling out on their own.

“Of course.”

~

Kaeya was a man, determined.

Determined might’ve been the wrong word for it. Too soft, too suggestive, the impression too positive and the meaning too vague. ‘Depraved’ might’ve suited him better, but that was too harsh, too primitive, and he’d like to think he’d been as gentle as anyone could expect him to be, given your stubbornness. He’d tried to be gentle. He’d wanted to be gentle. If he was going to do this to you, he could at least do it gently. You deserved that much, at least.

Or, maybe you didn’t. Maybe you didn’t deserve any of this.

He couldn’t really make up his mind, about that.

“Lisa?”

And he was gentle, more so than he had to be. Sure, you were on the floor, bare stone already beginning to chafe at your skin, but the shackles around your wrists were padded, and he’d given you enough slack to sit down, to ball yourself up, to act like it’d never crossed your mind that he’d resort to something so… easily misinterpreted. The blindfold was, similarly, an act of mercy. You’d panic if you woke up like this, chained to a wall in someone else’s cellar, and Kaeya didn’t want that. You needed time, and he could give you that. He would give you that. Even if it pained him to stay at arm’s length.

“Amber?”

He wanted to touch you. It’d be easy, now, easier than it’d ever been before. You wouldn’t be able to push him away, and even if you tried to, he could always overpower you. Take you by the neck, pin you against the floor, leave you shaking and trembling and begging, pleading with a captor you couldn’t see. He’d find a way to make it up to you, later on. He’d find a way to lie, to smile, to make it better, even if he’d failed to time and time again, out there. But, this would be different. You wouldn’t be able to cling to your excuses, and he’d be able to show you how much he cared, how much he wanted this, how much he loved you. This would be better.

“Kaeya?”

See? You were already coming around.

Your voice was already soft, hesitant, a sliver of a whisper that was constantly on the verge of dying out completely. You were trying not to make noise, trying not to seem as terrified as you really were, but he could hear the way your breath hitched as he took a step forward, your restraints rattling as you curled into yourself. You couldn’t hide from him, but you wanted to. That much was obvious. You didn’t want this.

But, he did. More than you could ever want to run away from it.

He wanted to touch you, but he held himself back. Instead, he only kneeled in front of you, letting himself linger for a moment before he spoke. “I’m here, love.”

“Where are we?” You were afraid, too scared to put the pieces together. Not while you could still hope there was another explanation. Not while you could still deny the apparent. “My head hurts, and I can’t--”

“I know, and I’ll make it up to you.” This time, he let himself reach out, cupping your cheek and chuckling as you tried to shy away. The two of you could work on that, later on. He could live with the guilt if he let himself enjoy it, now. “Just give me a moment, alright? Just a second, then I’ll take care of you.”

You opened your mouth, then you closed it again. Kaeya wondered if you’d be bold enough to refuse if he did try to kiss you, or hold you, or go further than the fleeting touches he’d swore would keep him satisfied, at first, at least. He wondered if he’d care, when you did. “Are… are you going to hurt me?”

He wanted to reassure you. He wanted to promise he’d be patient, that he’d understand if you lashed out, that violence wasn’t an option he was willing to consider, but he couldn’t, like this, could he? He didn’t want to hurt you, but he’d never wanted to kidnap you, either, not until you made it obvious he didn’t have another choice. He didn’t want to stoop so low, he didn’t want you to hate him, but…

But, he was lying again, wasn’t he?

To tell the truth, he couldn’t remember the last time he genuinely cared whether or not you loved him back.

You stifled a scream as his hand dropped to your jaw, his grip tightening as he jerked you forward, just close enough to wrap his arm around your waist, to bury his face in the side of your neck, to get a taste of what you’d deprived him of. It wasn’t enough, he doubted it’d ever be enough, but he had you. He had you, he was close to you, and he had you. That had to be enough, for now.

“We’ll see.”

[fixyourwritinghabits]

On Publishing Trends and You: Are You Even Allowed to Write BIPOC Characters Anymore?

Okay I’ve seen this both willfully misinterpreted and unintentionally so, but ultimately it seems to be summarized as thus:

Waaaah, meanies on twitter say white people can’t write stories about people of color!!

Or something to that affect. Look, it’s really hard to have sympathy for this viewpoint because it requires taking things so out of context you’ve twisted yourself into a pretzel. Let’s look at publishing trends and how we got here, starting with:

Own Voices: The #OwnVoices hashtag started as a way for marginalized people to pitch books based on their own experiences. Thanks to the great work of DVPit, Disability in Kidlit, and We Need Diverse Books, and others (please feel free to give shout-outs in comments/reblogs). To say OwnVoices is the main drive is misleading - a lot of great work has been put into increasing diversity in publishing before and after the OwnVoices movement, it’s just one of the more visible marketing techniques for how books are promoted today.

So how did an effort to promote marginalized people writing stories from their own perspective become ‘white people aren’t allow to _____ anymore’? GOOD Question! First, let’s look at some statistics:

Boy, that sure looks bad, huh? Well, wait, I’m sure the statistics have improved immensely -

Huh. Well, that’s some improvement. A whole .1% for Indigenous folks and hey, non-human characters more than doubled what the hell.

So you’ll notice two things right off the bat - first, this conversation is mostly taking place around Children’s/Middle Grade/Young Adult books. While it’s true diversity is also lacking in Adult books, it’s very important to provide young readers with books that not only appeal and reflect their own experiences, but are not actively harmful, unintentional or otherwise.

The bulk of this movement - from what publishers are buying, what agents are looking for, and what the twitter conversations are about - are focused on kidlit, because kidlit tends to be stories focused on finding your identity and yourself. One way to focus these personal stories is to not only promote and encourage BIPOC authors writing BIPOC centered books, but to take a step back from these spaces to allow those opportunities to exist. That’s why #OwnVoices will continue to be a big factor in publishing.

Now, the next reaction tends to swing for the bleaches:

This means all my characters have to be white or twitter will hate me forever!!1!

No, it doesn’t. Publishers/Agents/Readers still want diverse stories. What it does mean is that you have to be mindful of how you’re including BIPOC in your stories. You might have seen some of this discussion (possibly out of context) about the authenticity of dotting your stories with people of color with no thought to why they exist in your story and how they experience events. Or, as a friend of mine put it, making “ambiguously brown” people in fantasy, and both these criticisms have real merit. If you’re not considering how all your characters dwell in the world you create, be it a normal high school or a dragon fighting competition, you’re doing both yourself and your readers a huge disservice. It is worth it to take the effort to make your characters believable people, and not just existing for brownie points.

(Also, twitter can be an absolute pit of vipers and while it’s important to follow publishing conversations there, you must keep in mind that not everyone is acting in good faith and it’s more important to look where there is genuine conversation rather than focus on a small group of people being particularly nasty. If it is negatively affecting your mental health, bail out.)

So, to sum up:

Is it true I can’t ever make my main character a BIPOC if I’m a white author? No one can ever ‘make’ you not do anything. All people are asking is for you to consider why you’re telling this story from this perspective, who you’re telling the story for, and if you might be unintentionally contributing to a wider problem of a lack of diversity in publishing.

Is it true I can’t write ANY BIPOC characters? No. What is true is that you should give all your characters a good level of thought and if you have worries, seek out critique partners or consider hiring a sensitivity reader* for your work (*this is entirely dependent on where you are in the publishing process. It is a waste of money and time to pay someone to do a sensitivity read on a first draft. You might not even consider this step until you have an agent or have gotten a lot of feedback suggesting it.)

What if my story has multiple POV? Again, you’re going to have to cycle back to why you’re making the choices you’re making, and who you’re writing for. There is always room for nuance and you’ll find plenty of multiple POV books written by white authors with BIPOC characters. The question boils down to the story you’re trying to tell, and why.

What if I’m writing Adult fiction? I’ve left Adult fiction out of the above conversation because it is mostly centered on kidlit, but there still is a nuance conversation to have about making space for BIPOC authors. I’ll link some perspectives below.

One last important note is that by focusing this conversation on what white people can’t do, you are once again stripping the focus of the conversation from the BIPOC perspectives on it and centering it on whiteness. You can’t change how many diverse books are published or how we give all readers the narratives they need. You can work on how you contribute to it and hopefully for the better.

READ MORE:

An Updated Look at Diversity in Children’s Books (where the above graphics were sourced from)

Why Do White Writers Keep Fictionalizing Black Experiences?

 The American Dirt Controversy: Lessons for Writers on Getting Cultures Right  (Adult fiction)

Racism vs. Representation: The Missteps of Naomi Novik’s A Deadly Education

Who Gave You the Right to Tell That Story? Ten authors on the most divisive question in fiction, and the times they wrote outside their own identities. (Adult Fiction)

Videos:

Here are some great videos from BookTuber Withcindy, someone I highly recommend following:

Should white authors write non-white characters? *A closer look at the Whiteness of Addie LaRue*

What happens when you try to be inclusive, but mess up anyway? *A closer look at A Deadly Education*

[dyinginlava]

Analysing “Let Me Be Your Vassal” (aka that one Dream & Wilbur conversation)

Wherein Cy decides going line by line through a scene from five months ago is a wonderful idea

Alright, let’s go! Recently I went back to watch Wilbur’s ‘Am I The Villain?’ video, since it was the first DSMP video I actually watched and I noticed something that made me actually go and find the vod from October 8th to specifically watch it: the details of Wilburs conversation with Dream where he asks for the TNT. Now, this did happen about five months ago now, but I think it would be good to look at this scene both with further character information we have now, and hopefully to clarify some things that newer fans might not be aware of! There’s also the fact that c!Wilbur is likely returning to the story soon.

I will be using quotes with timestamps to support my analysis, from this video. When [...] is used, it is to indicate an irrelevant tangent or repetition. Also, I feel it is important to note that this analysis is not meant to indicate moral judgement in any way: it is intended as a unbiased look at character actions and motivations.

First, let’s establish the exact situation here. At this point in time, we’re before the festival, and Dream has volunteered to help Pogtopia and has already given Technoblade supplies. He had also written a book to Tommy wherein he stated he didn’t support Schlatt due to his power-hungry ambitions, unlike Wilbur. After being seen as a villain in the last war, he didn’t want to become publicly involved especially through breaking a peace treaty, and instead offered to help from the shadows. He also gave Tommy his crossbow and some armour along with the book. While some may doubt his intentions as stated, I have reason to believe he’s being honest, as will be mentioned later. (Information taken directly from the book Tyrant, given to Tommy by Dream).

On Wilbur’s side, he’d just had his ‘then let’s be the bad guys’ moment after seeing Schlatt announce the festival, talking with Tommy on the way back to Pogtopia.

“We burn the place to the fucking ground!” - Wilbur 1:10:50

He starts making a plan:

“Okay, here’s the plan, right? Dream, Dream is on our side, Dream has TNT, Dream has everything, right? I say, we talk to Dream, and we ask him, very nicely, very kindly, ‘Dream, give us all the TNT you have’” - Wilbur 1:12:20

“The only reason Dream is working with us is because of the fact that we are the enemies of his enemies! That’s it! That’s all that joins... this!” - Wilbur, to Tommy 1:14:30

I feel a need to note here, that anything Wilbur says to Tommy about their allies shouldn’t be taken at face value: at this point his paranoia has begun clouding his view, as he also distrusts Tubbo, and later even doubts Tommy.

“Everyone who’s claiming to be on our side, they’re lying to us! Tubbo? he’s lying to you man! He would drop us at the second he realises that we’re not in the lead anymore!” - Wilbur, to Tommy 1:16:10

He has no proof to back up his claim about Dream, and personally I’m inclined to not believe his claim, seeing as Dream previously had no issue with L’Manberg after the peace treaty.

After some tunnel shenanigans happen, Wilbur asks Dream to talk privately: the conversation starts at 1:31:30

The conversation begins with Wilbur informing Dream about the festival, which he was previously unaware of. Dream laughs at the mention of the festival being a celebration of democracy, but whether this is because of his disdain for Schlatt or a personal dislike of democracy is unclear (question for another time: is c!Dream a monarchist? The SMP is technically ruled by a king after all, but they fulfil more of a neutral peacekeeping role in general. Theocracy???).

Wilbur then asks Dream if he thinks he and Tommy are the bad guys in the situation, and like Tommy, he disagrees. Wilbur proceeds to explain his reasoning, and then asks Dream what he thinks.

“I think that sometimes, a ruler is unfit, and that causes problems” - Dream 1:32:50

Wilbur then starts trying to persuade Dream to help him.

“Dream, I think you have vested interest though, I think that you would enjoy there to be conflict between Manberg and Pogtopia. And you know what, I’m here to facilitate that!” - Wilbur 1:33:00

Dream immediately denies this, and returns to talking about Schlatt.

“I don’t— Jschlatts a little bit more ambitious than you I’d say” - Dream 1:33:20

Note that at this point, Tommy meets up with Wilbur but is not in vc. Ignoring what Dream has just said, Wilbur makes his pitch:

“Dream, Dream, let me be your vassal! Dream, I understand you have a lot of TNT?” - Wilbur 1:33:25

Dream confirms that he has TNT.

“Dream, I want to be your vassal, I want to set this up, I want to rig the city” - Wilbur 1:33:40

This is the first time Wilbur mentions using the TNT to destroy L’Manberg. I also want to point out the use of the term ‘vassal’ here, as while the line itself is very well known, I’ve yet to see someone point out the relevant definition here is ‘a person or country in a subordinate position to another’ which you might notice, isn’t really the case here. Wilbur is asking Dream to supply him with something, there’s nothing subordinate about it. It could be that he’s implying that he’ll owe Dream for the favour, or it could be him seeing it as ‘helping’ Dream by destroying L’Manberg, as we’ve established his paranoia is leading him to see his allies in a negative light.

The two decide to meet at Pogtopia, and Tommy speaks up for the first time in the conversation.

“Dream, Dream don’t give it to him. It’s not right!”- Tommy

“Tommy it’s too... I have to.” - Dream 1:33:50 (overlapping)

‘I have to’ is an interesting line, and I’m assuming he’s referring to the promise he made to assist Pogtopia by supplying them. It does highlight how, at this point in time, Dream still seems hesitant about the plan.

Wilbur then starts talking to Dream but abruptly switches to talking to Tommy instead.

“Dream, I appreciate ... cause you see Tommy, the thing you’re not understanding is Dream only gave you that gear so that you could cause this conflict! You see, this is what it’s all about, Dream doesn’t want us to win! Dream just wants both Pogtopia and Manberg to be weak! [...] and Dream I’m not scolding you on this, it’s smart, you’re smart..” - Wilbur 1:34:00

To clarify my stance on this to people who are newer to the fandom, during Pogtopia, Dream and Tommy were actually on good, even friendly terms. It’s not until Dream joined Manberg that they became enemies again. Personally, I see this as Wilbur trying to make Tommy distrust Dream just as he did with Tubbo, although interpretations may differ. Wilbur complimenting Dream can be seen as trying to get on his good side and/or trying to persuade Dream that he wants to help Wilbur with the TNT.

“I’m here to help you, I’m here to weaken both of us!” - Wilbur 1:34:25

Dream then gets a chance to speak.

“I do want Pogtopia and Manberg to be nothing more, and I want L’Manberg to be... something” - Dream 1:34:40

Tommy asks why he wants L’Manberg back after he fought against them over it before.

“Schlatt is ambitious, and that’s a bad thing. He wants power, he wants land, he wants to expand. You having your own little server [...] that’s fine by me!” - Dream 1:34:55

Here Dream claims that due to Schlatt being power hungry he stands against him, but didn’t have an issue with L’Manberg just existing. I’m inclined to believe this claim, as it matches up with his actions in between the war and the elections. He also claims to have had a change of heart about L’Manberg, which again, seems to line up with his actions.

Wilbur then lets out a very evil sounding laugh, very melodramatic, I applaud cc!Wilbur for it. He then says something that I think is extremely important to this analysis, and part of why I made it in the first place.

“Dream, this has made me ambitious! If I’m taking power again I will be ambitious! Let me blow it up, let me destroy it all!” - Wilbur 1:35:15

Now considering what both Wilbur and Dream have been saying, there a very obvious conclusion you can come too here: Wilbur is claiming that he’d be just as bad as Schlatt if he was back in power, that there would be no getting the old L’Manberg back, that Dream would be better off helping his plan. Now obviously Wilbur isn’t evil— he’s paranoid, angry, and desperate— but this is what he claims to Dream, who’s knows he’s been willing to fight for L’Manberg before and has said he (Dream) wants to avoid fighting L’Manberg again. I know a lot of c!Wilbur fans get annoyed at people saying Wilbur manipulated Dream during Pogtopia, but you can’t deny that this moment specifically is manipulative: he’s specifically lying about his intentions to convince someone to help him. And it works! Dream arrives, and hands over the TNT to Wilbur.

Wilbur heads back to the entrance to Pogtopia, where Tommy holds him at bowpoint before Dream steps in, handing Wilbur a shield. Tommy talks about how they can rebuild L’Manberg rather than destroying it, but Wilbur laughs at it. Dream turns to leave.

“Dream, I will do you proud” - Wilbur 1:36:55

Dream offers to help him if he needs it, and Wilbur warns him about the festival. Dream leaves the game, marking the end of the conversation at 1:37:41.

When heading back into Pogtopia, Wilbur talks to chat about Dream being a ‘good guy’ but also repeating what he said before about Dream just wanting both sides to be weak.

Now that the main analysis is done, I did want to mention a few things that didn’t really fit within the main body for whatever reason: not enough evidence, may be biased etc. For one thing, I definitely noticed a shift in how Wilbur spoke to Dream, from initially just asking him for TNT to almost acting like the TNT was Dream’s idea. This could tie into the manipulation I noted, or it could just be a result of his paranoia causing him to misinterpret what Dream really wants. Or both! As I mentioned before, Wilbur’s narration can’t really be trusted because of this, but what we can do is compare actions and words: if what a person says their motives are lines up with how they act, then they’re probably being honest. There’s also the matter of context— Dream claiming to Eret that he’s always wanted everything to be Dream SMP territory when dethroning them doesn’t make much sense if you compare it to how he acted about L’Manberg after the war, at least until you realise he’s talking to the king of the Dream SMP and trying to play into what he thinks she wants— he even emphasise that them being able to take over after the war between Manberg and Pogtopia is only a possibility.

Anyway, this took a while but was fun to write, and hopefully even if you don’t agree with my personal interpretation of these events, looking at the quotes will hopefully be helpful for coming to your own conclusions! :D