#i think its really neat how much of my life stems from writing

[maaaxx]

11 & 19 for the ask game ❤

ask game :)

11 has already been answered here

-

19. "Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?":

Short answer:

From the time I could vaguely write I was writing "books" (or as much of a book a child that young can make)

I entered my first writing contest when I was 9 or 10 and I got 5th place in my school

A year later I started my first major wip that got me invested into writing as a hobby

A year after that I started another wip that most of my current wips are branches off of and also started posting bits and pieces on wattpad

When I was 14 I had my writing skills tested for early college admission and scored in the top 5 percent in my state (still very proud of this)

Entered and won a couple writing competitions besides that stopped writnig

Then a couple years later I started writing fanfiction

Currently pondering working towards actually publishing some books one day.

Long answer under the cut :)

I remember making "books" since I could write. Like I would staple paper together and I remember one specifically that had something to do with sea horses but i dont remember the plot.

My mom has boxes filled of these "books" with all of the words and even my name misspelled and poorly illustrated characters and stuff.

When I was in like 4th grade (9-10 years old) my teacher had an assignment to where we made up a story and applied whatever type of literary technique we were learning about that week to it. So like if we were learning about similes the assignment would be come up with 5 sentences that include similes that pertain to your story and include one or something like that. At the end of the year we were supposed to have 4-5 pages of this story. I think I finished with like 10-12 or something like that. She made me summarize it 💀

If I remember right I think that my story was about this set of twins where one was born with some type of super power that only the other twin knew about and the superpowered twin got kidnapped by some scientists that wanted to expirement on her and my story followed the other twin and this like 12 year old girl dedicating her teenagehood to finding the lost twin. I think I made it so the dad actually ended up hiring the kidnapper and the dad and kidnapper both got arrested. I want to find this again because I dont remember a lot about it.

That same year my teacher ended up having me enter a poetry contest and I think it was a tri-county thing. I didn;t like poetry (I still hate writing it, love reading it though) so I half assed it and I think I got within the top 5 (??) of my school. (just elementary school) so that was neat.

(This specific teacher was one of those really strict teachers that no one else liked but my little undiagnosed autistic self LOVED her because i always knew what to expect yk?? but is also the one who really got me into reading and writing and stuff and I dont think I'll ever not me extremely grateful for her)

The next year I started forming this one wip. Its definetly my longest and most elaborate and sentimental one because it opened so many different doors for me.

There was no plot but it pretty much followed this group of like 20 teenagers that had very different lives and were all really traumatized and during the "story" they're all like 15-18 trying to figure out how to move on from their childhoods and maintain healthy relationships with eachother and their individual support systems.

Some of them are neurodivergent and some of their stories are centered around that.

One of the characters name is Jack. Jack is bipolar and so is his mom and so because of his moms mental illnesses and stuff he was in and out of fostercare from like 5-13. Hes probably the 'main' character in this.

Hes also went deaf from a tmi from when he was like 9.

Then theres Allison who is autistic and she is your stereotypical 'gifted kid burnout' 'graduated at like 15' type of autistic. but this leads to a lot of issues with her and her main thing is kind of working through that.

Travis comes from a VERY religious (almost cultish) family and is develops schizophrenia at like 16 I think and he's also pansexual and his parents go through his phone and find some texts from his partner and kick him out so hes homeless and has to deal with that.

But like I said theres like 17 more of these characters and its very elaborate. It goes into the parents childhoods and deals with generational trauma and how mental illness can affect parenting.

The 'story' mostly follows Jack and Allison (theyre love interests) and everything is kind of through their pov and their relationships with the other characters and stuff.

But like 11 year old me started writing this out in composition books and between then and when I turned 15 ish and got a computer, I filled I think close to 30 composition books with this story.

But I started researching mental disorders and stuff for this story so I could make their stuff as realistic as possible and that kickstarted my spin on psychology, which led to me wanting to be a social worker which is my major. It also meant that I was really ahead in also my psyche classes. Im *technically* going into my 5th year of college and I started taking psyche classes my second year and I didnt start getting into stuff that I didn't know until the year that just ended so 11 year old me really knew what she was doing.

I remember making my mom buy me textbooks and those articles that are behind a paywall for birthdays and Christmas's

I'm getting off track

A year or two after that I started developing this other wip with kids with superpowers and there was a whole lot of worldbuilding and stuff to this one and its what got me into fantasy which is the main genre I write outside of fanfic. (my hecles wip is loosely based on this one)

(part of this one is on wattpad somewhere)

When I was 14 I took a test that determined whether or not I would be able to start college early and part of this test was writing skills. There was a fiction and a nonfiction portion and then they combined those two scores and averaged them out and my score was in the 95th percentile (top 5 percent) of everyone who takes the test (so on average like 17-19 year olds usually and then some outliers) so I see that as one of my biggest writing achievments.

(i scored shit on the math and reading comprehension portions though)

I stopped writing and stuff for like two years besides entering writing contests.

I've entered like 5 and won 2. One was tri-county and I got first place and the other one was a little bigger but it wasnt a state contest, I think it might have been regional but I got third place. I consider those both big accomplishments too.

And then when I was 17 I started writing fanfiction.

I think fanfiction is what actually got it in my head that maybe I could write an actual book one day. Like before I just saw it as like a hobby because I was scared of the commitment of writing a whole book but ive written almost 200,000 words of one of my fanfics and it wasn't that overwhelming and I think that usually a decent sized novel so why not give it a try?

Idk if that answered the question or if I got TOO off track but oh well :)

[fiberglassandflowers]

Hey idk if there’s some master post about mbts but if there is may I please ask where and if not could I perhaps humbly request a description because it sounds cool as FUCK

omg yayy okay so there's not a masterpost as of now (though there is a google doc in the works that will probably be. very big) BUT i will try to give a brief rundown. underneath a readmore 👍

OK SO. IN SUMMARY

MARY BELL TOWNSHIP: more like mary bell CLOWNSHIT ha ha. heavy surveillance like everywhere (including in peoples homes. how fun). it's also got some like radiation stuff going on. all the residents are a lil radiation poisoned But it's mostly fine. also the town moves and i dont know why.

VANNIE OVERTURE: based on suburbia overture. the mayor who is a vampire. major control freak. sucks shit. like most of the reason mary bell is the way it is. permasmile swag. has killed before. hates when people are weird freaks and is actively passive aggressive if not outright aggressive.

TRIP LETWO: based on 2econd 2ight 2eer. world's silliestguy contrarian and infamous public nuisance. deeply tortured individual but shes dealing with it i guess. physically cant leave mary bell township. he has too much goddamn lore

LYDIE LAPLACE: based on laplace's angel. so lame. just deeply lame. killed a guy and got kicked out of office building heaven (laplace's inc. id give this its own section but it doesnt really matter all that much). i dont ever think about it unfortunately im sorry women.

MINA BYRD: based on i/me/myself. very sweet very nice. ladybugpilled socialanxietycel. doesnt have a whole lot going on but she is nice im glad shes there. im gonna have a significant relationships section of this but im saying that shes roommates with lia here bc its not really significant otherwise

WALTER LEE: based on ...well, better than the alternative. worlds first cis father to be a butch lesbian. probably a girl but she doesnt know that. weird nostalgia issues so bad his wife left him.

DOTTY LEE: ten years old. strange little girl but i dont really think about it a lot. not much else to say about her really.

LIA CRATES: based on outliars and hyppocrates. her name is pronounced like lie-uh cray-tees not lee-ah crayts. i have to clear this up because i realized most people were wrong LMAO. a little mean but not so much when you get to know her.

WARREN LEARY: based on blackboxwarrior. actually the worst therapist you will EVER meet. isnt even licensed. you book a session with her and she only talks about herself the entire time. constantly referencing a dark and contradictory past.

MARSHA TILLIS: based on marsha, thankk you for the dialectics. slightly better therapist! still not that good. has the spirit of an old man despite being in his 40s. will begin to psychoanalyze your behavior upon the first thirty seconds of knowing you.

NORMAN LEE: based on love, me normally. guy trying really really hard to be a regular guy. has a loooot of problems that stem from this. hugest people pleaser the world has ever known. a little bit offputting. has hair symbolism :-)

MORTIMER: based on memento mori. doesn't have a last name. worlds silliest grim reaper death thing. works in the death division for laplace's inc. lived a pretty normal life. then it died :-(. more here

FERN O'DYNAMIC: based on thermodynamic lawyer. hates his bitch wife (who is a praying mantis for. unknown reasons? will elaborate). just has a lot of anger inside him and doesnt know how to deal with it so he takes it out on other people. he kind of sucks but he's a neat character.

MIRANDA WRIGHT: the person being sung about in thermodynamic lawyer. bug wife (i can blame anything on radiation). she wasnt always a bug she just kinda did that idk. there's not much about her but she's an etymologist.

COTARD LETWO: based on cotard's solution. she has so many problems oh my gooood. deeply lonely person. fascinated with the macabre. its like coping mechanism that makes you worse. im insane about her writing a basic description is so difficult fkdjsfhsjd

RAMONA MCLAREN: based on red moon + hand me my shovel (though the latter was included later on bc it fit her). worlds most intelligent and stupid single celled organism. patheticswag. absolutely batshit insane. attempting to solve the end of the world.

KUIPER SUNSHINE: based on dr sunshine is dead. uh. i dont really know much about her to be honest SORRY... its really silly though + haver of prophetic dreams that she is NOT transparent about. fucks with people a lot just for funsies

COLIN THESIER: based on cover this song. girl who used to be in a band but got kicked out bc of friend drama. survivor of a toxic codependent queer friendship. trying to be a better person bc she used to suck pretty bad unfortunately. a bit more here

theres like a couple more characters but none of them are really important enough to give their own sections. debbie letwo is trip and cotards mom, laplace is the head of laplace's inc, maude is walter's ex wife who left him (heres the scoop on that).

OK NOTABLE CHARACTER DYNAMICS TIME:

VANNIE/NORMAN: norman has been pretending to be a normal dude this whole time + vannie totally fell for it. normans stuck in this friendship bc hes too much of a people pleaser to break it off even though vannie actively drains him emotionally. also he feels validated by vannie thinking hes normal. its so awful im so insane about their dynamic

VANNIE/TRIP: THEY HAAAATE EACH OTHER. their entire core beliefs are at odds (guy who thinks everyone should do their best to conform vs. guy who loves being a weird freak and doing fuck all). their dynamic is honestly pretty simple in comparison but theyre so petty and stupid its insane. if you put them alone in the same room one of them isnt coming out

TRIP/NORMAN: theyre gay together. there's a weird lore thing about the way relationships are handled in mary bell but long story short theres paperwork that has to be filled out if you want to be registered for one and trip thinks its really funny for xem and norman to constantly break up so they'll have to fill out the paperwork because it fucks with vannie. theyre also kind of awful and tragic

WALTER/DOTTY: that is a father and his daughter. walters trying his best and hes doing well but nothing would have been better than just moving out of mary bell township to raise his child.

WALTER/MAUDE: already linked a more in-depth explanation of their deal but ill summarize it here. maude thought living in mary bell township was really bad for a child (and it is) but since walter has issues about idealizing his childhood he was like "whaaat well i was raised here and im fine" and they fought about it and once it became clear walter wasnt changing his mind maude figured shed just spare herself from all of it. so she left 💯

WARREN/MARSHA: what if the two worst therapists ever were queerplatonic and violated hipaa together. also what if one of them [marsha] was helping the other [warren] because they're on the run from the law. would that be crazy or what

FERN/MIRANDA: actually awful. they really want to divorce but trip and norman keep clogging up the paperwork so theyre on a waiting list forever. their relationship was really good at one point but its not anymore :-( more info here

NORMAN/FERN: fern haaates norman because of the previously mentioned paperwork debacle but normans ass cant deal with the thought of anyone disliking him so hes just been really trying to get on his good side to no avail. also theyre coworkers so its more relevant

MORTIMER/TRIP: man how do i even summarize this one. due to lore reasons that you can read about in the link provided in trips session they have a super weird dynamic present day. or at least on trips end, mortimer is just super friendly to them and it wigs her out.

TRIP/COTARD: OUGUIGHJ. AOAUYFGDSFHSJ. tragic sibliiings. man i dont even know if i can go into this. go here and here if you want to learn more about them. jesus

COTARD/COLIN: frienndsss :-] classic extrovert forcing themselves into introverts life trope a little bit. they play music together and its great. mina's also in their little group but the two of them are closer

KUIPER/RAMONA: have been described by my friend as being "nonromantic freak4freak" and this is true. theyre working together on the end of the world stuff. they also rope cotard into it but thats lore i havent talked much about yet. go here and here for more info about them.

that might??????? be it?????? if there's more ill update it but thats the general basics i think. thank you for being interested and hopefully reading i greatly appreciate it :-)

[stopeatingwhales]

the 1995 brits x damon albarn & liam gallagher

hhhiiii I'm here with a very cute little fic about the brits!! the idea of writing something with Damon and liam fighting over someone was requested quite a long time ago (sorry it’s taken so long omg) but I loved the idea!! I do hope you all enjoy it as I enjoyed writing it a lot hahah xx

Pairing: 90s damon albarn & 90s liam gallagher x reader

Warnings: nothing, just a little bit of bickering n dat

Word count: 3.057

Requested by anon x

༉‧₊˚✧

Being a part of the madness that adapted the name ‘Britpop’ was truly an experience. Paparazzi at every corner you turn, equipped with the brightest, flashiest cameras, also having the most annoying click noises to the point that after one image you’ve earned yourself a migraine that would last the entirety of the day; parties that would last entire nights, bearing millions of different kinds of drugs - some that hadn’t even been given a name yet, but you’d still give a try anyways, since you’re so high and drunk that you simply lose the intellectual capability to construct decisions, you say fuck it, and get so high to the point that you’ve blacked out in a booth in a bar, with the owner asking you to get out since you’ve been inside for one too many hours after closing time; as well as constant press coverage. With your name plastered over literally every newspaper and music magazine known to man, as well as having your entire life consistently dictated for the entire nation to read about every Sunday morning and indulge themselves into as a form of entertainment, it was what being famous delivered, right on your doorstep at 7 in the morning. Any earlier and you’d feel rude not to give them a cup of tea as a form of dignity and respect towards their sublime dedication to the job. Although it was fun being associated with it all, my band in particular gaining a different form of calidity due to it being a female fronted band, by the time that the entire nation was hooked on this ‘Blur vs. Oasis’ rivalry, it was as if every other britpop band had been washed away from existence, due to eight boys arguing as to whom had the better music. And the better looks, according to Liam Gallagher.

Tonight was the night of the Brit awards, perhaps the most prestigious awards ceremony for music. To be awarded a Brit was probably the largest achievement possible in British music in the form of an award, and it was definitely either going tonight to either Blur or Oasis. The chances that another band, say Pulp, were to get the award, would not only be extremely amusing to see the reactions of the two biggest names in the Britpop game, but would also cause the largest uproar in the nation. It’s either Blur or Oasis. “Their drama is so silly,” laughed Emily, the guitarist in our band whilst flicking through the latest edition of the Sun, the cover of the newspaper being, of course, Liam Gallagher. “They’re literally bickering about who looks the best. How do people find this interesting?”

“Because of how silly it is, people never leave their secondary-school-like selves. Just a bit of fun I guess.” I replied, fixing up my hair in the mirror in front of me. We were currently getting ready to go to the award show, and needing to look your best was an expectation. Though I wasn’t dressed in anything that would result in jaw’s dropping, it was important that I at least appeared somewhat admirable - the entire nation always had their eyes on us, but tonight they were going to see us all, live. Perhaps the reason why bands like Oasis and Blur are so obsessed over nowadays, since all they’ll do is turn up in some flimsy Adidas t-shirt and call that fashion. I suppose scruffy was the new elegant.

“Who do you think they’ll give the award to?” she questioned, still aimlessly flicking through the recycled pages of the magazine. “I think Oasis. Their music is so much better than Blurs.”

“Really? I’d say Blur. They won on top of the pops, so the likelihood of them winning the Brit award is highly likely,” I answered, shuffling away from the strong reflection of myself towards Emily, my eyes quickly scanning the page that she had her eye on currently. “Gosh Liam’s so full of himself.”

“He’s got his eye on you, you know,” She said, shoving the paragraph she had just read in my face of Liam boasting about his little crush he had supposedly gained from watching our latest performance on top of the pops. “Thinks you’re ‘well fit’.”

Scoffing in response, I mumbled back to Emily. “If he thinks that he’s sleeping with me, he’s very deluded.”

By the time we had arrived at the venue, you weren’t able to walk into the entrance without at least 50 cameras blinding your eyes and the shouts of so many begging for you to quickly turn your head and grin - the price for the photo would reach the many thousands. Once walking in, it was less crowded, only having select people by the ground floor, dedicated for musicians and bands, with the occasional interviewer walking past to every circled table, adorned with white cloth and champagne glasses, asking questions about how they’re feeling, who they think may win, and what they thought of the music throughout the past year. What was nice was that people didn’t have that much interaction with one another, just with their groups. It created a sense of formality in the space, which made me feel a bit at ease from the idea of some random row happening in the middle of the floor, most likely between Liam and Damon. The past year in music was truly something. Britpop was at its peak the entirety of the year, with songs like Parklife and Supersonic pouring out of every radio station in Britain that by the end of the year, you had ditched casual radio music and began blasting the classical station. It was a nightmare. Since the fall of grunge subsequent to Cobain’s death the previous year, the talk of any other genre in Britain apart from Britpop didn’t occur. It was as if we were living on this mystical island, miles away from any other music and culture, whilst adorning and obsessing over our own. What was nice about Britpop was that it was a pure celebration of English culture, whether it be a simple Sunday roast, or going to school, they all carried the same ambience of nostalgia and pride - also disregarding whichever band wrote what song.

“Free champagne… Yes please,” said Madeline, the secondary guitarist of the band, whilst heading to the first seat she could sit on, then quickly indulging herself with the first taste of the rich drink. “Oh my gosh it’s heavenly!”

Laughing at her reaction, the rest of the band took a seat around the table and took their first sips of the champagne, which we would all come to find to be indeed heavenly. Small talk was shared here and there with the rest of the group, but overall I stayed silent. In all honesty I found attending award shows was quite boring because if you didn’t end up getting an award, you would essentially be sitting there for two hours doing nothing. Even if you did win an award, it’s simply a minute of glory with the speakers blasting your music, and another minute of all eyes piercing into your soul as you make sentences about your gratitude towards those who had helped you along the way to earn such an achievement. I doubt anybody genuinely liked attending shows like these.

“The champagne is good, yet we don’t get enough for our table,” I complained, grasping my now empty champagne glass and waving it around in the air. “I’m gonna head to the bar to get a refill, anybody want anything?”

After receiving a handful of nos from the rest of the band, I took myself out of my seat and wandered over to the bar, which was empty, perhaps due to the venue not yet being completely filled with all the artists that were set to attend the night. “Just a refill of the champagne, please.” I asked politely, handing the bartender the used glass I had kept in my hand. Whilst waiting, I noticed that Damon was on the other side of the bar, who also didn’t notice me there, until he caught eyes with me.

A grin broke out on his face as I walked over to him. “You alright?” He asked me, quickly thanking the bartender for his drink and turning back to look at me. The height difference between us was evident, but it wasn’t the case of something so dramatic that he was the height of the empire state building and me, just a measly common tower in the city. He looked quite content, his hair scruffy yet neat, along with his outfit being just as I had assumed: a white shirt with jeans, a used pair of Adidas for shoes.

I smiled back at him and nodded. “Suppose you have high hopes for the award tonight.” I said, simultaneously receiving my refill of the beverage I had ordered, followed by my thanks. We stood adjacent, although there was enough distance between us to establish our relationship - mutual acquaintances whom had met every now and again, since they’ve both been dragged into this wormhole of madness. He was quite the opposite in comparison to his rivals, though he himself could be quite bothersome occasionally, he still had a grasp to what those may call sensibility.

“Oh well we’re better than them, aren’t we love?'' He chirped, his head now cocked to the side in a teasing manner. “I’ve heard that you’re rooting for us this year.” He added, a little smirk pasted on his face.

“Do you read every paper you see?” I questioned, my face turning away from him in slight embarrassment. Between us, there was no shared intention for a relationship to stem, though there was definitely a flirtatious tension that followed between us wherever we had met. Whether it be a random photoshoot for a magazine double-spread, or backstage at top of the pops, we always managed to share a chat with one another, and nothing else followed on from then. It was quite sad, because once you’ve established a connection between something you either both disagree or agree with in terms of societal views, something in the press, or life in general, you’re instantaneously cut off and asked to hop onto stage to record a meaningless three-minute performance with fake, plastic instruments which practically mean nothing.

“Well it was nice seeing someone else's face on the papers for once.” He replied, downing his drink, then ushering at the bartender for another. A thing that we both realised was that, between our conversations, we indirectly indicated that we were both there for each other, because we both had a complete understanding towards what may be happening to the other person. It was stressful being in the limelight constantly, and for someone who was the frontman of a band so large, with his face plastered on every magazine cover imaginable, things were bound to be stressful.

Sighing, I turned to face him again. Despite the fact that before I had the ability to respond, our conversation was cut short from a voice shouting my name from behind. “Well if it isn’t bloody Y/N.” the voice said, and from then I instantly knew it was Liam’s. Turning my face away from Damon’s, I locked eyes with Liam. As always, he was dressed in the usual: a parka, with casual jeans. Oh, and don’t forget the Adidas shoes. Even though he and Damon practically hated each other’s guts, they always seemed to have similar fashion senses, but I could never picture Damon in a parka. And I don’t think I even want to.

“How’ve you been love?” He asked, swinging his arm around my shoulder in a warm, but nonchalant manner. Me and Liam had a similar relationship to that of mine and Damons, simply just minusing the sentimentality of it. We were friends, and had come across each other at random parties, which opened the gateway for us to drink and get high together many a time. While he was quite the idiot, he was also a very fun guy to be around, but I knew Damon would never understand that. “And why’re you letting this twat chat to you?”

A laugh escaped Damon’s throat. “I think you’re the only twat here, Liam,” he began, a sigh leaving my mouth as I was trapped in a situation that I could only pray didn’t gain much traction from the rest of the attendees. “Me and Y/N are friends, don’t suppose we’re getting jealous are we?”

Liam’s grip on my shoulder tightened as I stared at his reaction to Damon. I felt quite small in this situation, due to me needing to tilt my head a good amount to properly look at Liam, and knowing if I left it would just erupt chaos and make it worse. “No need for me to be jealous when I know that she wouldn’t want to spend a minute with you in bed you bastard.”

“And you’re so sure about that are you?” Damon replied, amusement laced in his words. “Because you’ve totally spent a minute with her haven’t you?”

“Well I’ve got my arm around her haven’t I? And she’s not stopping me,” Liam argued back, a smirk entwined on his lips. Reaching for my hand, Liam grasped it lightly, then then brought it to his lips, kissing it, before holding it gently. Method of intimidation, perhaps, and though it was sweet, there was a time and place. And this was definitely neither the time, or place. “Who’s the jealous one now, eh?”

“The last I recall, she had hoped that we were winning this year, not you,” He boasted, moving the contents of his drink around whilst grasping it firmly. Whilst it would be something that would offend Liam, he was simply the type of person to not take criticism regardless of whomever it was coming from. I respected him for that. “So much so for a healthy relationship.” Damon mocked, staring into my eyes as a small laugh escaped my lips.

Granted that I had found the argument shared between the pair of them to be extremely silly, it was good entertainment as the time passed before the award show would begin. Watching them both, attempting to throw insults at one another, each one trying to cut a little deeper than the one previous, made me almost laugh at the both of them right there. “You know, it’s so silly that you both think you know me so well to think which one I’d pick from the both of you,” I said, detaching myself from Liam’s embrace and snatching my half-empty glass of champagne. “At this point, it’s neither of you.”

Walking back to my band’s designated table, I quietly took my seat as the show began. “Saw you chatting to Damon,” Emily whispered, raising her eyebrows. “Also saw you grinning like a madwoman.”

“Oh shut up you,” I replied, looking back at the bar to notice that both parties had left, assuming back to their places. “There’s nothing going on between me and Damon- Liam too in fact.”

~~~

As the ceremony went on, the boredom got to us. Even the amount of drinks I had didn’t entertain me, but what could we do, we were stuck in the middle of an award show celebrating music, even though I had largely doubted that the majority of those attending were enjoying themselves. I had no clue who the awards were going to be handed out to, and whether that somebody may be us in a category, but we all knew Blur were going to win something. Yes, Oasis had gained a lot of fame and had become one of the most famous bands in the music scene at the minute, but by the way things had gone for Blur after the release of Parklife, things only seemed to go further up from there. And that was only proven to be truthful, after Blur had left with four different awards.

After Blur had received their fourth award for best British group, we all knew that there was nothing left for Oasis. “They’ll get it all next year, they only debuted this year you know.” I said to the table, who were staring at the four smiley boys on stage as they trotted up to receive their award. I admired Damon as he said his speech, then also turning to look over at Liam, who looked quite evidently pissed off. He was practically drooling in anger from the sight brought to him at that particular moment, and I couldn’t blame him - their band hadn't gone home with one award that night, but neither had ours. “They’ve taken four awards home, isn’t that like, the most anybody has ever taken?”

“Indeed it is,” Madeline replied, taking a sip from her drink. “Must be a good year for them then, eh?”

As I watched the band leave the stage in absolute glee, I stared at Damon as he walked back to his designated seat for the short remainder of the evening. Despite the fact that my band had been sat in our seats the entire evening in complete boredom, just like Oasis and so many other acts that had been nominated for pointless awards, it would be a lie to say that I wasn’t proud of how far Blur as a whole had come and evolved through their music, and especially Damon. From beginning as young, bowl-cut boys only charting so far on top of the pops, to creating songs and melodies that could unite our entire nation, it was impressive.

Damon was the face of Britain at this very moment, and a very good looking one. Once I watched him sit down, he scanned the room for a while until he was able to find where I was sitting, which was parallel to his seat, merely a couple metres away. He connected eyes with me as soon as he found me, also accompanied with a small smirk painted on his expression as he raised his eyebrows and sent me a wink. I simply smiled back at him in response before turning away abruptly, disrupting the little moment we seemingly shared, and though I felt my heart flutter a little, he’s definitely not winning me that easily.

[lifeofkaze]

Hi love!

Sorry for bothering you, but could you do something like really cute and fluffy between Charlie Weasley and reader where he's all shy and delicate maybe teaching her about dragons and their characteristics pls? Like, something that feels really intimate, you know?

I absolutely love your writing and I believe that you could make justice to the character.

Take care darling,

-A

Thank you for the request, loveliest anon! This is actually the first fic request I’ve ever gotten and I’m so happy you like my stuff so much, this makes me very very soft.

This fluff piece was just what I needed to get my mojo back hopefully. Please let me know if this is like what you had in mind - I for one had a lot of fun with it! <3

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Favourites

Charlie Weasley x Reader

Word Count: ~ 2.800

As a Care of Magical Creatures test covering dragons of all things is imminent and you were too distracted in class to pay proper attention, you know just who to turn to for help.

“You want me to do what?”

Charlie Weasley blinked at you in confusion. He could feel his blood rushing in his ears as he looked at you standing in front of him, clutching you Care for Magical Creatures book to your chest as you raised your eyebrows at him.

“I asked if you could help me studying for the test next week?” you repeated your question, brow slightly furrowed. “I can’t keep track of all these dragon traits and who would know them better than you?”

Charlie felt the heat creeping up on his face. Of course, the test. It was all he had been able to think about ever since Professor Kettleburn had announced the topic; all except you of course.

He tried to formulate a coherent answer that wouldn’t make him look like a blabbering fool in front of you, but the way the dappled sunlight that broke through the trees reflected in your hair distracted him more than he cared to admit.

So he resorted to a weak nod. ���Uhm, sure, I’d love to. See you at six in the library?” he managed to stammer out eventually.

A beautiful smile formed on your face as you nodded in enthusiasm. “Sounds great, see you there!”

Charlie watched as you swished around and walked back to your friends, who greeted you with giggles and whispers as they glanced in his direction. You gave one of them a playful swat on the arm, before your clear laugh carried over to him onto the warm summer air and made his heart clench.

He knew all of his dragons by heart, of course he did; this test was the first he hadn’t bothered studying for at all. But now, he suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to prepare himself.

 *

The light of the sun had already started to turn into the beautiful golden shade that heralded the end of a warm autumn day as you skittered into the library. You were a little bit late for your study session with Charlie, and the exertion from running all the way from your Common Room flushed your cheeks slightly red. Your friends just hadn’t let you go, all of them just as excited for what they called ‘your dragon date’ as you were. Not that you’d ever tell them that.

You found Charlie sitting at a table near the windows and your breath caught for a moment as you took in the warm light that washed around his frame; it was making his ginger hair glow like fire, the only vibrant speck of colour in this dusty old room full of books.

He had his nose buried in a big, leather-bound tome, his eyes darting over the pages frantically; you noticed how the tip of his tongue stuck out between his lips in concentration. He was so immersed in his reading, that he only noticed you approaching as you sat down next to him. Jumping in shock at your sudden appearance, he almost knocked over his ink bottle, only catching it at the last second before its dark, inky content could wash over the thin pages of his book.

“Oh, you’re here already, I didn’t even notice you until now.” His freckled face had flushed a shade darker than usual as he put his ink bottle back into its position and made room for you on the table.

“I’d rather say I’m here finally,” you responded, feeling a little bit guilty at making Charlie wait. “But I see that you started without me.”

He hurriedly closed the book. “No, I was just reading up on some facts about Welsh Greens so I have them sharp in my mind,” he explained, “in case you have questions, you know?”

It was only now that your eyes took in the numerous heaps of books piled up on your table. “First question,” you said as you ran your fingers over the backs of the tomes stacked on top of each other. “I thought the test was about dragons native to Europe and not every single one in existence,” you pulled out a particularly old looking book containing myths and fables, “and beyond.”

You silently counted the numbers of books Charlie had amassed and your eyes went wide. “Charlie, these must be all the books about dragons in the whole library,” you laughed, giggling at the flustered expression of the boy beside you.

“Well, not all the books,” he clarified sheepishly. “There are quite a few in the Restricted Section and then there’s the two I have up in my dorm but forgot to bring and- “

You cut off his rambling by gently touching his arm; he shut up almost instantly, glancing nervously down to where your hand was lying. “It’s alright, it was just a joke.”

“Of course,” Charlie muttered slightly embarrassed. What was wrong with him?

He watched as you pulled your notes from your bag; they were rather sparse compared to the almost three scrolls of parchment he had scribbled down himself.

“Where do you want to start?”

You hummed to yourself as you considered your choices. A warm, fuzzy feeling spread inside Charlie’s chest as you drew your lips into a pensive pout and tapped your index finger against it.

Finally, a neat stack of white flashcards, that lay hidden behind a book on Sea Serpents, caught your attention. You reached over Charlie and pulled them towards you.

Your mouth dropped open as you flicked through them; on every one of the laminated cards was an extensive profile of every kind of dragon imaginable. The descriptions were written out in a neat, accurate hand that looked nothing like the careless scrawl you’d seen on Charlie’s class notes.

But what took your breath away were the detailed drawings below the text. They were done by pencil and although they didn’t move like magical pictures often did, they were so lively as if they only waited to pounce off the paper and take into the air.

Charlie watched you apprehensively as your fingers traced the outline of what appeared to be a Swedish Short-snout. He felt his heart beat faster at the soft, admiring look in your eyes as you turned towards him.

“Did you do these yourself?”

He nodded in response. “It’s hard to find decent descriptions all in one place,” he explained quietly. “I don’t know how accurate the sketches are though; I’ve never seen a dragon in real life.”

You flashed him a radiant smile that had his heart rate pick up considerably. “I don’t care if they’re realistic; they’re brilliant!”

Encouraged by your excitement, he took the flashcards out of your hands and fanned them out, their blank backs facing you. “Then I’d suggest we start with them; pick one!”

Running the fingers along the cards twice, you finally settled on one and drew it out of his grasp. Charlie’s freckled face lit up as he saw which one you had chosen.

“The Ukrainian Ironbelly,” he exclaimed, “my favourite!”

All of his former shyness was suddenly forgotten; this was his prime discipline.

“The Ironbelly is native to the Ukraine, as its name suggests, obviously. It’s considered the largest dragon species in existence with an immense wingspan, long talons and scales that are said to be harder to pierce than steel. It’s name stems from the metallic grey colour of his underside and ever since one particular large specimen carried off a whole sailing ship in the late 18th century, they are under strict observation by wizarding authorities.”

You did your best to jot down the information Charlie dumped on you with impressive speed but there was no way you could keep up with his excited ramblings. So you resorted to listening to him as he lectured you about feeding habits, hunting methods and the average temperature of the flames an Ironbelly could produce.

He sighed wistfully as he paused for breath. “They’re amazing.”

You couldn’t hide your smile at his dreamy expression as you picked out your next card from the stack. “Okay, how about this one?”

The dragon it showed had ridges running along its back, ending in a nasty, arrow-shaped spike at the tip of its tail. It barred its teeth at you in a vicious snarl.

“That’s my favourite, the Hebridean Black,” he repeated his words from before, positively bouncing with energy this time around.  

You glanced at the card you two had just worked your way through. “I thought the Ukrainian Ironbelly was your favourite?” you teased him.

Charlie’s bouncing stopped instantly as he blushed bright red; you hadn’t meant to bring him down and felt sorry all of a sudden. So you propped the card against one of the book piles and turned to him.

“So, tell me more about it.”

Relieved to be able to tread on secure ground again, Charlie immediately recounted all the facts about one of the two dragon breeds native to the British Isles to you.

You continued in this fashion; your pulled a random card from the stash and Charlie would tell you everything he knew about it. He grew more animated with every new flashcard; as it turned out, every dragon you talked about was his favourite.

Seeing him so caught up in his favourite subject had a warmth spread in your chest and the smile on your lips never vanished even once. You had given up on writing Charlie’s words down about four cards ago and were merely staring at him explaining to you everything about these fantastic beasts that made up all of his dreams and musings.

His excitement quickly spread to you and you found yourself hanging onto his every word. But the more you were listening to him, the more you found your concentration shift from the dragons you were discussing to the boy beside you.

Your head propped on your hand, you admired how recounting scale colours and preferred environments of Romanian Longhorns brought a twinkle to his blue eyes and how his contagious laugh had you chuckle at the idea that people would confuse a Hungarian Horntail with a Norwegian Ridgeback.

The dimples forming in his freckled cheeks as he smiled at you were the exact reason why you had needed help with studying for this test in the first place. When you had talked about dragons in class, the eager smile and the slight scrunch of his nose as he scribbled down every single word Professor Kettleburn had to spare had left you breathless and unable to concentrate on anything but the butterflies dancing in your stomach.

The pile of flash cards had dwindled down until only a few more were left. Your breath caught in your throat as you turned around your next pick; the pictured showed a slender dragon directly from the front. It’s wings were outstretched and it seemed to be staring directly at you out of wide, pupil-less eyes. It was the only drawing so far that was coloured.

Your finger traced the subtle colour gradient rippling over its pearly scales as Charlie looked over to see which one was next.

“The Antipodean Opaleye,” he murmured, taking in your fascinated expression, “it’s singularly coloured scales and eyes are the stuff of legends.”

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, trying to imagine how the scales of a real life Opaleye might shimmer in the sunlight.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Charlie suddenly blurted out. The words had fallen from his lips before he’d even had a chance to stop them.

Both of you froze as what he had said sank into your consciousness. You couldn’t believe your ears and were half sure that your mind must have played a trick on you.

You carefully glanced over to Charlie out of the side of your eyes; he looked incredulous and you could watch the colour of his face turning from ghostly white to a deep, vivid scarlet that clashed with his ginger hair in a matter of seconds.

Feeling your own cheeks starting to blush at the unexpected compliment, you desperately were looking for something to say to take the shock out of his widened eyes. But your mind wasn’t working properly anymore, so all you managed was a meek “Wow, uhm, thank you Charlie, that’s really sweet.”

It was apparent your words didn’t help his flustered situation as he covered his face with his hands and groaned “I can’t believe I said that out loud; I’m such an idiot.”

You didn’t know what to do to help him; you felt utterly flattered and confused at the same time. You thought about putting your hand on his arm to reassure him what he had said actually made you happy, but paused halfway, not quite daring to touch him again.

Still unsure of what to do, you got up and picked up one of the books he had used to illustrate the facts on his flashcards.

“I’d better get going, I guess,” you stammered without looking at the wretched boy sitting at the table next to you, “thank you so much for helping me, I think I’ll manage the rest on my own. Can I borrow that book though?”

He didn’t raise his face from his hands, but nodded anyways. You felt bad for leaving him like that, but your head was spinning and you desperately needed to sort out your thoughts.

But seeing Charlie’s slumped frame sitting at the table, all the bubbly excitement from before completely drained from him, tugged at your heartstrings so hard it almost hurt. So instead of turning around and leaving, you drew a deep breath, gathered your courage and stepped behind him, placing a light kiss on his cheek.

You could feel his shoulders tense and his breath hitch as your hair tickled his jaw and were glad he couldn’t see the deep blush on your cheeks as you straightened up, picked up your bag and his book and hurried out of the library with a racing heart, too afraid to turn around once more.

*

Charlie and you hadn’t spoken again after what had happened in the library. It had taken him quite some time to be able to think properly again after you had left; he had just sat at his table, hand on his cheek where you had kissed him, staring into nothingness, the peachy smell of your hair still hanging in the air.

Even though the thought of how soft your lips had felt on your cheek had been the most prominent thing in his mind, he had passed his test with flying colours; some things just couldn’t be erased from his mind, no matter what was happening around him.

He had just returned to his dorm after a particularly tiring Quidditch practise when he saw it lying on his bed, propped up against his head bord; the book you had borrowed from him to finish studying on your own.

For a brief moment, he wondered how you had managed to get it up here, when he noticed something white sticking out of the pages. Curious, he picked up the book and flicked it open.

Even without looking, he knew what chapter it was you had marked with whatever you had put in there; he had read this book more times than he could remember. It was the chapter on the Antipodean Opaleye; he grimaced at the memory of when he had last thought about this particular dragon.

A white flashcard was stuck between the pages, its laminated surface flashing as Charlie turned it around to read it.

A big smile stole onto his face as he saw the photograph of you laughing and waving at him that you had stuck on the front side. His eyes swept over the lines written in your feminine hand and his smile grew even wider as he read the ‘special characteristics’ section:

It has to be remarked, that this particular specimen was able to pass her test with full marks.

He was glad to hear his blurted out compliment hadn’t affected your marks in the end. He sighed wistfully, when he noticed the very small, scribbled note at the very end of the card; it wasn’t as neatly written as the rest, almost as if your hands had shaken while writing it down.

Greatest weakness: While not many weaknesses are recorded of this specimen, it is said that it can be easily tamed by ginger-haired dragon trainers in the making. Whether these rumours are true, remains to be determined.

Charlie’s mouth dropped open as he read the last section over and over again, not daring to believe what he thought they said. But after the tenth time, he finally allowed the butterflies that  had been fluttering in his stomach to spread into the rest of his body, his smile growing into the widest grin as he tucked the flashcard carefully into the book again.

This time, he was sure; this one was his favourite.

  Tagging: @weasleysandwheezes

[blxetsi]

modern levi ackerman dating headcanons

lowercase intended !

levi ackerman x gn!reader

- firstly, lets get love language out of the way

- i think his love language would be acts of service

- so like, he'll brew your coffee for you and set out your favourite mug when he goes to the kitchen to make his tea (bc we all know he'd wake up earlier than you 🙄)

- or he'll pick up a muffin from your favourite bakery on his way home

- or if you ask him to remind you to do something later, he's immediately writing it out on a sticky note and sticking it somewhere youd notice

- he notices youre getting low on your favourite moisturizer ? or lipbalm ? he's taking a picture of the packaging and getting it the next time he drives past walmart or smth

- he just does little things that help make your day better

- now i feel like a lot of people say this already, but he is NOT very comfortable with public displays of affection

- its not that he doesnt like it when you touch him, or hold his hand, or kiss his cheek, he just gets flustered and feels like everyone is watching you two

- but one thing he does allow is looping your arms together while you walk, especially in crowded streets

- it doesnt mean he doesnt like being close with you, he just hates doing it public. when youre alone ? hes ALL OVER YOU.

- "will you play with my hair ?"

- "levi im working."

- "okay can you multitask ?" motherfucker 😐

- doesnt matter if hes the big spoon or little spoon, just being close to you is enough.

- also would try and get used to your love language

- if your love language is physical touch hes genuinely surprised by how many times you put his hands on him each day (NOT in a sexual way) like even his mother never touched him as much and he's a momma's boy 😳

- when you wake up your coming out to the kitchen to fill your coffee, but not before kissing the top of his head as you walk past

- then youre guzzling down your coffee like its water before putting it in the sink and walking back, petting his head in the process

- you'll hug him while hes cooking, or brushing his teeth. youre giving him kisses before he leaves and when he comes home, just little small acts of love, but it happens so frequently that levi cant help but notice it

- your love language is verbal affirmations ? youre getting your coffee while saying "goodmorning beautiful"

- "i love yous" are thrown at him a lot, they never fail to make him feel better

- youll compliment this man and he short circuits for a second, quickly gets used to it as time goes on

- also too i think he'd be taller in a modern au, but not very very tall like erwin, im talking 5'7" to 5'9"

- and he's fine with his height, it doesn't bother him that much, he's the average height of a man so what's the big deal ?

- also he really doesnt care about height either. youre shorter than him ? cool, that means he can bend down to give you little forehead kisses. around the same height as him ? awesome, that makes it easier for him to give you a peck on the lips. taller than him ? mf he'll climb you like a tree if he has to. really doesn't care.

- also doesn't have a preferences for body type or anything. he thinks that character is way more important than looks 100% and he'll always find different things about you beautiful. your laugh is weird ? k now he's making you two watch a john mulaney special to so youll laugh. hate your belly and wanna lose weight, he's holding you and telling you to only lose weight if you genuinely want to be "healthier" and not so you get skinny. your acne scars bother you ? he's kissing your cheeks a lot more than usual, but you can't complain. literally Loves Every Part of You

- also i think his family would absolutely ADORE YOU and his friends for that matter

- miss kuchel is pulling you into a hug the first time she sees you, and is so accomodating and sweet. shes genuinely interested in your interests and what you do for a living, and will NOT hesitate to get levi's baby pictures out if you ask.

- his uncle ? he probably wont be there for the family dinner, but then kuchel's gonna call him up like "levi's s/o ?? absolutely spectacular !!" and then hes like "huh maybe i gotta come visit to see the runt and his lover"

- also i think in a modern au, kuchel wouldve gotten really sick when levi is a boy, so kenny would have came home to take care of his sister and try and take care of levi. in the end she got better, and he went back to his own home, but now she requests that he come for at least one family holidy so they can all spend it together

- BUT back to mr. ackerman

- idk what he'd do in modern times, i used to think he'd be a good english professor for a university, but then i saw a headcanon that he'd go into law school and become a lawyer, and honestly ?? it makes sense

- after a long day at work he just wants to come home to you, he'll find you on the couch reading or doing some of your own work, so he'll just slip off his coat and blazer and undo his tie while slipping off his shoes by the door. before plopping his head in your lap and requesting you to play with his hair.

- if you don't live with him hes taking a shower and then immediately calling you asking to come over. if you can ?? great he'll be in bed waiting to be spooned. if not, thats fine, but levi would like to facetime and rant.

- also has the absolute WORST road rage

- "that little prick cut me off !"

- "levi he's taking his driver's test !"

- "so ? i hope that instructor doesn't give the idiot a pass 🙄" and then will immediately honk his horn at the poor kid.

- also wouldnt be a clean freak like in canonverse. his whole "everything has to be spotless" stuff stems from trauma, specifically being left in an apartment with his decaying mother for weeks on end, but since kuchel is alive that never happens

- were things a little hectic during the time she was sick ? sure ! but kenny always tried to tidy up a bit when he saw it was getting to levi.

- levi just likes things to be neat and tidy, he doesnt do a deep clean of his apartment every two weeks, but always makes sure to clean up his messes as soon as they happen

- also doesnt like to fight

- his mom raised him with the idea that communication is key, and always encouraged him to "explain why hes upset" so they could work together to come up with a solution

- its something hes taken with him to adulthood, and even though sometimes he sounds like hes talking to a child when hes trying to get you to "use your words" he really doesnt mean to

- if youre yelling at him he'll stand there like 😐 and wait until youre out of breath so he can say "okay lets talk about this"

- is also very handy

- have a hole in your wall ? hes coming over to fix it

- need a lightbulb changed ? hes got u dont worry

- you need to assemble a piece of furniture ? he glances at the step by step guide once before hes putting it together

- hes so great at that stuff, and you only have kenny to thank

- literally when kenny first came to stay with levi and kuchel when she was sick, the kitchen light went out and he asked levi to screw another lightbulb in, the poor kid stood there like 🤨 and when kenny said "what ? you don't know how to change a fucking lightbulb ?" levi shook his head and said "uncle kenny im seven 😐"

- kenny was APPALLED. and immediately made it his mission to make levi as handy as himself.

- also, dates with him are rlly lowkey.

- he likes being in your company, so staying home and ordering take out is AWESOME in his opinion. sometimes he'll dress up and make a fancy meal with you.

- if you like going to carnivals and stuff, he's reluctant but eventually caves. wins you a lot of the prizes.

- "fuck. this shit is rigged y/n"

- "sorry levi, lets go do something else !"

- "what ? no. give me another dollar im getting you that fucking turtle"

- hange always wants to see you. levi makes it his life mission to keep you away from them as much as possible. not because he doesnt want you to get along with his friends, just because he knows that hange will spill some embarassing secrets from his college days.

- erwin ? hes okay but hes on thin fucking ice.

- also is very gentlemanly. will not only hold the door for you but for everyone. hes waiting in line for his order and someone comes up behind him and asks him to scootch so they can get some napkins ? mf its grabbing a handful himself and handing it to the person, wishing them a nice day with a small smile. hes just like,, a genuinely good person

- his singing voice ? immaculate. will he sing for you ? no.

- he also loves playing board games with you. like chess or checkers. you love playing board games with him and his friends, specifically monopoly. hange makes moblit form an alliance with them. mike is a lone wolf, and erwin and levi are always helping each other out until erwin betrays him. lots of trust is ruined between these game nights, but you literally cant bring yourself to care because its so fun to watch it unfold

this is my first headcanon thingy !! im v excited !! hope u all enjoyed 🤩✨ should i do more headcanons like these ???

- all in all, levi is a cool guy, and a cool bf.

[tanoraqui]

Hi! I see you posting all this stuff about the Queen's Thief series and it really looks like my type of literature, but I can't keep up with all the names and locations. Would it be okay to ask for a non-spoilery rundown of who, what, and where?

Hell yeah [at a delay]. So, most of the series takes place on the Attolian Peninsula, which comprises of 3 countries: Sounis, Eddis, and Attolia. There are also a scattering of small islands generally associated with the peninsula. Eddis is a narrow country in the mountains between Sounis and Attolia and only has, like, 1 small port; Sounis and Attolia both have substantial coastlines. All are monarchies. The basic geopolitical plot of the books is these three countries making peace with one another so that together they can hold off hte encroaching Mede Empire. 

It’s very low fantasy. Rifles and cannons exist, but they’re not that good yet; complex clockwork exists; steam engines do not. The Attolian Peninsua are heavily Ancient Greece-inspired, and the Mede are Persian-ish. Most importantly, there’s an entire made-up Greek-flavored mythology, as well as a Gilgamesh remix, stories of which are scattered through the books. Not only is this very neat, but the mythological figures often mirror the characters and are often vital to the plot. In fact, one of my favorite things about the series is how the whole thing feels very much like a myth in its own right, which some modern-day-in-that-world author has delved into and expanded on with fleshed-out characters and complex politics.

But you wanted a cast list. Most significant characters, in (probably) order of introduction, spoiler-free:

Eugenides, aka Gen, the central character of the series - though only the protagonist for the first couple books. Book and a half, really (the second is shared). Gen is a young progessional thief who is very good at calculating and carrying out complex and implausibly possible plans, and not always good at considering in advance consequences like “I will spend 6 months in jail” “I will have to move countries and take up a job I will hate”, “people might unironically admire and respect me, even though I don’t think I deserve it.” A wildly endearing manipulative asshole. Iconic quote: “I CAN DO ANYTHING I WANT!”

the Magus (never named), a chief advisor to the King of Sounis. Canny old soldier-turned-scholar/politician who is the first person to hold a braincell re: “we need to unite or die.” Iconic quote: “I meant convince your queen to sue for peace, not burn our navy in its own harbor!”

Sophos, later Sounis*, the Nicest Young Man to ever be a Nice Young Man. Sweet muffin. Canonical bunny. Also canonical mankiller. Iconic line: “Not on the first vote.”

Attolia* Irene, Queen of Attolia. Her people love her and fear her; her barons, for the most part, just fear her; she kicks and screams (non-literally) and throws inkpots (literally), but she does relearn how to both be loved and give love in return.  Iconic line [narration]: And she believed him.

Eddis* Helen, Queen of Eddis. There’s a mild running joke over the course of the series of mentioning that there’s nothing to do during Eddisian winters but [X], the 3 things mentioned are weapons training, threadcraft, and seducing one another’s spouses. The only one Eddis is suggested to be good at is weapons, but she’s the beloved and (almost entirely) undisputed queen of her country anyway. Iconic quote: “War, then.”

Nahuseresh, Medean ambassador, a mansplainer but competent as sneakily taking over someone else’s country while pretending to help them. More or less. Does not get an iconic line bc fuck him.

Kamet, later called Kamet Kingnamer, Nahuseresh’s slave and personal secretary. Nearsighted, translates poetry for fun, does NOT want to go on a multi-month (b)romance-building roadtrip. Does not have much choice in the matter, because he wants to be free and, more importantly, to survive. Iconic line [narration]: I noticed that a man on the dock with a duffel on one shoulder was very like Costis in poise and gait. The man turned onto the gangplank to board the ship, and my heart lifted, though I tried to squash what I thought was a ridiculous hope.**

 Costis Ormentides, a lieutenant in the Attolian palace guard. Not remotely prepared for the political snakepit he’s thrown into through very little fault of his own, oh god this poor man, he just wants to serve his queen and have a little spare money to go out for wine with friends. Why are people trying to kill him. Why is he third wheeling his monarchs making out in the courtyard. Why is he being passive-aggressively forced to learn a foreign language.  Iconic line action: *punches the king in the face*

Pheris Mostrus Erondites, second grandson of Baron Erondites of Attolia; historian and narrator of the last book in the series. Severely physically disabled, purposefully overlooked for all his life until particularly bitchy politics had him sent to the Attolian royal court (purposely on his part and on everyone else’s), very observant and twice as clever. Writes humanity beautifully. Iconic line [narration]: If I cannot record exactly what words were spoken at every moment, I can say with confidence what those words might have been, and in some cases what they must as been, as I saw what resulted from them being spoken, and can we not derive the words when we know the consequences of their utterance? *proceeds to write a historical account/novel more full of small moments of personhood and love both dramatic and casual than almost the rest of the series combined*

Relius, Attolian Master of the Archives (spymaster), trusted first within reason and then beyond it. Has many, many lovers.***

Teleus, Attolian Captain of the Palace Guard, A bit staid, but loyal, reliable, and entirely excellent at his job. Has only one lover.***

the Eddisian Minister of War, unnamed until the very end, fights with his youngest son a great deal in multiple senses of the word. 

* It’s possible that some of your confusion may stem from people taking the names of their countries as titles upon ascending to the thrones. ** Yes I chose this quote bc it’s sweet but also bc it’s SUCH a nearsighted mood. *** Direct quotes from the character list at the end of the last book.

[djmarinizelablog]

hi! read your last ask and you said that you took up creative writing classes so you might have a wider knowledge about this but i was wondering when u mentioned different writing styles (like minimalistic, hightened imagery, linear vilennete and all of that) could you maybe explain the difference and what they really mean and maybe examples in our own levihan nation and writers? this might be asking for too much but i was pretty lost and i'd like to know more about all that. however you are def free to ignore this too!

Did you just ask me to write a comprehensive poetics essay, Anon? (I love writing about writing lmao)

Super long post ahead, and I’ll be citing certain fanfics that I’ve read so far and those that I think somehow exemplifies all the different writing styles I mentioned in the previous post. 

First off, the ones I listed beforehand (minimalistic prose, heightened imagery, poetic language, linear narrative, non-linear vignettes) aren’t the only types of writing styles. There are more if you consider the variations of tone (humor/comedy, sentimental, macabre, noir etc), narration/perspective (first person, second person, third person omniscient/limited), and language (dialogue-heavy or action/scene-driven). And the nice thing is that you can actually use of one or two of them in your work---or all of them, if you’re feeling bold. 

As Hange always loves to do: “Let’s experiment!”

--------

I’ll start with minimalistic prose. It is what it is: short, clear, and concise. Think less is more. You have an economy with words where you disregard most adverbs and focus more on the context to make way for meaning, thus allowing the readers to create their own interpretations of your writing. I think the method here is to write your intended draft first, and then cut the unnecessary words to flesh out the scene even more.

Notice how @stereobone wrote this paragraph of Black Dog (an Eruri fic):

Isabel's voice wakes him, brother, brother, has him sitting upright in bed and grabbing for the knife under his mattress. He braces himself for the attack before he realizes there isn't one. There is nothing in the darkness but him and his heavy, panicked breathing. Levi's heart feels like it's trying to beat its way out of his chest. He drops the knife on the mattress and shuts his eyes and tries not to think about Farlan's bloody resigned face before he was eaten. He tries not to think about how he left them. How it's his fault.

It’s very simplistic in language; the paragraph lets you focus on Levi’s innermost thoughts while he deals with an external action (ie, having nightmares). The author hasn’t unraveled the rest of the plot yet, but you already know where the tension is coming from.

Next is heightened imagery. If you’re familiar with the different figures of speech (metaphor, simile, personification, hyperbole, etc), then this is where they all come into play. I think the challenge here is being able to balance it well with the text itself and make sure that the imagery actually clarifies the context of the paragraph instead of convoluting the intended meaning. 

Here’s an excerpt from A Dangerous Game by just_quintessentially_me:

Hanji watched Levi, standing there, head bent and bloodied handkerchief pressed against his arm, and was reminded, irrationally, of a night years ago. When her parents had taken her to the circus. [. . . .] Holding her parent’s hands, she’d gaped, head craned back as she watched the spectacle, a cacophonous mixture of sound and color. At the center of it all, she’d spied a boy. Among the twisting colors and tricks, he alone, was still. [. . . .] The boy was high above, balancing on a platform atop a long pole. In front of him, stretched an audaciously thin rope. Below, no net waited to catch him.

[. . . .]

When Levi looked up, his expression was set - like the boy before the tightrope. And she knew, with sinking certainty, he was going to take the step. Into thin air.

Gray eyes met her gaze and held it.

“Yeah. I’ll go.”

At the door, Kenny smiled.

See how the powerful imagery of the boy on the tightrope was able to fuel the tension in that moment among Levi, Hange, and Kenny? 

I think poetic language is akin to heightened imagery, except that the former is more focused on the actual language. It’s very lyrical, wherein you can actually hear the lulling song of the sentences in a rhythm. One of my favorite works that does this is Deep sea baby by @smallblip. Here she makes use of various setting and scenery to create this entire atmosphere of Levi and Hange’s relationship:

Hanji knows whatever life they've led, this is her favourite.

The one in which her and Levi see the sea for the first time together.

The one in which she’s the Commander, and him, her Captain. And between them, a river of words left unsaid threatening to break the banks.

One day they must cross the ocean, but today they visit the shores again, without the kids this time. And Levi learns why when he watches her peel at her clothes. Her harness comes off first, then her blouse, then everything else, like a little dance for an audience of one. Levi tries not to stare, but he’s already seen her by candlelight in the dead of the night. And yet she never fails to take his breath away.

She makes her way to where the white foams dredge the past up the shores of the present.

"Come on Levi! The water is warm!" she says, and he hears it like a call to come home- where the heavens collide with the sea.

He takes off his clothes and folds them in a neat pile beside Hanji's mess. He swims out to join her.

It’s hauntingly poetic, the way the author is able to connect the metaphor in “a river of words” to the actual body of water right in front of Levi and Hange. Good poetic language is able to tighten up the texts together while keeping the sentence structure flowing with apt figures of speech.

When it comes to narratives, it only comes down to linear or non-linear. See how @lostcauses-noregrets does her opening statement in Trains (also an Eruri fic):

Levi hates trains. To be fair, Levi hates all forms of public transport, but he reserves a particular loathing for trains. They’re dirty, noisy, smelly and worse, filled with people. People who, heaven forbid, might attempt to speak to Levi, engage him in conversation. Levi’s worst nightmare is being stuck on a train with some friendly fuck who wants to pass the time making small talk. Admittedly it’s not a problem he has to deal with too often, his general fuck off demeanour deters all but the most aggressively friendly and hopelessly inebriated. But that doesn’t stop Levi from hating trains.

It’s a short fic and it’s very dependent on the linearity of events happening. But with that banger of a first sentence, the beginning already gives you enough of an idea of Levi’s pet peeve in the story, which in this case, is trains.

Here’s another hot and steamy fic called keep him waiting by keobuns that shows a linear narrative: 

He’s sitting with them in the back of the lab, nursing a cup of tea — it’s still pretty full, and even cold now, for he was far too distracted listening to Hanji talk to properly drink — when he sees it. Hanji’s too preoccupied with overexplaining the same Titan experiment they’ve gone over a hundred times to notice his stare. They just continue on and on and on, gesturing with their hands, pointing with their fingers, flexing their wrists…

Ah. Levi has to bring his teacup to his lips to hide the way his lips tremble. Hanji has incredibly nice hands.

The entire story just revolves around Levi simping for Hange’s hands and how it all goes down from there. But you as a reader are kept wanting more with every paragraph and every sentence that the author constructs (and trust me, it’s not just the sexual tension between Levi and Hange that keeps us going).

Now, as much as I love the straightforwardness of linear prose, non-linear writing brings a different round of ideas onto the table. It can create recollections from flashbacks, heighten the perspective or interior turmoil of a character due to trauma or grief, or even just re-invent what-if scenes that the characters have imagined themselves. 

Gnossiene by @thatalmondgirl​ is one of my all-time favorite Rivetra fics. In this excerpt, you will see how she switches between the past and the present, and how it affects Petra’s POV as a conflicted character:

Contrary to popular belief (fuck Auruo) Petra actually didn’t cry easily.

Alright, she could admit that at some times, she was...emotional. It was far from a weakness, but even she could admit that they sometimes got in the way and walled off all rational thought. Anger, frustration, sadness, hell, even happiness. The only one she could easily compartmentalise away was fear, which probably stemmed from her military career. Even so. It was never easy to separate all the others from her actions, think from a clean slate like the Commander could do, like the captain. [. . . ] Petra groaned, splayed out across her bed. She drew her arm across her eyes, willing the tears to go away. She’d already blown through her tissue box.

“Petra, a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.” Mama sat on the end of her bed, with Petra on the floor between her legs. Even though Petra argued firmly that she was old enough to brush her own hair, Mama had insisted. Unfortunately, Petra wasn’t old enough - and probably never would be - to disagree with her mother.

“I know, Mama.” Petra grumbled.

“I don’t think you do. Else you wouldn’t be crying, would you?”

[. . . .]

“But a man shouldn’t complete you when you complete yourself. Maybe he’s an extension to your house. So you’ll be sad if the extension is compromised or burns down. But you still have the main house. And if it’s strong, the main house can still be standing even after the worst storm.”

Aside from Mama’s crazy metaphors that sometimes didn’t make sense, her message hit home. Even if it hit home years later.

See how it switched in between the before and after? 

An off-shoot of non-linear writing are vignettes (a layering of scenes separated by section breaks) wherein this writing style allows writers to curate scenes in terms of fragments, creating some kind of mosaic for the readers once they finally see the big picture. Nakimochiku’s I’m leaving, are you coming with me? stacks up scenes of interactions between Levi and Hange, enough to depict the kind of relationship that they have as young lovers in a school setting. You can string these fragments together, rearrange them in a different order, but in the end, you will still get the author's clear goal of highlighting how Levi and Hange’s relationship develops over time.

Those are the styles that I mentioned in my previous posts, but as I’ve told you, there’s more to writing than those, so I’ll give a short run-through of other methods in writing. 

Whether it’s dialogue-heavy works such as from my window to yours, or action-driven scenes like Carnivores (a Levi x Reader fic by CaptainDegenerate) that propel the story forward, we as readers should be able to follow through the actual storyline that the authors intend to take us. 

A third-person limited (we listen to Hange’s thoughts in Clockwork by @tundrainafrica) vis-à-vis an all-knowing/omniscient narration (the moon is dark by @sayonarasanity alternates the perspective of Levi and Hange) should be able to make us understand why the author chose this particular kind of point-of-view in order to tell the story. 

And lastly, having a solid and consistent tone throughout the work (the macabre of Even Humanity’s Strongest could make mistakes by Rimeko versus the sweet sentimentality of Flowers for You by @fanmoose12) should be able to set the atmosphere that the authors want us to imbibe as we read through their works. 

So there’s your crash course on writing and reading. Enjoy? :) 

[dranza]

Race you

Draco x Reader

Getting a little closer to Draco. Its a slow burn!

Word count: 1804

Warnings: I dont think so, please let me know if you notice any.

“Hey y/n. Y/N?” A deep whisper calls at me from the desk behind.

I had come to the library in my study break to get away from all the noise and actually be able to concentrate on my charms essay. I had a whole week to do this but low and behold I was having to rush it in my final break before its due. Trust me to try and cram 3 pieces of homework into an hour and a half. I had already been distracted when I saw Draco walk into the library a little while ago. As he slowly walked through each aisle, browsing the books, a soft knot in his brows as he read through a few pages. He had me stuck in a daze. I was glad when he passed to sit behind me, out of sight, making me finally able to focus on trying to get this bloody essay finished. 

“Y/L/N!” his whisper was more direct now, one sharp order for me to turn to him. 

“What?” I shoot back at him, I can get rather irritable when I'm studying, but as my eyes catch him all my frustration leaves me. 

Draco sits with three books open in front of him, one hand twirling a quill between his fingers and his head resting in the palm of the other. His grey eyes look up at me and he pouts. “What were the three water-related constellations Professor Sinistra pointed out in the last lesson?”

“Errr…” I give him a sorry look, I haven't even started to think of the astronomy homework yet.

“I’ve got Pisces and Eridanus but I can’t, for the life of me, remember the third.” He flips through the book closest to him in frustration. 

“One minute…” I pull out the notes I had borrowed from Hermione and scan through to the constellation names. “Only Hermione is actually able to read her rushed scribbles. Errr, Cetuh? Cetus? ” 

Draco sits up with this information and grabs at one of his books. “I swear I read through that. C-E-T-U-S?”

I nod in response. 

With his fingers gripped tightly around the quill he hurriedly copies out a sentence from the book and dramatically bounces his hand off the parchment as he adds his final full stop. “Perfect. That's me done then.” He sets his quill into the ink and leans back in his chair. His long arms stretching up over his head for a few seconds and then releasing them with a loud sigh. “How much have you got left?”

“I just need to proofread my charms paper. Then I’ve got arithmancy and then astronomy, so not much!” I reply sarcastically and then throw my hands to my face letting out a frustrated, but quiet, squeal. 

“I can help... if you want.” 

I slowly let down my hands, eyeing the white haired boy, shocked that he would be willing to waste his break to help me. “Really?”

Draco chews at the inside of his mouth, “I mean, only if you want, it's just that I’ve already done it so.” A smirk begins to form on his lips. “Of course not suggesting that you wouldn’t be able to get it all done in the next 45 minutes. Look at you, you've clearly got it all organised and planned out.” With a nod of his chin he signals towards the messy piles of notes, parchment and books I have on my desk. 

“Hey!” I giggle, “It's an organised mess ok.” 

“That's exactly what I'm saying.” he stacks the books on his table into a neat pile and drags his chair to seat himself opposite me. Taking the parchment from my hand he slides a pot of ink towards me. “Here, I’ll finish reading this for you and you get started on the Arithmancy Worksheet.” 

I smile at him as I accept the ink and flip open my Arithmancy book, scanning over the contents table.

Without taking his eyes away from the piece he is reading, Draco mumbles a quiet “46.” 

I drag my finger to number 46 and there it is, the exact topic I need. “I knew that.” I whisper with a cheeky grin.

He lets out a deep, breathy chuckle, tilting his head to the side, “Ofcourse.”

I speed through the question sheet, looking up at the handsome boy in front of me now and again as he tries his best to be discreetly correcting some mistakes on the sheet he is reading.

I sit my parchment to dry and move onto the Astronomy worksheet. This is also something I should be able to speed through. Although the names can tend to escape me, constellations have always been so interesting to me, also I have Hermione’s notes so I can’t really go wrong. 

Draco places the finished paper onto the desk and rests his elbows on top of it. “You know, for someone who stays up all night and leaves their work till the last minute, you sure as hell have managed to write a brilliant essay.” Sliding his chin over his fingers until he finds a comfortable spot to rest it, he smiles at me. 

I lift a single brow at him. “Oh please… I saw you crossing out and adding stuff to it.”

“I didn’t say you were a good speller. Bloody hell, you were adding and taking away the wrong letters left, right and centre.”

I let out a hearty laugh and exaggerate on his point. “Yeah, I rarely manage to spell anything but my name right.”

“But what you’re actually saying is quite an interesting perspective. Contrary to what I’d heard, I believe you're not just a pretty face are you?” 

I try and fail to stop the blood rushing to my face. “Thankyou Dray.”

“Dray?” he tilts his head, frowning but amused. “What, two syllables just too much work for you?”

I click my fingers and point at him jokingly. “Yes… also I think it suits you, it’s cute.” I shrug.

Draco shakes his head taking in a sharp breath, now it was his turn to try and hide a blush. Leaning over me, he reaches a book from his desk. From it he pulls out the book mark (a pressed stem of eucalyptus) and begins to read.

We sit in an easy silence while I finish the last few questions. 

The both of us look up as Madam Pince walks up to our desks signaling to the clock. “Do you two not have a class to get to?” 

“Shit.” I mutter under my breath as we begin clearing our things. We only had 5 minutes to get to the highest tower on the other side of the castle for astronomy class.

After promptly sliding all his stuff into his bag, Draco waits patiently for me to messily stuff my bag with the scraps of parchment, books and quills I had spread all over the desk. I look up at him as I finish and he holds his arm out, gesturing towards the door. “After you.”

We exit the library and I notice just how long Dracos legs are, his strides are probably double mine. “Ok, I know we're in a rush but my tiny, little legs cannot keep up with you.” 

He looks back at me with a cool smirk and begins taking longer strides. “Not my problem y/l/n.”

“Hey!” I jog a few steps to catch up to him and playfully elbow his side.

He stops abruptly, looks me dead in the eyes and then caught in a laugh he shouts “RACE YOU!” He speeds away, catching his bag as it slips from his arm and throwing it over his shoulder.

“WHAT? NO!” It takes me a second to get over my initial shock and I race after him. 

I keep my eyes fixed on his snowy hair and as we weave through the other students and I start catching up to him. 

We run through the courtyard, me just a few steps behind him. “Come on slow coach!” he calls out to me as he spins to see how far behind I am. “Oh shut up Malfoy!” I retort, laughing as I skip over the legs of some 1st year girl laying on the grass.

As we turn into a hallway Harry and Ron are walking towards us. “What are…?” Harry begins to question but Draco cuts him off.

“Excuse me gents.” he blurts out as he shoots between the two Gryfindors. 

“Eee. Sorry boys, see you in potions!” I follow his lead, leaving both of them confused.

We get to the end of the hallway and Draco turns to the left. “Uh-OH! You sure that's the way Dray?” I shout in his direction as I turn right. 

He u-turns in the middle of the corridor and sprints after me. “You just got so lucky!” 

“You've been in this school for how many years now?” I tease him, approaching the Astronomy Tower stairs. 

“You cheeky git.” he cackles as I turn around to stick my tongue out. 

Our breathless laughter echoes through the circled staircase, wrapping me in a blanket of joy. This is a moment that’ll get stored, not in my mind, but deep in my heart. I try my best to run through the pain forming in my thighs but Draco soon catches up to me. We get to the top of the stairs and I let my back fall into the wall. “Oh my goodness, I’m never running again in my life.” 

Draco places one hand on the wall to steady himself and the other on his face, squeezing at his cheeks. “AAA HA HA!” he shouts, his voice husky from the rush “Stop laughing, my face hurts.” In that moment, he is a vision to behold. His broad chest rising and falling heavily as he catches his breath. His robe hanging off his shoulders, pulling back his shirt and the gaps between the buttons revealing flashes of his bare skin. The afternoon sun, golden over his face.

I snap back into reality as Hermione calls our names sternly from the classroom door. 

“Coming.” I answer her and turn back to Draco who gives her a nod. “All that and we’re still late!” 

“Still, not bad for your tiny, little legs.” he smiles down at me and shifts a strand of hair from my face. 

“Pretty bad for your long legs though.” I let out a silly giggle. “I can’t believe I actually won.”

He frowns. “Pfft, you got lucky and it’s a draw.”

“Nope, I win!” I wink. He tries to protest but I press my finger to his lips, “Shhh.” as I step backwards into the classroom.

Hope you liked this, I loved writing it.

If you want more here is the masterlist!

[victoryroadburnout]

hello! i recently FINALLY read all of no culture and am reading the sequel eagerly, and i just wanted to say i looove everything you've done with the verse - as a worldbuilding nerd im rlly curious about 1) where you get inspo for a lot of what you included (esp hariyama culture my beloved), and 2) your feelings on fics inspired by your lore/worldbuilding! also... do you have any fic recommendations?

thank you so much, i'm glad you enjoy it!

for your second question: i'm very very flattered when i see people write details that sound, most likley coincidentally, like they probably read and enjoyed my stuff. i see it as just sharing good taste

i also dont rrreally have fic recommendations due to not sitting down and reading other fics lately, but i did enjoy and want to plug my friend becca's nice story about life in a pokemon rescue center. its just getting its bearings and i think you should throw her some encouragement because ive seen a lot of whats under the hood so far and its very neat :)

the answer for your first question is under the cut for length. im always happy to blab about specific details ive done (even if i end up drawing a blank on how to explain them)

its hard for me to pinpoint exact inspiration points for the world building; i wanted the hoennese and hariyama culture to come off as fully integrated in their native region. i grew up in rural, isolated areas that accommodated both modern technology and a more traditionalist lifestyle, and i wanted to convey that while answering practical questions about how both species interact with the world.

theres not a lot to go off of with pokemon lore, but luckily pokedex entries for hariyama and their initial inspiration being sumo culture was a good jumping off point. i didn't want to lift stuff from sumo culture - or any irl culture - wholesale, but theres still similarities (and theres always going to be like, unconscious biases and coincidences and the like, and i just hope i did everything okay) and mostly i just approached it from the angle that hariyama are extremely large and strong, and humans are... not. so theres a lot of emphasis on carefulness and gentleness. everything in the bits of hariyama culture and behavior you've seen stems from being painfully conscious of how easily they can hurt someone who isn't on par with them. i didn't want to make it seem like a schism or anything, so hoennese humans are also a lot tougher and a lot more boisterous to compensate and keep up with their pokemon peers.

obviously theres also kind of a subversion to generically tough and huge fantasy races like orcs. mainly that 'martial culture' for them is entirely sport and adventure, and that most hariyama are much more likley to settle down and become poets; even when trainer culture from the mainland tries to push them towards solely focusing on battling for human sport.

i only really had room, time and energy to put so much of what i wanted to portray here, and hopefully i still conveyed a reasonably multi-dimensional fantasy culture.

[bae-science]

it’s t-t-t-t-time for another newt bae-science fic rec extravabonanza! same rules, same boys, same bullshit! let’s get into it:

a beginning; a second chance by @dykesword

other newt and i have a long and intricate ritualistic battle to become the alpha newt, but i gotta give credit where it’s due. if you like to annotate your books for fun, this fic will give you a looooong comment you’ll want to write, and for good reason! there’s a lot of really well done metaphor and character detail in here, while still keeping a very soft, melancholy but with a hopeful edge tone. and also, like, the care and detail in which newt’s mental state in the aftermath of the precursors’ abuse is depicted is so so good, and delightful to read

husbandly duties by @kingeiszler

i am soooo biased with this one bc technically it was made for me but GODDAMN it’s good. this shit has everything: gottlieb trio sibling dynamics, vanessa in giant femme earrings, hermann yearning, newt and karla infodumping together, newt’s terrible and accurate gaydar, gay crime, the newmann dynamic and why it works boiled down to its bare essentials, pride and prejudice glasses touch, and neon green acrylics. required reading for the vanessaverse

Say That Again by @robertfrobisherslover

WOOF. if you like mutual pining and lack of communication from men with rocks for their emotional processing centers, and guncle (gay uncle) newt and hermann and KILLER artsy sex scenes, and themes of words unsaid in a story about LANGUAGE..... oogoogogoogouhufug. the writing style is clear and well paced, i LOVE little mako’s scene she’s such a cutie, and there’s like. a line. that’s a play on the whole “it’s always been you” trope. that lives in my mind rent free forever.

speak right to my heart without saying a word by @thekaidonovskys

i’m just gonna paste the comment i left on it here, because that sums up what is so absolutely incredible about this fic the best:

so sometimes you stumble on a piece of fiction that you add to your little collection of stuff you would show a person if you wanted them to understand a part of you that you can't quite explain eloquently, or it would take too long, etc etc, and i've never really found something like that for my autism until now, which, like, poggers. and i'll be as straight up as i can while still being the biggest lesbian in the great state of ohio (not a hard feat but alan invented computers so i love continuing on the autistic tradition of being a living miracle), the chameleon effect hit me like a mack truck. catholic school in the deep south is the most potent and effective form of ABA therapy imaginable :/. so sometimes i wonder what i would be like if i didn't have such a strong ability to pass, and here's where we finally get to the part of this comment where i just vomit compliments at you: you nailed it. you got it. i don't know if you're on the spectrum, but either way, well fucking done. trauma therapy research talks a lot about healing fantasies, which are fantasies, usually in the form of daydreams, that abused/neglected/traumatized/etc people create that directly address a struggle they have and take the form of a scenario in which that struggle is helped in some way. it could be an abusive parent repenting and showering them with the love they never had, or someone finding them during a panic attack and somehow knowing how best to comfort them without having to ask, or being intimate with someone and having a scar or physical deformity they've been shamed for be given attention and care. and i think you have created the ultimate perfect healing fantasy for autistic people, or at least those with """"high functioning"""" autism. it has a character who is visibly and undeniably on the spectrum having the pain and trauma going through life like that causes being acknowledged and validated, they are purposefully paid attention to because person b genuinely likes them and wants to understand and respect who they are and how they function in the world, and thus get The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known as well as the eventual rewards of being loved, person b makes a genuine effort to help teach them social skills in a way they can understand and learn through and is there for them when these skills are being practiced, their space and boundaries are respected but they aren't infantilized or thought of as an emotionless robot, and they receive love and comfort on their own terms not despite of but because of who they are, even specifically being asked not to change the way they are because that way is lovable. they are openly desired. writing is my fucking JOB and it's still difficult to put into words how much you got 100000% right about the dream with this fic. i have been in the EXACT and i mean EXACT same situation as hermann when he asked newt if it was his personality itself that made people not like him, because i deadass made a spreadsheet of all my personality attributes i thought could be preventing me from making friends in college, and then asked my fellow nd friend to see if there was anything i was missing. so i guess what i'm trying to say is that this amazing, and i'm bookmarking it and putting it on my next fic rec post, and maybe one day way way in the future if i ever get a partner i want to explain the whole autism thing to, i'm gonna have them read this.

The Facts With Newton Geiszler, PhD by what_alchemy (NSFW)

storytime: i read this fic a few years ago, completely forgot the title and author, and ended up thinking about the part where hermann admits to having fucked a trailer hitch when he was a teenager, at least once a week. last november, i say to my friend samara on twitter, head of the BSHCU (buttslut hermann cinematic universe), hey this seems like something you’d have read, do you remember a fic where... and samara says FUCK i do know what you’re talking about lemme find it. so if the fact that i have been looking for this fic for like, two years, and that it contains a moment so iconic all i had to say is, “hermann says he fucked a trailer hitch” and she IMMEDIATELY knew what i was talking about, does not convince you to read this... go back to catholic school i guess.

Feeling Blue by TempusPetrichor

fics where newt goes back to work as a biologist, especially a xenobiologist, post pru are really interesting, and usually have something neat to say about recovery, how it isn’t linear, how it often involves us returning to things we love for comfort, etc. this one sure does! some good emotional and physical h/c, LOVE the use of the ghost drift, and it’s always fun to see post pru fics use dialogue very obviously taken from dbt, trauma-specific therapeutical texts, and anything that shows the author has experience with, or did their research on, ptsd therapies.

You’re Everyone That Ever Cared by KlavierWrites

you know a fic is good when it’s an only 9k slowburn and still manages to reach infinite regress levels of are you fucking KIDDING GO TO THERAPY. newt “acts of service” geiszler may have a little misplaced misogyny due to his broken woman-centric gaydar. as a treat. the fucking. post-drift scene where hermann subtextually screams “LOOK IN OUR BRAINS YOU FUCK I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU I JUST HAVE AUTISM AND CAREER IN STEM DISORDER” is soooooo. god just hermann in general in that scene is great. if you like classic mid 2010s era newmann, ghost drift romance, and good ole mutual pining, this is a treat.

Baby, You're Hotter than my Bunsen Burner by SkySongMA

moronosexual hermann representation is something that can actually be so personal

Times of Stress by RadioMoth

the boys are processinggggggg. man what a good, quick and powerful punch to the gut. if you like post-pr1 catharsis and physical h/c, AND are the one friend that likes to comment at the end of the movie that hey newt got beat the fuck UP, check this one out.

black tea by @faggotcas

okay first of all, god fucking tier url, lee. second of all, food as a love language is my SHIT. i love the very slow relationship development here, where you see them making a genuine effort to get along and that in turn leading to feelings reigniting. it’s such a sweet little moment of a fic, with a nice atmosphere and tone to fit it

now here’s the part where i usually drop my latest fic, but i haven’t written one this month because i’ve been busy launching an audio drama! you can find it here, it’ll be right up your alley if you like cryptids and gay scientists and enemies to lovers and good ole americana, but since this is a newmann post, i’m gonna recommend the pacific rim audio drama duology i did a while back! part one is called conversations from the brink, and it’s a little slice of the pr3 we better fucking get from streaming that godawful looking anime. love and lesbians to everyone ❤️

[cateringisalie]

My list of bearable Binal Bantasy VII tags is thinning...

But seriously. Being skeptical of Tifa’s narration of past events is not without merit. By the time the Lifestream scene rolls around she has been through three comas and some grevious injuries. The Lifestream scene is as revelatory for her as it is for Cloud.

The new assertion she was in any way actually friends with Cloud is not only in conflict with the OG’s portrayal but counter to Cloud’s development, her development, the growth of their relationship as adults and why (in general) people have them stay together post game.

Its unnecessary, frustrating and further damaging Tifa’s character who is spinning off further from who she was.

That Tifa and Cloud were not actually childhood friends does not mean they do not have a relationship in FFVII. It does not mean they cannot be together. Tifa “falling in love” with Cloud at the water-tower does not for a second make their later relationship any more meaningful.

All this new ship information does is make the relationship have longer longevity than previously assumed. As if whichever relationship has lasted longer is betterer and stronger. As if this should automatically undercut any other relationship Cloud or Tifa can possibly experience.

(in fact - and darkly cynically - this feels a lot more like enforcing that Cloud/Tifa and Zack/Aerith operate in near exactly the same way. The pairs fall in love in record time (two years prior to the Nibelheim incident both times as far as I’m ware), the boys go missing and the girls never move on with their lives. I get the boys have gone missing without a shred of explanation or closure, but now for both of them people are willing to wipe out a quarter of their lives waiting. Teenagers are resilient you know? They will be inconsolable if this happened but they would bounce back a lot faster and cleaner than they would expect. The approval of the never moving on this is purely to keep the shipping uncomplicated. There can only be one pairing for Tifa, there can only be one pairing for Aerith. And if you think otherwise you’re wrong in canon. And who wants to write or read about a non-canon ship? Unless its yaoi/yuri in any case. I am so tired)

Childhood friends incidentally is not, however much some insist, a common trope of the series - unless you stretch it a fair amount and it encompasses a trivial number of the pairings. And none of the big ones (you know; Squall/Rinoa or Tidus/Yuna).

Could Tifa do with more backstory? Of course. Did Tifa’s mother deserve a name? Absolutely! But not like this. Not when Cloud helping round up cats in Remake is now tied to finding Tifa’s cat in a new authored backstory. This speaks again to the constant magpie-ing of existing imagery and moments from older parts of FFVII to feed the present. The retconning in of importance by changing the meaning of otherwise unimportant moments.

Tifa is not and never was under any obligation to like Cloud as a child. She did not bully him, but neither should she expected to involve him in anything she did. I understand the book has muddied this gloriously, but for what effect?

I mean, I know where the desperation to make Cloud and Tifa childhood friends stems from. I know why you want Cloud to have fallen in love with Tifa at like age 5 or something and for Tifa to fall in love with him at 13. And I rail against it all the time that its not necessary. Being first does not mean better.

Maybe I am old, cynical and exhausted, but I kind of like watching Cloud and Tifa grow closer in FFVII. I like watching Cloud and Aeris grow closer in FFVII. I like to experience these things where I can... experience them? I don’t like reading books which assert things in blunt statements that clarify exactly what the writer intended. I certainly don’t have the patience to wait for a later book to clarify what happened on-screen when I have drawn my own conclusions based on my preferences. Especially as this is all contributing to that continued sense that the OG is a smelly, badly designed embarrassment we would rather tiday away for the crime of being graphically inferior (never mind it was championed on its looks on release) and “goofy” (and apparently unable to run the gamut of emotions I remember from serious to comedy, to silly, to tragic, to pessimistic and quietly optimistic and moving).

I’m coming back to this point to stress it - I want to see the relationship growth. Remake gave me that for Aerith and Cloud even if the details aren’t to my taste. First meeting is awkward because hey, random stranger/Cloud is tired. Cloud gets involved and spends more time with Aerith. And the high-five thing is used as a clumsy/awkward/eh but clear metaphor for how their relationship develops over the course of their time together.

To the point that yes, it makes sense for Cloud to want to rescue her. Less sense for Elmyra and Tifa to be “Well they might not vivisect her” and then delay for two full chapters, but the whole thing flows.

And here’s where I get accused of being a fake fan: I don’t like how Cloud and Tifa’s relationship develops in Remake. Flirting. Tifa being mildly fazed by Cloud claiming its been five years. Scared when he almost kills Johnny. Maybe hurt depending on your resolution scene (hey podcast people! No Gold Saucer multiple dates because too expensive? How are there branched resolution scenes in Remake then?). But there isn’t growth. They seem to fit into each other’s lives without worry, bit of flirting, strange super-intense moments jammed into inappropriate sequences (the train roll, climbing the plate, Cloud remembering the promise unprompted, Tifa not actually engaged with Avalanche’s plans). There’s no sense anything has changed between them, the missed five years has done anything to them.

And I’m sure some would take this as proof of correctness. But... somehow Remake is better for realism despite a lot of new clumsy, but this relationship is not dinged for being implausible? No way does that five year gap not seriously impact any prior relationship to say nothing of developing from scratch.

See this was a neat thing about the OG; while Tifa seemed to have an edge over Aerith by knowing Cloud longer, he was in effect meeting them at the same point in his life and more or less starting from scratch with both. Both ships are valid, and even if Cloud is with Tifa come the end, it doesn’t mean he can’t have romantic feelings about both women.

Oh, but Nojima has changed his mind/always intended it this way. And? I can change my mind about liking what he’s written - and my patience and tolerance of Nojima has waned massively since 1997. To the point where his involvement invokes a pained groan from me.

Plus the hilarious attitude that this is from the same people who insisted “the OG will always be there, stop moaning about Remake”. Well guess what? I don’t like Remake and I don’t really want it around. The OG is better.

Yes, Tifa is under-served and sure, it could be clearer about shipping (but the apparent hostility to ambiguity and personal interpretation is deeply distressing. These things can mean something to you and don’t have to mean the same thing to everyone. Interpreting the romancs - again - not a competition).

BUT

I will take the OG version of Tifa where she believed in the cause, where she had friends (again, yes, the relationship between Tifa and the rest of Avalanche is not well depicted, but it was better than actively curtailing it), where she ran a bar THAT ACTUALLY OPENED AND SERVED CUSTOMERS, where she hated Shinra, where she didn’t know how to treat Cloud because she had only really talked to him once in her life and DESPITE THAT that they great closer and spent their last night before THE END OF THE WORLD together over the Remake.

Where Tifa is wary of Cloud for about 5 seconds, twice and then defaults to constant flirting. Where Cloud is near smothering Tifa every second they’re together and she doesn’t tell him to fuck off once. Where she’s allied with Avalanche but hates their methods (and the pacifists are in a shop around the corner and she is not with them because...?). Where she has some absurd contrived plot about medical bills and buying Seventh Heaven for Barret and Marlene.

Which would lead to a whole other rant titled “Marle is the Worst” but this has dragged on quite long enough.

But seriously; if you argue that we can’t hate Remake because OG is always there, then you have to stop applying Remake back to OG and using it as proof. Which is exactly why many people bemoaned the Remake at all. OG is one thing, Remake is another. I don’t care for the latter.

And I know if anyone does read all this it will be about the meanie Cleriths who diminish Tifa for no good reason. And yes, they are indeed acting in bad faith. But what makes you think for a second evidence will convince these people?

In particular, the argument has raged so long and always will because if people do not like a ship they will not accept it as canon (if they care about this as a factor) NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS. Literally. Look at Loki if you want the most recent example of this.

Canon is to many “what I want” and often does not tally with the general interpretation. And you know, if being “canon” or guessing right early wasn’t triumphed as such a vital thing, we might not get these really terrible and pointless arguments.

Canon is a prize but here’s the big secret: fandom - in general - does not care. FFVII is an excellent case example given Sefikura overwhelms the other ships (and I think AZGSC is close?). And that’s not canon. That’s not even in the ballpark of the Cloud/Tifa vs Cloud/Aerith arena (even give that the former is roughly twice the size of the latter, you already won, so please stop?). Canon is only important if you think its important - and you get some more official art of sequences you can gif. And maybe you get kissing/implied sex/marriage/kids, but most of all you get a smug sense of superiority. And the last is why I have no patience with this.

[lovetenya]

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬: 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧

pairing: tamaki amajiki x gn! reader

warnings: pretty angsty, relationship anxiety, fear of abandonment, descriptions/imaginations of choking (it’s figurative and imaginary, it’s demonstrated with snakes), hurt/comfort, reassurance, worrying, ???, ENDS IN FLUFF I PROMISE!!

word count: 1.7k 

author’s note: okay OKAY I’m sorry this took so long, i’m now onto the ones that i’m coming up with completely from scratch, because i’m not writing them from outlines. as always, this is all over the place bc i love inserting 294848 different scenarios into one work. someday, maybe, i will focus on one plot line. today is not that day. ALTHOUGH THIS ISN’T THAT BAD BY MY STANDARDS, I’M SORRY TAMAKI, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

being in love with tamaki amajiki is green.

it’s the small, fragile beansprouts he grew from the tips of his fingers at lunch time when you were kids, and he was trying to show you that his quirk was nothing to be afraid of. the other kids didn’t talk to him because they thought his tentacles were scary, but you just thought they were neat. 

he knew you before he knew mirio, and you were the reason he even considered talking to the loud, sunshine boy in the first place. you gave him the confidence to try to make new friends, to try to choke down the green of the nausea that comes with uncertainty.

“maybe not everyone is going to be mean to me,” he thought, slightly emboldened at the fact that he had a friend now. ‘y/n,” he thought. “they’re my friend now...”

it all started years ago in primary school when you noticed how he sat alone at his desk, drawing pictures of animals while the other kids played. his crayons never seemed to stop moving, and the green jungles he colored were detailed with a wide variety of wildlife and plants. 

he liked to be alone, where it was quiet and safe, and nobody would pick on him or ask too much of him. everyone knew that the tears that formed on his lashes were a common occurrence, so they tried to avoid pressing him too much. his peace usually remained undisturbed, until there was you. 

you walked up to show him a drawing you made of a spider. he jumped in fear, both at the drawing of a weirdly-realistic spider, but also the fact that someone was talking to him. 

“why don’t they know to just leave me alone?” he thought, already shaking in his seat. his blood ran cold, spit filled his mouth, and a bright green nausea overtook all of his senses. he looked up at your face, wincing and bracing himself for a playground insult. kids were creative, and he knew that all too well. 

“hi.. amajiki. i like your drawing. do you like animals too?”

“mm-hm..” he softly replied. this was new.

“what’s your favorite one?” you knew to keep it simple, because he clearly wasn’t comfortable speaking. he never raised his hand, even when his favorite subjects were brought up in class or when everyone was encouraged to participate. this time, however, was different. this time, there was you.

where mirio was his sun, you were his stars.

where mirio loudly encouraged him, you provided your gentle, guiding support, and always proved to be a perfect shoulder to lean a head into.

“i.. i like butterflies a lot.”

and so it began.

—

since you met, there were many periods of closeness and distance between you and tamaki, which is typical of childhood friends. you could go weeks without talking and then come right back together, making each other giggle with your newest ideas about the funniest things tamaki could do with his quirk. 

one day, you joked, “what if you ate a clam, manifested the shell, and then just knocked somebody over the head with it??? the guy would fall down like blehhh and that would be so funny!!!”

he laughed a little, before deadpanning. “wait a minute.... i think.. i think you might be onto something.”

—

tamaki remembers that the most nervous he’s ever been was while your relationship was still green. the two of you took a walk through a community garden after grabbing a quick dinner with mirio and nejire, and the two of them mysteriously had to leave at the same time, leaving the two of you alone. (the return of ultimate wingmen, mirio and nejire!) 

normally, he’d feel anxious about being in public, but he was okay because you were right there with him. you were here, walking shoulder to shoulder with him, through a garden full of butterflies. what more could he ask for? 

he didn’t have to worry about being judged or being teased, because it was you. the leaves surrounding you felt like nothing more than company. as you made your way through the beautiful maze of plants, flowers, and stone statues, it was just you two in the whole wide world, taking it all in and enjoying each other’s company.

although he hadn’t always known what his feelings meant, he now realized that he’s a crush on you for as long as he could remember. while mirio had several different flings, tamaki always had his eyes on you. nobody was as understanding, as considerate, and as perfect as you. he didn’t want to be like this with anyone but you.

his hand twitched toward yours, but he didn’t dare. he couldn’t risk the pain of rejection, he wouldn’t risk it. if it meant he could possibly lose you, it wasn’t worth it. luckily for tamaki, you didn’t share the same fear, and slowly took his hand in yours. he harshly avoided eye contact, desperate to not let you see his crimson red blush. you knew he had a hard time telling people what he really felt, but he wasn’t usually this quiet with you. 

“tamaki, is this okay?” you questioned.

“yeah. it’s.. good. i like it.”

—

green is the matcha-flavored boba tea that tamaki sips on while you’re on a date. he asks, “y/n, do you like seafood?” before he balances a boba pearl on the tip of his tongue and laughs. what a dork, you think, and then balance a pearl on yours. this is what tamaki needed sometimes, normal moments of relaxation, and you’re more than happy to provide him with it.

—

however, being in love with tamaki is also loving him through the moments that are hard, and when you can’t lean on each other, because it’s all too much. the moments where the problem is between you, and isn’t easily defined and solved. these are the moments when he’s green with envy, or sick to his stomach with worry, or overrun with anxiety at the most simple things. 

these are the moments where you’re tired, or overwhelmed, or you just can’t handle his emotional intensity today, even though you wish you could. you love him, of course you do, there would never be a moment in time where your heart wasn’t bursting for him, but every person has their limits.

these breaking moments are the ones where one of you blurts something you don’t mean in a moment of anger, cracking the meticulously constructed façade, which is in place to spare the other’s feelings.

they’re the moments where your mind goes blank, and all you can think of is, “i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m sorry.”

they’re the moments spent frantically comforting, speaking through tears, words spilling out. they’re the moments where his head lays sobbing in your lap, and his arms circle your waist, desperate to hold onto something, anything. desperate to hold onto you, so that you don’t leave him. your words come out shaky, because even they aren’t really sure how to make this all better. how can you fix what was never meant to be broken? it’s uncertain, but you can’t ever finish if you never begin. you reassure him as many times as he needs to hear it.

“god, i’m so sorry, tamaki, i didn’t mean it, i promise i didn’t mean it.”

even though he says he forgives you, that it’s over with, you know he’s replaying every lilt of your voice, where it broke when you were angry. 

you know he’s feeling more than he lets on, but doesn’t share those intensities because he doesn’t want to come on too strong. you know better than to trust a simple “i’m fine, y/n. really.”

he’s not lying just to lie, because he’s never felt anything truer than his love for you. he’s doing it because he doesn’t want you to understand the heartbreak that often comes with love. he doesn’t want you to feel suffocated, or like you’re being strangled by thousands of emerald green scaled snakes. 

he doesn’t want you to feel their bodies coiled around your throat, like he does. 

he doesn’t want you to feel their scales: cool yet burning, smooth yet slicing, glide across your skin gently, intending to strangle. 

he doesn’t want you to feel their eyes boring into you, threatening under the ruse of being calculating. 

he doesn’t want you to feel what he does, so he hides it. even though he knows he shouldn’t, he can’t help it.

he can’t help how much he loves you, how afraid he is to lose you, how scared he gets whenever mirio and you are paired up together for a class.

he can’t help that he feels like time is running out, your life together is wilting away, and that you’re slipping through his fingers like fine sand.

but you know, truly and wholeheartedly, that his insecurity didn’t deem him invaluable or unworthy of love. his fear and his worries didn’t take away your love, and they never would. every moment spent reminding him that i’m not going anywhere, was worth it. because he’s worth it, and this was something worth fighting for. he’s worth the fighting and the courage it all takes, because he is what makes you whole. he, and everything he is, is worth loving, because there’s value to the things that break us.

--

being in love with tamaki is grassy green countrysides and wildflower stems, and finding little adventures in every single day. it’s reassurance through the irrational, it’s validation through the pain. it’s not loving despite, it’s loving because.

loving tamaki is green in its youth, in its freshness, in its refreshing reminder that you are loved. you are loved so vividly, so intensely, so naturally. 

tamaki loves you, and you know that, because he wouldn’t be able to muster the courage to let those words spill unless he really, truly meant it.

with you, tamaki can let a little loose, a little bit wild. he can let the vines restraining him wilt away into nothing.

because no matter what, it’s all worth it in the end.

—

thanks for reading! love, tj 🪶

color series masterlist

main masterlist

[elliethesuperfruitlover]

It’s Okay

A/N: I’m writing a self-indulgent fic due to fact that I’m feeling  ✨ insecure and ugly ✨Yes this is me projecting. I like Heaven’s Design Team, and Unabara is one of my comfort characters, and he’s also v tall, and he looks like a good hugger. So why not write him being the fluffy being that he is.

Warnings: once again another breakdown, body image talk, mild nsfw mentions, mention of panic attacks

Tag List (even tho i know none of y’all dont know the show but shh): @misskittysmagicportal,  @bisexualnathanyoung, @super-unpredictable98, @joz-stankovich, @hufflepuffheroine, @ghouls-buddy, @magic-multicolored-miracle, @seancekitsch, @the-freckled-luba, @neuroticpuppy

“What’s wrong?” Neptune asks, seeing you curled up on the corner of the bed, hands covering your face. He’d just come in from another day of work with the team. They were working on an animal that’s seen and heard from far away. It’d been going okay, and they were making a lot of progress.

  You’d been denying him an answer to how you were feeling all day. Yes, he deserves to know. But something told you that you were being a burden. And that he didn’t need to hear your issues. He has a lot on his plate. And you didn’t want to stress the poor thing out. It’d only add fuel to your emotional fire. So you bottled it up. Seemed to be working just fine. Nothing a little forgetting can fix. You were really struggling. You can’t tell anyone how you feel, or else they may think it’s their job to help you. And it’s not. It never is. But they do it somehow. You’d always felt like a burden, maybe it was due to how everything in the past had worked out for you (horribly). Or maybe it was just due to your extreme anxiety issues, as well as being atrocious at keeping friends. They always left. And never came back. And somehow, that mean-spirited little voice always said it’s your fault. You’re the catalyst. You’re why everything falls apart around you. You’re the reason everyone’s stressed and upset. So that’s your philosophy. How’s that been working out, huh?

“I’m tired. And I’m upset for no reason. I’m also not feeling the most confident. But I can’t really remember a time where I did feel good about my appearance. I just straight up think I’m ugly. ” you mutter, tears forming in your eyes. 

  You’d been waiting for your body to finally cave in and let you cry. Weeks of missed panic attacks. Days without breaking down. First it seemed fine. Then the fatigue set in. So did the muscle aches. And feeling like sitting in the corner for the entire day. Thinking of what you could be doing. And shaming yourself for not being able to make a full meal. It was just so much all of the time. Everyone has their limits, but those also change. People grow. Somehow, though, it seemed that you were left out. And that everyone seemed to be doing just fine. Except for you, of course.

“Well, it’s fine to be upset, or tired. And I’ve mentioned that if you need help sleeping, I’m glad to help you. Be it cuddling or simply letting you be. But the latter part is where I find the issue. Your appearance is fine. But I know people can see each other differently.” he whispers, sitting down near you, but it seems as if he wasn’t close enough.

“Well, I honestly don’t know how you manage to call me cute sometimes. I really don’t see it. Never have.” you state, falling back completely onto the bed, arms spread out.

“I only say it because it’s the truth. If I think you look cute, or nice, I’ll tell you. There’s no use in me lying. What is this stemming from?” he asks, putting his hand on yours.

“I saw some of my old classmates from school and just....how? How do I equal to them? I feel like everyone’s moving on, and looking good. And feeling confident. But I just can’t seem to.” you say. Your eyes floating to a specific spot on the ceiling that looked like a snowman, and you thought about it for a while.

“Everyone’s different. And I think you look perfectly fine. And some people may just be feeling better. It doesn’t make you any worse.” he replies softly, twisting to face your flat form on the bed.

“Yeah, but I fucking hate everything about myself. Every time I seem to have something good, that dumbass voice comes back and I’m right back here again. I love my hair, then it’s a burden and I want to get rid of it. I look nice in these jeans, then I think I should lose the weight so they aren’t as tight. What the fuck is wrong with me?” you ask, tears finally falling onto the comforter.

“Aw, come here.” he says, laying down so he can look you at you closer. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Sure, you have anxiety, and yes, you have intrusive thoughts, but that’s okay. It doesn’t make you any less of a person. And it doesn’t make you any less attractive.” Unabara whispers, holding you close.

  You begin sobbing into his chest, and your hands grasp at his sweater, trying to find something to hold onto before you fall from whatever was keeping you above the water. Dark, deep waters. Every part of you wants to scream, but you can’t seem to get that giant bubble from your chest. Neptune’s hand gently moves up and down your back, and you gasp for air as wave after wave of feeling go through you. It’s like you never get a break as tears fall repeatedly down your face, drowning you in a weird way. Your chest heaves as you wrap around Neptune, face hidden in his neck to get away from the reality of him seeing you like this. Vulnerable, and some would consider it torn to the ground. Somehow by your own feelings, you’d been torn to the ground and for what? Feelings were supposed to tell you what’s going on, not ponder if every person you’d met in your entire life was offended by you, and if they were it was always your fault. Never anyone else’s, always yours. That’s not true, but somehow you’d managed to get it engrained in your skull do much that no lobotomy would help.

  They never seemed to leave you be, it seemed. One moment everything’s fine and it’s all good and the next you’re on the floor again, wondering whether or not you should’ve said this, or that. Or said these things, or even simply existed in their presence. You had done nothing wrong, yet only the most harsh and cruel punishments were reserved for you with your name in bold, bright letters. Nothing could help you at this point. Not the warmest, and most inviting of baths, or the coldest bowl of ice water to dip your head in, disrupting you from the shaking you’d been experiencing. Even his strong arms couldn’t help as you trembled in his grip. You hadn’t even noticed that his eyes were closed, almost as if he was trying to forego tears. See look what you’re doing to him. You thought, but it was shut down as he opened his eyes, and looked directly at you. Throwing you off for a moment before you went back to dreading everything about yourself once more. Except the hiccups were subsiding, and the feeling in your fingers and toes had begun to come back. Unabara’s head was tilted onto yours, and you matched your breathing to his, calming down somewhat.

“Can you do something really quickly for me...please?” he whispered, deep voice echoing in your mind. You gently nodded, and he moved to get up as you still sat on the bed, the ends of your jacket crumpled and partially wet.

“You don’t have to do this, but I’m going to go from your feet to your head. List what you don’t like about the body part.” he said, and you nodded once more as he gently nudged your foot, looking at you to engage.

 You thought for a moment and replied in a quiet voice, rough from the tears.

“I don’t like how big my feet are. Sure, it may be fine with dancing, and it’s not that noticeable. But shoes my size are upwards of 70 dollars.” you reply, fiddling with your hands.

“Mm, I think they’re fine. I like the fact that we can share shoes sometimes. It’s more space for other things. Legs?”

“They’re oddly shaped. And they’re discolored too.” you stutter out, feeling goosebumps tickle your skin as his hands gently moved up your form.

“I think they’re quite lovely. And you’ve got quite a kick. Strong too. You can fit in more odd positions, may look uncomfortable. But you always manage somehow.” he says, kissing the top of your knee.

  It went on like that for a while, with you talking about how you hated the fact that your thighs don’t match in color to how the divots in your hip made you feel like you should look different elsewhere. When one part of the body was talked over, you both removed a piece of clothing, the same for each person. Somehow you’d even managed to mention that you didn’t like the fact that your stretch marks could be seen with a simple flick of a waistband. And only he got to see the secret ones. Hidden from many views. Eventually, it got to the point where you were mostly nude in front of Neptune. His eyes averted from where some would be looking most. When his eyes did, however, drifted southwards, it wasn’t one of sexual thought.

“What about here?” he gently asked, hands landing on your hips.

“I don’t think I can complain about her. So much to learn. And so many feelings, good and bad. But none to blame.�� you mutter, gasping as a skilled finger made its way to where you seemed to want it most.

“I think it’s wonderful. And not in the “I think vaginas are nice because I only think of it in a sexual manner way. I think they’re neat. And there’s a lot to learn, and much more to unlearn as well. I always like how you feel on the precipice of orgasm. Almost like a vice, but not one that I’d be upset about. You’re usually the most vocal, pillow over your face, or face pressed into my shoulder. Then, you’re there. And I’m there, or close enough. You just look so peaceful and emotional in the most wonderful of ways. You’re not worried about how you look. Or how your hair looks spread across the sheets unevenly. You just feel everything at once. And I find that so amazing.” he whispers into your ear, and it took everything in you not to take him right then and there.

  Unabara didn’t give you a quickie that night. Or the ol’ suck and fuck. He took his time, even after you cried on his shoulder. And admitted your flaws to him. He made sure you were fine every step of the way. Holding your hand. Breathing into your neck as to not overstimulate his own ears. He even took the time to kiss over every last mark and scar from childhood on your legs before eating you out. I mean, yeah, you were ready to shove his entire face in your vagina. But the sheer amount of effort he went through to make sure that you were comfortable, and happy (in that moment at least). It honestly could push you to tears. How could someone care so much about another? They’d go through hours of love and appreciation, just to see you smile, or almost wake up the neighbors. 

  Tears fell down your face once more that night as you cuddled into Neptune’s chest. You listened to his heartbeat as his hands lay once more on your back. He looked at you with so much love and support. And you couldn’t help but crack under that pressure. Pressure to reciprocate. You always did. Somehow. Even in those moments where you pondered researching panic methods just to feel some relief. But you made it. And he found you worthy. Then slowly, slowly, you found yourself worthy as well.

Masterlist

[bau-rookie]

a close examination of Hotch and Foyet

in which Hotch’s greatest strength becomes his fatal flaw.

(a/n: super long essay, because i don’t know how else to consume media apparently lol. i’ve been sitting on this since “100″ because it is really sad and I just wanted to make sure I get all my thoughts in order. It is, to my discovery, Aaron Hotchner’s birthday today, so what better way to celebrate than by explaining all the ways the Foyet arc reads like a Greek tragedy and how Hotch is an amazingly well-written character. Sorry the only way I can think about paying tribute is by making myself sad. Oh there’s GIFs too! I made them and that’s neat :D)

I. Ingredients for a Greek tragedy.

Greek tragedies stem from classical plays, usually about the nobility, and is centered around their struggle against the Gods/Fate. The noble character has a hamartia, or a fatal flaw, usually their own arrogance, that brings upon their own downfall.

Technically, Criminal Minds would fall under the category of modern tragedy which focuses more on common people and everyday problems. (Though you could argue that being a BAU profiler isn’t your typical career, which makes our characters noble not by blood, but in spirit.)

In modern tragedy, there is less of an emphasis on the involvement of a higher power or Fate. Every bad thing that happens is of mankind’s own making, and this is something that CM discusses often, that evil isn’t necessarily brought upon by a higher power. It’s brought upon by ordinary people choosing to do terrible things. 

And Foyet is no different. He chose to kill all these people because he wanted to, but his fascination with Hotch and how his plans for him play out, entrap Hotch in a tragedy more Greek in nature.

What Foyet ultimately does is take Hotch’s greatest strength—his stoic resolve to serve justice—and uses it to hold him personally responsible for the death of his ex-wife, all while bending the hand of Fate to his will.

II. Hotch as a noble character.

In “Omnivore” we are introduced to the Reaper and the many ways he tries to exert control and power over his victims. After killing so many times loses its appeal, the Reaper decides to toy with detective Tom Shaunessey by offering him a deal—if you stop hunting me, I will stop hunting them. 

While we sympathize with Shaunessey simply trying to save lives, he does so with the knowledge that he is deliberately letting a serial killer go free. The fear and the guilt eats away at him until his death.

Hotch, on the other hand, quickly establishes himself to be a resolute pursuer of justice. We don’t get to make those decisions. We don’t let them get away with it. He holds onto the idea that they have no right to decide who lives or dies and that the victims that unsubs like the Reaper takes, are not something he, or anyone in his line of work, should feel responsible for. Their sole responsibility is to stop them. 

This isn’t to say that Hotch is unaffected by the increasing number of bodies. When he turns down the deal and the Reaper attacks the bus full of people, he is visibly shaken by this, so much so that we see Hotch cry for the first time. It takes Rossi delivering some tough love to remind him of what’s important.

Look, if you want to end up like Shaunessy, like Gideon, blaming yourself for everything, you go ahead. But that voice in your head—it’s not your conscience. It’s your ego. This isn’t about us, Aaron. It’s about the bad guys. That why we profile them. It’s their fault. We’re just guys doing a job. And when we stop doing it someone else will.

Hotch and the team in general, are faced with constant reminders that they are only human. They are fallible and cannot control every outcome. 

Not everyone can handle the stresses of being a profiler. Despite the horrors, the chance of failing, Hotch’s greatest strength is his stoic resolve. He’s become our beloved Unit Chief, the person on the team who takes on the most pressure, takes it upon himself to, at times, shield the rest of the team from the greater burdens. Personally, he’s arguably also the one who sacrificed the most to have this job, having lost his marriage.

Yet despite the horrors, despite the toll, Hotch shows up for the job anyway. Because he can’t imagine letting the bad guys get away with it.

III. Foyet as a representation of Fate

“The Eye of Providence. A symbol adopted by the U.S. Government with the words: Annuit Coeptis. Latin for “Providence or fate has favored our undertakings.” The Reaper seems to see himself as the personification of Fate.”  — Dr. Spencer Reid, “Omnivore”

From the beginning Foyet is shown to have a flair for theatrics. He leaves markings of the Eye of Providence, writes Fate in blood, calls himself the The Reaper. He has delusions of grandeur and posits himself as a higher power, one who gets to decide the course of other people’s lives. Everyone who has the misfortune of coming into contact with the Reaper, becomes another chess piece in his twisted game of Fate.

In another life, Hotch would never cross paths with Foyet. But because he did, Foyet acts as Fate, bringing down divine intervention in the form of driving Hotch into a tragedy of his own making.

Foyet acting as Fate is, paradoxically, also an argument against the actual existence of Fate. Everything that happens is a result of Foyet’s choices. It is him, a man, and not Fate who is choosing to kill, maim and be cruel.

When it came to Shaunessy, Foyet also emphasized pinning the blame of the death of innocent lives on the failure of law enforcement. It isn’t Fate when there’s something you could do to stop it. Shaunessy took the deal because he felt personally responsible for the possible loss of lives, an outcome that Foyet pretty much predicted, but one that doesn’t really affect him. Shaunessy agrees, he gets off on controlling the police. If he doesn’t, well, he can just keep on killing.

Foyet repeats the deal with Hotch. Offers him the deal, which Hotch refuses then immediately murders 7 people on the bus, setting a chain of cause and effect that makes it seems like Hotch’s actions led to this gruesome outcome. Again, placing the blame personally, on Hotch. And Hotch does blame himself, if momentarily.

Later, once Foyet escapes and corners Hotch in his own apartment, he makes it clear, you should have made a deal. Foyet acts as a vessel for Fate, a vehicle through which the consequences of Hotch’s actions are served. 

Foyet takes it a step further, when he puts Haley and Jack in witness protection. Left all the usual clues, to simply say your wife and child are in danger because you never took the deal. I hold all the cards here, your fate will come for you eventually.

Then Foyet disappears, and waits. Leaving Hotch filled with guilt over endangering his ex-wife and child, at the mercy of Foyet’s arbitration of Fate.

IV. Dominoes and fatal flaws

By the time “100″ rolls around, you’re so captivated by the action happening on screen that it’s easy to overlook how we got there. When I first watched this season, I had assumed that Foyet would be put on the back burner until the end of the season. His quicker-than-expected return seems to be happenstance, the writers behind-the-scenes doing some plot magic, but if you reexamine the events that lead up to “100″ we see Foyet’s greater machinations at play.

On the surface, the preceding episode “Outfoxed” seems to be a straight forward throwback to an earlier case. Faced with a family annihilator, Hotch and Emily visit the original Fox in prison, believing the current unsub might be a copycat. The episode seems to be about the mental toll being a profiler brings, with Emily contending with a sense of disgust at having to get intimate with a serial killer (post-”Lauren” this reads very differently, but I digress). Until right at the end, when they reveal the admirer letters were actually from Foyet, and the one being outfoxed is Hotch.

When the events of “100″ go down, we hear Foyet repeatedly blame Hotch for what happens with Haley, calls out what we see as a noble resolve to instead be Hotch’s fatal flaw. It was the same thing that led Haley to leave him, a failing borne from Hotch’s own ego, the part of him that insists that it be him who catches the bad guys, that it be him who risks it all. And Foyet uses that to his advantage, uses Hotch’s resolve to trick him into thinking that maybe he did cause all of this tragedy to happen.

One small detail that caught my attention, and set me on this Greek tragedy path, is when they try to track down Foyet in “100″, Garcia notes that he had set an internet search alert for the name “Peter Rhea.”

At this point, Foyet was ready to go after Haley and Jack. He already had pictures and surveillance of the U.S. Marshall in charge of them. He could’ve gone and killed them anytime, but that’s not how Foyet operates. He needs Hotch to feel personally responsible for things ending badly. He set the bait with the letters and simply had to wait for Hotch and the team to get close enough, to find Peter Rhea. This is, of course, incredibly risky. The team could catch him before Foyet gets anywhere close to Haley and Jack, but Foyet is sure of himself and is an extensive planner. He made sure he was always two steps ahead.

The irony is that Foyet would never have gone after Haley and Jack if Hotch and the team didn’t get close to tracking him down. There’s an added layer of Spencer figuring out Foyet’s alias using his genius anagram deciphering brain and Garcia’s expert tech analyst skills. Foyet managed to hurt Hotch because this specific BAU team are just too damn good at their jobs.

Foyet set up dominoes that only Aaron Hotchner could tip to fall. He does it so well it almost feels like Fate.

V. The inevitability of fate

“Men heap together the mistakes of their lives and create a monster called destiny.”  — John Hobbes, “Omnivore” closing quote.

A key aspect of Greek tragedy, is that Fate is often the result of divine intervention. They cause certain events to happen in certain ways so as to result in the most tragic outcome, usually death. It’s designed so that the audience is aware of what’s to come, and can see no other way for the story to end. The tragedy is supposed to feel inevitable.

One could argue, that there is no such thing as Fate. Life is simply a sequence of random happenstance, but our need to prescribe meaning to the chaos cobbles up stories of predetermined destinies. Especially when the idea of owning up to our mistakes and their consequences is too much.

All of this was the result of one sick man, George Foyet, choosing to be so cruel. And Hotch was simply a victim of circumstance because if Foyet wasn’t going after Hotch, he’d be going after someone else.

But what are the odds that Hotch’s first case as lead profiler happens to be The Boston Reaper? It was from that moment that Hotch’s fate was really sealed, he and Foyet would be forever intertwined. 

Hotch, being who he is, had inadvertently, made the Reaper personal. Even when his BAU team was sent away, his resolve wouldn’t let the Reaper simply disappear. It led him to build his profile, alone and over many years. Any other person might’ve just let the case go, but not Hotch.

So when Shaunessy died and the Reaper resurfaced, the only person in the world who knows enough about the Reaper to track him down, is Hotch. It’s what leads him to George Foyet, a victim at first glance, and Hotch comes to him unaware that he is promising The Reaper a new, worthy adversary, one a decade in the making. And everything, from his prison escape, to his attack on Hotch in his apartment, plays out exactly as Foyet expects it to, because as much as Hotch can read him, Foyet can read his behavior too.

At the end of 5x03, “Reckoner”, Rossi talks about what could have been when it comes to his childhood sweetheart to Hotch. About how he was too obsessed with his job, with the hunt that he gave up his chance of having a family. Rossi warns Hotch, don’t make my mistakes, kid.

You have a family. When all this is over, what are you gonna do to make sure you’re not a lonely guy wondering why you let the purest thing in your life get away?

My initial reaction was that they were setting up for Hotch to leave the BAU for good. The man who hung on to the job so much that it cost him his marriage, for the first time, actually considers leaving it all behind him. Because what Rossi says to him, driven by the circumstances that Foyet has created, is too profound for him to ignore. Foyet is too big of a thing to just move on from once its over.

Of course, my hopes of Hotch riding off into sunset to live a quieter life and watch his son grow up were optimistic at best. It’s a fantasy that purposely ignores the reality of who Hotch is, simply because I want the alternative to be possible. By the time Haley is buried, and Strauss offers Hotch retirement, we already know what his answer is going to be. Because everything we know about this man can only lead us to one conclusion.

Aaron Hotchner is the man who goes after the bad guys, the man who doesn’t let them get away with it. No matter how much I yell at my screen about how Hotch should just retire and spend all his time with Jack, deep down I knew that was never going to happen. Him losing Haley and still going back to work, seems like the only logical outcome. It’s almost feels inevitable.

VI. Catharsis

The point of tragedy is, according to Aristotle, to achieve catharsis. The purging of emotion through the telling of another person’s suffering. And that’s what “100″ does (unless your heart is made of stone and you somehow did not tear up even once).

Others would say that tragedy is meant to teach us a lesson. Meant to teach us the limits of our mortal abilities, to warn against hubris and arrogance; to remind us that they are higher powers and unseen forces beyond our understanding or control.

Criminal Minds doesn’t try to give us that lesson. Like in so many previous cases, the premise of a crime procedural is really a way of examining human nature. Why do people do bad things? More often than not, though our profilers can figure out how an unsub goes from doing thing A to thing B, they don’t have a satisfying answer for why. 

In Foyet’s case, he does all of this to Hotch because he can, because he enjoys making him suffer. It is evil, unnecessarily cruel. There is no sense to be found in what happened.

But “100″ does not deliver pure tragedy. It ended in the death of Haley but it also provided hope in the survival of Jack. Hotch finally rids the world of Foyet, though the way it went down, you can’t help but wonder about the price of justice, if the cost is too much for this one man to pay. But then the show reminds the audience, that this one man isn’t bearing that cost alone.

Aaron Hotchner has his team, his family, and with their support, a chance to recover from the tragedy that Foyet wrought.

I used to think that, despite being dead, George Foyet still won. He set out to hurt Hotch, and that’s exactly what he did. We’ve only seen Hotch openly cry twice at this point, and they both were directly caused by Foyet. And I suppose that’s still partly true. It’s hard to really tell with our stone-faced unit chief, but it’s hard to see how Foyet wouldn’t linger.

But that victory isn’t absolute. Foyet is gone, and he loses every time Jack gets to spend another day happy and alive. Foyet loses, every time Hotch shows up for the job and doesn’t let another unsub like him get away with it.

And maybe that’s the lesson. That though good doesn’t always triumph over evil, there is a way to move past tragedy. And that path lies not in solitude, in carrying the burden alone, but in the solace of our friends and family who can bear witness to all that we must face.

For all all my waxing poetic about how Hotch is a noble hero, this entire ordeal just shows how human he is. Yet despite his flaws and the tragedy, the core unassailable truth of who he is, the values he represents, remain unchanged.

He is Aaron Hotchner. The guy who hunts down guys like Foyet. The guy who doesn’t let the bad guys get away with it. The guy who, despite everything, managed to save his son. The guy who will keep his promise to the woman he was once married to, to teach their son that love is the most important thing. The guy who makes sure that his son knows that good people do exist.

Aaron Hotchner is the guy who, despite all the hurt, the pain and the loss, chooses to be the hero. And that’s the farthest thing from tragic.

[adorablele]

what would your moots be like if they were an aesthetic?

ANON I FINALLY DID IT. yes, I sat on this ask for a million years because I didn’t know any aesthetics and I still don’t know many aesthetics but I managed to get help (this is all thanks to leyna who gave me a whole bunch). so when I originally did this, I had a scenario in mind because I wanted to do it like how those people on uquiz do (like choose an aesthetic and it’s a scenario filled with imagery) but I don’t think the scenario captured the aesthetic well so feel free to skip over it an just go to my bulleted explanation lol. however, I’d like to mention that the explanation may not be the best as to why I gave that moot that aesthetic. ANYWAYS I DID IT AND NOW I HAVE THREE OTHER ASKS ABOUT MY MOOTS THAT I WILL SIT ON FOR LIKE TWO MORE MONTHS.

this was very long and has details no one asked for. and I didn’t proofread this so if there are spelling errors or just errors in general, sorry.

@nzeeten allie - minimalist 

A sneeze echoed against the walls of your attic. You brushed away the dust on the box, smiling faintly at the little scribbles on top of the lid. Opening it caused memories to roll down your cheek. A lump lodged its way in your throat and you couldn’t help the melancholy swell in your heart. Your phone rang. There were unfinished papers littered on your desk. Your laptop screen started to fade to sleep, work not saved. It didn’t matter to you. You didn’t pay attention to the weight of adult responsibilities, not when your younger self smiled at you.

ngl allie gives me these really mature vibes, and who knows, maybe it stems from the fact that she wants a be a ‘kickas*’ lawyer. the overall mood of this scenario is nostalgia but in no way shape or form do I feel nostalgic when I’m with allie. she’s very fun and chill and amazing and outstanding and i love her- anyways, somehow the nostalgic vibe fit with minimalistic aesthetic? like I pictured an apartment with very simplistic features but you can tell what that person cares about through the pictures or the items that they keep. hmm I’d see some polaroids in her moodboard if she had one; maybe a single rose (in the middle) surrounded by different thorns that have little memories in each one? 

@sleepingrenjun cherry - baddie (new moot that I hope she considers me a moot too dkslaf)

Even after everything, you still went back to business. There wasn’t a care in the world as you glanced back down at your screen, files scattered on your desk and fingers tapping away at the keyboard. There wasn’t a care in the world as a pack of cigarettes were thrown back onto your desk and loud slam of the door. There wasn’t a care in the world when you returned to an empty bed, one meal, and one toothbrush. You sat out on your balcony and stared at the unlit cigarette in your hand. You felt no urge breathe in its toxic fumes, a voice in the back of your head scolding you for even touching the death stick. Tears streamed down your face and you raised one brow, smiling slightly. ‘what a shame,’ you whispered, looking up at the stars. maybe there was a little care in the world. 

so maybe this is based off of my most recent tag. it popped into my mind when I thought of cherry. this most likely stemmed from breathe me and idk if it quite fits with the baddie aesthetic...anywayssss I was aiming for a heartbreaker vibe! because cherry breaking hearts out here with her fics 🤧 kind of a lonely lifestyle of a very successful business person who doesn’t care about anything but their business (they actually do care a lot which [spoiler alert] is why mc doesn’t smoke in the end). heartbreaker gave me a baddie aesthetic. 

@passionfruithyuck clarie- soft grunge, dark academia

No one visited the library. You didn’t understand why. This age old building was still in pristine condition, exuding out elegance like no other. The tables were lonely and the chairs were cold. The bowl full of mints never lessened, the counter always empty. Time was all but a concept once you invested yourself in the shelves that were still polished with youth. Each book had its own personality, each page filled with questions, answers, secrets. No one ever visited the library, and you didn’t understand why. 

uhm yeah so a pristine hidden gem of a library came to mind. this, I think, stemmed from the fact that she know12s multiple languages (so a lot of knowledge) and it’s an honor that she’s my moot (a hidden gem). clarie, to me, is lowkey bada** which is why she’s soft grunge. if she had a moodbard, I think there would be some pastel and books (maybe some idaf pictures).

@renjunwrites denise - cottagecore 

You always passed by the quaint little flower shop whenever you were on your way home from work. Every now and then you would see someone exit, but most of the time it stayed empty. In need of a bouquet, you visited the store. Vases full of flowers furnished the tables, some unmatched as they littered the counter. The petals looked delicate, so delicate you were afraid that your breath would shatter them. Each step you took padded softly against the walls, no sound other than you, no one other than you. Simply you and the flowers.

that blurb is 🤮 I’m sorry I’m bad at explaining things omg. I honestly pictured an empty, neat but messy, flowershop when I thought of denise. she has this delicateness (missing renjunlite, can’t lie) to her like flower petals. I also get a vibe that she’s an organized mess, hence the mismatched flowers (because it’s a beautiful mess). 

@jisvngy dahler - plant mom aesthetic

It was another day at school. Another day filled with ‘the bell doesn’t dismiss you, I do’. Another day filled with the scratching of pencils and shuffling of paper. Another day filled with slumped backs, bored eyes, and the slow ticking clock. It was also another day for secret notes, hidden jokes, loud lunches and knowing looks with your friends. Your friends. They broke your day dreaming, made you laugh, copied your answers, stole your pencils, distracted you during presentations, all mundane things. Mundane things that you would never forget.

ngl I feel like I would become friends with dahler through school and she would honestly be one of the reasons why I look forward to school. you may be wondering how this associates to plant mom but okay hear me out. this scenario is kind of like everyday life, you know? like small things. plants are in our everyday life, whether or not we grow or acknowledge them. uhm yeah so connect those two and yay an aesthetic for dahler! would picture some succulents in her moodboard.

@jeonginks eiko - e-girl, fantasy academia

you were always told to never take things from the forest. you were never told why, so you thought there was no harm to taking a rock because, well, it was only a rock. it was a pretty little rock lying near the clear stream of water that glimmered under the rays of the sun. the green leaves above swayed gently with the wind; it was peaceful here, you thought to yourself as you slowly started to walk back home, the rock heavy in your hand. with each step, the trees seemed taller, the sun seemed dimmer and the river sounded quite loud despite you being miles away from it. suddenly, you couldn’t move, grounded by the roots on the ground. the rock started to burn in your hand, so you threw down, only for the searing to continue. you screamed as marks were carved into the palm of your hand. from behind you, a voice laughed, ‘weren’t you told not to take things that aren’t yours.’

is fantasy academia a thing? if not then just fantasy. e-girl goes with her fashion sense (if I’m assuming correctly cause your boots) but uhm fantasy because of her writing. go on her page and you’ll see so many people call her writing magical. so with that in mind, this scenario popped up. now she could be the rock, or she could be the river, or perhaps the trees, or quite possibly, the voice,, who knows, I don’t know, that’s for sure. her moodboard would be filled with nature.

@haechaaaaaaanssi janna - mermaid/fantasy, medieval 

The fire crackled, ashes gracefully flying out from the orange hue and up into the darkness of the sky. Your marshmallow sat on the paper plate, your stick abandoned next to it. You weren’t around the bonfire, no, you were along the shoreline. The chatter of your friends was distant, much quieter than the sea. It was calling you. The waves beckoned you in, pulling you farther and farther away from shore. The sand wasn’t grainy anymore, it was softer, mushier. The full moon shone above you, a spotlight you didn’t ask for. You kept walking, entranced by the sound. What was that sound? Goosebumps rose to your arm, the water swishing at your waist. What was that sound? It was like the tick of a clock, the whoosh of the waves, the whisper of the wind, but that’s not what you were looking for. What was that sound? You were neck deep until you remembered, you didn’t know how to swim, but it’s okay. You found the answer to your question. 

okay i’m not saying that janna is a siren (who knows maybe she is)! this isn’t what i’m trying to say lmao. it’s just the fact that her work is so angsty and immediately popped into my mind when I thought of an aesthetic for her; somehow it led to fantasy/mermaid? like the ocean is mellow, beautiful and elegant but sometimes can be very powerful, loud and boisterous. in other words, janna can be exquisite and sometimes a mess. would see (obviously) the ocean in her moodboard, maybe a campfire or the night sky. 

@jensungf leyna - art mom/vintage

You struggled to yawn with a toothbrush slumped between your lips, arms up and above your head as the muscles tensed and the bones cracked. Your face was dazed with drowsiness and you languidly continued with your morning routine. But there was always something that made your mornings brighter. That something was the bakery down the street. Each time you stepped through the door, your nose was flooded with the sweet aroma of pastries. The taste of the treats were sweeter, always balancing out the bitterness of coffee on your tongue. You always stared at the crumbs of comfort on your plate, fascinated how it hugged you better than anyone you’ve met.

okay so maybe I should’ve put bakery as her aesthetic? but idk if that’s an aesthetic sooo,, but I can see her as an art mom aesthetic mixed with a little vintage. if she had a moodboard, possibly some fairy lights or some pictures of a really chill looking bakery, can’t not include sweet treats either.

@glossyjaems louna - skater, neon

Laughter filled the air, cracks of the bendable glowsticks echoing in the night. You twirled the one on your wrist, the green liquid neon against your skin. Mischief sighed with each step your friends took as they neared the metal fence. Your heart was pounding, hands clampy and eyes wavering at the faded red sign. It glared at you, ‘keep out’ it warned. That didn’t stop your friends, ‘and it shouldn’t stop you,’ they told you. The what ifs swirled on your tongue and rolled the eyes of your friends. ‘It’s going to be fine’ they reassured, and they offered you a hand. ‘Let’s live in the moment, yeah?’

ultimately really fun vibes. I pictured the recklessness of youth and dream’s go era when I thought of louna. would see like spray painting or maybe neon lights or glowsticks in her moodboard. 

@the32ndbeat // @juyeonzz qiu - vintage, dark academia 

You watched as people skied down the slope. Your hands wrapped around the warm mug of hot chocolate, the little pillows of marshmallows replicating the hills of snow outside. It wasn’t long until you heard the loud clamors of your friends as they made their way towards you. A smile found its way onto your lips as they bickered over whose snowman was the best. ‘Guys,’ you announced, causing everyone to quiet down, ‘clearly, it’s mine.’ back were the overlapping voices. You leaned back in your chair, eyes glossing over each of their faces. How funny that the impromptu road trip took you here. 

originally I was thinking summer vibes and the beach, but I already used the beach so why not the mountains? where there’s snow! cuz sledding and building snowmen with your friends is very fun. I know that this doesn’t really have anything to do with qiu’s aesthetic but when I thought of vintage, I got a lot of free-spirited, really chill vibes that I associated with road trips and friends. a lodge in the mountains and hot chocolate reminded me of dark academia somehow? yeah I don’t know how my brain works either. but anyways, I see books and hot chocolate in her moodboard if she were to have one.

@neocitybynight sunny - glam

Life was busy in hollywood. The snap of the director, the brushes of makeup artists, the tears of actors, the flashing of cameras, the questions of reporters, the tailors of dresses. At the end of the day, you always returned to your apartment on the highest floor. Barefaced, you change into an old oversized t-shirt, soft music floating to your ears as you think about your schedule tomorrow. The kettle starts to whistle, the boiling liquid warming the tea bag in your cup. The sun had retired, reminding everyone that the real stars weren’t on TV but in the sky. Though, cars still drifted the streets, lights still remained on, people were still awake. You opened up your book, a sigh falling between your lips as the drink soothes your throat. You glance once more out the window at the bustling city before falling into the world of your book. Life was busy in hollywood. 

yeah so this was what I imagined, I don’t know if that’s an aesthetic but I associated it with glam. like I also imagine those 90′s heartthrob edits if you were to make a moodboard for her. you could also fit in dark academia.

[albatris]

Hi hello I hope you're doing well and getting read to sn00ze soon, STS! Saturday! Yes! Cause you're an artist and a writer, I was wondering how much the two mediums bleed into each other? Does drawing something out help you visualise it better, or do they not really interact much at all?

hello hi hey there and happy storyteller saturday :D thank you for the question!! I hope ur having a cool day B)

and even though you sent this yesterday you telling me to sn00ze is equally applicable today as it is almost every day of the week so................ yep, I’ll be sure to get onto that at some point. you’re probably going to make a >:c face at me for answering this at 3:06am

anyway! this is an interesting question! and a good one! unfortunately it may not have a very interesting answer?

my initial response was gonna be that they don’t really bleed into each other at all, but then........ nah, they kinda do

(and then about halfway through typing this draft I was like But What About Undertow, and my response became “oh yeah they definitely do”, but I’ll get to that in a bit)

but yeah! I think my writing definitely influences my art! both in the sense that I tend to draw mostly story stuff, ‘cause I like my stories and drawing is fun, but also in terms of like....... inspiration! usually I have a pretty good image of stuff in my head already while I’m writing, n sometimes this image will make me go “hell yeah I vibe with this I wanna draw it”, but the art itself generally turns out nothing like what I envision and usually takes a life of its own ‘cause I’ll just end up drawing whatever looks cool hahahaha

so I get some neat experiments and doodles and weirdness in various art pieces that definitely stemmed from story daydreams, but probably aren’t super related to the story itself in the end :P y’all don’t see much of this stuff ‘cause I mostly just post character drawings lmao

(this is bc I’m most confident with character drawings, and I will fistfight Drawing Backgrounds And Scenes in a wendy’s parking lot any day of the week)

but kinda hopping back up for a sec, one example that IS related to the story is like

drawings I’ve done that are centred in ATDAO’s unreality aren’t actually a super good representation of what the unreality is actually like? or I mean. they could be. they can be! but the drawings are centred around very literal concrete representations of glitchy weirdness

whereas in the story itself (at least to start with) there’s much more a focus on the general looming Hey Something Is Horribly Wrong vibes and, like, the unravelling and bleeding together of senses, the way the narration changes (ie the way your own thought processes slowly start becoming completely foreign to you), n just........ glitchy weirdness, but not glitchy weirdness that you can visually represent, glitchy weirdness that is canonically in the category “you can experience this and have no way to process it because a human mind is not equipped to translate it and your senses have no way of taking it in”

n then I bring the body horror in full force but that’s neither here nor there

existential terror and uncanny valley vibes r hard to draw, y’know? so the drawings mostly just wind up as me having fun with the aesthetic hahaha

but yeah, art stuff stems from story daydreams, it’s very rare that story stuff will stem from art daydreams

character drawings were something I started doing just ‘cause I liked my characters and I was vibin, but they ended up being the one exception in that they DO tend to actively inspire the decisions I make in the story itself, unlike my other art

written descriptions of people are a weak point for me, generally I’ll kinda know at least the key aspects of what folks look like, but the descriptions I come up with on page are always frustratingly vague............. n drawing them out helps me fill in the blanks and give my descriptions a bit more life and personality IMO, ‘cause I mean

there’s little things about people’s appearances that are pretty personal, little quirks or habits they have, etc, that I wouldn’t think of in writing, whereas in art they just crop up naturally

and also sometimes I’ll write a description of a character or have an image of them in my head and I’ll be like Yeah This Is Them but then when I draw them my hands will just make their own decisions

and whatever the hands create is Law and Official Canon as far as I’m concerned, I will always trust the hands over my initial plans when it comes to characters, and they have not failed me so far

and now that I’ve gone on a whole spiel about how (outside of helping me pin down character details) creating art isn’t generally something that inspires a lot of story development or daydreams, it’s time for me to completely contradict that because, like I said earlier: Undertow

this is a WIP that came into existence purely from art inspiration! basically I came up with Aster’s design on the fly because someone was like “it’s genderqueer pride day” and I was like Oh Sick Time To Make A New Genderqueer OC

most of the characters in Undertow were drawn and designed long before I had any clue who they were or what their deal was. the entire premise of Aster as a character was born within like two hours from one silly doodle. then I was like “BUT WHAT IF SHE HAD FRIENDS” so I drew some friends, who ended up being Kit and Meg. n their relationships with each other and the kind of story in which they find themselves all just kind of spiralled out from a series of silly doodles and took on a life of their own :P

I think it’s a different scenario since Undertow exists purely as a vessel for shenanigans and self-indulgent nonsense, so I was feeling a lot less pressure to be grounded and serious, I could just throw things around like “amnesiac clairvoyant delivery driver with an illegal magic crime truck” and “necromancer who doesn’t believe in magic who wants to reanimate a t-rex to honour his dead wife” to see what stuck and I had no need to be like “hm, but is that Realistic, though?”

unrestrained summer fun!

it’s easier for me to let myself daydream in relation to art when there’s none of this pressure, which I think is what separates Undertow from my other projects c:

plus Undertow is the one WIP of mine that I’ve always pictured in a kind of episodic comic format, though I lack the skill set or the patience to pull this off hahaha

as such, most of my development for it comes in the form of messing around with the artistic side of things!! as it should be, I think

anyway that’s enough from me I think, thanks for reading, have a fantastic day, hope you see some cool birds (if you do please tell me about them)