#i know first hand how amazing it is to get an in depth comment to a fic

[justalonelyslytherin]

Sometime in November of 2022, I started a spreadsheet to document all the awesome fics I was reading on Tumblr, and while I didn't talk about it, I continued doing this in 2023 too.

And I just got around to thinking it might be a good idea to see how many fics/posts I read last year in total. drum roll...

228 individual posts! That includes oneshots as well as chapters of series and the odd masterpost

I knew I read a lot in some months but it still is a lot. At the same time, it's not nearly enough because I know there are so many more amazing fics out, that I want to read and comment on and get a chance to reblog and more keep getting posted!

[moonlightndaydreams]

Fem!reader is ready to lose her virginity to her bf Chan. Problem is he’s big.

A follow up story to this after receiving this comment/request.

CW: oral sex, vaginal fingering, reader loses virginity, coming inside, praise, pet names, chan is big.

Channie has a big cock. No doubt about it. You know this from the countless times you've been giving him head lately. He's always amazed at how much you can fit in your mouth. The way you can open up your throat so well that it almost makes him cum from just one thrust. He can't wait until he can see you take him in your sweet little pussy. He knows you're going to be so tight and that he'll need to keep himself under control as to not just start fucking you in earnest.

You've been thinking about it too. At night, in bed while you use your dildo on yourself. It's nowhere near the size on Chan. You never imagined that your 'first time' was going to be with a man with a huge dick. Maybe you should buy a bigger dildo to practice with? That way you might be able to take him a little easier. The thought of him teasing your folds with his fat head has you crying out and clenching your toy. You're so ready for your boyfriend to be inside you. You're going to tell him tomorrow.

🫦🫦🫦

"Fuck, babygirl... so wet." Channie hums from between your legs. He needs to get you nice and ready for him if you have any chance of taking him. He holds your legs open and continues to gently suck and lap at your sensitive pussy. “Love your pretty pussy, babygirl.”

He works a finger into you slowly. Then another. He often finger fucks you with three fingers. It’s a good start, but it’s nowhere near the level you’re going to have to open up for his cock.

He directs his fingers in a “come hither” motion, digging into your g-spot while he picks up the pace with his tongue. You start to writhe on the bed, squirming and whimpering in high pitched little squeaks as you come around his fingers.

He chuckles against you, slowly withdrawing his fingers and settling up on his knees between your legs.

“How was that, sweet doll?” He grinned massaging your thighs reassuringly.

“Mmm. Channie…fuck…so good.” You say breathlessly, coming down from your high.

“You still sure you want to try this?” He asks softly.

“Please… I wanna…wanna feel you…properly.” You each up to touch his arm. “I really am ready.” You look at him with pleading eyes.

“Fuck. Can’t say no to you. You’ll be the death of me.” He shakes his head.

You settle yourself on your elbows and look down at where Chan is stroking his cock. You gulp. It’s terrifying and alluring in equal measure.

“Just gonna tease you for a bit. Just like we’ve done before, yeah?” He sooths. You watch with hooded eyes as he presses the tip of his cock against your pussy. You moan and bite your bottom lip and glance up at him. He meets your eyes and smirks, before you drop your eyes to where he’s sliding his cock up and down through your folds.

You whimper when you see his precum mix with your own arousal, and as pulls his cock away it forms a string of stickiness between you. It’s filthy hot.

“Okay, babygirl…I think you should get on top.” His voice is strained. “You can control the depth that way.”

Chan takes your place on the bed and you climb over to straddle him. “Try just grinding against me… yeah… fuck… just like that.” He holds your hips and guides you to grind over the entire length of his cock. It feels incredible rubbing your pussy against him like this, coating his shaft in your wetness.

“Lean in against me. Let me hold you.” Chan wraps his arms around you, bring you in for a deep kiss and grind a little faster on him. You giggle and drop your head to rest in the crook of his neck.

His hands caress your back, making his way slowly down to cup your ass. “Babygirl, I’m doing my best to go at your pace, but your body…fuck it feels so good against me like this.” He grinds back against you hard and you whimper against his neck. “I have to be inside you.” He hums low in your ear.

“Channie, please. Oh..uhh…uhhh.” You feel him reach for his cock and push it against your opening. But instead of teasing you like he has been for the past few weeks, he pushes his cock into you. Just the tip.

“F-fuck…S’thick…S’big…oh…uh…fuck.” You babble as he stretches your opening. Chan pulls your cheeks wider and pushes his hips up ever so slightly. But it feels like so much cock already.

“Shhh…shhh…Channie’s got you.” He soothes you and strokes your asscheeks with his hand.

His encouraging words and patience make you melt against his strong body. You hold onto him tight as he lifts his hips whilst at the same time pushes you a little more onto his cock. It stings, but it’s soon replaced with a sense of pleasure.

“You’re doing so good babygirl…feel so tight…so perfect… how is it feeling for you baby?”

“So full…so..so…” you can barely speak the feeling is so intense.

“S’kay babydoll. You guide me…you set the pace… only go as deep as you feel comfortable, yeah? Look at me.”

You used your elbows to prop yourself up, your face hovering above his.

“We have all the time in the world. So much time to fuck.” He assures you. “We don’t have to do too much—”

You allowed yourself to sink further onto his cock. “Want all of you Channie.” You purr.

“That’s my girl… Horny little lady, hmm?” He bites his lip and gives you a look that tells you that he wants to devour you.

You take your time, experimenting with the depth and angle, until you eventually feel your body meet his pelvis. He is fully inside of you. You’ve never felt a stretch like it, have never felt this full. He’s so deep inside your body. Finally. It’s so much better than you’ve imagined in your bed at night.

You roll your hips, finding that this motion allows his cock to drag your walls in such a satisfying way. Until it becomes not enough and you feel the urge to bounce on his cock.

“That’s it…look at you. Look at you… fucking good girl… taking cock like you were made for it.” Chan pants as he smiles up at you.

You start to build up the pace, your cunt starting to squelch loudly, the sound drowned out only by your moans as you bounce on him.

“It’s all you, babygirl. You’re fucking yourself right now. How’s it feel?” He says from underneath you.

“F-feels…fuck…so deep…your so fucking deep.” You cry.

“Such a hungry pussy. You’ve been keeping her starving, haven’t you? She’s needed this…needed to be stretched with a big cock, hmmm?”

It isn’t long before you become tired and short of breath. The tension in your core building and building as you approach your orgasm. It’s too much. It feels too good.

“Use me, babygirl. Use my cock. S’all yours… ngh…fuck…that’s it’s… ride my cock.”

Your movements become erratic. “Too…too hard…fuck me…Channie…please.” You beg as you flop on top of him in exhaustion. “So close…so close….need to come…please help me come.”

Chan holds you by your ass and plants his feet onto the mattress and fucks up into you. He’s so close, he’s about to explode.

“Ngh…nghhh…uhhh…uhhh…fuck…c-coming. I’m coming. I’m fucking com—” the breath is knocked from your lungs as he fucks you fast and deep, but not hard. He’s being careful not to be rough.

You squeeze and pulse around Chan’s cock causing him to release himself inside you with a loud groan.

“Fuck, babygirl…my sweet babygirl.” He smiles up at you and cups your cheek. His eyes are full of love and the classic look of post-cum bliss.

“I fucking love you. Thank you for choosing me.” He whispers and pulls you in for another long deep kiss.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @chansbabyg @kangnina @weareapackofstrays @xxkissesforchanniexx @enjaken @queenmea604 @lyramundana @2chopsticks2eyes @queen-in-the-shadows @bethanysnow @newhope8 @chuuchuu1224 @vanillacupcakefrosting @3rachasdomesticbanana @fun-fanfics @palindrome969 @wolfennracha @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist

[heartfeltcherie]

I'm here for Alastor and Lucifer meeting a sinner who is in personality like Aurora 🥺

aurora is my favourite disney princess so this was so fun and exciting to write <33 (unless you didn’t mean that kind of concept then… completely disregard this lol)

☾. °.   ࿐  ` , •

lucifer;

it must have been one of his lucky days (which he counts a lot, since he doesn’t have many of them) when lucifer crossed paths with you. and he was sure the pupils in his eyes had taken the form of hearts because “oh my golly, you’re so beautiful.” and he doesn’t realize he’s said that out loud until he hears the most angelic giggle (which is odd, beings as you’re in hell) paired with a soft spoken voice. “oh, thank you. you’re too kind”

how you ended up in hell, let alone the pride ring, absolutely baffled him. you’re too sweet, and kind, and gentle to be down here amongst these other sinners who left their manners back in their past life.

upon meeting you, he wonders if he’s got a chance with you. your relationship flashes in his mind of him making you laugh with his terrible jokes and him showing you his entire collection of rubber ducks (he’s sure to go home and make a new one, inspired by you, of course).

he melts when he sees how good you are with razzle, dazzle, and keekee — he swears he’s never met someone so amazing with animals before. and the way you’re so kind to his daughter and her friends makes him think that he’s found the one… which is a lot, since he lost lilith so long ago.

he takes you back to his house and puts on a show for you both to watch (some old timey film that you suggested).

he tells you to make yourself comfortable and he feels his heart leap when you lay down and put your head on his lap.

“sorry, is this too much? i can move-”

“no! no, you’re perfect right there- uhm. you don’t need to move, i-it’s pretty cozy”

“hehe okay :)”

it doesn’t take long before lucifer realizes he’s the only one watching the film while you’re fast asleep in the comfort of his lap. he looks down at you all soft and chuckles to himself.

“yup. this is definitely a sign”

alastor;

he’s very… confused, when he first meets you. tilting his head with that same smile he usually has on his face, leaving everyone to wonder what he’s truly thinking… and it’s about you.

he feels it’s a mistake. a dumb mistake made by those things that have the audacity to call themselves “angels”. you’re too perfect, and good to be in a place like this. you deserve to be in a place filled with greenery and soft shades of pinks and lavenders, not in the fiery depths of hell.

you’re shy. and he takes notice of this right away, using it for his own personal advantage; enjoying the way you stumble over your words and nervously fidget with your hands as he asks you “cat got your tongue, my dear?”

“it’s not everyday you come face-to-face with a powerful overlord”

he doesn’t know what or how he feels about you, but there’s a feeling stirring down inside of him. something perhaps like… adoration? no, it couldn’t be. he never feels that way towards anyone.

but you’ve got this softness that surrounds your whole being that he can’t shake from his mind — you’ve even (accidentally, oops) called him handsome which caused his ears to twitch and a very loud record scratch that hurt poor husk’s ears.

“i’m well aware, my dear. but you’re kindness is appreciated”

everyone sees the way you both secretly look at each other (alastor denies it but he knows it’s true) and you can’t help but be nervous every time alastor is next to you, pinks cheeks and a fast beating heart that you’re sure he hears.

“i’ve noticed you get quite on the edge when i’m near you. pray tell why that is?”

“al, it’s… nothing”

“don’t worry, cher. you’re lucky i happen to like the sound of your beating heart. especially knowing that it’s mine. isn’t that right?”

taglist 🏷️ @crystal-rayn @drxgonspine

comments and reblogs are great appreciated!

[slttygeto]

༉‧₊˚. PLAYLIST

༉‧₊˚. episode 04: lonely star

preview: ". . .He knows a part of him is right, what he said wasn’t wrong. Perhaps, he could’ve said it in a different way—whenever he remembers the dejected expression across your features, the attempt at covering up the hurt behind your eyes by pulling away from him as though he was fire—his heart sits heavy.

And then the two of you didn’t talk again. He didn’t bother to try to text you, and you would never text him first."

content warning: cursing, hanma owns a strip club, oral s.ex, unprotected s.ex, choking, hair pulling, no aftercare.

word count: 7k

➜ ┊: @softshuji @mitsuwuyaa @kariatenoh @reiners-milkbiddies @citrusteaa @bejeweled-night-33

➜ MASTERLIST

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

Tokyo was a bustling city. People escape from the mundane using any source of entertainment allowed. From going shopping to partying, the city provides numerous remedies for any challenging moment a person might experience. There, in the depths and labyrinth streets of Tokyo and its lively nightlife, exists a world that only unravels to those who dare seek it. Hidden between tall buildings and colorful signs, paradise on earth stands proudly.

A black car pulls up in the alleyway, parking right outside the back entrance of a disheveled looking building. The door opens and cigarette hits the dirty floor. A foot crashes the bud, adorned in squeaky clean shoes that do not fit the vibe of the creepy alleyway. Golden Glow reads in bright neon light right above the back door. The man’s slender fingers push the wooden door open, stepping into a vibrating world of sensuality and allure where reality and fantasy blur for hours on end at night.

The air is thick with perfume and anticipation, a line of rich men of all backgrounds sitting on the deep red plush seating facing the focal point of the strip club. Murmurs of who will be performing next fill the room and the tall man makes his way towards the VIP table.

“You’re late.” Kisaki doesn’t pull his eyes away from the curtains waiting to unravel tonight’s star, more or less used to this kind of behavior from his right hand.

“I had to take care of something.” Announces Hanma as he pulls his seat back and grabs a cigarette. The relationship he had with smoking was more of a toxic affair—a continuous tag of war between depending on the small bud and desiring a whiff of the substance when things get a bit too hectic. With each inhale, he feels a momentary release from existing. He’s never enjoyed it, not fully at least. Existing meant he had to abide by rules, which he never did. Breakups were nasty, women lashing out insults towards the man they called a God only a few nights prior—they should’ve known better, is what he tells them every time. He never claimed to be a good person, just a good—no, an amazing fuck.

Hanma’s dick serves as a distraction from his violent nature, he momentarily hypnotizes those women with each sharp and angled thrust from his hips. Deliciously dragging out moans, whines and profanities, proclaims of how godly he feels and how they’ve never had better. He is good at using and not giving much in return, he shows it through prioritizing his orgasm, only speaking when the dirty talk tips him over the edge. Shuji doesn’t budge as a pillow is thrown his way, ‘asshole!’ sounds from behind the door he’s just closed and he swears he could feels his fingers twitch. He’ll spare the cleaning staff of the hotel a blood bath tonight.

“You took too long,” Nahoya adds his two cents as usual, and the tall man wonders what the orange haired even provides for him to remain alive and attending special nights like these.

“It’s your club, you’re supposed to get here first.” Kisaki presses and the lights dim as the curtains open, revealing tonight’s a woman clad in a gorgeous set of deep red lingerie. She commands attention with the way her body carries her across the stage, each step is like a soft whisper, beckoning more people to look at her—admire her. She embraces the power she holds over the spectators, feeling a surge of dopamine push her to do better.

“You’re not my fucking dad. I’ll get here when I want to.” His fingers tremble as he drags the cigarette away from his lips, resting his wrist on the table as his whole hand shakes. You would think that years of smoking would get the man used to the motion, familiarized with the aftermath of each whiff—somehow, it doesn’t. Through furrowed eyebrows and behind framed glasses, Kisaki notes the unusual behavior from the man. He is far too moody, perhaps more than usual. Hanma took pleasure into killing, coming back from missions was almost as euphoric as an orgasm after being denied for so long. As far as his report went, the mission was done and Toman’s men were able to discard of the dead body rather easily. So what was wrong?

The younger man doesn’t say anything, he waits until the show wraps up and for people’s attention to drift elsewhere to speak to the taller man. As Hanma, not so quietly, slips away from the table and onto one of the VIP rooms upstairs, Kisaki soon joins him.

“So, wanna talk about what’s up your ass lately?”

“What do you mean?” Hanma’s voice is devoid of any emotion, but he still looks unimpressed as he casts half a glare towards Kisaki.

“You know what I mean. Something’s up your ass, you need to fucking pull it out and do your job. I don’t need a moody bitch as my first in command.”

Hanma’s heard worse over the years, he knows what it meant to be involved with someone as nasty and as disgusting as Kisaki. However, he was having a bad week and Kisaki came to him at the wrong moment.

“This moody bitch will blow holes into your brain and make it seem like it was a pathetic attempt to kill yourself. Don’t fuck with me.” The tension rises between the two men, silence engulfs the room that’s hidden to the rest of the audience. They’ve had to fight before, the scars littering Hanma’s arms a reminder of Kisaki’s knife slashing the man’s skin. The shorter man’s own scarred hands a grim testament to what Shuji was capable of doing. The two of them don’t speak another word.

Kisaki sits on one of the soft chairs facing Hanma, placing his gun on the tiny glass table. The other man does the same, and it feels like a silent agreement that neither of them was going to harm the other.

“I went to her place.” There’s no question about who he is referring to. Kisaki knows all too well who you are. He’s seen you from afar when you were all young, unknowingly grasping the heart of a delinquent who’s never known what the feelings he had for you even meant. His face twitches as he remembers the conversation he had with the man a couple of weeks ago.

“You found her?”

“She’s back in Shinjuku.” Kisaki doesn’t miss the way Chifuyu’s body tenses up when the two men mention your name. He’s managed to keep you away from this mess for years now, his plan was coming crashing down from a single interaction with Hanma Shuji. Like domino pieces lined up, the tattooed man blows on them and watches them tumble just for fun. He was after you just for fun, Chifuyu fears.

“And? What do you wanna do now?” Kisaki’s busy rummaging through papers in his drawers, he doesn’t lift his gaze as he continues. “Do you want the men to take her away or?”

Sensing his silence, Tetta raises his eyes and notices the deadly look on Hanma’s face. Had it not been Kisaki, a man who’s known him for years and was desensitized to his glares, he would’ve most likely fallen from his chair. His eyes became storm clouds, hiding their usual golden color and crackling with the threat of lightning. Hanma’s never cast him a look similar to this before, usually blessed with an emotionless face.

“No. I don’t want any of them near her.”

Kisaki leans back against his seat. He’s seen Hanma get riled up over things like missions going wrong, people pissing him off, testing his patience—this was a different kind of negative emotion he was displaying. Dare Kisaki say that it was fun to witness? Perhaps even unexpected from the tall man? But he doesn’t say a thing, only gives a curt nod and proceeds to finish the task at hand.

“Why is that?” he asks, curious to know what lead the man to end up in your place.

He glances towards his fingers which had long ago healed, he could still feel your fingertips against his skin, warm breath fanning over his wrist as you tended to his wounds with so much care, as though you were stitching a tiny tear in a delicate fabric.

“She cleaned me up.” Kisaki has to blink a couple of times, but he notices how Shuji keeps his gaze fixated on his fingers. He chews on his bottom lip out of habit. The band aid wrapped around them is unfamiliar, the man’s never taken care of himself this way—oddly enough, Kisaki feels that Hanma had a strange attachment to the adhesive strip keeping his healed cuts safe. It has been days since that incident, he most definitely did not need to cover his hands that way.

“Cleaned you up?” Kisaki pours himself and the other man a glass of whisky, pushing one of the glasses towards Hanma.

“Saw my hands and thought that I was in pain.” The taller man mumbles as he brings the glass of whisky up to his swollen lips. Downing the liquid like rapid fire, he slams the glass on the table and leans in his chair, head thrown back as he grunts.

“I think I fucked up.” Hanma admits, his hand covering his eyes. He hasn’t stopped thinking about you or your touch since that night. So soft, offering him what he has deprived himself of for years—you were so gentle with his hands, treating him as though he was made of glass. Your beautiful eyes witnessed the harm he is capable of causing to others, yet your soul set that aside to make sure he was okay.

Only for him to mess it up.

He knows a part of him is right, what he said wasn’t wrong. Perhaps, he could’ve said it in a different way—whenever he remembers the dejected expression across your features, the attempt at covering up the hurt behind your eyes by pulling away from him as though he was fire—his heart sits heavy.

And then the two of you didn’t talk again. He didn’t bother to try to text you, and you would never text him first.

He was growing impatient with each passing second. He wasn’t an expert at solving this kind of problems, let alone when it involved him in the equation. However, one thing was for certain; his insatiable need to feel you again made every moment apart from you feel like he’s been cursed with damnation.

--

October comes to an end, you start to accept the atmosphere of loneliness that settles like a heavy cloak over the landscape. The days grow shorter and the nights longer, there are Halloween decorations displayed along the entrance of every apartment door. It’s adorable. Pumpkins, bats, and your most favorite—cats are all over the fronts of every store. You look up and find paper lanterns with spooky designs, themed displays in shopping malls, and themed merchandise in stores. You find yourself yearning for the celebration to linger a bit longer.

As the days turn into weeks, Hanma’s absence becomes palpable. You cannot ignore that the lack of his pestering feels strange and foreign, when you had only started speaking to the man again for a couple of days only. Like a shadow retreating to darkness, it feels like he never existed in your life. You’re back to living life the same way that you did before he suddenly reappeared in your life—you don’t know why you’re disappointed. After witnessing murder with your two eyes, you thought that Shuji would scare you. He should. Such an unpredictable man with a history of violence that remains unknown to you should instill a deep fear in you. Then why do you find yourself craving the presence of a man whose ruthlessness carves a path of destruction? A man whose words made it feel like walking through a field of thorns?

You pay your feelings no mind as you drown yourself in chores, making sure there was no speck of dust left on each furniture of your apartment. A shower soothes your nerves afterwards, the motion of scrubbing the dirt off of your skin a subliminal attempt at getting Hanma’s aura off of you. You make yourself a cup of hot chocolate, top it off with some marshmallows as you settle on the comfortable couch with a soft yet heavy blanket draped over your shoulders. The movie you picked for the night is nowhere near comforting, but you brush it off for the sake of Halloween vibes.

However, those feelings melt away as soon as ears pick up on the sound of footsteps near your door. It was pretty late for anyone to be visiting you, let alone on Halloween night. You set your hot chocolate down and walk towards the door in quiet footsteps, praying that you don’t make a noise by accidentally breathing too hard.

Behind the door, Hanma stands looking almost apologetic. His head hangs low not out of shame, but because he sees your shadow from under the door. He holds back a chuckle.

 “It’s me.”

When he hears no reply, he pushes himself off of the wall and walks away from the door. An uncomfortable feeling gnawed at his chest, but he refuses to acknowledge any of it as his hand reaches for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. He lets one dangle between his lips as he reaches for the lighter. Until he hears the creaking sound echoing in the hallway.

Glancing back, he sees that your door was no longer closed, but he couldn’t see you either. His feet slowly drag him towards your doorstep once again and the moment he attempts to peek inside, your face pops from behind the door. The both of you pull away at the same time, you almost close the door in his face but his foot stops it before you could close it shut.

“I had to hide my cat. He likes to escape when I open the door.” You announce with a tone that appears to be protective, very used to your fur companion’s habits. Hanma nods, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. It wasn’t until you break eye contact that he realizes he’s been staring at you without uttering a single word.

“Are you alone?” He can see inside your apartment, he towers over you with so much ease. You shift your weight from one foot to another, eyes avoiding his as you stare back at the TV screen and the obviously empty living room.

“Yeah,” you pause, glancing back towards him. “Why?”

“I was thinking you could—“ he wiggles his fingers. “See if they’re okay.” You stare down at the band aids wrapped sloppily around the skin and have to fight back the urge to smile. “I tried to do it myself but I don’t think I did as much of a good job as you did,” which was true and very apparent.

You take a moment to consider your options, chewing on your bottom lip as you fixate your stare on his hands. It was relatively late at night, you were wearing a light sleep dress—this could either go right or horribly wrong. For now, you don’t mind taking the risk.

Pushing the door wide, you see the way his eyes glimmer as they scan your entire body from head to toe. He doesn’t hide that he is checking you out, even as he steps inside your place, he chooses to stare at you instead of scanning his surroundings like last time. You refuse to crumble under his gaze nor change what you were wearing, you close the door and make your way to the kitchen without uttering a single word.

Hanma suddenly thinks of something and he bites back the urge to smirk as he makes his way towards the kitchen as well. This is the farthest he’s been in your place, your kitchen is rather small compared to the one he has in his apartment, but he appreciates how full it is. From the fruit sitting on the counter, the coffee machine, the magazines, the small board where you have what looks like a to-do list written there—it feels homey. It feels like you.

You glance behind you, noticing the pair of shoes in your kitchen and don’t bother to look back, but you feel a tad bit annoyed.

“No shoes in my house,” no response. Surely, he wasn’t going to ignore you when you were about to take care of him.

“I said—“ your stomach flutters and your breath catches when you feel something land on your shoulder, hot breath fanning the tiny bit of skin exposed from your sleep dress falling to the side. You hold your breath for what feels like an eternity, body frozen in place.

“No shoes in the house?” his deep voice sends chills down your spine, his hands resting against the fridge instead of gripping your hips.

His fingers twitch when the smell of sweet vanilla and coconut hits his nostrils, your scent is intoxicating and he struggles with himself. Every instinct urges him to break free and surrender to the intoxicating allure, yet the tether of restraint holds Hanma firmly and keeps his impulse in check. He doesn’t want to upset you again, but he thoroughly enjoys seeing you like this. So flustered.

As he pulls away from you, you turn to face him and use the first aid kit to put space between the two of you, like a shield. If you were trying to appear intimidating with the scowl on your face, Hanma’s smirk tells you that you were failing miserably.

“What the hell is your problem?” you don’t even sound mad, just completely and utterly embarrassed. You were fighting a war between your brain and your needs—the warmth of his body lingered on your skin for far too long, and although his breath reeked of cigarette and something minty, it made you feel dizzy.

“You’re red in the face, doll.” He purrs, making his way towards the couch. This time, you were certainly not going to get down to your knees and treat his cuts. Not after the stunt he pulled.

“Shut up.” You groan, sitting on the couch.

“You’re like, totally vermillion in the face—“

“I will kill you!”

He snorts and comfortably settles on the couch right beside you. One glance at his hands and you can tell that it really isn’t that serious. You bring his hands close to your face, inspecting them as soon as you take off the adhesive strips. There are a few faint scars, but they’re all healed and he only needs to apply ointment to them for extra measure. You put them back in his lap for a few seconds, leaning forward to grab the ointment you placed on the small coffee table in front of the both of you. You don’t realize that you had both gone awfully quiet after that moment, for a few seconds you almost forget what his touch felt like until you feel a pair of eyes burning holes in your face.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” you blurt out, never meeting his eyes. You want to appear unbothered by all of this, by his intense way of giving you attention. But god knows how loudly your heart was thumping in your chest.

“Would you let me do it?” oh my god.

You don’t respond, you want to focus on the task at hand and step away from him as quickly as you can. The longer you felt him near you, the harder it was to contain yourself from matching his energy, his flirtatious comments. You were supposed to be mad at him, why did you cave into his request of having his minor cuts treated once again when the man ruined your mood the other night?

“No, I wouldn’t.” You say firmly, although your touch against his skin is very soft. Hanma can tell that you’re fighting an inner battle, you’re not good at hiding it. Your furrowed eyebrows make his own skin burn, his thumb craves to smoothen the skin of your forehead, get you to relax that jaw and melt against him the same way he does when the tip of your finger grazes his skin. He snaps out of his thoughts when he sees that you were already putting everything back in the white box, golden eyes staring between your hands and face.

“We’re done?”

“Yeah, you should be fine now.” You get up and head back to the kitchen, leaving Hanma alone with his thoughts once again. He notices that the movie you were watching was paused only 20 minutes in and the hot chocolate sitting on your coffee table was starting to go cold. It seems as though your night was just getting started and him showing up put it on hold.

However, Hanma doesn’t want to leave just yet. He can’t put his finger on why he feels the need to stay, perhaps the idea of going back into his car, driving to his empty place made him feel a little bit sick to his stomach. It was an unspoken rule for Hanma to never visit his place unless he really needed something. Clothes, money—he always packed those in a bag and left it in his car. His place—located in the heart of the city's shadows, is nestled within a towering skyscraper, its imposing structure casting long, foreboding shadows over the streets below. Whenever Shuji inserts the key card, he is greeted by an atmosphere steeped in mystery and menace. Dark, rich tones dominate the décor. Nothing about the 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms apartment made it feel homey. So Hanma avoided it like the plague.

He thinks he can find an excuse to stay a little longer with you. Should he take you out? He can’t. You were far too comfortable in your sleep dress to change into something else. The movie seemed interesting, perhaps a few sweet words would convince you to let him stay a little longer before he has to depart—

“Have you had dinner yet?” You break his chain of thoughts so easily, Hanma is a little taken aback at first. Glancing back towards you, he sees you holding two white ceramic plates in one hand. The pot, which he assumed had warm, homemade food in it, is sitting on the stove with a ladle inside. Were you offering him a meal?

“Not yet,”

“I figured you skip meals,” you say with a frown. You forget the grudge you’re supposed to hold against him, it nestles itself somewhere in the back of your head the moment you see Hanma lost in his thoughts. You glance at his face—not as full as it was when the two of you were kids. He’s never had chubby cheeks, but you could tell when the man had a good meal and when he hadn’t eaten properly in a while. You naturally find yourself reheating the food you made for yourself, grateful you decided to cook more than a singular portion.

“I don’t do it on purpose,” he clarifies, as though he needs you to understand where he is coming from but then his lips are sealed shut. He’s never had to explain himself to anyone, it’s a little foreign for him to be doing it with you.

“You forget?” you guess, your back facing him as you serve him a good portion of the katsu curry you’ve made. You make sure to give him a bigger portion than yours, assuming that the man has probably skipped lunch as well.

“Mhm.” With the way he engulfed you in his arms previously, you shouldn’t trust him so blindly and have your back facing him again. But you don’t seem to care as much, maybe even wishing he does it again. Instead, you hear a chair creak from behind you and see that the man has made himself comfortable in your kitchen. You hand him his food before sitting across from him, then the two of you dig into the food.

Hanma hasn’t tasted something this good in—14 years. Ever since his mother stopped cooking him a decent meal. You made a dish that’s such a delightful harmony of textures and flavors, engulfing him with a warm velvety blanket he would never throw over his own shoulders. He glances towards you and you’re focused on your food—at least, you look like you’re trying to focus. He sees that some habits never really left you. You ate fast, way too fast, never truly savored your food. You still had a habit of bringing the food close to your nose and inhaling the scent (he never understood why you did it). He can remember the last time you tried to smell something he was about to eat—a sandwich he had bought that had a weird mixture of ingredients, you leaned down to inhale its scent and Shuji swears he hasn’t laughed as hard ever since. The face you made was of pure disgust, pushing the bread back into his hands and away from you. You’ve always had such an expressive face—either that, or Shuji stares at you a bit too much.

The present situation mirrors your date at the ramen shop in sad ways. It is obvious that the two of you have grown apart, no longer needing to be so close to one another at any given moment. The person who sits across of Shuji Hanma is someone he recognizes but doesn’t fully know—he recognizes certain habits that even time couldn’t tear away from you. But your touch, your body and soul feel different. On them lingers this love and care you still held for the man along the years, but never to a full extent. It seemed as though even whilst with him, you were thinking of something else—somebody else. He could be mistaken and you’re just trying to push him away, but Hanma’s gut feeling never betrayed him.

His stomach twists in knots when he sees you reach for the jewelry adorning your neck—a necklace with a golden heart pendent. You hold onto it with so much care, cautious not to break the fragile accessory.

He is reading too much into it.

He pulls his eyes away from you once he’s done with his curry, polite enough to put his plate in the sink and wash it off for you. You stare at his large back in silence, contemplating your next words.

“Tonight’s Halloween.”

Hanma turns to look at you, his raised eyebrow an indication that he didn’t know where you were going with this.

“Yeah? You got a costume you want to show me?” he teases, bracing himself against your kitchen counter. You have to pull your eyes away from his hands and arms, ignoring the way your pussy throbs at how large he looks in your tiny kitchen. You realize what he says and make an offended face, standing up with your own plate and utensils and walking towards the sink.

“Over my dead body.” You nudge his side with your elbow, he moves away from the sink but still stands next to you.

“Okay then?” he questions as you turn on the water.

“You could stay and watch the movie.” You offer without looking at him. You were scared that your face would betray you, you almost slipped and said ‘with me’ and that would give him the upper hand, another thing to tease you about.

“Like a date night?” you halt your movements, quickly turning off the faucet and turning to stare at him. Your breath hitches when you see his face so close to yours. He isn’t trying to intimidate you, the playful glint in his eyes give away his true intentions. However, you can’t deny that having him so close to you was starting to be challenging for your self-control.

“I… I don’t know.” your voice is barely above a whisper. You try to build a wall between the two of you, put some distance, but it’s useless. Hanma stares at you with golden orbs that mimic lanterns lit up in the night, evoking a sense of nostalgia that felt so strange to you—

Up until now, Hanma was a mere teenage crush you had parted ways with on less-than-great terms. There wasn’t a single time during those twelve years where your heart yearned for the man, remembered the way he would make your stomach leap and be like a light at the end of the tunnel—why let such silly feelings resurface so unexpectedly? You could blame it on your celibacy, not having been out on a proper date for a couple of months now—but even as you look at it, you haven’t been this interested in anyone for a while.

What was Hanma Shuji doing to you? What was so different about him? Could it be that the man’s touch messed you up?

He steps closer to you, tall figure looming over your smaller frame in an attempt at caging you between him and the sink. He’s got a million things to say and yet, his lips remain frozen. Yearning to feel the warmth of your own softer, plushier ones. As you confess shakily, although your hands far too comfortable holding onto his shirt for it to sound convincing, he chuckles and you smell his minty breath.

Everything about him looks…inviting. You cannot look away from his neck, or his jaw or his lips. You’re lost in a trance, on this terrifying journey where you wish to be able to hear something other than your own heartbeat. Deafening, muting the world around you for a split second as Hanma leans down and captures your lips in a fiery kiss.

It’s different than the one shared at the ramen shop—there was no waiting, no longing for your touch for twelve long years. You were at hand reach, so close to him like a dream. Hanma needed you like the moon needs the stars, promised himself to tattoo the feeling of your lips against his for years to come—they fit perfectly against his, like a mold made specifically for his body. It’s surreal. The initial kiss is short, gently easing you into the sea of his passionate and intense loving, because when his lips reattach to yours, you’re being pinned to the wall.

His hands grab your face, they hold you in place like he’s been craving to breathe again for an eternity. You can smell him, feel him on you everywhere even with layers of clothes stuck to your skin, set ablaze like a furnace. His electrifying touch leave goosebumps in their wake, trailing from your cheek down to the back of your neck. There, his hand grips your nape before his fingers dig into your scalp.

When you gasp at his touch, Hanma’s heart leaps. Like a ticking bomb, it was only a matter of time before he unleashed a side of him he wasn’t sure he wanted to offer so early on. You’re such a tease, he thinks. Why were you giving him those eyes as he pulls away from the kiss? Why are you biting your already swollen lips if you didn’t want him to bury himself so deep inside you?

“Ask me to leave.” He says, voice firm as he tries to catch his breath.

“Shuji—“ you go for his face but he grabs your wrist mid-air.

“Ask me to leave, doll.”

“No.”

“This is your chance,” he leans down, close to your face and brushes his lips against yours. “—won’t stop if I start.”

“If I touch this,” his hand gropes your boob over your dress. “If I kiss this,” he yanks your head back, brushing his lips against your throat. “I promise you. I won’t be able to stop.”

At this point, you’re more than fed up with his teasing and crash your lips against his. You push yourself off the wall as get on your tiptoes to reach for his lips, and he decides to end your struggle and picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. You kiss him harder, teeth nibbling on his bottom lip as he marches towards your room.

“Didn’t take you for a biter,” his words are muffled against the skin of your neck as he kisses there. You throw your head back, allowing him more room to work with and you feel your back hitting the familiar soft mattress. The bed was made, but the blankets are quickly discarded to the floor as Hanma’s mess of limbs loom over your figure and plant hungry kisses on the skin that’s showing.

Thanks to your choice in outfit, Hanma finds it easy to strip you naked. Skilled fingers undo your bra to reveal your breasts in full display, but his hands are busy groping at your mound. You gasp at how rough he is handling your body, but the wet patch forming in your underwear indicated just how much you’ve been craving this kind of attention. His lips attach to your hardened nipple, whilst his left hand twists and fiddles with the other one. It feels like he is attempting to nurse on you with how hard he sucks, golden eyes staring deeply at your fucked out face. Messy hair sticking to your sweaty forehead, and your eyes barely able to stay open as he gives your erogenous zones the right amount of attention.

“Mmm you’re so soft,” he teases the nipple with his teeth and chuckles when he feels you try to squeeze your thighs together from under him.

“Shuji,” you breathe out, as soft as a silken thread.

Pulling away from your breasts, he admires the hickeys he’s painted across your skin—branding you as his on your very first night together. Sure, he’s done this before but never this passionately. He wants those bruises to never go away, glued to your skin like a tattoo and a constant reminder that this is what being his meant. He attaches his lips to your skin again, this time on your torso—he travels down to your stomach, passes your belly button before kissing right above your panties. He notices how drenched they are and hisses.

“Fuck, you’re fucking dripping.” He says as he moves them to the side and his mouth falls open, drool threatening to spill. “All for me, doll?” his thumb teases at your engorged clit and you whimper.

“Don’t tease, fuck—!”

You react almost immediately as he attaches his lips to your clit. Your legs try to close around his head but he is having none of it as he grips your thighs and forces them open, continuing his assault on your pussy.

“Shit, shit!” you gasp as he lays his tongue flat against the bud before moving his head from side to side while watching intently as you writhed and twitched under his touch. There was no way you could escape his mouth, tongue moving down to lap at your folds while his fingers pinched your clit. Hanma craves to exist between your thighs for the rest of eternity, a place so warm and so wet, offering him the best of both worlds.

He pushes two fingers past your folds, grinning from ear to ear when he sees the way your body tenses up. Curling them upwards, the combination of his rough finger fucking and his mouth’s continuous assault on your clit makes you cum hard. You’re writhing, crying desperately for the man’s head to leave your thighs. Soft “I can’t—I can’t!” resonate through the room, but soon die down when he spares your pussy and instead, litters soft kisses over the inner of your thighs.

“You did so well, took me like a champ,” it seems as though the only time Hanma shows any emotion beside boredom, is when he has you under his mercy like this. It’s when he makes you blush, flustered, angry or in this case, cum so hard that you have to take a moment to remember your name—that’s when he feels alive, as though life is worth living again.

Your heart thumps loudly when you hear him fumble with his belt. A sound that makes your ears perk up, eager with anticipation. You push yourself up with your elbows, licking your lips when you see the obvious bulge in his pants. It makes your mouth water, and your hand reaches down to palm him through his pants. A rough hand grabs your wrist, you look up at the man hovering over you with lustful eyes. You stare at him through your lashes, neither of you uttering a single word—he is telling you not to touch, not right now, and you are craving his body like earth needs the sun.

You squeeze the bulge, lips parting when he closes his eyes and leans down towards you. You hear a soft groan emitting from the back of his throat, and it’s your sign to do it again and even go further. Hanma puts a halt to your attempt with a rough kiss against your lips, pushing you back against the soft mattress until you are whining against his lips.

“Oh what is it?” he says, almost mocking your sounds. “Do you need something?”

“Shuji—“ you are way too embarrassed by how he is speaking to you, staring to the side. But he doesn’t seem to mind your bashfulness, rather indulging it by kissing your cheek and then your pulse. The kiss on the cheek is a stark contrast to how roughly he finger fucked you, and when he finally releases his cock and you see the way it jumps—your stomach twists in knots.

That thing will reach spots your own fingers haven’t been able to.

You panic when he starts to tease your folds, hands pushing at his shoulders to remind him to use protection. You did not want to have a kid running around anytime soon.

“I’m clean,” he says and a part of you can’t help but not fully trust him. He sees the expression on your face and chuckles, leaning down to kiss your neck as you melt back on the mattress.

“I get tested frequently.”

“I’m not on the pill—“

“Don’t worry, I can’t get you pregnant.”

You don’t have time to question what that could possibly mean, lips forming an ‘O’. You are forced to lay back and take it as Hanma’s cock keeps going deeper and deeper—you feel full of him. A sob erupts from your chest as you feel him pull his hips back and then—thrust.

He repeats the motion a few times, piercing eyes scanning your face like a hawk. He wants to memorize your body like the back of his hand, wants to tattoo the feeling of your warm and soft cunt at the forefront of his mind—you are so soft and pliable, making sweet noises that he easily swallows by kissing you deeply.

“Fuck you’re so sweet,”

You moan into his mouth when he angles his hips a certain way, Hanma grins victoriously against your lips and uses his hands to grab the back of your knees. Pushing them to your chest, he enjoys the sight of you taking his cock like a sweet girl. You’re so cock hungry, practically begging him to fuck you silly with those glossy eyes staring deeply into his.

“Yeah? You like that?” he purrs, his deep voice sending chills down your spine. He removes one of his hands from the back of your knee and wraps it around your neck in a possessive grip, watching as the early signs of your orgasm start to creep in on you like a shadow in the dusk.

“Such a nasty fucking girl—“ filth continues to spew out of his mouth at the same rate as your loud whines. Your eyes can barely stay open as he quickens his pace, jaw going slack when his thumb brushes over your sensitive bundle of nerves. He shamelessly leans back to stare at your pussy as he continues to fuck it, watching as his cock slides in and out of you. The room is filled with wet noises, the sound of skin slapping against each other reaching Hanma’s ears as he takes in the sight before him.

You were so pliant beneath him, no longer putting up walls in his presence. He loved it. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the tip of his cock keeps nudging at that one spot that makes you dizzy. Your hand wraps around his wrist as he continues to pin you to the mattress by the neck, you stare up at him with glossy eyes, thighs twitching and your back arching off as you finally cum.

Hanma swears he has never seen something as magical. You feel like a magnetic force, pulling him closer with an irresistible allure that ignites a fire in his stomach and sets his senses ablaze. It tips him over the edge, he empties himself inside you with a loud groan as he lets go of your neck and holds onto your boobs as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

Now what? It’s not like he’s never had sex before, he was in fact very good at it—but usually, he gets up and leaves the moment he empties his balls inside. Now, he worries that you would get the wrong idea, that you’d think he’s using you—does he want to use you?

Isn’t this what he wanted all along? To fuck you senseless the moment he saw you run towards the metro station in your tight skirt. His mind was reeling with all the possibilities of what could be underneath the fabric—perhaps a matching set, or if you wanted to be a tease, nothing.

He starts to wonder what his intentions were with you—he wanted to be your friend without getting too close to you. He couldn’t afford having you near him at all times, that came with a cost he wasn’t sure you could afford. In your arms, he didn’t feel as though he needed to prove anything to you—not his existence, nor his power. And for a man who lives his life in pure chaos, a house that didn’t have a mess isn’t one where he belongs.

His hands pull away from your body, his eyes scanning your face only to find that you were fast asleep. He could wake you up and tell you to go pee, but like a puppet, his own fears pulled on the strings as they desired—his feet carry him towards your door in speed record. Glancing one last time at the pot you left outside, he closes the door.

Even as he drives back to his place, Hanma can’t brush off the burning sensation sitting heavy on his chest.

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[thatfandomslut]

I Want To Marry You

Regina George x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Trigger Warnings: description of making out, extra fluffy

Request:

Valentine's / Followers Celebration; Regina George w/ quote 57 with chocolate number 7. Or: "You don't marry someone you can live with, you marry the person you cannot live without." w/ falling in love

Valentine's / Followers Celebration requests are closed.

(Y/n)'s chest heaved, some hair from her bun slipping out and in front of her eyes. She and Regina had just pushed their beds together and they were now admiring their work. This was their second semester as college roommates, and they were rarely apart from each other. Even during their breaks, they called on FaceTime every day at some point. Everyone on campus knew they were together, except (Y/n) and Regina. Their tight-knit friend group deemed it to be a tragedy that it was taking them this long to realize their feelings for each other. They were beginning to wonder if they needed to help them or not. Instead, they just waited for the girls to finally realize their feelings themselves.

"Now we just have to put the full mattress on the bed." (Y/n) wiped the sweat from their brow. They went halfsies on a storage unit for the two twin mattresses that the college gave them. They knew they would have to return it to bed at the end of the semester, but that wasn't for months. For now, they stood together, wondering why they felt like this was the best idea given how much work it was becoming. They still needed to move their desks to the opposite side of the room and then pile the mattresses in the U-Haul they had gotten. "Are you ready, babe?"

The 'babe' would've thrown Regina off if (Y/n) didn't call everyone babe. It still did cause a tingle to shoot through her spine as she held the mattress onto the bed. "Perfect," Regina commented as she pulled out the sheets they had picked out together. "You know, we should get married," Regina said absentmindedly as she tossed (Y/n) her corners for the fitted sheet. The words caused (Y/n) to freeze for a moment as she thought about the right words to say. Regina, on the other hand, did not realize the depth in her words.

(Y/n) bit back a smile before she looked over at Regina, fixing the sheet to where there were no creases. "Why is that? Are you just that in love with me?" (Y/n) asked cheekily. As cheeky as she was, she was genuinely curious about what Regina had to say about how felt about her. She was hoping that this was the moment that she would hear the words that she had always wanted to hear come from Regina. Her fingers twitched as she reached for her pillow to put on the bed before they put on the final cover, staring at Regina expectantly.

Regina was now beginning to realize how deep her words had met when she had also frozen momentarily over (Y/n)'s initial question. "Well, I think the way we live together is amazing, nothing would have to change. We already have each other's schedules memorized. We have the U-Haul and the storage unit. Why not also just get married?" Regina teased lightly, trying to stop her heart from beating as quickly as it was.

(Y/n) turned on the fan she had over on her side of the bed before she laid down in thought. The other side of the mattress dipped, letting her know that Regina had joined her side. Their hands grazed together before they turned to look at each other. "You don't marry someone you can live with, you marry the person you cannot live without." (Y/n) told her softly. She had been falling in love with Regina since last semester, but the idea of Regina only wanting to marry her because they lived together well didn't sit right with her. Then again, why was she overthinking this? They weren't even dating.

Regina's eyes flickered to (Y/n)'s lips for a moment as she pursed her own. "I know, but… I want to marry you." She whispered, now making sure she put the depth in her sentence. "Obviously, we'd have to date first, but I want to do that, too. What you said is right because I can't live without you. I have loved you since Christmas, right before last semester." Regina told her, causing (Y/n)'s lips to part slightly in shock. She wasn't expecting any of those words to come out of Regina.

"I feel the same way, Regina." She said softly. They weren't sure who initiated the kiss, just that their lips were now crashing together as they ruined the sheets they had just made. But neither of them cared about that as their hands tried to find a place on each other's bodies. As they pulled away, they both adorned swollen lips and giant smiles. "I have been falling for you since last semester. I just never could imagine that you felt the same way. You're just… You're perfect, Regina."

"What's going on in here?" Their friend's voice could be heard as they entered the dorm. The door had been opened, so they couldn't exactly fault Sasha for ruining their moment. Instead, they watched Sasha's eyes widen. Regina laughed a bit, covering her mouth as (Y/n)'s face turned a deep shade of red. "I did not mean to interrupt. I'm very sorry, I should've knocked on the wall. We were just wondering if you two wanted to join us for dinner. Do you want me to tell the others that you two are busy?"

Regina stood up as she fixed herself. Looking over at (Y/n), she nodded softly. "Yeah, we have a date we need to get to. It's long overdue. But thank you for the invite, Sash." She said softly, watching Sasha leave with a wink. "What do you say for going somewhere special after we drop off the mattresses?" She questioned softly, glancing over at (Y/n) with a sly smirk on her pink lips.

(Y/n) grinned widely, standing up to kiss Regina another quick kiss. "Let me shower first, and then for sure." Regina watched (Y/n) leave the room with a giant grin, happy that she and (Y/n) finally got together. All it took was them putting a bed together to realize that they liked each other.

[writers-potion]

How to write things that could be trigger warnings?

Novel Trigger Warnings: How To?

Writing About Sensitive Themes

Trigger warnings or no trigger warning, a writer must take caution to provide an accurate and meaningful exploration of topics like suicide, abuse, trauma, etc.

Make use of sensitivity readers to provide feedback

Get a first-hand account from someone who has a similar experience to what your character will. Even if you can't get an interview with someone face-to-face, there are amazing blogs and YT videos out there.

EXPLORE IT MEANINGFULLY, NEVER USE IT AS A "SHOCK FACTOR". Think about how the triggering elements add depth to character, throw a meaningful question to the audience or make the worldbuilding more realistic, etc. Throwing these elements in because you can't think of a better idea is exactly what you don't want to do.

Don't let the trauma/mental disorder, etc. become a character's entire personality. It's easy to fall into the trap of thinking, "oh that character with cancer" or "the troubled one" - nope. A character is more than just an aggragate of their dark past.

Think about the genre you're writing. If you're writing horror and label is correctly, you can expect readers to give you more liberty to throw blood and gore around. If you do this for a YA romance, it's probably going to be a big no.

Focus on the characters and their reaction, rather than the act itself. Life is 10% events and 90% how you deal with them.

Stay away from exaggerated stereotypes. No Hollywood.

To Warn Or Not To Warn

A trigger warning is essentially a statement cautioning a consumer/reader that the content may be disturbing or induce a traumatic response. 

Common Arguments For Trigger Warnings

They give a reader the choice to avoid encountering content that forces them to revisit past trauma.

It isn't always obvious from the book cover/synopsis, etc. that potentially triggering content comes later down the story. It helps them make an informed decision.

Common Arguments Against Trigger Warnings

It becomes a spoiler.

Trigger Identification: There are as many different triggers as there are readers, making it a practical impossibility to adequately warn every potential reader about every potential trigger.

Genre expectations should adequately help readers choose. If you're reading an action thriller, you'd reasonably expect violence.

Some teachers, librarians, and publishing professionals argue that content labels are a form of censorship, and that the line between labels and trigger warnings is thin.

I am yet to make up my mind on whether trigger warnings are a necessity, or it should remain a choice that's left up to the author - so I'll leave it up to you to decide. Let me know in the comments about what you think.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

💎If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 

💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2 

💎For early access to my content and priority questions,  become a Writing Wizard 

[matthew-gray-gubler-lover]

Sex With Spencer Reid All Seasons (season 9)

If you are under the age of 18, please do not read this story. Thank you.

This will cover what I believe sex would be like with Spencer Reid from season 1 to 15. Warning contains adult situations, Sex. Dirty talk, Orgasms, Crying, Spoilers for all seasons and Spencer Reid being a sex God.

Also includes fingering and oral sex. (Female receiving only.)

These are a little bit longer than I anticipated them to be because I wanted to give a back story as to why the sex is the way that it is for each season. To give it in depth feeling of why Spencer was the way that he was in bed that season.  So I will be posting them by each season rather than all at once. I hope this gives you something to look forward to, and please leave comments,  I will be leaving links to the next season below.

You are a new agent at the BAU and Spencer Reid's girlfriend, the one who takes his virginity and has sex with him for all 15 seasons and beyond.

Spencer Reid knew the first time he saw you walk through the doors of the BAU that you were the one that he was going to love forever. The first time you smiled, he knew it was the only smile that he ever wanted to wake up to. The first time he touched your hand, he knew yours was the only hand he ever wanted to hold. The first time he kissed you, he knew your lips were the only ones that he ever wanted to have pressed against his own. and the first time he made love to you, he knew you were the only one he ever wanted to do this with, and he also knew he would never be the same you or his life now, his love and his only desire.

season 9

In season nine you and Spencer are officially getting married. Spencer chose Valentine's Day as it is the day of love.

Something that you find very romantic. Even though you know that the day is more than just about roses and heart-shaped boxes of candy, you both know that it is a true symbol of love Valentine's Day Has always been a very romantic day for the two of you.

You almost thought that you weren't going to make it to your own wedding. Since Spencer couldn't keep his hands off of you, he wanted to enjoy making love to his fiancée one last time before you were his wife. 

After four mind-blowing orgasms from oral and intercourse, Spencer was finally satisfied with the Amount of loving that he had given you.

When you pulled up to Rossi's, you saw all of the beautiful twinkly lights in the backyard, the archway for the two of you to get married under, rose petals leading the way to the altar/archway.

And there was Penelope, all dressed up in her bridesmaid's dress, light pink with rose petals embroidered on it, and her hot pink heels went wonderfully with it.

JJ and Blake's dresses we're a little bit longer than Penelope's. Penelope's was in true Penelope Garcia fashion, and you wouldn't have her any other way.

While the ladies helped you get ready doing your hair, putting on your makeup, zipping your beautiful white gown up, a ball gown with pink roses embroidered on the bottom, Rossi of course covered the charge of the dress. He told you and Spencer that he thinks of you as his daughter and Spencer as his son, and since he didn't have a daughter to spoil, he wanted to spoil you on your wedding day.

You could see that Spencer was starting to get a little teary eyed as he watched you walk down the aisle on Rossi's arm.

The wedding was beautiful. You had a delicious meal afterwards, catered by Rossi's favorite Italian restaurant.

Then it was time for cake. The four-tiered chocolate cake with chocolate fudge frosting and the cute little bride and groom on top. Spencer and you cut the first slice and he sweetly placed a piece of cake into your mouth before kissing you. It was the most romantic thing that the team had ever seen and would truly never forget this amazing moment. Neither would you or Spencer.

After a day of dancing, partying and eating.(you know how the team of the BAU does a party) Spencer took you home for your wedding night. Even though he has made love to you millions of times by now, and again those four orgasms he gave to you this morning.  there was something different about seeing you in your wedding gown and slowly unzipping it.

it was as though he wanted to make the moment last forever.

It was like Spencer was in a trance. You looked so beautiful, even though you always did to him again, there was just something more special and magical about tonight. He couldn't wait to Make Love to his wife for the first time.

Before he pushed inside of you, he looked at you with so much love in his eyes and was rubbing his hands up and down your thighs and hips. "I love you so much my beautiful bride", he told you before kissing you and pushing inside.

You both let out a sweet moan, and he couldn't keep his lips off of you. "I love you so much. I'm so glad that you're my wife" he told you, each word being punctuated by a kiss.

this time lifting your hips slightly so that he could slide in even deeper, something that he had never done before. Maybe he was saving it for your wedding night.

The love making that night was sweet and slow. He didn't want it to end and neither did you. The sounds of kisses filled the room and you couldn't have been happier. 

That night, Spencer gave you seven orgasms. You'd never thought that that would happen in your wildest dreams when you were younger, but after you met Spencer, you knew that he was a special man and would always be able to take care of you.

When morning came, Spencer made love to you once more, Again his hands ran up and down your legs and thighs. This time he even wrapped your legs around his waist and kissed your neck saying "I love you so much baby"," it's you and me forever". "Only you You're the only one I ever want".

This is how the two of you spent your honeymoon in your shared apartment, making love for a whole week, something that you both wished would never end. Sadly though the week had ended, you had to go back to work. 

That didn't mean though, the Spencer couldn't still take care of his loving wife in hotel rooms. And he did.

If you would like season 10 please leave comments, thank you 💗

[ateez-ana]

i have the time of my life fighting dragons with you

relashionship with ateez members

hongjoong:

these two are…. well we'll get to that eventually, They have known each other since trainee days and have been through thick and thin together. They trust each other implicitly and rely on each other for support and guidance.

Their friendship extends beyond personal connection. They often collaborate on creative projects, bouncing ideas off each other and sharing their artistic visions. Hongjoong values Ana's input and considers her a creative muse.

hey admire each other's talents and leadership qualities. Ana respects Hongjoong's dedication, passion, and ability to bring the group together. Hongjoong, in turn, admires Ana's creativity, versatility, and ability to connect with the audience.

They are each other's biggest cheerleaders. They celebrate each other's successes and offer comfort during challenging times. Their friendship is a source of strength and inspiration for both of them.

Ana and Hongjoong met in 2016, during auditions for KQ Entertainment,their relationship is based on trust and mutual respect. They tell each other the truth no matter how difficult it is, and they are always there to listen to each other and offer each other a shoulder to cry on.

The relationship between Ana and Hongjoong has been a subject of much speculation and discussion among ATINYs. While there is no official confirmation of their romantic involvement, their undeniable chemistry and close bond have led many fans to believe that they are more than just friends.

Over the years, various rumors and speculations have circulated about Ana and Hongjoong's relationship. These rumors have often stemmed from their interactions during live performances, interviews, and social media posts. Some fans have pointed to instances of them holding hands, exchanging lingering glances, or showing affectionate gestures towards each other as evidence of their romantic connection.

"Hongjoong is so talented. He can rap, sing, dance, and write songs. He's an all-around amazing artist." - Ana, in a V Live broadcast

seonghwa

Seonghwa serves as a mentor and role model for Ana. She looks up to his maturity, wisdom, and leadership skills. Seonghwa, in turn, sees Ana as a bright and promising artist with great potential.

they often discuss music theory, songwriting, and their favorite artists. Seonghwa enjoys sharing his musical knowledge with Ana, and she appreciates his guidance and support.

They have a deep understanding of each other's personalities and needs. They can read each other's emotions and offer support without even saying a word, He always makes sure she is comfortable with her wardrobe, they share clothes with each other, he always makes sure she eats enough and prevents her from seeing comments about her body since in his eyes she is a baby who needs protection.

Their close-knit relationship has often been compared to that of siblings, a testament to the depth and genuineness of their connection. This sibling-like bond is playfully expressed through their "lost sibling" joke, a lighthearted quip that has endeared them to fans worldwide.

Seonghwa's fervent love for Star Wars, a sci-fi saga that Ana has yet to fully embrace. Seonghwa, determined to share his passion, has reportedly employed various tactics, including "forceful persuasion," to convince Ana to delve into the world of Jedi and Sith.

nerdy duo after that they usually recreate scenes from the saga, they even dressed up as Leah and Luke for Halowen

"Seonghwa seemed a bit intimidating at first, but I soon realized that he's actually a big softie. He's always there for me, and he always knows how to make me smile.

Despite their initial impressions of each other, Seonghwa and Ana quickly developed a close bond. They became roommates during their trainee days, and they have spent countless hours together practicing, performing, and simply hanging out. Their friendship is built on mutual respect, admiration, and shared sense of humor.

[plantoyoon]

New experiences. part 2

I am writing this because I'm actively thinking about it and writing it seems like it would help to get it out of the depths of my brain. (I think I mostly wrote it in second person, haven't proofread it, I don't know how much sense it makes)

PS. Please let me know if you have feedback

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Synopsis: You need someone to help you with your needs

Genre/Tags: First time meeting, Friends with benefits, maybe soul bound

Smut, 18+

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

More eager with each kiss, you feel the wine starting to sink in, spreading warmth through your body. The strain in your legs to reach his height makes you slowly push him towards the couch without breaking the kiss. He chuckles as he reaches the edge of the couch, throwing himself onto it and grabbing you to sit on his lap. As you get closer to him to resume kissing, he says in a quiet voice, barely audible: "I like you. How is that possible?! You're so pretty, and I'm getting so curious about you." You pretend not to hear it and kiss his nose, his chin, his jaw, leaving a wet trail down his neck.

Your thoughts are silent and loud at the same time. You don't understand them but try to pay them no mind. You want him undressed, so you start pulling at his shirt, pushing it up over his head. Enjoying this so much, he barely tries to help you in this challenge of undressing him, more occupied with feeling your body as much as he can with his hands.

"Yoongi!" (it's the first time you say his name) "I want you without this on. Let me touch you."

Quietly obeying your order, he takes off his shirt, revealing smooth skin. Still feeling him shy, you make the next move, getting rid of the big shirt on you, showing your lacy white bra hugging your boobs. His eyes sparkle at the sight, and he starts gently touching and caressing through the material. Pulling you in for a kiss, he brings you even closer to him, placing small kisses from your chin to your jaw, neck, and down to your chest. Swiftly removing your bra, his attitude switches to a more assertive approach, still gentle but more confident. Licking your boobs, biting them softly, and giving each of your nipples attention by sucking on them, your moans start to slip from your lips, giving him the signal he needs to take this further.

He turns you over, positioning himself on top, his crotch aligned with yours as he moves. You feel how hard he is through all the material and unzip his jeans, sliding your hand over his boxers.

This makes him chuckle and say, "You're quite the eager one, aren't you?"

"Well, let me show you how eager I am if you really want to know!" you say, pushing him back on the couch to get on your knees in front of him, pulling his jeans and boxers down. You look quite silly now, ogling at his big dick. Never thought you would appreciate something like this, but your mouth starts watering. Too afraid to look him in the eyes, not wanting to let him see how fazed you were by all of this, you take a lick, and another one, and another one... each longer and sloppier.

You decide he needs even better treatment, so you place your boobs around his cock and start sliding, using the drool left on it as lube. This is the moment you see Yoongi lose it. He starts moaning and touching your hair, your face, your boobs with his long fingers, helping you in your movement.

"Fuck! This fucking feels amazing, you have the greatest tits!" he exclaims, making you feel good at this silly comment.

He grabs your chin, pulling you up for a deep kiss, his tongue not leaving any space untouched in your mouth.

Moving both of you again so he would be on top, you feel his hands roaming around your body lower and lower until they reach the part of you that needs the most attention at this moment. Rubbing through your panties, he feels how wet you already are, pushing them aside to get to feel in between your folds better. You start moaning more and more through the kiss, and your hands stick to his neck and hair, feeling how soft it is.

He starts pushing inside one finger after another, moving them with care. You bite his lip, signaling him that he can be a little bit rougher. He instantly takes the hint, starting to move those two fingers inside you more aggressively, making you break the kiss to moan loudly.

"So, I guess this is how you like it?" he says, focusing on the movement of his hands, unraveling you right there under him. You can just whimper at this point, not even able to shake your head. He stops to look directly in your eyes as he positions himself to give your pussy a slap, then returns to fingering it as fast as he can. At this point, you're completely lost, unfocused and sure that if something gets out of your mouth, it will be either moans or: "Please, Yoongi, fuck me!" So you stay quiet.

He looks kind of confused and inquires, "I feel you want to say something. Why don't you say what you would like? I want to make you feel good and comfortable with me."

This makes you lose it. How can someone who just slapped your pussy tell you he wants you to be comfortable?! Still unable to verbalize your thoughts, you just moan his name. He brings his face closer to you, placing small pecks on your face, whispering: "Come on, little one! Tell me what you want!"

"Please, I want to feel you inside me. I want your fucking dick inside!"

"What a dirty girl we have here, and I didn't even know!" he says as he pulls you by the hips to make you turn around with your ass up. "Spread it," and you obey, waiting and feeling the cold air on your cunt, followed by his tongue on it. You feel him making a mess there, hearing all those sloppy sounds, feeling the wetness on your thighs until he feels satisfied and all the sounds he makes vibrate right through you.

He kneads your ass for a moment, pressing his fingers into your skin like dough. Then he positions himself at your core, putting it in slowly. Despite all that preparation, making you wet as fuck, it still takes you some time to accommodate his size.

"Fuck, you're big!"

"Yeah! I know, but you're taking me so well with your perfect pussy!"

Never thought dirty talk would be your thing, but with him, it feels so natural. You could let him say whatever he wanted and make you wetter and wetter.

Finally, you feel him bottoming out. You're still not completely comfortable, but he gives you time to adjust, caressing your back with his hands, placing kisses on it and leaving wet trails with his tongue.

"Your ass feels so good in my hands, I can barely contain myself not to slap it to see how it moves under my hands!"

"Please do, please slap my ass!" and he does, making you shiver at the sensation. "Do it again!" he obeys and feels you sliding on his cock, now more comfortable with his size. He takes the signal and starts fucking you while his hands continue to roam your body and his lips leave kisses here and there on your back.

At some point, he puts his hand in your hair, grabbing it to pull your body against his and fuck you with his hands around your body, pinching your nipples from time to time.

Your mind is starting to drift, unable to focus on anything else besides all the sensations that his dick inside you and his hands feeling your body give you.

You pant, "I'm... close, Yoongi..."

"Me too, stay with me... I want to feel you coming on my dick"

The orgasm builds like an electric storm, gathering intensity in every nerve of your body. The sensation starts as a warm, insistent pulse, spreading from your core to every extremity. Your skin tingles, your mind momentarily blanking as you're consumed by the sheer intensity of it all and feel Yoongi's hot breath on your neck.

The world narrows to the overwhelming rush, every fiber of your being focused on the release. Moans or cries escape your lips, raw and unfiltered and you hear Yoongi doing the same.

As the tension melts away, you feel light, floating on a cloud of lingering pleasure, your senses still heightened, your body humming with the remnants of your climax. You let your body crash on the couch, with Yoongi following next to you. You place a hand on his chest as you both try to gather your breaths. Unable to say anything, you lock looks with him trying not to doze off.

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

[channoticedmeuwu]

☆ WHO I THINK TXT IS WRITTEN BY !!

featuring — TUBATU & THEIR AUTHORS | g — headcanons, fluff, angst, slice of life, coming of age | w — NO PAIRING !! mention of food ++ not proofread

a/n — v much tried not to cry during soobin's,,,, watched this clip of him getting emotional during a live while reading moa's supportive comments & genuinely have sm respect for this man

CHOI YEONJUN

💽 ( SONG_REC. ) “POPULAR” — THE WEEKND

a schoolboy who just wants to be amongst the class. a teenage boy outgrowing his youth, and beginning to realize he's pushed everyone in his circle away, and panicking because maybe it's too late to mend relationships. the boy who's watching everyone grow with him, yet not with him. a boy watching his distanced friends link arms as they jog towards the canteen, watching the girls sit together as they absorb each other's quiet in the library, watching the group of friends sneak out of class and sit by the benches. a boy realizing he's not like everyone else; pictures of friends taking trips together on social media, envying the respective bonds of friends underneath a girl's post— her girlfriends commenting “you look amazing!!” “god, marriage when!?”, and then boys who'd tease her with throwing up emojis.

yeonjun is written by a boy who watches people partake in street fashion, groups of friends catching the train after school and falling asleep on each other's shoulders. yeonjun is the result of a boy who's learning to refuse isolation, a boy who's accepting his flaws and embracing them, a boy who's working on himself. a boy slowly realizing what beauty he can hold in himself, a boy realizing he's alone— but refuses to stay that way.

CHOI SOOBIN

💽 ( SONG_REC. ) “SNOW ON THE BEACH” — TAYLOR SWIFT

a woman who's watched her lover change into a cold person. a woman who's craving the warmth of an old lover, the comfort of a relationship that was too good to be true. a woman whose emotions get the better of her, a woman who misses the twinkle in the eyes of their lover. a woman who realizes that her love isn't being reciprocated the same way anymore, who watches her lover's skin turn colder by the second. a woman watching her lover be consumed by the winter of the universe, to be changed completely and transformed. and she can't do anything but cry— watch them and cry and hold their cheeks and beg for them to come back.

soobin's eyes reflect what love was lost after being savored for a while, soobin's smile thaws hearts of those like his author. soobin is not picture perfect; but he cups teary wet cheeks and empathizes like no other.

CHOI BEOMGYU

💽 ( SONG_REC.) “CALLING” — METRO BOOMIN

a peter parker who's just gotten bitten by his spider. beomgyu is everything that peter's expectations for himself are. peter, who wants to bury the factor of his own fear, who wants to be the hero everyone feels reassured to see. peter wants for his first instinct to not be panic, confusion, or to start making a far-fetched calculation that doesn't help him in the task at hand. peter wants to shrug at the face of danger— to not be afraid for his own leap of faith. peter wants to be carefree, a cheerful soul who doesn't have time to worry because of how fast he moves.

but as time moves on, maturity is what peter sought, not a pretty face with a cocky smile. and peter gives beomgyu depth as he grows himself, a sense of responsibility sharpening the features of a new spiderman, learning the ability to accept his own fear instead of just pushing it below. peter writes beomgyu to be brave; not fearless. someone who's humbled at his wins, who grows stronger at his loss.

but peter unknowingly soon manages to parallel the expectations he never thought he'd meet— and instead of building beomgyu to be someone he'd wish he were, he grew him to be just like him. to know when to laugh and to accept his own emotions when necessary, beomgyu turned out to be a carefree soul who believes in justice and his right to his own story.

KANG TAEHYUN

💽 ( SONG_REC. ) “THANK U, NEXT” — ARIANA GRANDE

a young lady who was nit-picked by the beauty standards of a black and white society. a young lady who never understood where her greys would fit. a woman who is growing to shun away a mold she is aware she would never fit. taehyun's unique beauty is a result of a mind curious to sculpt their own standard. a stubborn soul, who embraces their differences, who moves on from the fact that they are not like the others, and recognizes that it's what catches everyone else's attention.

taehyun's emotions are quick to reach his features, moulding themselves to reflect what his heart feels. his eyes turning softer, the corners of his lips growing into a smile, the tension in his forehead dissolving as he grows fonder; taehyun was written to be observed by those who were just like his author. those who recognized their own place in a community, or the lack of said position, and always embraced it. taehyun was the result of self indulgent art that stood as a symbol for those who appeared to not fit a “beauty standard” — whatever beauty standard meant, anyway. subjectivity was never meant to be moulded into a standard, and taehyun stood to be a reflection of that.

HUENINGKAI

💽 ( SONG_REC. ) “A MARRIED LIFE” FROM UP

two 5 year olds who met at preschool and now have distance in their friendship due to one of them moving out of town. a pair of children who sneakily panic when they realize they scribbled on the wall with crayon. children who struggle to throw snowballs at each other because of how cold snow feels. two kids who stare out the window and guess the cost of cars passing by based on how expensive they look. two kids who announce that they'd like to get married as a way to show their tight knit bond.

two kids who always left the corners of their sandwiches, and argued if the head or the butt of the dinosaur nugget should be eaten first. two kids, who'd cry if the other cries. two kids who are now too far apart from each other; overwhelming sadness only emerging from a tiny body in the form of incomprehensible tears.

two kids who begin writing to each other in colorful crayons, whose journey of writing to each other never reaches its end. two children who exceeded the height marks on their walls, who grew up to be able to fit more words in their letters. hueningkai is the spark of their relationship, the cursive and the colorful. an innocence which never grew into maturity when it came to each other, a pair of kids who were too old to sit on the porch and swing their legs, or watch clouds.

hueningkai is the tears prickling in their eyes when they run to each other after years, an embrace that sends heart palpitations towards toes. hueningkai is the innocence they never grew out of, a pair of former children crying in each other's arms, an overload of sensory, a platonic kiss to each other's forehead. a soulmate bond, and an unspoken understanding.

txt — masterlist

main taglist (hmu to get added!) — @koishua @navyhyuck @allegxdly @daystiny  @kdyism  @neotism  @bluejaem  @radiorenjun  @sleepylixie @oifelixcmerebrou @mrkcore @imdamnconfused  @sicluvz @abhirami20 @tyongishs @emvrd @brxght-world @1921choi @bangchansbae

I’d appreciate if you’d give me a little feedback on the drabble if you read, whether it’s an ask, a reply or in the tags of the rb! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

[captmickey]

Out of curiosity, what game has your favorite writing for Guybrush? Personally I'd say probably Tales, I especially love how his and Elaine's relationship is handled there.

Oh my dear sweet Anon, I was in the midst of writing about just that for a different comment.... this one, to be exact:

So ah.... might as well merge that with your ask.

In a super duper condense nutshell, Tales is my absolutely favorite version of Guybrush (if we take Dadbrush and SoT out of the equation.... which that's a thought I've had in the past) because of what they decided to push for. Aside from no longer being a walking punch line and as you so rightfully pointed out in regards to his relationship with Elaine, Guybrush throughout the story learned the importance of opening up to people and knowing it's okay to ask for help. He also learned first hand that his actions had genuine consequences to them. And he grew to be selfless instead of selfish.

But in a longer format? This is now my "Welcome to Mickey's incoherent TED Talk why Tales of Monkey Island is amazing and I will not take any slander on my boy's character".

(Also I might forget a point or five so keep that in mind... I have a lot to say about this game haha)

So lets get to it: Tales!Guybrush is, in my humble opinion, the iteration with the most depth (if we don't take SoT!Guybrush into account).

Up until Tales, there wasn't much exploration about his character. Like, don't get me wrong, I'm not going to go about and say he had NO character (in fact I'd say the opposite). He has it, though we only see it either if we interact on things and he does/responds to the thing that's not 'nah' or 'no' or digging through the dialog tree.

For example, in MI2, after digging through multiple dialog trees, it lets us know that Guybrush still loves Elaine even after they broke up and that he felt pressured by the pirate community to do something grandeur and even adopt that meaner personality he sports in the game. In MI3, if you screw up the elevator puzzle two-three times on Skull Island, Guybrush shows he is still very petty and even mean by shoving LeFoot off of said cliff.

But in Tales, it's where we get SO much depth with him with both his interaction, dialog tree, and even his reaction to the adventure as the story continues. It's, to date, the only canonical MI game where Guybrush not only expresses more emotions aside from his usual light-hearted, somewhat carefree, and even snarky personality. It's also the one to force him to look at how his actions badly hurt not just those around close to him, but even himself.

With exception from SoT, Tales is also the first time we see Guybrush react in hurt, guilt and even genuine anger and not petty irritation.

Now mind you, I love Return dearly (Boybrush my beloved~). It's funny, the puzzles are challenging enough, my vindication is through the roof with that game (GUYBRUSH AND ELAINE ARE END GAME WITH CHILD, SUCK IT THOSE WHO SAID IT WOULDN'T HAPPEN!!) and it's the perfect send off to the franchise if there's to never be another Monkey Island with Guybrush getting his rightful and hard earned happily ever after (and I'd love for there to be more 'Guybrush narrating to his son' kind of games but that's a topic for another day).

But after thinking about it properly, as great as a send off as Return was, it didn't hit in the same way that Tales did - narratively and character speaking. Like I said, I love the jokes, I genuinely get a good laugh especially so from LeChuck of all characters, but Tales did something that I have grown to respect and admire it for. It gave us back the badass and loving Elaine, it gave us back a genuine threat that is LeChuck who even reached out to (demon) Godhood. But more importantly, Tales stood out because it had Guybrush grow up.

What was said about Guybrush is previous interviews, and it bleeds into my incoherent ramblings, is that he's more of an idealist than an optimist and can often times be considered one of the more dangerous people to be stuck in a room with (because he is smart and he can be very mean). And throughout the series until Tales, you can't entirely fault him for being like that.

He's so experienced in the pirate-y game that he reminds the players at any given opportunity that he knows what he's doing. He knows enough to not rely on others and is willing to push people away just to get to his goal. And because he's so experienced and knows what to do, he tries to keep doing things alone even though the game - repeatedly - says otherwise:

So within the context to Tales, Guybrush by then is no longer this naive, wide-eyed wanna-be pirate.

-He's established (if Morgan is anything to go by).

-He has his wits to him (if LeChuck's remark is anything to go by).

-He's seasoned in his usual adventuring antics ("I feel a pirate-y quest coming on" he says, not eagerly... almost like it's a Tuesday for him).

In Chapter 1, after he steals the Screaming Narwhal from Van Winslow, he tells tries to tell him how he doesn't need a crew (plot twist: Winslow ends up being the best crewmate he ever had in the series)

In Chapter 2, when LeChuck insists on solving the puzzle himself, Guybrush is annoyed (aside from it being, y'know, LeChuck) because he was so certain he could do the puzzle alone (plot twist: he couldn't)

In Chapter 3, how he told Morgan to basically sit down and let him do all the work via talking to a mutinous crew and an out-of-touch captain (plot twist: he needed to brute force the crew in the end).

At every single point when he tries to do things alone (and friendly reminder: he's trying to fix a situation he inadvertently caused via Pox), there was always someone that made the process easier... primarily Winslow and Morgan.

(I should note, this isn't me slandering Elaine.... I genuinely believe her when she says she was trying to break whatever connection Guybrush, LeChuck and the Voodoo Lady seem to have but that... that's another rant for another day).

Anyways! Speaking of my all time favorite first mate.... lets talk about how he was the one that actually got Guybrush to begin his growth. In chapter one, Guybrush had zero issues using a bomb to knock Winslow off the ship, he had zero issues of straight up stealing the literal only means of escaping the island and yet Winslow, though competitive and having his own fair share of snark, treated Guybrush as an equal... even though he was in every sense of the word a threat to stealing the ship. He welcomes Guybrush to the challenge, tells him how he could (and should) do better when his initial plans fail. Even when Winslow looses, he smiles and commends Guybrush, calling him by new title of Captain... there's nothing malicious in his words or tone - he's genuinely happy for Guybrush which throws him off since he's not used to it.

He's not used to people being a good sport or even nice to him (ESPECIALLY the nice thing). So when Winslow asks to join, Guybrush is (rightfully so) super hesitant on letting Winslow in on his crew of one. He's been hurt, he's been mutinied, even in the prologue he was betrayed by the crew we the players only see if we click on the hatch of his ship... but Winslow pushes through and makes himself a crewmate for Guybrush. And not just any ol' crewmate. Winslow decides and goes to be the BEST one by freaking MILES by being the only one to not even indulge in mutiny and genuinely respect Guybrush (I don't think he's ever called Guybrush by his first name now that I think about it), even going so far as to save him during chapter 5 and telling LeChuck, a DEMON GOD, to stay away from Guybrush.

I've made a mention that Guybrush is known to be mean, especially so to people who wronged him. But he's not an overall mean-spirited kind of a person (....excluding MI2 where he's just mean). He'll show concern every now and again with a snark dashed in, but with Winslow, we get to see Guybrush gradually view Winslow less as a crewmate and more as a genuine friend. And that's not to say Guybrush hasn't seen a crewmate as friends (looking at you, Barber Quartet and Carla), but his banter to Winslow is more akin to a friend than a crewmate.... especially so by Chapter 5 when saved.

And I can't talk about Guybrush opening up without mentioning Morgan LeFlay. The key person to Guybrush's growth. The one who put a mirror in front of him and had him really and truly comprehend that his actions have consequences. She's the first one that both us and Guybrush learn is an actual fan (yes I am refuting Planet Threepwood as that just monetized his image for tourists (and they utilize his image wrongfully at that)) and even outright says how she was inspired by him to not only learn how he fights, but how to hold her breath like him.

She really highlights all the cool parts about him, even if she got it wrong in some aspects (such as thinking he fights his way to victory instead of talking and using his wits.... which Guybrush outright says he's known for far more) and Guybrush, because he has that bit of an ego to him, just took it, he didn't really think much of it. He even makes a few jabs at her for being his fan. But all in all, he likes her.

Until the betrayal.

And that betrayal really is the light to the whole thing about Guybrush growing up and facing different aspects of his emotions and personality.

Up until the betrayal, through the entirety of Chapter 3, even when Morgan is irritated that he's not looking at her as an equal and he refutes her help for the good first half of the chapter (pretending to be his wife aside), the two eventually find common grounds and Guybrush, thanks to Winslow and learning to open up a bit more, starts to view her as a friend. Guybrush and Morgan even grow a bit of a banter between the two!

But she betrays him so thoroughly that it causes Guybrush to put back up those walls of his and push everyone away.

He is hurt and he is angry.

Two emotions he had not shown throughout Monkey Island. Irritation? Sure. Aggravation? Absolutely! But hurt and genuinely angry?

Not. Once.

And it wasn't LeChuck that pushed him to show it... it was a supposed friend! And that's so incredibly wild to me! You'd think Guybrush would show some form of anger towards LeChuck for constantly being his nemesis, constantly trying to kill him and steal Elaine, but no... no it was a fan who betrayed his trust (that he RARELY gives, I should stress) that got him absolutely angry.

And it's because of that betrayal arc that actually made me adore Tales!Guybrush. Because it really only gets worse for Guybrush and he's really pushed to a limit.

Throughout Chapter 4, he is constantly refuting help from anyone, it's really the Guybrush we're used to of being essentially a loner and doing things by himself (not that he could push Winslow away anyways.... he was stuck on the Narwhal). He even makes a very snide and very mean remarks that boils down to how her betrayal is essentially what messed up his plan to save Elaine AND the Caribbean, and he even angrily tells her how HE (not him and Winslow, not him and the Voodoo Lady - JUST Guybrush) needs to save his wife and cure the Caribbean. Not WE.

(and something I thought of as I type this and I have no idea how to shoehorn this into the rambling but worth noting - at the start of the quest, he always focused on just curing himself and Elaine. The Caribbean was a bonus but it was really an adventure driven to save his wife.... and then Winslow gets Pox'd and he changes that tone from 'saving Elaine' to 'Elaine AND the Caribbean')

It goes from bad to worse during the courtroom when Guybrush gets a one-two combo of hurt: Elaine is so far gone Pox'd that he and the sponge can't reach her, LeChuck (his arch-nemesis that he was, until this point, the ONLY ONE to openly say he did not trust while everyone else did) comes in to be the only one on the island to defend him, the reveal that the Voodoo Lady had been behind essentially everything in Guybrush's life and kept throwing him in harms way (though that is also a rambling for another day)... all forms of trust, new and old, is shattering for him.

As I've said, this chapter is where we see Guybrush - not Poxed - genuinely hurt and angry, and aside from Morgan, he shows it on the Voodoo Lady by losing his cool with her, angrily saying that he no longer trusts her.

Yet he still, somehow, reels back that anger. Somehow. Not entirely.

Because it reaches to a head when he goes to DeSinge and finds a dying Morgan, who is apologizing to him because she was trying to make right to him after hurting him. A gesture Guybrush had never been given before: he never had anyone try to do right by him... and it cost them.

Someone is dying because he made them feel bad. They're not seeking revenge, they're not trying to hurt him... they're trying to say sorry.

And failed.

And there.... THERE we see for the first time Guybrush genuinely and unapologetically Angry. Granted, his anger, initially, was thinking DeSinge killed her, but he's not entirely wrong to blame DeSinge. If DeSinge had never gone after Guybrush, if DeSinge had just let him be to cure the Caribbean, if DeSinge had not been so villainous, Morgan would still very much be alive.

Guybrush could have, under different circumstances, met Morgan and maybe their friendship wouldn't have been so tarnished because of gold or silver.

And while Guybrush is angry and blaming DeSinge... he decides on something that he hasn't done in the franchise: getting revenge.

And not just comedic revenge as he's shown in the past, he's genuinely after DeSinge for killing Morgan and wants to strike him down in return.

And I. Adore. Tales. For. That!

He shows his anger again when LeChuck mocks Guybrush while he's a ghost, but it's not NEARLY as furious as when he looks out the window and bitterly says DeSinge's name. Not even when he declares how he's going to take down LeChuck is he that enraged.

His foundation of trust and genuine friends is shaken and shattered and bruised, but this is the only game where Guybrush takes action. He never really outright bemoans or says out loud "it's my fault", but he lets his actions do the talking.

And before it's pointed out "But it's still for his own gain", I'm gonna have to put one huge giant asterisk to that:

He needed the locket, but he cheers up Anemone by reuniting them with Winslow (and silly remarks aside, he genuinely is happy for their relationship).

He couldn't touch physical items, but he speaks rather warmly towards Winslow and asking if Winslow would still willingly help him as well as seek out advice.

He cheers Morgan up and offers her way back to the realm of the living... and that one had no ulterior motive. It was the least he could do after mis-hearing her dying words and it was his own way of apologizing to her.

I've also said in the beginning of this ramble that this is the only game to let Guybrush feel hurt. And again, not in that comedic kind of way.

In previous games, when he's discouraged or feeling some form of despair, it's always followed up with some kind of joke or laugh. Something at Guybrush's expense. And it would make sense considering whenever he felt that despair horizon of sorts, he was always (shocker) alone.

As mentioned before, he is incredibly used to doing things alone and without help. Tales changed that.

When Elaine "agrees" to being a Demon Bride (which, side tangent, she clearly began plotting on how to use it against LeChuck with her very loud and very apparent 'Hmmmmm' alley-ooped with "Yeeeeesss.....!" Like something clicked for her as an improved plan), Guybrush (RIGHTFULLY) feels discouraged: again, he's been betrayed by one too many people, the world is ending, LeChuck is a GOD, he's dead, and Elaine (as far as he knew) agreed to being a Demon Bride. After having four (well, three) whole chapters of opening up and relying on people to going back to being alone... no one can fault him for giving up.

And it's not the "Ah well, sucks to suck" like he does in Escape, he genuinely sits on the floor of Crossroads and sounds like he's just about ready to cry (Mickey where-- "C'mon Morgan, I just lost my *wife*" he says with the last part having his voice wavering, come freaking at me).

It takes Morgan... MORGAN, the one who brought out ANGER out of him, to not even cheer him up, but to tell him to give it one more go to try and save Elaine and the world. She even says how she admires his dedication since it never ever wavered... both in his memoirs and as she witnessed first hand, so he has to get back up.

But!! The biggest kicker was that he was not quickly bouncing back going "Yeah, you're right lets go save the world" and proceeds to make a fourth wall joke-- he looks away! He has a brief moment on his expression of feeling hurt and betrayed at his supposed dedication (again, he genuinely believed Elaine's lie and I'll get back at that in just a minute). He tries to think of a plan but he's so incredibly hurt that he quickly finds flaws within his own plans and I just....! He's the guy that always think of something. Whether it's a coherent plan or a Guybrush plan, he always has some kind of a plan.... maybe not Elaine-level, but he's not dimwitted to not be able to think of SOMETHING.

He is, frankly, too hurt to think of a solid enough plan and to think back on the adventure. It takes Morgan to suggest he finds some shield to block the attack (his body against voodoo root beer) for him to finally click a plan and perk just a little bit back up.

That hurt continues strong when he faces off against Elaine after reclaiming his body and pleads desperately that it's him, to please stop. There is no quips during that moment, he's just desperate for the one person he unapologetically and whole heartedly loves that just describing her has him swooning in love, flaws and all.

But my favorite favorite FAVORITE thing, since this is Guybrush finally expressing his anger and hurt, is how he shows it towards Elaine. When the control over her disappears and she's conscious again, if going through the dialog tree, Guybrush makes her promise him one thing and one thing only - To not give up and become LeChuck's bride again.

Not find a way to save Guybrush, not for revenge.... but to not give up.

It's the first time we see him be selfless. He's not asking her to use that mind of her's to find a way to save him, all that's on his mind is keeping Elaine safe and destroying LeChuck.

So he makes Elaine swear to not give up and is genuinely stern and demanding with her when she asks him to not talk like he's going to die again (which... is a hard promise since he's a ghost controlling a literal corpse at this point) but he stops her, and very very VERY sternly and nearly shouting at her to promise him just that. He would never raise his voice to her in ALL of Monkey Island!! He would sass every now and again, sure, but he would never ask her of nearly anything.

And that's how you see the lesson of asking for help had finally set in! He makes her promise him, he tells her to light the cannon, to attack LeChuck while the Undead Pirate was between realms, Guybrush had finally FINALLY started to ask for help and it's not for himself!

And the final act Guybrush does in tales is, hands down, the most selfless thing he had ever done in the entirety of ALL of Monkey Island: He sacrificed himself.

This is the same man who would saw off a peg leg, nail shut a person into a coffin, steal a monocle, destroy a ship with a boulder, steal artifacts for his own gains, mock, jab, and embarrass anyone that would cross him.... and he sacrificed his only means back to the realm of the living for Elaine and everyone else.

Tales, in that moment, became hands down my all time favorite iteration of Guybrush. He had shown an immense level of growth, he showed he was open to having friends, asking for help, understanding when things are bigger than him, letting himself feel such strong emotions like anger and hurt... Tales!Guybrush has easily the grandest and greatest character growth and one of the main reasons why I refute anytime someone say he's just a bumbling moron who is needlessly mean.

I'm sure I'm missing something or a detail or another reason why Tales is my favorite iteration (note: iteration, not game.... that one is in perpetual cycle with Curse), but for now I'll end it on this note:

He can be mean, he is definitely a goof with his own quips, and at times even selfish... but Guybrush Threepwood at his core is cunning, hilarious, and he is unapologetically loving to those that matter in his life. He just picks who gets to see that side of him.

[starbeltconstellation]

HEYYYYY!!!

i hope you’re well ❤️! i just wanted to come on here for a second to express how grateful im currently feeling for your story. i found it on ao3 a couple of days ago (wish i would’ve found it earlier but now i got a nice chunk of chapters to read through and hyper fixate over 😄😄) and i have been obsessed ever since. genuinely, you’ve made my august with this story.

this story feels so special to me. i’m so excited and giddy everytime i open the website back up to continue reading it (mannn i never wanna finish it) and it’s like the best part of my day.

i just wanna say that you’re a mf-ing genius. a. genius.

everytime something happens in the story i genuinely GASP. LIKE OH MY GOSH. im going insane over this fic. (the theories are bubbling inside of my brain about melanie and what’s gonna happen later on, i also love reading about people’s theories too man its so nice to see how invested everybody is cuz girl I AM.)

this story, man, it’s GREAT. it’s not only very well written, which im sure everybody appreciates as the flow is so nice, but it is also exciting, intense and beautiful. every single character had been on point, mischaracterising isn’t in your vocabulary. it’s like you know these lot personally. but anyway, it is a pleasure to read, like i said, VERY exciting and entertaining. i love our girl mel so much, she is so relatable and honestly just so real 😭 her reactions to most things are so valid like, girl same! she’s amazing, i don’t think i’ve ever encountered an OC as interesting and cool and well written as her. her whole storyline is just insane, bless her having all of this pressure and stress on her too lol 😭😭😭 but what can she do ahah, i mean?! the scene with the shopkeeper telling her to go back to her world had me absolutely stunned i was SHAKING. but i do think she made the right choice, she’s so strong.

like despite the fact that she knows all the hell she will have to endure there, she DID chose to stay, which is such a sacrifice. man i just wanna hug her and say thanks (i am not in the star wars universe but …)

everybody else too though, like ahsoka, obi-wan, anakin, the clones, mace, etc.. are also really cool to see the OC interact with, this is such a comfort fic for me, genuinely. it feels like i know them personally through this fr 🥲🥲🥲

i love reading the other’s comments on your story, it’s so nice to see this community form😭 like i’ve found my people LOL

thank you for feeding our star wars and anakin obsessions with your lovely story, i can’t get enough of it i swear im making a playlist for melanie as we speak.

anyhoo, just wanted to let you know how much i love this story and how much i appreciate you putting effort into creating something we can all take comfort in <3 i hope to stay and interact a lot more as i go on about reading the story!

Ahhhhh, oh my goshhh. Thank you so, SOOOO much, my dear little commenter. Haha. 🥺🥹❤️ This message was a big surprise when I first received it (which was a while ago, I know. 😭😅 I’m really sorry for the delay in response. Life gets the best of me at times. I’m trying to catch up on my asks), because at that time, I was still stuck struggling on the final bit of my huge whopper of a chapter that is now FINALLY out. ✊😖 Haha. And I just want you to know that your comment was SO helpful and motivating to me. Like… I’m not even joking. 😭 Your comment and a handful of other loyal readers (like my dear @ensomniaa ! 😌😆❤️) are probably the main reason I was able to trudge through my writer’s block and depression to get out the next chapter. So, just… thank you. 😭❤️❤️❤️❤️ Thank you for taking the time out of your day to write out such a long and in depth comment with such gushing words about my work and about how I’ve been writing the Melakin romance dynamic. It makes me feel like my writing isn’t half bad. Haha.

I always like to take my time responding to comments, because I feel I should always take the time and care to write out a detailed response that isn’t just copy pasted. You all take the time out of your day to comment to me, so it’s only fair I do the same! 🥺💕💕💕 So… my point is… I’m SO sorry this response took so long. 😭 I hope the wait time won’t have discouraged you from messaging again in the future. They truly do bring me such a big smile. And while I might not get to asks or comments immediately—ALL of my reader ducklings WILL eventually see a response. 😭💕❤️ I have made that my life’s goal. Lol.

Now, onto the ask! 😁✨💕 I’ll put the rest under a read more.

I’m soooo happy to hear that you’re so obsessed with my story and that it made your August! 😁✨❤️ Haha, it’s always exciting when I see someone new has stumbled over my fic. And I feel you with that hyper fixation. 😭✊ I’m BEGGING for my brain to give the SW hyper fixation back to me so I can churn out chapters at the speed of sound like when I did first starting this massive project. Lol. 🫠 So far… it’s still not working. But don’t worry! I shall NEVER abandon this story. I swearrrr, this thing will be my magnum opus. 😭✊Loool.

The fact my writing makes you giddy??? 😭 The fact it makes you theorize (which I ADORE when my readers do and ramble in the comments so I can muah-ha-ha to them. 😈😈💕😂) and gasp out loud?? 😭😭 The fact that you ENJOY reading through the different comments and seeing other readers’s theories and reactions?? 😭🥹💕❤️❤️❤️ You are what us writers call a rare GEM, dear reader. 🥺🥹❤️ To not only LEAVE a comment, but also just how you seem to genuinely enjoy commenting/reading other commenters’s thoughts because it feels like a fan community?? (And how SWEET to say I’m a big enough writer to have a little community. 🫠 I’m cryingggg. 😭❤️❤️) The fact you think I’m… a genius?? 🫣🥺😭❤️❤️❤️ (Idk about that, but I’ll put aside my anxiety issues. 😌 It is a lying liar who liessss).

Thank you. Thank you from the very BOTTOM of my heart. Idk what else I can say besides that, because rare reader gems like you keep us starving writers chugging along. 😭✊❤️

I’m SOOO glad you feel like everyone is in character. 😭❤️❤️ I worried about that a LOT. Especially for Anakin and the clones. There’s just a certain way about them that you have to get right, or they become 2-dimensional if you don’t write their little quirks and ticks. And I LOVE getting to explore the clones’s and Mel’s sibling-like relationship. 😭 I based most of their personalities on how they act around Mel off my annoying brother (affectionate 😌💕😂). I’m also so happy you feel the Jedi are also in character as well, and that it feels like a comfort to read them, like you’re learning about them along with Mel. 🥺💕 That was actually a lot of the idea with this fic (besides me living vicariously through Mel to romance Anakin, of course 👀😂❤️) over how I would slowly write scenes to SHOW the audience the misconception about the Jedi/their culture/certain characters. I didn’t want to PREACH to them. I wanted to present them with the evidence that maybe the Jedi aren’t “repressive” and “emotionless 🙄🤢” as they might’ve been led to believe by a big chunk of the fandom’s harsh perception. It would be like it was happening in time with Anakin as his thoughts change into something better and less self centered.

And I HAVE actually received a comment on Wattpad from a reader that my fic helped change their minds about Mace and the Council! 🥰🥰❤️ And it was just… such a joy to hear. 😭❤️ That’s the idea with this fic. I hope to reach across the aisle towards EVERYONE—maybe anti Jedi fans will read my work and have their minds changed about their culture. Maybe someone who despises Anakin to the bone will read my fic on a whim and slowly grow to care about him/see the humanity underneath the surface, just like Mel has. And maybe by the END of this fic… I’ll have convinced some people that the Jedi are not at fault for their own genocide by “failing” Anakin—because the truth is that it was HIS choice. Maybe by the end of this fic, there’ll be fans who’ll read the work and grow to see that you can love a character while still criticizing them/knowing they’re in the wrong (ie; Anakin 😔💔), while ALSO still acknowledging that he went through such horrible trauma as a kid while a slave on Tatooine… but it still DOESN’T absolve him or give him the right to hurt others just because he’s hurting himself.

That’s what this fic is all about, after all. GENUINE growth and change. Not placating a man by changing a few moments that he won’t have to go through in the timeline that will suddenly make him all “warm and fuzzy inside” and see the light. TRUE redemption and change means that Anakin will have to grow and ADMIT he was wrong while not becoming defensive when his actions (*cough* the Tuskens *cough*) are brought to light. Essentially, I’m trying to “Zuko-ify” him. (Loool, I know. Pretty high hopes for myself there. 😭😂❤️)

I’m also soooo happy you love and relate to Melanie so much. 🥹❤️❤️ Almost all readers have told me similar things, and it’s so wonderful to know that I’ve made a character that has been accepted by a small portion of the “SW/Anakin fandom”. 😆😁💕❤️ Mel came about when I was one day reading over an isekai story and just… not being able to fully immerse myself, because the OC’s reactions just didn’t seem realistic to me. 😭 And so I remember sitting down and imagining how I would react in such a situation (immediate freak out/think I was dreaming/would run in terror from Anakin’s hot ass at every opportunity 😌❤️‍🔥😂), and then that’s how Melanie Bains came into being! Haha. ❤️😁

So, while Mel IS somewhat of a stand-in for the audience (it IS an isekai fic after all 😭🤷‍♀️), it was still very important to me to make her three dimensional and—while yes, very relatable—also make sure she became her own character who could grow into herself. So a hero’s journey was important, along with giving Mel an antagonist (The Shopkeeper) separate from Anakin’s antagonist (Palpatine), because it was SOOOO important to have Mel have her own character arc/story AWAY from Anakin. It was important that Anakin wasn’t ALL she was about. Mel has friends (Ahsoka/the clones), she has her own plan she’s dealing with to try and save the galaxy while barely giving Anakin a second thought besides terror at first, and most importantly—Melanie is NOT begging Anakin to change. That was soooo important to me. She doesn’t have TIME to beg him to change. There’s too much at stake already, and if Anakin changed FOR Mel, it’s not even true change in the first place. Instead, as you’ve probably guessed from my latest chapter, Mel is INSPIRING him to change himself, because of the qualities about her he is coming to admire which in turn makes him take a look at his own selfish actions. This is always where I think “bad boy/I can fix him” writers get things lost in translation. It’s not true redemption if they change FOR the girl, because—as the Marvel movie Shang-Chi has recently shown us 🥶—if the girl ever dies… then the “bad boy/villain” goes right back to being evil. 😭🤷‍♀️🤦‍♀️ What REAL redemption would be is meeting someone you grow to love who INSPIRES you to become a better version of yourself—not FOR them—but because you want to become someone like them. You want to stand by their side in the light and feel proud.

Anyway, I feel like I’ve ranted a lot. 😭😂❤️ But I just wanted to thank you soooo much again for your beautiful words that were so kind and truly brought a ray of light to my dreary days! 😭😭❤️❤️❤️ I only hope my long response time doesn’t discourage you from writing me messages in the future. 😅😓😭🫠 I’m so sorry again for the long wait.

But I have ADORED rereading your comment these past few days while I’ve been writing out my response. It’s so thoughtful and long and in depth and I lovveeee itttt. 😭❤️❤️❤️ THIS is what feeds our writer brains. Haha.

A playlist sounds awesome! 💕💕💕💕💕 I already made one for Anakin and Mel and the Melakin romance, as you can see from my last response. But I would still ADORE getting to know songs that you think fit with my fic and Mel and Anakin’s journey! 😭❤️❤️ If you ever do make it, please hit me up and send a linkkk! 👀👀🙏

Thank you so much again for letting me know my writing brought you such comfort. 😭💕 I hope you’ll stay and interact more as well! 😭❤️ I always love hearing theories or getting a comment to see a reader is rereading or that two readers are discussing something about my fic together. Haha. 😄✨❤️

And so, I suppose I’ll leave it here! I ADORE you and love you so much, dear reader. I am picking you up and hugging you like a stuffed animal. (Glomp!) 🤗🫂

I hope to hear from you again soon! 🥺💕 I’m so sorry again for the wait. 😭

And now… off to reply to four more asks. Lol. ✊

Gotta blast! 🏃‍♀️💨✍️👩‍💻

-

To any readers that stumble across this and are curious enough to check out my fic:

-

Tags:

@ensomniaa

@heartfairy

@fangirlteallie

@lemons-2-limes

@shoniwake

@silverwoodj

@lexskiss

@selenaftmarvel

[night-unfurls-its-splendour]

Susan Kay's 'Phantom' Read: Part IV (Nadir)

I always knew I'd have mixed feelings about this chunk of the book.

I feel like the issues with the rampant Orientalism and just generally how very wrong Kay is about so much of this have been sufficiently commented on by others, so I'm not going to spend a lot of real estate on that. I'm mainly going to focus on what bugs me personally.

Which is... well, several things

Where do I start?

I guess with "Nadir" himself. I don't know who "Nadir" is, but he's #NotMyDaroga. 'Why's that?' You may ask? Well because, in my opinion, he's only tangentially related to his source material. There's a lot here that checks the boxes: Daroga of Mazanderan, reluctant with many of his duties, simultaneously in awe of and terrified of Erik’s genius all of that's in there. Buuuuut

First of all, Kay took the most practical, likeable character in Leroux's work and made him whiny and annoying. All he does for the first five pages is complain. Within those five pages he also refers to himself as "regrettably squeamish". Nothing happens in the course of this episode to show him growing out of that, so how we get the, pragmatic badass who haunts the Paris opera house keeping Erik in check I have no idea (I also have no idea how this is gonna go later in the book).

Not only that but this in particular stuck out to me:

Some of the illusions were positively supernatural, and long before the show was at an end, I was quietly convinced that I stood in the presence of a genie, created from fire more than two thousand years before Adam. I noted uneasily that he was left handed. Every Moslem knows that the devil is left handed--it is for this reason that we always take care to spit to the left. My fingers felt instinctively for the amulets that hung at my neck, an outstretched hand made in silver and the dried eye of a sheep, killed at Mecca on the great day of sacrifice. Both were powerful protective agencies, and I had never felt more in need of their protection. I took care not to meet his gaze, for I already feared his evil eye.

This stands in sharp contrast to the Persian of Leroux:

If I had been a superstitious man or easily susceptible to weakness, I could not have failed to think that I had to do with a siren of some sort whose task was to trouble the voyager bold enough to travel on the waters of the lakeside house; but, thank God, I come from a country where the fantastic is so cherished that we know it to its depths, and in times past I myself have studied it extensively. Anyone who knows the magicians trade can excite the human imagination with a few simple tricks.

Of course you can make the argument that the Persian speaking here has known Erik for years now and is wise to his tricks, whereas Kay's "Nadir" is seeing them for the first time. But I'm sorry. I don't buy it. Leroux's Daroga, though amazed and awestruck by Erik's skills at illusion, never indicates that he has even been so fooled by them as to actually mistake him for more than what he is: a genius, certainly, but no genie.

Which leads me to wonder if Erik's magic tricks in this book aren't a little too fantastic. Granted Kay never leads us to believe that they really are supernatural, but she uses Erik's degree of genius as a bit of a shield to get away with not revealing the secrets to some truly fantastic tricks, while Leroux nearly always explains Erik's mechanisms (whether they would work to the level of efficacy Leroux describes its up for debate, but he at least does have explanations for them all.

I think it's hilarious and contemptible that Kay has, at numerous times in this book, dropped incredibly clunky and gratuitous clusters of architectural technical terms, just lists of them for no apparent reason except, I can only assume, to show off how much research she did on the subject; and then makes it so patently obvious that her cultural research is dubious, negligible, or entirely non-existent.

She goes to great lengths to paint Nadir as a devout Muslim, which is not something Leroux ever did, now that I think about it. I don't doubt that the Persian is, at least culturally, be he seems quite ambivalent to his religion, as a rule. It quite literally (as far as I can recall) never comes up. But Nadir is. Several times she has him exclaim "Allah" much in the way a Westerner would use "God" as an expletive. Not "Wallah" not even "By Allah" just "Allah".

"Allah, how I hated cats!"

And it's not only the things he says but the things he doesn't say that annoy me (though I'm a layman, and very much open to correction). Common Islamic phrases that could easily be used in any of the situations Nadir finds himself in are completely left by the wayside. There isn't even a single "Inshallah" in his entire narrative.

Another problem I have is that Kay's Daroga is a widower with a sick son. A very complex emotional relationship develops among Erik, Nadir, and Nadir's son, Reza, to whom Erik feels an affinity, as the boy is slowly crippled by a debilitating congenital disease. I have a problem with this because its all very... I call it the Michael Burnham effect. That is to say this is a very important and big emotional thing in The Persian's relationship with Erik and I don't believe that this wouldn't have come up in any of the Persian's narrative if it was actually the case. This is a liberty which Kay, in my opinion, shouldn't have taken. It affects Erik's entire relationship with The Persian in ways that strain my credulity. And it's part of the reason that Erik's character here is fully beginning to stray deeper into a musical-based version than the Leroux-version (which I have a problem with, as this book is ostensibly following Leroux's outline). She even goes to far as to have Erik acknowledge Nadir, with complete (if reluctant) sincerity, as his friend. And this pretty much confirms my suspicions of where "Erik and Daroga are friends" comes from. Whatever Erik and The Persian's odd relationship in the book is, I can't call it friendship with how frequently The Persian calls him "the monster".

Note don't get me wrong Erik and Daroga do definitely have a bizarre bond that is, I think, a kind of friendship. Daroga feels sympathy for Erik, and also responsibility for him. He is, in many, ways, more like an older brother than a friend. I could say so much on this subject but that's for another post.

But what I find really baffling and annoying about Erik and Nadir's "friendship" in this book is the drugs.

I can't express how repugnant I find this. I think it's an insult to both Erik and the Persian, the fact that Nadir HIMSELF GETS ERIK HOOKED ON OPIUM. WHY. And then she has the fucking nerve to lampshade with all the "Oh yes Opium's a terrible horrible deadly habit" Only to have Nadir turn right around and give Erik his fix. What the actual fuck.

But setting aside that Susan Kay actually said "I'm not just going to make Nadir annoying, I'm also going to make him an enabler!" Is the fact that... I just don't buy Erik doing drugs.

I know Erik is an artist, and artists throughout the ages have been associated with decadent habits like drugs and alcohol to soothe their tortured souls or broaden their minds to ever more fantastic plains blah blah blah.

But Erik is not an every day kind of character. Erik is notable in how uniquely he glories in his tribulations. Erik's music in particular is a manifestation of his pure emotions both good and bad, and I think for him to alter his moods with substances, to him, would sully the purity of his art, which he always characterizes as a spiritual, almost holy thing.

And here's another thing. Part of the reason Erik is doing opium in this book is, yes the horrors of his past, but also the terrible things he's doing in the present... which I do think Erik of Leroux did grow sick of what was demanded of him in Persia (he explicitly says he wanted to put it all behind him), but I don't think he probably felt... that bad about it? I dunno maybe that's just me.

Moving on.

I'll pause here to say that while I think Kay is a bit guilty of "de-fanging" Erik in this book, I genuinely do appreciate her emphasis on his affinity for the weak and broken, and his knack with animals.

So now I come to one of the things that made me look most askance at this section. Again, the conceit of this book (or at least what I was given to understand the conceit was) is that its filling in the blanks that Leroux left vague. And I don't really know if that was Susan Kay's intention, but it's certainly how the Phandom took it. Which is why it bugs me when there are things in here that either don't quite jive with canon or straight up contradict it.

Now in terms of the canon of Leroux's actual book, we're not sure exactly which Shah employed Erik. Leonard Wolf point out that Leroux mentions Erik "[fighting] the Emir" and posits that he is referring to the Afghani-Persian war of 1837. This would put Erik’s age in PotO at about 60, assuming he was very young at the time (in his teens). That would make Erik's patron Mohammad Shah Qajar.

However M. Grant Kellermeyer (and most others writing about this period in Erik’s life, including Susan Kay) favour the idea that Erik’s patron was Mohammed's son, Nasser al din Shah Qajar.

When Erik and the Persian talk about the "Rosy Hours of Mazanderan" they both make mention of the "Little Sultana", who is described by Leroux's narrator in the epilogue as "the Shah-in-Shah's favourite", whose boredom was the Shah's impetus for sending the Persian to find Erik in the first place, and whose delight in bloodthirsty spectacles of torture and execution allowed Erik's talents in those areas to develop into a finely honed art.

Now I would take "the Little Sultana" to mean one of the Shah's wives, concubines, daughters, or even a sister.

But Kay, for some inexplicable reason, chooses to interpret this capricious (and bloodthirsty) female figure--the Shah's favourite--as his... mother.

Now Nasser al din Shah's mother was Malek Jahan Khanom, who, true to Kay's portrayal was Regent of Persia for one month (September 5th - October 5th) in 1848. Also like Kay's "Khanum", Malek was a formidable and politically savvy woman, and definitely not an individual you would want to cross.

I can't dispute the idea of the Khanom being an incredibly powerful figure, and the type you would need and want to keep appeased (she is described by Kay as keeping her son firmly under her thumb), but I have to look at the fact that Kay read "The Little Sultana, the Shah's Favourite" and really said, "Right. That'll be his mom" and squint a little bit.

On top of this, the Khanum is characterized as having a sexual obsession with Erik, very similar to the way Duchess Josiana is aroused by Gwynplaine's facial deformity in Victor Hugo's The Man Who Laughs, and is first irritated, then enraged by Erik's constant indifference. This fact is not lost on the Shah.

I just don't know ya'll. It's...I just... I don't know about this.

M. Grant Kellermeyer speculates that the "Little Sultana" Leroux refers to, to be the seventh wife of Nasser al din Shah, Jeyran, whom he first took as a mistress in around 1850 following a chance encounter during which he apparently fell in love with her on sight. One story of their meeting even asserts that she was one of his mother's servants.

If that is the case it would be one reason why Malek and Jeyran stood locked for years in stark political opposition to each other.

Jeyran was herself formidable and enjoyed many masculine pursuits including hunting and shooting, and not even the Khanom was able to dissuade Nasser from conferring her the title of Forough ol-Saltaneh, or from naming her son the crown prince (though this decision was stuck in political hell for years because of Jeyran's lack of influential blood-lines).

She was his favourite wife until her early death in 1860 at the age of 29.

It's my opinion that Leroux's "Little Sultana" is a composite of Jeyran and her successor as the Shah's favourite, Anis al-Dalweh, who was even more formidable and politically savvy than Jeyran. She was the only one of the Shah's wives known to share his meals and the only one he suffered to publicly criticize him, and she took over Malek's duties as the head of the harem upon her death in 1873.

Masterpost

[afternoondreaming]

Imagine: Celebrating the New Year with Wheatley

(Gender Neutral Reader)

    Down in the depths of the Aperture Science Enrichment Center it becomes incredibly difficult to tell time. Most clocks are either broken or out of battery. Any atomic clocks that might have adorned a desk were damaged beyond repair. Two things, however, have never let you down. The first is your always chatty companion, Wheatley. The second: the moon.

    You catch glimpses of the beautiful celestial body in a very certain room. You’re on a higher level of the facility for sure, although through the years the floor level designations have long since worn away. There is a hole, large and rotten around the edges as the ceiling tiles wear away from rain. You can see through countless floors, countless miles up, until the moon- sublime and beaming- takes up the star-pocked sky.

    You had developed a simple moon calendar based on one Wheatley had mentioned during his rambling stories, and he even gave you a starting date to help. While you couldn’t be sure of his accuracy, you could at least be appreciative of his help. As often as you can, the two of you would return to the room for respite and to add a notch onto your calendar. One night as the two of you chat away about nothing, something comes to Wheatley.

    “Oh! Love, mark on that calendar- lovely job by the way, amazing idea I had and you completed, teamwork- it’s New Year’s Eve! You humans take that seriously, don’t you? That whole Y2K incident and all.” His optic rolled at the mention of that. Although you weren’t quite paying attention past his first statement.

    “It’s New Years Eve?” You repeated it back to him. It couldn’t possibly be New Years Eve. There’s no fanfare, no fireworks- the world is silent. To be fair, there is no one to celebrate it around here. Just Wheatley, GLaDOS, and you; you highly doubt GLaDOS would be holding a New Years Eve party. “Wheatley, how long until midnight?”

    “Around...” He pauses for a moment, glancing up at nothing. “Two hours. Love, I know New Years is important to you humans, but- don’t know if you noticed- we have no traditional means of celebration.”

    You clap your hands together and start putting your plan into motion. Wheatley watches you from the position you had put him on a desk, commenting and questioning here and there. You string some rusty paperclips into a chain and hang it using some spare push-pins- really hoping whoever had you asleep kept you up on your tetanus shots-  and get to work cutting out some firework shapes from colored printer paper to tape to the walls. 

    “You like fireworks, Love?” Wheatley asked, oddly quiet for his usual rambling self.

    “Well, they are loud, but they’re beautiful. The colors glowing against the dark night sky...” Some sadness creeps up on you as you’re cutting out the fireworks, but you push it back down and continue crafting. “Anyways, it really is beautiful. These little things don’t really compare.” You chuckle as you hold up one of them for Wheatley to see. “I think they’re cute though!” You start pinning them to the wall.

    “Y’know, Love, I’ve never actually seen them- well, never footage of them at least. Never been out of here anyway, no management rail up and all. I-... Like yours.” His eye is looking at anything but you at this point. He sputters “Could’ve done some science to make them glow- not hard of course, for a core of my intellect.” You giggle and his optic meets your eyes again. As you walk over to him you smile, taking a seat on the desk at a nice spot where you could see both the moon and your little craft project.

    “Time check, Wheatley?” You cradle him on your lap, gazing wistfully at the heavenly body.

    “From my extensive calculations- very hard to do, by way, very complex- I would say its about to be a minute from New Years Day. I’ve heard you humans- silly things you are- like to count down the seconds. You start from... Ten, I believe?”

    “You’re right, we humans are silly... Lets count down, okay, Wheats?” The sadness from before starts to weigh on you. How long has is been since you’ve been outside? Seen the world, seen any kind of civilization or people... Hearing him begin to count snaps you out of it. You join him, rhythmically counting down the seconds until you finally reach the end. You see no fanfare in the sky, hear no booming of fireworks or clinking of glasses. Just the unending silence and creaking of a facility long forgotten.

    “Happy New Year, Love...” Wheatley whispers, a rare quiet in his voice. “Thank you- for the fireworks and sparkly banners... Its the best one I’ve ever had.” His kind words are exactly what you needed. You look to your wall of crafts, the paper clips twinkling in the light and your crude paper cut outs finding new meaning.

    “Happy New Year, my dear.” You whisper back, holding him close and putting a gentle kiss on his metal chassis. He doesn’t respond, but the gentle whirring of his fans lulls you into peace. Eyes still gazing up at the moon.

[mysteriouslybluepirate]

Thank you for offering your askbox. I've been thinking that Izzy being just a side character whose story wasn't main plot thread makes even better proof that not everything was well planned? If I was a writer and this would be easily the most discussed topic about the finale, I'd reflect on storytelling decisions I made. There's a good reason why Izzy's fate overshadows everything despite that he wasn't the point of the show.

(Post posted 10/31/23) Feel free to comment below if you agree or disagree, we're all here for discussions.

Thank you so much for this amazing question!! [If you're seeing this and want to discuss some aspect of S2, or my thoughts on OFMD overall, SEND ME AN ASK! I love doing this]

TLDR: Vague characterization from historical records means Jenkins is free to bend history without a lot of guilt. During early days of casting and during scene changes Jenkins got inspired by Con's audition tape. Con was told to play this shit as a Jesus/Judas relationship. An amazing performance in S1 keeps the character relevant in fandom spaces in the hiatus, and in Jenkin's mind for S2. The S1 season finale accidentally reveals a really interesting dynamic in Ed/Izzy's relationship. [Speculation from this point on] Jenkins feels like he needs to explore, with little plans to fully explore it. Fleshing out both Ed/Izzy abuse and love.

Jenkins realizes 'Oh shit, Izzy wasn't supposed to be this' midway through S2. But he still follows his original plan in killing him off, because he's not needed for the story in his outline, leading to him accidentally killing off a character as they're growing and healing. Leading to what some consider a move SO off-brand for the show, they are leaving the fandom.

[*Tin Foil Hat On*] I expect the original cut of S2 to include more scenes of the crew. I bet for every other Izzy scene, we got a crew scene. So when 'extra' not plot-relevant scenes had to get cut, they kept the Izzy scenes due to Izzy's stable arc, the fact that he'd die at the end either way and Con's amazing performance.

EXPLINATION AND DEPTH BELOW! It's a long one. A lot of this post will be speculation, interviews from Jenkins, and highly dependent on if you were in fandom between seasons 1 and 2. If you need me to hunt for sources, I can do that for you.

I'll separate everything into a chronological timeline as much as possible.

Before we touch on why Jenkins wrote Izzy to stick out in the story, we need to assume how he outlined this entire show.

Pre Con O'Neill:

I am of the personal belief that Jenkins likely wrote out an imagined arc for Ed and Stede. Including a lot of cool set pieces, fights, etc. for the three seasons he wanted vaguely based on the real lives of Stede Bonnet and Edward Teach(watch a YouTube vid documenting their history, it's a wild ride) turning it into something explicitly romantic. This is easy enough to do, as most of what we know about them was written YEARS after their deaths.

Next was filling in the cast. This is where we get our crew, mostly characters Jenkins made up, as very little is known of the men either sailed with.

Izzy Hands being a pirate under the age of 18 whose notable actions with Blackbeard include- Captaining his own vessel, running a ship aground, being Blackbeard's first mate, and getting shot by Blackbeard maybe on accident.

[THEORY] So. If you're any writer you see that and think 'cool a side character we know almost nothing about'. You slot him in as being Edward's one thing keeping him to the pirate lifestyle. Not necessarily romantic, but a serious Boss/underling relationship. This is a bit of how Izzy was written in S1 UNTIL-

Con O'Neill is cast as Izzy.

In interview, Jenkins has admitted that Con's audition tapes influenced how he wrote Izzy. As a writer, this shouldn't necessarily be ringing red flags. But he has gone on record as admitting to changing the script before shooting to suit Con. IN SEASON 1. My guess is Izzy at the end of episode 10 was meant to be more of a side character. Another Frenchie, or Wee John, who serves their purpose and then gets pushed to the side by the plot.

But at some point, Jenkins wrote how important the dynamic was between Ed and Izzy. Describing Izzy/Ed to Con before filming S1 of a 'Jesus and Judas' relationship like in Jesus Christ Superstar.

If you tell a (then closeted) queer actor who has been playing queer roles since the 1990s that his leather daddy character was having a Jesus&Judas JSC dynamic in a TV show that respects and celebrates queerness? 🤩 MY GOD.

[Speculation] That's how we get an Izzy Hands who is watching the man in front of him slip away, trying to dig his heels in. Hell, if I were Jenkins, I'd be adding a few more lines for Izzy to be pissed just to see Con have fun in the role. Let him be mad. Let him be in the background of scenes just glaring. Let us see a man slowly lose something he's built up his whole life.

[As mentioned from Comic Con- From Con O'Neill] This was important for me to bring up as Jenkins could have said 'henchman' but he didn't. Hell, when Taika and Con did hair and makeup they'd listen to the JCS cast album. It was a choice on both their parts.

[ovservation from here on out] Con plays it up, and a lot of queer fans saw this and grabbed hold of a man so desperate to keep the man he loved close that he sacrifices almost everything for it (Izzy also signs the Act of Grace to get Ed out of there).

Izzy, in a show full of openly queer people, is still on the fringe of society. SO MANY queers saw this and said 'OMG me'. ME INCLUDED. With a super supportive actor who genuinely is respectful of the fandom? Of art, and fic and meta? The Izzy 'Canyon' became so loyal because Con is a Queer Elder we didn't know we all needed in our lives!

Jenkins accidentally wrote into what could be an amazing story of a queer character living in a homophobic society where he learns to open himself up. All without ever writing a 'coming out' scene for Izzy. Jenkins knows this. Hell, since S1 Izzy fans have been telling him how cool that type of arc would be.

Now here comes the issue of where to take a side character, when you have loose plans for them.

S1 IS TIGHTLY WRITTEN ONTO ITSELF... S2?

Something we might forget now is HOW tightly written Izzy's falling out with Ed is tied into Stede and Ed falling in love. Beat per beat, Izzy is shoved away as Stede takes his place. That's really fucking smart. So smart, it was planned in the writer's room. The fact that some took it as romantic, that Ed could ever really love him back? Well...this is where Jenkins had a decision to make.

So he dips his toe. Let's make Ed even more violent than at the end of S1ep10. Let's include the bit where Blackbeard shoots Izzy Hands. Let's have Izzy confess his love for Ed and have it not be enough for Ed to change his mind. Let's show Izzy rising like a phoenix reborn after a failed suicide attempt where Izzy chooses to mutiny on Ed to protect the crew. Let's see Izzy growing. Because Jenkins loves Con's performance. Everyone in the cast enjoys him as a person. Let's give Izzy one last hurrah.

Jenkins knows this character meant a lot to Con. It's obvious in the way Jenkins recently confessed he told Con about Izzy's death midway through shooting. Sadly we likely will never be told when Con was told. But imagining Con filming the AMAZING character change of S2eps 1-2, then AFTER being told Izzy would die anyway? Oh. I wouldn't be alright. Not after all his fans had spent the last year telling him how much seeing a character like Izzy 'being accepted because they are worthy of love'.

This is the 1 thing that fucks me up. Not telling Con until midway through shooting, Versus his belief that writing Izzy's death was a fitting way to end his story. BOTH CAN'T BE TRUE. Right? If Jenkins felt the need to take con aside and go grab a meal to announce Izzy was dying but then market the ending as a 'Good Idea'. Then...What? If Con felt it fit the character, then he would have likely guessed Izzy would die. But that wasn't the vibe in the fandom at the time. It feels like a decision Jenkins made this season.

Because yes, some general audiences predicted that Izzy would die. But when your core fanbase for a character don't expect it, you didn't plan the death correctly. Fuck, I thought Izzy was trying to RECOVER this whole season. Not that Izzy was hiding how hard he was struggling. That's not a good sign when I've ALWAYS called Izzy as some brand of suicidal/depressed.

[Quote from Jenkins Entertainment Article: Oct 26 2023] 'What's the best journey we can give him(Izzy)? And what's the most interesting thing we can do with Con, who can do just about anything?'

That is not the quote of an author who has planned everything out. That's a writer who knows points A and E and is fighting to find everything in between.

The Fly in My Ointment

There's a point most writers know when a character or story slips out from under you. You didn't mean for this to happen. Hell, I write Scene by Scene outlines. My stories change. When Izzy Hands' growth arc became the most interesting part of S2, Jenkins had a choice.

How far was he willing to bend his idea to keep a character that wasn't 'essential'? Not that fucking far apparently. Because for some reason, Jenkin's labeled Izzy in his mind as 'Blackbeard' and tied Ed and Izzy's fates together. Ignoring how this season Izzy died to separate his old life with Ed from his new life with this crew.

Your question poses it perfectly- If I was a writer and this would be easily the most discussed topic about the finale, I'd reflect on storytelling decisions I made. There's a good reason why Izzy's fate overshadows everything despite that he wasn't the point of the show.

That's a trick they teach you in some writing podcasts. That in the end, you are telling one story. You can have twenty side characters and a romance arc, but in the end, you are telling one story. Each side character is going to show what happens when you fail or succeed at the central thesis.

What do we have in S1? What does Frenchie sing to set up where our story STARTS-

"A pirate’s life, [it’s] short but nice,” -“we won’t live long,”  AND “to death we go, a certain death we go.”

Our characters expect a short simple life of what most pirates EXPECT. In my mind, this story has ALWAYS been about survival. From the extravagance of Stede's ship, and a crew ready to throw him overboard, to the barebones Shark eats Shark type of survival described in Ed's own fleet. OFMD is about living in a world that doesn't want you there. About surviving and thriving. About these two men from different worlds coming together and forging a life of kindness for them and for their family.

Saying fuck you, I'm here, I'm still alive, and I'm going to THRIVE. I deserve kindness, happiness, love, and a fully lived life. I deserve to spend my short time on this Earth happy.

IN S2? The ONLY character that matches this thesis is Izzy. After scenes of Izzy struggling. Of finding himself. Of crawling up from his own personal hell, Izzy dies. He dies from a random bullet wound in the same spots that didn't kill Stede or Ed in the previous season. Breaking the one established rule for wounds in this universe that the left side is the safe side so that Izzy can die.

Even if Izzy spent this entire season wanting to die, he tried to live. For a few days after a breakup of over 20+ years of casual intimacy. Of a bond where Izzy was the murderer, the brawn. The dangerous right hand. Where Izzy dying meant not just his death, but likely that of Ed. Given the man's constant depressive moods, crews that didn't like him, and reoccurring suicidal tendencies. Ed didn't need Izzy Hands anymore. Ed had Stede now. He was ready to finally leave Izzy for good. What will Izzy Hands do now?

He gave up. He tried to move on. He listened after being told he was too rough, too loud, too mean. He tried. He tried to survive this new way of life surrounded by people who supported him. But he was tired. After so many years of putting up a mask, tearing it down was too much work. So he wanted to die. In the end. Izzy died in the arms of Edward surrounded by his family.

Buried on a plot of land Jenkins has already told us Stede and Ed will leave when things get boring. Left behind like the corpse of a pet the family has forgotten. Buried without his ring and cravat, items Izzy is only seen without when he's naked. Without the prosthetic gifted to him by a family that cared about him.

Izzy wasn't mourned for more than five seconds, before Stede and Ed were making jokes on his fresh grave, and then the episode moves on to a wedding.

RIP Izzy Hands- a man who loved more than he was ever loved in return.

Was this the right message? FUCK No. But for those of us who believed that theme of queer survival and community- We saw framing Izzy's death like this as a fucking betrayl.

Izzy Hands isn't buried with his most prized possessions- they're left out to be stolen or rot in the front yard. With only one man crying over his death and a silent funeral. He leaves this world without more than a 'he was intense'. Which...isn't great coming from the man Izzy loved for most of his life.

The reason why we're mad about Izzy isn't that it's Izzy. It's that when we boarded this flight we were given a set of rules to follow. It's a comedy about men falling in love on a boat that sometimes gets serious. That's it. To watch a character start to grow only to die for NO PLOT SPECIFIC REASON. Is insulting. If your death has no tie to the narrative (sacrifice or it comes with a revelation) it's a death just set up for shock. Izzy and Ed could have had that deathbed confession talk at the start of episode 7.

A REASON WHY I'M MAD BEYOND THAT SPECIFICALLY. [Very Personal Gripe]

A SALUTE TO CON O'NEILL -AGAIN!

I had the privilege of hyper-fixating on this show from the entirety of S1 ending to S2 beginning. During this time I explored the catalog of Con O'Neill's work on Tumblr under the tag 'Conography'. I watched this man play queer roles since the 1990s. Genderqueer/somewhere on the Trans spectrum, Gay, Bi. This man loves to play a queer story, even if it's sad. If it's tragic. He will breathe new life into their lungs and express their moments of Joy. Of love. Of community.

After the filming of S2 at a con, Con he felt comfortable publicly coming out due to the love and support he felt from our fandom. Do you know JUST how crazy that is? That Con KNEW Izzy was dead, yet he loved our fandom so much he let himself be vulnerable, and come out as queer? It's fucking INSANE to me, and shows just how much this show means to him.

He's not just Queer. He's a Queer fucking elder whose been protective of this entire community since S1. This 57-year-old man has proudly stood up in the name of Trans rights this entire time. Treating everyone, but especially Trans Izzy fans with so much fucking respect. Trans Izzy is a common headcanon partially because of how comfortable people feel knowing they won't get harassed because they interpret Izzy a certain way. That trans people feel at home seeing themselves as a misunderstood character with a chip on their shoulder.

I'm pissed for every in universe thing listed above AND NOW THIS. Because our Queer Elders are dead. There is a generation of Queer people we can never get back. They died from a mix of society pressuring these people into the closet or an early grave. Of disease running wild in communities unchecked. Of media ruining the careers of anyone who dared to come out. To see Con O'Neill So Fucking Happy and having it cut short because Jenkins thought Izzy was better dead than being an actual background character makes me see fucking red.

No. Jenkins probably didn't know Con was Queer when writing S2. But I'm assuming he still saw how happy Con was at Izzy fans before S2 was written which still makes it feel shitty.

Sure. Give Izzy all the amazing speeches about family and belonging and rip that right from his hands as soon as Izzy realizes it's something he might want for himself. Let's have Con O'Neill say all the prominent lines that are a blatant metaphor for why the Queer community needs to stick together.

Izzy's arc isn't just overshadowing the conversation because it was mismanaged and feels unplanned, it also just feels cruel to the central arc of this series. Add that to an actor who was so vocal about loving this community, it feels pointed to give him a tragic ending.

Jenkins doesn't need to consider why people hated this finale. Because there are SO MANY Ed/Stede fans who just don't care. They put Izzy in the box with every other side character and decided to put their effort into the protagonists and point and laugh when we suffer. Jenkins won't rethink anything because he can just say the 'Izzy community was passionate and are sad their favorite died'. Ignoring how this season made Stede into a shittier, less sympathetic captain and gave Ed an interesting arc only to give up before the finish line.

[anonymousewrites]

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 2) Prologue

Father Figure! Sherlock x Teen! Reader

Prologue: First Case

Summary: The first case (Y/N) was involved in with Sherlock, and how they become so close.

Mouse Note: Hello, everyone! Welcome back (or Welcome to) A Study of the Heart and Brain! I hope you guys will all enjoy Book 2! This is a brief prologue to again show the development of MC and Sherlock's relationship, but don't worry, Friday the official content begins! Updates will be Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Again, a quick reminder for newer readers: This is a Father Figure Sherlock x Teen Reader, so no romance! Everything between adults and teenagers is familial. Other than that, welcome back everyone! I'm so excited to share this story with you, it's got some amazing moments. As usual, feel free to comment, I am always responding and love chatting with readers. It makes my day to see your guys' interpretations.

One year ago…

            (Y/N) rested their hand on their palm as they gazed out of the cab window. It had been a month since Sherlock Holmes had decided to bring them into his home as his foster child. It was a strange experience, to say the least. (Y/N) still felt wary of him. They thought he was intelligent, sure, but they had seen the signs—addiction.

            The knowledge weighed heavily on them. (Y/N)’s mother had died of an overdose, and although they pretended it didn’t matter since it happened when they were young, it did have an impact on them. (Y/N) didn’t want to get close to Sherlock if there was a risk of losing him the same way, and they weren’t going to put themself into the situation of getting hurt like that again.

            “We’re here,” said Sherlock as the cab stopped. “Lestrade said the body is in that building.”

            (Y/N) looked over. The building was a simple office-building but still in the late stages of construction since (Y/N) spied the empty rooms inside. Their mind came up with a few deductions right off the bat: From the outside, it appears normal, so to know the inside is empty would require prior knowledge. Killer is involved with it.

            “You sure bringing me is fine?” asked (Y/N). Their voice was even, less of an admission of insecurity (although that was a reality) and more of a question on whether or not Sherlock would be able to get them in. Sherlock could force his way in as an adult; (Y/N) was teenager.

            “Who cares?” said Sherlock. “You’re coming with me whether they like it or not.”

            (Y/N) blinked at his blasé attitude before leaving the cab and following him towards the cop cars and yellow tape.

            “Oh, lovely, Freak’s here,” muttered a dark-skinned woman with a scowl on her face.

            “Donovan,” said Sherlock curtly.

            “What are you doing here?” asked Donovan.

            “You’re out of your depth as usual,” said Sherlock, sounding very pleased with himself.

            Donovan scoffed before spying (Y/N). “Oh, god, why is there a kid here?”

            “They’re my protégé,” said Sherlock as if it was obvious.

            “Did he kidnap you?” questioned Donovan, looking at (Y/N).

            They wrinkled their nose. “No. He’s fostering me.”

            “No way.” Donovan’s mouth dropped open. “No bloody way anyone in their right mind would let the Freak get near a kid.”

            (Y/N) considered. She wasn’t wrong. Sherlock had gotten permission after pressuring his brother (“Mycroft is the British government,” he had explained to them), so they supposed maybe no one in their right mind had given him approval.

            “Well, I’m here,” said (Y/N), tucking their hands into their pockets.

            “Now, if you’d stop wasting our time, we have a case to solve,” said Sherlock.

            “You can’t bring a kid here, Sherlock,” said Donovan. “It’s not regulation.”

            “Call Lestrade. He wants me here, and it’s either both of us or neither,” said Sherlock.

            Donovan scowled. She didn’t have to call Lestrade. She knew he’d give in to Sherlock’s demands. Still, she hated it. Donovan glared at Sherlock as she pulled out her radio to give a report. “Freak’s here, sending him up.” She looked (Y/N) up and down. “And he’s got a surprise with him.”

            What am I, a party trick? thought (Y/N) grumpily.

            “Come on,” said Sherlock, lifting the yellow tape.

            (Y/N) ducked under with him and walked into the building. They went up a flight of stairs to an open room. The office still needed cubicles and desks and chairs, but (Y/N) could feel the soul-sucking “office building air” around them already.

            “Oh my god, is that a teenager?!” hissed another angry voice.

            (Y/N) furrowed their brow. Do adults not realize I can hear them?

            “Incredible observation,” said Sherlock sarcastically. “You can see the obvious. Why don’t you try focusing on the case, or is that too hard, Anderson?”

            Anderson glared at Sherlock. “Oh, shut it. You expect me to just let you waltz in here with a kid? This is a crime scene.”

            “Says they’re a package deal or whatever,” said Donovan. She had followed them up.

            (Y/N) knew what was happening. She was trying to see if they really had any worth and if Sherlock had a reason to bring them.

            “Apparently, he’s fostering them,” said Donovan.

            Anderson scoffed. “Somehow, that’s worse than if they were actually his kid. Someone had to sign off on him taking care of a kid, and that’s bloody crazy.”

            (Y/N) shifted, and Sherlock glanced down at them. They were still young; their mind was developing. He could, for the most part, ignore Donovan and Anderson’s comments, but it was having an effect on them.

            “Yes, well, obviously someone is crazy, so I’d suggest you move on,” said Sherlock. He looked at (Y/N). “Let’s take a look at the body.”

            “Right,” said (Y/N).

            Sherlock walked over to where Lestrade, who (Y/N) recognized from the case at their orphanage, was kneeling by the body of a man. Lestrade stood and did a double-take upon seeing (Y/N).

            “Oh, dear god, you were serious. You actually decided to foster the kid,” said Lestrade.

            (Y/N) stood a little straighter. Lestrade wasn’t insulting him or (Y/N). He was just surprised and a little worried. That was much better than Donovan and Anderson. (Y/N) instantly liked him more than them.

            “Of course I did,” said Sherlock, kneeling by the body. “Their potential was wasted in that orphanage, I told you.”

            Lestrade groaned. “I had hoped you’d get distracted by a case and just leave it alone.”

            “Well, they’re here,” said Sherlock.

            “Yes, they are,” said Lestrade. He extended a hand to (Y/N). “I’m Lestrade. If Sherlock causes trouble for you, just let me know.”

            (Y/N) was unused to an adult being so nice to them. Usually they either ignored them because they were younger or thought they were strange because of their deductive abilities. Evidently, Lestrade was used to Sherlock so didn’t really give a second thought to being civilized with (Y/N).

            “I’m (Y/N),” they said, shaking his hand.

            “(Y/N), take a look,” said Sherlock, gesturing to the body.

            (Y/N) crouched and began to look over the body as Lestrade filled them in. “Alton Morris, pharmacist in London. Construction workers found him this morning when they came in to begin installing cubicles. We can’t work out why he’s in this building. No evidence of connection to it.”

            (Y/N)’s eyes passed on Alton’s corpse. They swallowed hard. Someone had injected him with drugs to cause a forced overdose. That much was clear by the empty needle and pale skin. (Y/N) blinked to clear their head. Yes, having their first case be related to drugs, a difficult subject for them, was bad luck, but they couldn’t let it distract them.

            Sherlock saw their minute reaction and furrowed his brow. The presence of drugs caused them to recoil. In his minds eye, he remembered the file on them from the orphanage. Ah. Their mother died from drug use. His eyes widened slightly. Ah. So that’s why they’ve been so suspicious in the apartment. He had stashes. They had figured it out.

            Sherlock frowned inwardly. He couldn’t really explain it, but he felt his stomach twist uncomfortably as he realized his actions were the reason (Y/N) felt unsafe. Oddly enough, he had gotten a bit attached to them already. They were kind, even though they kept to themself. He had seen it when they were out or with Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock liked them. And it was his fault they were wary of him.

            For the first time, Sherlock felt an inward push to make a change. It wouldn’t be easy, but it if meant he could have (Y/N) grow more secure in their surroundings and become the genius he saw they had the potential for, he’d do it. Sherlock would try to quit.

            Sherlock cleared his throat and looked at (Y/N). “What have you figure out?”

            “Oh, come on, they’re a kid,” said Anderson, rolling his eyes. “Can’t we just get on to you showing off? They’re not going be able to help.”

            Sherlock saw (Y/N)’s eyes narrow at Anderson’s insult. “Go ahead, (Y/N),” he said encouragingly. They needed to see that ignoring idiots like Anderson was perfectly fine.

            (Y/N)’s eyes didn’t leave Alton’s body as they began. “He’s a pharmacist and was murdered with drugs. That suggests this crime was drug-related in general since he has ready access to them. His murderer was connected to the construction of this building since they’d know when it was empty enough to do a drug deal. Inside knowledge and all that.”

            Anderson and Donovan glanced at each other in surprise. Lestrade’s eyes widened slightly as (Y/N) proved once again they were smarter than their age suggested.

            “What profile would you suggest for the murderer?” prompted Sherlock, nodding in complete agreement with their findings.

            “A construction worker who’s had an injury in the past,” said (Y/N). “Needed drugs for the pain and got—” the word caught in their throat for a moment, and Sherlock furrowed his brow as his chest twisted again “—addicted.”

            “If the murderer needs the drugs, why did they kill their supplier?” asked Lestrade, confused.

            “Either Alton decided to increase prices since he knew the killer needed them or decided to stop supplying,” said (Y/N). “More likely the first since by the state of Alton’s clothing, he’s low on money, can’t afford newer items and gets these patched up. He needed the money and tried to get more out of the killer. But, uh, the murderer was unstable due to drug use and…killed him with his own product.”

            Sherlock smirked at Lestrade, Anderson, and Donovan’s reactions. It was entertaining to see them so surprised. He also made note of how (Y/N) seemed much more self-assured when they were in the moment and focused on their deductions.

            “A freak in training,” muttered Donovan.

            “A Freakling,” agreed Anderson.

            (Y/N) didn’t acknowledge their words and instead looked at Sherlock. “Is that enough?”

            “Well, if Lestrade and Scotland Yard can’t handle it from here, we’d be doing all of their job for them,” said Sherlock, standing up.

            “Thanks, Sherlock,” said Lestrade sarcastically. “We’re not helpless.”

            “Debatable,” said Sherlock. “Come on, (Y/N).”

            (Y/N) stood up and followed him. They left the building and went back to the main street to wait for a cab to pass by. As they did, they passed a sweets shop and paused for a moment at the sight of some purple lollipops. (Y/N) remembered how a nicer social worker used to give treats like that out. Sure, it seemed childish, but (Y/N) liked them. But it was stupid to be so attached.

            “Do you want some?” asked Sherlock. He had noticed their little reaction to the sweets.

            “It’s not important,” said (Y/N).

            Sherlock furrowed his brow. He saw they clearly weren’t used to having people be nice or notice what they liked. “Let’s buy some,” he said. Sherlock wanted to show he wasn’t going to treat them like the adults of the orphanage. He was going to take care of them. And he had to admit, the tiny smile that appeared on (Y/N)’s face as they unwrapped the lollipops he bought them was also a nice reward.

l

            When (Y/N) woke up the next morning, they threw on the scratchy sweater they still had from the orphanage before heading to the kitchen. They weren’t really planning on eating, but they did want to see Sherlock’s experiment (He had put tongue’s in the fridge). They didn’t like his drug habits, but they liked his experiments. (Y/N) found them interesting.

            They paused in the living room and frowned. Their mind immediately categorized the slight changes in the layout. The hiding places of his drugs were gone.

            He…got rid of them? (Y/N) wasn’t sure what to think.

            “Are you planning on standing there or do you want to see the results? I haven’t looked yet,” said Sherlock, poking his head out of the kitchen.

            He was far from a fool; he knew what they had noticed. They made eye contact with him, and he saw the tiny glimmer of thanks within it. (Y/N)’s body relaxed slightly at the knowledge the drugs were gone. It wasn’t complete trust, but Sherlock could see he had made a step in the right direction.

            “Yes,” said (Y/N), following him in.

            They opened the fridge, and together, Sherlock and (Y/N) examined and recorded the results of the experiment before sitting down to check the newspapers for any interesting cases and the results of yesterday’s mystery.

            “They caught him. Construction worker addicted to drugs,” said (Y/N). “We were spot on this time.”

            Sherlock glanced up to where they were lounging on the couch. That was more than they had ever spoken to him at one time unbidden. Another good sign. The orphanage had taught them to be silent, not speak their mind, not share their thoughts and deductions. Sherlock was determined to undo some of the damage that had done to (Y/N).

            “Yes. Occasionally there’s a detail we miss, but this one was straightforward,” said Sherlock in agreement.

            “It was,” agreed (Y/N).

            “Oh. I have something,” said Sherlock, standing and crossing to where a bundled package lay on a messy table.

            “What is it?” asked (Y/N).

            “Find out,” said Sherlock, giving it to them.

            (Y/N) opened it up. It was a soft purple sweater. It would fit much better than the clothes from their group home, and it was in the same deep color as the lollipops they had liked. He noticed that? He paid attention to what I like? (Y/N)’s heart seemed to warm at having someone take care of their feelings slightly.

            “Thank you,” said (Y/N) quietly. I think…I think I’m going to like this place and him.

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