#i will be reblogging this at some point because i put far too much effort into this

[drtanner]

You know, I think I'm starting to understand why the sharing culture on this site is such dogshit now.

As I mentioned earlier in the week, I spent several solid hours going through my art and writing tags as far back as 2012 and manually deleting everything I found, including all of my own reblogs, because I don't expect my opt out from having my blogs' data scraped to be honoured, and seeing the difference in the way people interacted with my work back then and the way they interact with it now (or the way they don't interact with it at all, more specifically) was deeply and tragically enlightening.

tl;dr, despite having had a fraction of the followers back then that I have now, as well as being an objectively better artist and writer than I used to be 10+ years ago, my work travelled further and people engaged with it more, and they also sent me asks with drabble prompts and questions about my OCs all the time, whereas none of that happens at all anymore. This place was a lot more communal back in that pre-2016 era and generally a lot more rewarding and fun.

There's been plenty of posts going around over the last few years begging people to reblog because that's how this site works, but every one of those posts always winds up lousy with people saying they just click "Like" on things because they like them but not enough to put them on their own blog, or because they don't want to clutter their blog, or because tagging things is too much effort or whatever, and I'm noticing a pattern. There's something that all of these common responses have in common:

All of these people are wholly concerned with themselves and the way their blog looks, or what their blog is supposed to be for, or some other similarly entirely self-centred point of focus.

Listen. Other people have already tried to explain to you that that's not what this place is about or what this place is for or that you can make as many sideblogs as you want if you're trying to curate something specific, and they've had little success in emparting understanding to you, so I'm going to try a different approach.

Here are ten (10) benefits of reblogging that will make this site more fun and engaging for you, personally! ( b ._.)b

You get to keep the thing for yourself, but you also get to pass it along for other people to play with, too! Best of all worlds. How often do you get to keep a thing and share it?

Look in your Activity after you reblog something you enjoy to find other people who like the same things that you do! This is a terrific way to find new people to follow.

Sometimes you'll make a comment when you reblog something and later find that an awful lot of strangers are reblogging it from you directly for some reason. This is usually because someone else later down the line made a much stupider and worse comment and those strangers are now all clicking on your reblog so that they can reblog the post without that other person's stupider and worse comment on it. I like it a lot when this happens. You can get a lot of new followers this way, too!

Even if you don't have the time or spoons to play with jpegs like dolls yourself, your reblog can put the post in front of those folks who do. Playing with jpegs like dolls is half of what makes this site function; give it a bit of time, and the jpegs will cross your dash again with new additions. As it is with anything you love, set it free, and the love will come back to you one hundredfold. 💜

Look in your Activity after reblogging some art or writing to see people going nuts in the tags. You can also go nuts in the tags if you want; everyone loves seeing this when it happens, especially the artist or writer themselves.

Commenting with your reblog is like raising your hand to share your opinion with the whole room, whereas reblogging with your comment in the tags is more like whispering to the person next to you and keeping it between yourselves. Contrary to what you might have been told by others, both are perfectly fine and good and they each have their place. You can do both on the same reblog, even! Take part in the conversation!

If you're too shy to talk, reblogging without commentary is a lot like parallel play. You're all enjoying the same thing quietly together!

When you reblog things a lot, you'll start to see the same people popping up in your Activity feed all the time. These people are your friends whether you actually talk to them or not.

Stuck for something to say? Point out something you liked about the post! It can be something small! Acknowledging things that make you happy out loud is good for your mental health and also your soul.

Reblogging also invites other people who are doing all of these things to find and follow you!

There's so much to do on here beyond checking your dash and occasionally looking at the For You tab. You can discover all kinds of people and things by making a bit of an effort and having a poke around in your Activity feed and on the blogs of people who interact with the posts you're seeing and passing along! I promise you don't need an algorithm to do this for you; the action of exploring the landscape around you on this website is fun in its own right!

Get out there and see who your neighbours are. 💜

[unforth]

Alright not to like liveblog my breakdown on main but yesterday was a really bad day after a really bad, like, 4 months, and I've hit a bit of a breaking point and one of the only things in my life that can give is running @mdzsartreblogs , @tgcfartreblogs , @svsssartreblogs , @erhaartreblogs , @tykartreblogs , and @cnovelartreblogs , so that is what has to give. It's been a 99-out-of-100 days thankless job. A small number of people do say thank you and yall I appreciate you so much (HUGE shout-out to the artist I met at Flamecon who gifted me a zine when I said I ran these blogs, @bonesblubs you rock) but I have never done an act of fandom labor simultaneously this labor intensive yet this invisible before and, uh. It sucks. I spend an hour or more a day on this every day, if it's under 2k hours since I started the first of these in September 2020 I'd be shocked. And I do it because I love it but doing it means I don't have time or energy to do other things I love. And I really don't want to just quit, but I can't keep this up.

In a last-ditch effort to try not to just give up, I'm making the following changes:

1. Only watching one tag per fandom for the MXTX fandoms. I am going to check *only* #tgcf, #svsss, and #mdzs. Artwork posted to any other tag, I will not see unless a mutual reblogs it.

2. Reduced tagging (even more). I'm only going to tag characters and maybe overarching au type (eg, "modern au," "fantasy au"). I'll no longer tag creatures. I will continue to tag the same common trigger warnings I already tag.

3. If a work's appearance doesn't make it obvious what it is AND the tags aren't clear, I'm not going to reblog. I can't keep spending 5 minutes or more trying to figure out what I'm even looking at, scared that if I guess wrong the artist will get mad at me for mistagging their work. If I do reblog, I'll tag only the artist name and/or whatever else I can identify for sure.

4. I am no longer going to follow #link click. The fandom is just too big. I've started dreading checking it. If I was more into it and less busy I would make another spin off just for it but neither of those is true. (The art is so good, I hate to do this, but. If you love link click, highly recommend the main tag, lots of great stuff there.)

5. I will no longer tag any non-cnovel content in the art/post. Like, if someone draws, idek, Xie Lian and Marinette from Ladybug, I'm not gonna put any tags for Marinette, just for Xie Lian.

6. Basically if I run into something hard to tag or confusing or unclear, my new policy is I'm not gonna fricken bother.

I think those are everything but idefk, I cried for 3 hours last night and got 4 hours of sleep so I'm mostly fueled by exhaustion and desperation right now and my memory is even more fried than usual.

How artists can help. This is obviously all optional. You do you. But since some people might want to know what would make my life easier, I'm sharing. I'm not claiming I feel entitled to dictate how people fandom or anything like that.

1. Put the tags for the character(s) and ship(s) early in the tag list.

2. If you make art for a fandom that isn't one of the big ones (right now the only big danmei fandoms on tumblr as far as I can tell are the MXTX fandoms and maybe 2ha) I am begging you to use my tracked tag #cnovelartreblogs

3. Do mdzs art? Tag #mdzs. Do tgcf art? Tag #tgcf. Do svsss art? Tag #svsss.

4. Not only artists, but everyone, *please* stop tagging fandoms not discussed and/or depicted in your post. It's gotten to be stupid common for people to blanket the danmei fandom tags with posts only about one fandon (like, svsss-only works also being tagged mdzs and tgcf and 2ha for some damn reason). This isn't about just my sideblogs tbh this is just fandom etiquette that seems to have been forgotten or never learned by many. Tagging unrelated fandoms isn't "reach," it's annoying. People go into the #mdzs tag to see mdzs, not whatever not-mdzs stuff people have decided to tag for ~reach~, and seeing the same post in 8 tags, none of which it's related to, is so damn irritating, and makes scrolling the tags looking for content that IS relevant take that much longer. Knock it off.

Okay. I think that's as much as I'm prepared to meltdown where everyone can see. Thanks in advance everyone for your understanding, and apologies to everyone about to see this 8 times as I reblog it to each sideblog.

At least I'm not tagging it to everywhere. 🤣🤣🤣

[krirebr]

More Than This 2

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~6.1k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, no noncon but some fear of it, excessive alcohol use, explicit language, the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Another part already??? This one has just been flowing right out of me. It occurs to me that I should probably explicitly state that this will have a happy ending! Possibly very far in the future, but it will happen!! 😂😭

Huge thanks again to @paperweight91 for reading so much of this and letting me know when I was on the right track.

Visual references for the ring and dress can be found here.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Despite your best efforts, the next three weeks went by in a blink.

The engagement ring arrived the day after your disastrous dinner with Ransom. It was beautiful—a round diamond with a smaller sapphire on each side, set in swirling filigree. You wondered who picked it. Certainly not Ransom. Probably someone’s assistant. It felt like fire around your finger.

You’d packed up the small apartment you loved so much. Sorting everything into what you would bring and what would be put into storage – the latter category was much bigger. You sat in your living room, surrounded by boxes, and cried, with Steve beside you and Lola nervously shaking in your lap. 

Your mother took you to pick your dress. She sat on the plush couch in the appointment-only boutique and sipped champagne while you tried on dress after dress that the attendants brought you. Her favorite was an ivory satin ballgown with off-the-shoulder short sleeves, a bow at the bottom of the back, and a very wide skirt. She cried when you put it on. You told her it was your favorite too, because you just didn’t have it in you to have an opinion.

 The Thrombey clan came into town the week before the wedding. Their time was mostly spent in meetings with Joseph and his team. Meeting the new extended family was to be left for the wedding festivities.

You hadn’t heard a word from Ransom. You’d thought of texting him a few times but couldn’t see the point in it. He’d made his feelings on you and your upcoming marriage clear. Any added effort would just be torturing yourself.

Then, suddenly, the rehearsal dinner was passing without incident. It was a catered affair, held at your parents’ house. Despite being one of the two nominal guests of honor, aside from the initial introductions, you were mostly ignored, as business remained the topic at the forefront of everyone’s minds. Ransom was there, of course, seated next to you, even, but he did his best to avoid you. You were torn between intense relief for the moment and absolute terror for what it meant for your future. When you noticed him quietly ducking out, you took the opportunity to leave as well, hoping most people would think you’d absconded together. The thought made you laugh bitterly.

You spent your last night of freedom snuggled up with Lola in Steve’s guest room. You barely slept.

Now, you sat in a plush robe in front of the vanity in the large hotel suite that sat several floors above the event hall you’d be getting married in in just over one hour. Steve sat sentinel in an armchair near you, already in his tux. People had been coming in and out all day – manicurists, aestheticians, makeup artists, hairstylists, your mother until she’d gotten called away for the pictures they didn't need you for. The female members of Ransom’s family too. His aunt, Joni, had only been in briefly, saying that the energy of the room was all wrong and she’d had to leave. Her daughter Meg had sat with you for a while, but she just kept complaining about how awful Ransom was and Steve eventually kicked her out, probably trying to spare you a panic attack. And then there was Ransom’s mother, Linda. She had been in a few times ‘to check on the progress.’ You’d tried very hard not to get stressed out by her, but she was very… severe, and you felt about a foot tall every time she looked at you. And now here she was, again.

“Darling,” she said, and you tried not to balk at the fact that you’d know this woman for less than 24 hours and she was already using endearments, “you’ll be needed for pictures soon and you aren’t dressed yet?”

You gestured to the two people at the rolling clothing rack who were carefully removing your dress from the garment bag. “We’re about to start putting it on. I’ll be ready soon.”

“Fantastic. Maybe it’s time for Steve to go then,” she cut a glance to your stepbrother.

“Not fucking likely,” he muttered. He’d been stuck to you like glue all day.

Linda’s eyebrows crawled up to her hairline. “I just think that some people might find it inappropriate for you to be in here while your sister gets dressed.”

He stood up and took a step toward her. “I’ll turn around,” he growled.

“Steve,” you sighed. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine.” It wasn’t. You wouldn’t be, but none of that could be helped.

He looked at you carefully, his eyes flitting over your face. Finally, he nodded, “OK. I’ll see you out there then.” With a quick, reassuring touch to your arm, he left. 

Linda watched him leave and once he was out the door, she turned to you and said, “You and your stepbrother are very close, aren’t you?”

Something about her tone made you incredibly wary. “Yes,” you said cautiously, “he’s my best friend.”

“Isn’t that lovely?” she said with a thin-lipped smile that made it clear she thought anything but. 

You noted her reaction as you returned her smile and removed your robe. You let the attendants help you step into the dress where they’d pooled it on the floor. They pulled it up around you and you stood still as they fastened and arranged the dress on you. All under Linda’s watchful eye, her arms crossed over her chest. When it was all done and you’d stepped into your heels, you turned to her so that she could give the approval you could feel she was dying to give.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream,” she said. Just as you were about to thank her, she added, “Although, I suppose it would be hard not to be, with all these people working on you, huh?” Her tone was warm and friendly, but you took it as the cut down you knew she meant it to be. 

Still, you smiled. “Well, we should probably get down there, shouldn’t we?”

Everyone oohed and aahed appropriately when you arrived at the courtyard space reserved for photographs. Your mother was crying again. Joseph smiled at you, possibly the warmest smile he’d ever given you, and said “Beautiful,” but it was less like a compliment and more confirmation that everything was the way he needed it to be, like he was commenting on furniture. You smiled anyway and thanked him, then moved where the photographers directed you. 

This round of pre-ceremony pictures was reserved for the families. Ransom had already done his and then been dismissed, to ‘preserve the big reveal’ you were told. You’d been asked earlier if you wanted to do first-look photos and declined. That had been interpreted as you wanting to have the big moment when you walked down the aisle to him. Instead, you just knew that he wouldn’t give them the reaction they were looking for. You’d rather spare yourself that embarrassment. 

The thing about these arrangements was that while they were all about business and everyone knew it, people still wanted the trappings of romance. The big wedding at a fancy venue, awe on the groom’s face when he saw the bride in her dress for the first time, a joyful reception with speeches about true love. It had made you roll your eyes when you’d gone to friends’ weddings, but now that it was your own, it all made you want to scream. 

You posed with Linda and Ransom’s father, Richard, a benign smile on your face. And then it was Harlan’s turn. “You look absolutely lovely,” he said to you, kindly. “You’re going to be so good for my grandson.” You responded with that same placid smile. You wondered if anyone had told Ransom that he was going to be good for you. You doubted it. That part didn’t seem to matter.

Next, it was time for your own family. Your mother and Joseph, together and then separately, and then Steve joined you for the full family. Once that was done, the photographers started to dismiss you, but you stopped them. “I want a few with just me and Steve.”

They looked at you and then Joseph and Linda, “That’s not on the list of required shots.”

“I don’t care,” you said, “I want them.”

“Darling,” Linda started, and you wanted to growl, “I’m not sure there’s time.”

“I don’t care,” you said again, “everyone can wait the five minutes this is going to take. I’m the bride, I doubt they’ll start without me. Isn’t today my day?”

Linda took a step back and nodded to the photographers but you could feel her watching you as Steve stepped up to you. “And people think I’m the troll,” he said, low enough for only you to hear. 

You smiled, possibly your first genuine smile all day. “You are the troll,” you said. “I’m the sweet one who does what she’s told without complaint.”

He snorted, “Sure,” and turned his head as the photographers directed. 

When it was all done, you took a deep breath and tried to prepare yourself as everyone but you and Steve began to make their way back inside.

“You ready?” he asked, concern all over his face.

You shook your head. “Not even remotely.”

He looked over your shoulder. “I know–” he began but stopped for a moment before he started again. “I know that if she had lived, we never would have met, but I still think, sometimes, about how much my mom would have loved you. Just as much as I do.”

“Steve,” you gasped.

He grabbed both of your hands. “You are the strongest, bravest person I know and you can do this.”

Your eyes welled up as you squeezed his hands, feeling like you’d completely fall apart if you let go. “I don’t know if I can,” you whispered.

“Hey,” he said, oh so gently, “all you have to do right now is get through the ceremony. That’s it. You don’t need to think about what comes after. Focus on what’s directly in front of you. Nothing else. Just walk down the aisle and say I do when it’s your turn. That’s it. You can do that. I know you can do that. I wish you didn’t have to, but you can.”

 You took a deep breath. And another. And then you nodded. “I can.”

He smiled, big and genuine and still more than a little sad. He pulled you in for a hug, exceedingly careful to not mess anything up, and said again, “You can. I know you can.”

Someone stepped out of the big French doors leading into the vestibule your party was gathering in and waved frantically at you. Another deep breath. “OK,” you said.

He just nodded and guided you back inside.

Joseph walked you down the aisle. It wasn’t your choice, but this day had always been more about him than it ever was about you, so of course he would be the one to walk you. You would have chosen Steve. But you also would have chosen not to do this at all. 

The walk was both agonizingly long and much, much too short. Ransom waited for you at the end of it, dressed in a designer tux and devastatingly handsome. You searched his face for anything, but he remained completely stoic, his eyes hard. You had to look away.

There were so many people gathered to watch your life change forever. As you gazed over the faces of the people seated on your side, you weren’t sure you recognized even half of them. You realized with a jolt that this was the most alone you’d ever felt, in this hall surrounded by hundreds of people, all eyes on you.

So much sooner than you were ready for, you’d arrived at the front, Joseph placing you in front of Ransom and joining your hands together. Ransom’s hands were soft and his grasp wasn’t nearly as harsh as you’d expected. You took a deep breath—every other thought since you’d stepped into the hall was to remind yourself to keep breathing—and met his gaze. It was still hard, but, maybe, maybe there wasn’t hate there.

Maybe you just didn’t know him well enough yet to be able to tell. 

The ceremony went quickly. You struggled to focus on the officiant’s words. It was like you were in a sort of fugue state. But you repeated after him when you were supposed to. You said ‘I do’ when you were prompted. You played your part.

Ransom did too. You’d half expected him to just not show up at all, or walk out part-way through, or something but he was under the same familial pressures as you, you reasoned. At the end of the day, you all just did what you were told.

Before you knew it, it was done. There was a ring on your finger and one on his. You barely remembered placing it there. You registered the officiant saying “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” and stared at Ransom. You expected him to swoop in and take what was his, but he paused. There was a clear question in his eyes. Shocked, you realized he was asking permission. As subtly as you could, you nodded. He gave a barely perceptible nod back and then he was kissing you. It wasn’t chaste, exactly, but it certainly wasn’t passionate either. Open-mouthed, but no tongue, and done quickly, the faintest taste of whiskey on his lips. Everyone applauded.

   The processional music started and you began to move without even realizing it, Ransom right beside you. And in that moment, when you had nothing else to focus on, no other immediate job to do, everything hit you. Holy fuck, you were married. This man beside you was your husband. One of your knees buckled and your steady leg caught the edge of your dress and just as you were sure you were about to go down, someone grabbed your hand and you felt another hand on your opposite hip, holding you up. “Wait to collapse in private, if you can,” Ransom murmured to you, dryly, then basically carried you the rest of the way down the aisle. 

You were both ushered into a small sitting room off the main hall for a moment of privacy as your guests were moved into the ballroom where the reception would take place and before you would take pictures with your new husband. Once the two of you were alone, you tried to steady your breathing and shove down the panic clawing its way up your throat. You were married. It had actually happened. It was real. You steadied yourself on the bookshelf beside you and tried to think about what Steve had said. Focus on what was directly in front of you. You’d gotten through the ceremony by doing that, so now it was just pictures and the reception. That was all you had to worry about. You could do that. You could.

“You good?” Ransom’s voice cut through your internal monologue and you turned back around to face him where he was standing on the other side of the small room, pasting that fucking smile on your face. 

“Yes, I’m fine. Today is just a lot. But I’m fine. Thank you for helping me, before.”

“Well,” he smirked, “I couldn’t have my new wife embarrass me thirty seconds in, could I?”

Your smile went brittle and a small voice in your head chanted fifty years of this but you tamped it down. Pictures and the reception. Pictures and the reception. That was all you had to get through right now.

There was a light knock and then the door opened. One of the photographers peeked in, a camera in their hand. “Sorry to interrupt,” they said. “Just wanted to get some intimate, candid shots, before we go outside for the formal pictures.” Their eyes moved between you and Ransom and you knew they were measuring the space between you.

You shook your head and tried to keep your tone friendly. “No need, just the formal ones are fine.” You didn’t need any more documentation of this day than was absolutely necessary. 

“Oh,” they said, surprised, “well, Mrs. Drysdale wanted–”

“Linda can fuck right off,” Ransom interrupted. “We’ll come outside now.” He shouldered his way past them and out the door. You just smiled and followed him, the photographer chasing after you both.

The pictures went quickly, you both seeming to want them over with as fast as possible. He didn’t say much to you, aside from the occasional exclamation like, “Jesus Christ, is this skirt big enough?” when he tried to move around you or pose behind you. The photographers kept trying to get you to look at each other, but when you did, it clearly didn’t give them the result they wanted, so they moved on quickly.

Afterward, you were escorted into the ballroom, where your entrance was met with applause. Your face was beginning to hurt from all the placid smiling you’d done all day. 

You blanched when you realized that you and Ransom were the only ones seated at the head table. You wouldn’t have anyone to talk to. 

There was still some time before dinner would be served. You could already see people beginning to make their way toward you to offer their congratulations to fill the time. A server appeared at your table and you asked for a glass of champagne. Ransom requested his usual scotch then added, “There’s an extra hundred in it for you if you make sure I’m never holding an empty glass tonight.”

You could see the disaster waiting to happen, so you tried a quiet “Ransom,” as the server left, not really thinking before you said something.

He let out a hollow chuckle. “If that’s the kind of wife you’re going to be, let me tell you right now, this marriage isn’t going to work. I don’t respond well to nagging.”

You took a breath, “I wasn’t trying to nag,” you said, “I just–”

“Ransom!” a loud voice interrupted you. You looked over to see Ransom’s uncle, Walt, approaching your table. You’d been introduced to him very briefly the night before. “Congratulations on finally growing up and settling down,” he said, once he stood in front of his nephew. You felt Ransom stiffen next to you, but his face just had an obnoxious smirk on it. Walt’s eyes briefly cut to you but then returned to Ransom. “Although, she’s pretty young, isn’t she?”

Ransom rolled his eyes, still smirking. “Well, it’s not like I picked her, is it Walt? You got a problem with it, go tell Mom or Grandad.” 

You bit your lip at being spoken about like you weren’t sitting right there. But you knew better than to cause a scene, so you quietly said, “Excuse me,” and left the table. Neither of them seemed to notice, locked in a hostile stare-down.

You’d only made it a few feet when someone you didn’t recognize was pulling you aside to offer their congratulations. You smiled and politely nodded through it and when it was done you were grabbed by someone else and then someone else. You crossed paths with Steve briefly before you were both pulled in other directions. You only got a break when they started serving dinner. You got back to your seat to find Ransom sitting alone, sipping his scotch as full plates of food were placed before you. You didn’t have much of an appetite.

You picked at your food and mostly moved it around the plate, while Ransom ate hungrily beside you. Neither of you said anything. After the second course was served, the speeches started. Joseph mostly spoke about the two families coming together and all the opportunities that represented. You wanted to stage whisper to him that it was customary to at least mention the couple at some point, but then he sprinkled Ransom’s name in. A brief mention of how proud he was to be gaining a son like him. You wanted to laugh. They barely knew each other. As if Joseph cared at all about what kind of man he was giving you to. You were finally mentioned at the very end as he toasted his “beautiful stepdaughter and her new husband. To a long and fruitful marriage!” You wanted to break something.

Harlan, for his part, was much more focused. He, of course, referenced all the new opportunities this would bring, it was why you were all here, after all. But he mostly talked about his grandson, how much he loved him, all the potential Ransom had, and once again, how good you were going to be for him. You wondered if you just started screaming right there, what people would do. 

As for Ransom, judging by his body language, he seemed to enjoy both speeches just as much as you had. You wondered if the rest of the guests could feel how miserable you both were and just chose to ignore it. Probably.

When the speeches were done and the tables were cleared, it was time for your first dance. Ransom made it clear by the way he stood up that this was the last thing he wanted to be doing. You tried not to let it bother you, it wasn’t like you were especially excited about this either, and kept your head held high as you came around the table to join him. He took your hand to lead you onto the dance floor and you were once again surprised by the way he held it gently when you’d half-expected him to drag you out there.

You hadn’t chosen whatever song you were about to dance to. You could’ve, probably, but you’d begged off of most of the decision-making for the day, unable to drum up an opinion on any of it. So you had no right to complain as the opening strains of “At Last” filled the ballroom, but you had to stifle an eye-roll anyway. Of course, they went for something that romantic, that cliche. They were all lucky you didn’t burst out laughing.

Ransom pulled you in close with a hand on your lower back, as you put one of yours on his shoulder and he took your other hand in his. It all felt strangely respectful, the way his hand didn’t wander from the small of your back and he held you close but not too close, with plenty of breathing room between you. You weren’t sure how to wrap your head around it, what it all meant.

He was a good dancer, most likely the product of formal dance lessons as a teenager, just like you’d had. It made it easy to keep your polite smile in place as all eyes in the room were on you.

“You’re good at that,” Ransom said.

You shrugged. “A variety of dance classes since I was seven.”

He chuckled. “No, I meant the smiling thing.” When you just looked at him, confused, he continued. “Unless you’re much dumber than I think, you hate this just as much as I do. But look at you, that smile hasn’t dropped all fucking day. You’re having such a nice time, aren’t you? Being the good girl they all expect you to be. Can’t ever let them know you’re upset. Oh no, that just isn’t done.”

You nearly tripped, but you had the good grace to keep going. You kept your face pleasant to everyone watching as you gritted out “And what am I supposed to do instead, huh? Glower and glare because I didn’t get what I wanted? Be an asshole to everyone? And where exactly would that get me? We’re both here, Ransom, stuck in this. At least my way of dealing with it doesn’t make anyone else’s life more difficult.”

He chuckled again. “No one’s but mine,” he said, but instead of just irritation, there was a glimmer in his eye, too, that you couldn’t begin to interpret. It was almost like part of him was having fun. 

The song ended, fading into the next, and more couples joined you on the dance floor. Keeping your hand in his, Ransom led you back to the table, depositing you there and grabbing his drink, before disappearing amongst the tables. 

Ransom didn’t come back. You'd stayed at the table for a bit, for want of anything else to do. When you got bored of that, you wandered through the crowd, accepting congratulations and trying to find familiar faces. You knew there were a few of your own friends in attendance, but you were afraid to face them, knowing you’d see pity on the faces of the luckily single and recognition on those who were already married. You wouldn’t see much of them anymore anyway, with you leaving for Boston the next day. You couldn’t think about that yet. Focus on what’s in front of you.

You were periodically offered champagne from a passing server and you accepted every time, leading to you now feeling pleasantly floaty. It was a nice break from just how very much you’d been feeling the rest of the day.

You arrived back at your seat, without really intending to, to find Steve waiting for you. He was staring into the corner of the room with a disgruntled expression. “I could fucking kill him,” he mumbled.

You followed his gaze and found Ransom with a group of Harvard-looking bros doing shots by the bar. You shrugged. “He’s getting drunk over there and I’m getting drunk over here,” you said as you downed your champagne and began looking around for a server. 

Steve sighed your name. “Come on, let’s sit down.”

He guided you to a chair and then sat down beside you. “Where’d you get off to?” you asked.

Steve rolled his eyes and groaned. “Dad,” was all he said. You nodded. For all that he wasn’t in your situation, as his father’s heir, he had many heavy responsibilities and obligations weighing on him. You were both caged in by this family.

“Does that mean you’re speaking to him again?” you asked, your voice free of judgment.

Even so, he grimaced. “Only when I have to.” He sighed and looked at you. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Steve,” you said, sincerely.

He shook his head. “It’s not.” He paused, then, “I wish there’d been a way for me to stop this.”

“Steve,” you sighed. It wasn’t worth talking about again.

Over by the bar, Ransom let out a loud, hearty laugh that carried over to where you were sitting. Steve glared. “You don’t deserve this,”

You shrugged. “It’s what I have, I guess.” Then before he could continue the conversation, you added, “Can we please talk about anything else?”

He looked at you carefully and then nodded. “Sure,” he said, the sympathy in his eyes almost too much for you to bear, and then launched into a twenty-minute explanation of the painting he was working on. You didn’t think you’d ever been more grateful for him. And you hadn’t even thought to ask a server for more champagne. 

The conversation only ended when your mother appeared in front of you. Steve stood up to greet her, smiling warmly, and then excused himself, squeezing your hand as he went.

“Honey, we’re going to go. I just wanted to make sure I said goodbye to you first.”

You stood up and hugged her. “You’ll be there to send us off tomorrow, right?”

“Oh, honey, no. Joseph had something come up and you know how hard it is for me to get around by myself.”

You felt the bottom drop out of everything. “You’re not going to say goodbye?”

“Of course, I am, darling. That’s what I’m doing right now.”

Suddenly, only focusing on what was directly in front of you was impossible. You were married to a stranger who couldn’t stand you. Tomorrow, you would be leaving everything you knew to go to a new home where you didn’t have anything or anyone. And your mom wouldn’t even be there to say goodbye.

“Steve would come to get you, you know he would,” you tried desperately.

“Honey, no, I can’t,” she said firmly and it took everything in you not to burst into tears. “Now, come on,” she drew you into another hug. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“Mom,” you whispered, your voice so thick. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Of course, you can,” she pulled back and looked you in the eye. “I know it seems hard, now, but it’ll be easier than you think to keep him happy.” She gently touched your cheek. “All you have to do is listen, and not argue too much. You’re going to be such a good wife and mother. I just know it.” 

She leaned forward to hug you again and you went stiff in her arms. Everything she’d gone through – two marriages that weren’t her choice, a husband that was so cold to her and her daughter, a lonely life. And here she was, offering you up for the same fate. You didn’t know how you were supposed to bear this.

“Have a safe flight,” she whispered in your ear and then she was gone. You didn’t watch her go. You just sank back into your chair, ready for the night to end. 

A while later, you heard someone call your name. You turned around to see Richard. “I think it’s time for Ransom to call it a night.” You followed Richard’s gaze to see Ransom slumped over in a chair. You almost asked him why he was telling you. Then you remembered that Ransom was your husband now. Your problem, your responsibility. You nodded to Richard and thanked him, smiling at him, of fucking course. 

When you got to Ransom, he looked up at you and laughed. “Well, if it isn’t the wife!” he slurred. “We were just talking about you.” You looked over at the men on either side of him, equally drunk, and tried not to feel too humiliated. 

The crowd was thinning, but there were still people around and you could feel their eyes on you, so you did your best to keep your tone and face calm. “Ransom, it’s time to go up to our room.” 

One of his companions snickered and you were suddenly struck by what might await you in that room. You’d been so focused on just getting through the next thing that you’d protected yourself from thinking about what he might want, what he might demand, once you were alone. But looking at him now, as he struggled to stand up or get any control over his body at all, you hoped that you might be safe for this night, at least. 

Steve appeared at your elbow. “Fucking ridiculous,” he mumbled, low enough that it didn’t seem to be for you. Then louder he asked, “You need help getting him up to the room?”

You turned to him to answer, but then you saw Linda over his shoulder, watching you both carefully. You shook your head. “No, you can’t. I’ll be fine. I’ll–” Ransom took that moment to fall loudly back into his chair. He was way too big for you to handle on your own. You sighed and looked around for anyone who might help. “I’ll get Richard to help me.”

Steve looked at you confused. “I can do it.”

“I know,” you said, “but I just can’t let you. It– The way it would look,” you shook your head again.

You could tell he still didn’t get it, but he let it drop. “Ok. I’ll see you tomorrow. And if you need anything between now and then,” he sent a scathing look to Ransom, “you call me.”

You nodded, knowing you wouldn’t, as he squeezed your wrist and left and you went to track down Richard.

After much struggle, you finally got Ransom into the honeymoon suite, Richard retreating as soon as his son was safely dumped into an armchair next to the bed. And then you were alone with him. You just stared at him for a moment, then asked, “Can you get yourself undressed?”

“ ‘fcourse,” he mumbled, then thrashed around in his tux jacket. You put a hand on his shoulder, trying to still his wild movements, then tugged off the jacket. You carefully began unbuttoning his shirt, trying to touch him no more than absolutely necessary, but he still smirked at you. “That desperate to get me naked?” he asked. You rolled your eyes and tried to keep going, but a hand on your wrist stopped you. “Hey,” he said, very seriously. He tried to lock eyes with you, but his kept drooping, as he continued. “We don’t have to do anything t’night. Not if you don’t want.”

You scoffed. “Yeah?” you asked. “Is that you or your whiskey dick talking?” You regretted it immediately, you were so tired. You waited for the insult to land, to see how he’d react, but he’d stopped paying attention, his head lolling against the back of the chair. You finished with the buttons and kneeled in front of him to take off his shoes. When that was done, you stood back up. “Please tell me you can get your own pants.”

He nodded, shrugging off his unbuttoned shirt, and stood up. He struggled with his belt for a few minutes, but eventually got it off, then pawed at his fly until he was able to undo that as well. As he moved to the bed, his pants slowly slid down his legs. You tried not to look at him, but you couldn’t help yourself. Under any other circumstances, you would find him so beautiful. It wasn’t fair. How dare he look like that and treat you like this. Just another aspect of this whole fucking mess that made you want to cry.

He stumbled to the edge of the bed and then threw himself forward, collapsing onto it face down, lying across it diagonally. Almost immediately, he started snoring. You just stood there a moment, watching him take up the entire bed. Fuck. It was fine. It’s not like you were going to sleep much anyway. You tugged his pants the rest of the way off his legs and threw them onto the pile of the rest of his clothes. 

You turned your attention back to yourself and stopped, suddenly gripped by panic. You tried to reach behind yourself and begin unfastening your dress, but the line of delicate hook and eye fastenings was too difficult to get without being able to see them. And you couldn’t reach all of them anyway. Oh god, you were going to be stuck in your dress all night. 

There was no one to help you. Ransom was out like a light and would be too drunk and clumsy even if he were conscious. Your mom had gone home. You couldn’t call Steve. He would come help at the drop of a hat, but if anyone saw him coming into your room… No. You were completely alone.

Every feeling you’d tried to push down and ignore this whole awful day came bubbling to the surface. You finally cried, your body wracked with sobs. You couldn’t control it. As you did, you still tried to wrestle with your dress, but your panic and sorrow made getting out of it impossible. So you sank down to the ground and just let the tears come. 

When you were finally all cried out, you stood up and moved to the bathroom. You took off your makeup and took down your hair, redoing it in the way you always slept in. You brushed your teeth and finished up with your skincare routine. Then you went back into the bedroom and grabbed a blanket off the bed. You moved into the adjoining living room and sank down onto the couch, arranging your giant dress around you. You turned on the TV and settled on a marathon of some procedural crime show you were pretty sure you’d seen before. You couldn’t decide whether or not you wanted the night to go quickly.

Tag list is open

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[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS:

👟 Hermes: God of messengers, travelers, thieves, athletes, shepherds, commerce 🐍

author's note: I had a sudden idea about writing some headcanons Camp Halfblood demigods being claimed and what it's like for each respective god and cabin, followed by a small blurb afterwards. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! The order is not in order of the cabin numbers. [PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST]

When you get claimed, there's not much of a change. You were already put into the Hermes cabin like basically every other demigod who first appeared at Camp. The most immediate change is your sleeping arrangements. You're given a bed and your space is relatively yours. Even among children of Hermes, your personal space is yours and your siblings don't touch or rifle your things. Space and privacy is hard to come by in the Cabin, so your siblings honour that rule to give a semblance of peace. They even offer you a curtain to put on the sides of your bed to give you an illusion of space. 

I'd like to think that even as children of Hermes, they don't particularly steal or go through their siblings’ things. Whether this is because it'll prevent people from stepping on anyone's toes and make things more irritating in their cabin, whether it is to prevent you and your siblings constantly having paranoia, or simply an honour among thieves. Of course, siblings do as they do, take things but when told to give it back, it is immediately handed over or compensated. Hey, Hermes is the god of commerce too!

 Pranks and tricks galore. Even if you're not a fan of pranking others, you still learn tricks of the trade. No one is going to outwit a demigod of Hermes. Some siblings may just ask you to help them with their latest prank or ask for your input. 

Charisma and jokes are in constant supply. Even if you don't believe that you're funny or have a silver tongue, you do find a way somehow. Just gotta speak the right words to the right crowd after all.

There's a rite of passage or test for all new children of Hermes. You're tasked to steal something or pull of a trick. It doesn't matter what, but they give major points for theatrical, the risk, and the reward. If you feel especially brave, you can ask one of the Senior members of the cabin to give you a specific task. So far, the most infamous steal was stealing the jaguar head in the Big House. Good luck getting him away from Mr. D and good luck not getting your hand bitten. There's always points for effort, so don't worry if you don't pull of the feat...but if you do-

Given that your cabin is also for travelers of new demigods, you are taught the rules of hospitality and help those who come in. Even if the space is tight, you learn how to deal with it. 

Be prepared for being an unofficial (thieving) guild. With Hermes' domain, it sort of becomes something like that. The Hermes cabin, and the children of Hermes, inevitably become a source of information, odd jobs, know hows, and so much more.

If you have played Assassin's creed or seen of it, you know the tricks? You bet the Hermes' children know how to pull it off. Especially dropping into the pile of hay. It's sort of a rite for the Hermes' children to pull off that maneuver.

Parkour. Parkour. Parkour.

“Well, guess there’s that,” said Travis before he grinned, “Welcome to Cabin 11!”

“Again” noted Connor, “But this time, we’re going to give you a child of Hermes welcome!”

You saw the glint in their eyes before all of a sudden, there was confetti and sparkles exploding in your face. You flailed and coughed, before there were party poppers and people cheering, “Welcome to Cabin 11!!!” they all cheered. 

When the dust settled, Travis and Connor were on either side of you before guiding you to a certain direction. 

“Space might be a bit cramped,” said Travis, “But as an official child of Hermes, you have your own permitted and designated space.” 

“There’s some rules in place but basically, we have an honour code of thieves if you will” said Connor, “Which is your space is your safe space. No one gets to touch your bed, your things, or whatever without your permission.”

They shift you to your bunk bed space and noticed there were freshly placed pillows, comforters, and what have you. There was even a little shelf above your head for some things and a little round mirror. On the surrounding sides of your space, there was a curtain that created an illusion of space. 

“Now we’ll let you get yourself settled and have fun!” the Stoll brothers said together before shoving your belongings into your arms, before quickly booking it. Everyone was snickering and you had a big suspicion. As soon as you dumped your stuff onto your bed, you saw something in the corner of your eye. You turned and came face to face with the mirror to see your face covered in clown make up and your hair had turned into a very different colour. 

You felt your face flush in embarrassment before anger filled you and then yelling. All the children of Hermes who were in on the prank immediately laughed, and booked for it with the Stolls, with you chasing after them.

“Don’t worry! It’ll disappear in an hour!” yelled one of the Stolls, but they were weaving in and around each other so fast you couldn’t tell which one was which.

 Soon enough it devolved into a game of ultimate tag and by the end of it you were all laughing.

[stomach-bugg09]

hi omg i love your oldest sister fics!!!! Maybe another where she is one of the most feared warriors in the clan ? and when they leave rhe forest she meets someone (romantic) at the new clan ? the sully family is probably not accustom to seeing her be romantic and in love.;)

summary: [y/n] sully is in love, and everyone is scared.

a/n: I LOVE THIS IDEA. LIKE SO VERY MUCH. thank you so much anon for this beautiful experience, it was so fun to write. i actually am really proud of this, given it's pretty long ( 4.6k words, oml !! ) and i put a good ( insane ) amount of effort in. i also kept using this as a way to take a break from studying, so thanks for keeping me from burning out anon! feedback, reblogs, and reqs are always appreciated !!

tags: @pinkhotdogsfr @eywas-heir @historygeekqueen

warnings: literally none, maybe some language, a bit of angst at first ( just sad — i made myself very unhappy ), emotionally hurt + comfort, a sickening amount of fluff, really long, [y/n] x oc but this oc is actually such a sweetie pie i love him, [y/n] being the cutest little patootie of all time

change is scary

every omaticayan knew of [y/n] sully. they knew she was a fierce warrior, a strong warrior. they knew she took after her mother, the archery gene running strong through her veins right next to her urge to protect.

they all knew that, being the oldest child of their olo’eyktan, she was expected to fill the position of the tsahik one day in the far future, and her training reflected just that. not only was she deeply connected with eywa thanks to the teachings of both her mother and grandmother, but she was intelligent when it came to war. she sat in at every single war meeting with her father, silently taking note of everything that was exchanged.

after seventeen long years of listening and learning, [y/n] was considered one of the strongest warriors in their clan. she was well respected, more respected than even some of the elder warriors.

part of her soul felt pride. pride in herself, in her abilities. but, another part of her soul felt empty. almost like she’d missed a third of her childhood because she’d been busy shaking the hands of generals from other clans.

but now… now all of that, all of that time wasted as she straightened her shoulders and stood tall in front of clan leaders, time wasted as she stared at raid maps, time wasted as she trained with the most skilled warriors of the omaticaya… it was all going down the drain.

“we must leave. it is unsafe here.”

she fought tears, told herself she was far too mature for them. she swallowed screams, told herself she needed to set an example for her siblings. the only time she broke was the night before they left, leaving her on her knees before the tree of souls, begging eywa, “why? why must you do this to me? just when i was this close?”

[y/n] was not sad. no, she was angry. but she had nobody to be angry at. it wasn’t like her parents were wrong for wanting to keep her family safe.

maybe if i’d killed that avatar when i had the chance, she cursed herself, remembering when her arrow’d been pointed directly at the heart of quaritch, only being interrupted by the other avatar that shot at her. thanks to the will of eywa, he was a terrible shot and she came out unscathed.

she held a stoic look upon her face during the ceremony in which her father passed along the title of olo’eyktan to tarsem. it wasn’t that she had anything against tarsem and his mate—in fact, she thought they were considerably good choices. but that was supposed to be her. that was supposed to be her ceremony.

by the time they had to leave, [y/n] had nothing left, no energy left to try and hold it down. so, instead she remained silent, because if she decided to say a farewell to even one person… she knew herself well enough to not trust the floodgates.

as they flew, her butt growing sorer and sorer by the second, she remained distant. the air was calming, the breeze allowing her a moment to breath.

she was so wrapped up in her own thoughts she didn’t notice her family exchange glances, all silently deciding to leave [y/n] to work through it herself. they knew her, and they knew she would not let them help. i’m fine, she would say, and she would keep saying it until they finally gave up.

it was only when they reached their new home in the metkayina clan that she began to show herself again, but even that was the tiniest peek.

as ronal circled the group of foreigners, her hands trailing over them as to check out what features they offered, [y/n] immediately felt on alert. her ears perked, eyes narrowing at the tsahik, a growl growing at the back of her throat.

when she held up lo’ak’s hand for the entire clan to see, as if shaming him for his lineage—a lineage that he was born into without a choice, [y/n] stepped forward, teeth bared. immediately, neteyam pulled her backwards, just as jake did with neytiri.

her action pulled ronal’s attention, their eyes locking. the tsahik circled her, watching as [y/n]’s tail swished, lip curled in disgust.

ronal did not miss as her eyes flared for even a split second as she stopped in front of the girl, grabbing [y/n]’s face with one hand. the air immediately got tenser, tonowari and jake sharing very similar expressions of concern, the latter grabbing his mate before she could make any dumb decisions.

[y/n]’s tail fell to a pause, her air stuck in her chest as she stared directly into the metkayina woman’s eyes.

“if you are seeking refuge, i suggest that you don’t threaten anyone.”

[y/n] bared her teeth at that, fangs making a show just for her. “if you are seeking to make enemies with the toruk makto, then why don’t you just say that?”

now, in this moment, most members of the metkayina clan were justifiably upset. speaking to their tsahik like that? well, of course they would be angry. but, in the crowd of metkayina stood one boy, his eyes unable to leave that girl. that girl who was full of anger, of spite, of bitterness for the world. she was captivating.

as the rest of the crowd gasped at the seventeen year old’s words, he couldn’t help but laugh, immediately covering his mouth as his friends sent him a look and an elbow in the ribs.

the only other person to smile at her words was, shockingly, ronal. the tsahik felt the smallest grin rise to her lips, taking her hand off of the girl’s face and taking a step back. as soon as she was back with tonowari, it was like the look of amusement had never been there.

once she’d stepped back, silence seemed to settle in the air. it was heavy, weighing on [y/n]’s shoulders just as much as the look her father sent her. behave, remember? he seemed to be telling her.

her mother’s look of pride made her feel a bit better, though.

as a way to regain the attention of the crowd, tonowari cleared his throat. “toruk makto is a great war leader. all na’vi people know his story.” he then locked eyes with jake. “but we metkayina are not at war.” [y/n]’s eyes followed tuk, watching as the small girl walked over to her father, allowing for the father to pick her up and hold her in his arms. “we cannot let you bring your war here.”

jake nodded in agreement. “i’m done with war, okay. i just.. want to keep my family safe.” at that, they seemed to pull closer together, neytiri grabbing the hands of her two eldest daughters.

“uturu has been asked,” the mother added, her eyes meeting those of tonowari.

the silence was deadly. [y/n] could feel pins of anxiety, her breath getting shallower. and what if they send us away? where else would we go? just keep trying and trying to find someone to take us?

after what seemed like forever, tonowari turned away from them and towards the people. “toruk makto and his family will stay with us.” immediately, relief flooded her body, her head dropping in appreciation. “treat them as your brothers and sisters. they do not know the sea, so they will be like babies taking their first breath.” at that, [y/n] felt her mother cringe beside her. and, as a wonderful way to finish their introduction to the metkayina people, he added, “teach them our ways so they not suffer the shame of being useless.”

she felt neteyam’s grab her tail at that, tugging it to keep her from saying anything stupid.

“okay,” jake sighed, relieved. he turned to his family. “what do we say?”

“thank you,” they all mumbled except for tuk whose tone was very genuine.

[y/n], however, remained silent. at a sharp look from her father, she swallowed. “thank you,” she added, exhaling a deep breath.

beside tonowari stood two kids, a boy and a girl. “my son ao’nung and my daughter tsireya will show your children what do,” he informed the family. [y/n] stifled a chuckle as the boy, ao’nung, tried to argue his way out of it. “it has been decided,” tonowari shut him down.

tsireya, however, looked more than happy to do it, and based on the way her baby brother was staring at the metkayina girl, lo’ak didn’t seem to mind either. “come, i will show you our village.”

if there was one thing that shocked [y/n] during her time in awa’atluI, it was that she horridly terrible. terrible at everything. from riding an ilu to being a quick swimmer. it was awful. and maybe the whole brink of the problem was the fact that she could barely hold her breath for a time, making it nearly impossible to learn to do anything else.

it’d been a few weeks of relearning the ways of life, and it felt as if she was making absolutely no progress. the simple things, such as food and even dancing, came easy to her. but learning to make food and dance was not going to make her a successful warrior, and even tonowari knew they needed to train her to fight with them based on the stories that her father told of her. ( he also recognized her the moment that ronal faced her off—how could tonowari forget the face of one of most mature eight year olds that he’d ever met way back in the day when he visited the omaticaya for a war meeting. )

but, for the love of eywa, [y/n] was useless. completely and utterly! and the fact of it made her sick to her stomach.

ao’nung was her first teacher, and he was a complete imbecile. tsireya was patient with her, but her optimism made me feel even guiltier by the day. eventually, one day out of the blue, the two children of ronal and tonowari brought forth a male.

this male was around [y/n]’s age. he was tall, muscular, and based on his tattoos, he was an announced warrior of the metkayina. tsireya introduced him as fali.

it turned out, based on further conversation between [y/n] and tsireya, that fali had grown up with the two kids. he was the son of respected warrior, a warrior that was considered ronal’s best friend. in a way, fali was like their big brother.

at that, [y/n] thought that… maybe they could be friends. maybe they had more in common!

she was wrong, and after a days of knowing him, she came to the conclusion that their older sibling roles happened to be the only thing in common.

while [y/n] was smart, responsible, respectful… fali was stupid, annoying, and careless. it was driving [y/n] up the wall! if he was the “older sibling,” why did he egg ao’nung on? if he was the “older sibling,” why did he dare the younger boys to go beyond the reef? if he was the “older sibling,” why was he so… reckless?

so, to say that [y/n] was exhausted with both him and the entirety of trying to rewire her brain, well… that would be a major understatement.

but, alas, she was still expected to learn. unfortunately for her, she took the role as the older sibling quite seriously, and she tried to set a good example out of herself!

now she treaded water in the middle of the reef, the sun beaming down on her face and shoulders. in front of her floated fali, the boy drifting stomach up with his hands rested behind his head.

[y/n] did not look amused, as unfortunate as fali found it. he was letting the sun practically burn his face off, and she wouldn’t even smile!

after an excruciating amount of time, fali let out a yelp of surprise when he felt her hand grab his tail, yanking him downwards. when he resurfaced, she had the faintest shadow of a grin. she nearly drowns me and she still can’t smile fully. what is wrong with her?

while [y/n] thought fali to be reckless and far too carefree, fali found her to be way too uptight. i mean, sure, old habits die hard after being raised as the future tsahik, but couldn’t she let loose once in a while?

“can we please start?” the girl asked, tone exasperated.

he rolled his eyes, a smile playing at his lips. “well, i apologize. i didn’t realize you were so eager to learn. i mean, you usually just complain.”

[y/n] sighed, sending him a look of annoyance. he does not shut up, does he? but, he wasn’t wrong… however, she didn’t let him know that her heart dropped once he decided to actually start teaching her for the day.

it was an unusually long lesson, but it was filled with the same issues as every other day. fali telling her what to do, [y/n] being unable to do it, [y/n] getting mad at herself, fali trying to help her fix it, [y/n] telling him that she’s fine, fali stepping back and watching her battle herself… it was always a pleasant time.

this time, however, things just seemed to be a little more on edge. she seemed to be a little more annoyed. at him, at herself. she was a balloon ready to burst, and fali was bracing himself for the moment that she did.

it was after the sixth time in which she failed to breath correctly that he knew it was going down. he watched her face flush, eyes narrowing as she continued to try and fix it.

“no, [y/n],” he offered, voice soft. she always made him feel guilty, guilty of ever getting annoyed. he knew that she was trying her best. “just… breathe from here. pretend as if there’s a flame within your belly, offering your lungs support and warmth.”

“i’m trying!” she snapped, eyes brimming with tears before she quickly turned away, eyes avoiding his eyes.

the two faded to silence, simply sitting on a rock in the middle of the reef, staring at the setting sun ahead of them. the horizon was gorgeous, a beautiful orange contrasting the blue of the sea.

they sat there, in silence, until just before eclipse.

as they neared curfew, [y/n] inhaled deeply, preparing herself to get up and leave. but, a gentle hand on her knee stopped her. she turned to fali.

“do you know what i think?” he began, voice gentle. “i think that you are more than capable to do this.”

[y/n] scoffed. “if that were true, i would be out there, not stuck with… with you!”

at that, he huffed a laugh, running his fangs over his bottom lip. “i’m going to ignore that comment and continue getting to my point,” he jokes, his eyes widening at the smallest flicker of a smile on her lips. “i believe that something, whether you realize it or not, is keeping you from being successful—my guess being that it’s subconscious—but i digress. i believe that you are scared, [y/n]. scared of doing it right, scared of becoming one of the metkayina because once you are one of our people, you feel like you are betraying your home.”

the girl beside him shook her head in disbelief. “you believe? or you know? because you sure said that—that soliloquy—as if you know me.” [y/n] stood up, taking a few steps backwards. “i have known you for seven days, fali. seven days! and suddenly you decide that you can analyze me?”

fali laughed at that. “seven days is enough for you to decide that you hate me!” he pointed out, a disbelieving smile playing on his lips.

“well, you wear everything on the outside. every bit of stupidity, recklessness, carelessness.” she grit her teeth. “you are an open book, and i am closed. that is the truth.”

“i wear what i want to wear,” fali argued, standing up to face her, the two getting closer by the second. they got closer by the insult thrown. “you think i am dumb, but i am not. i am smart enough to make it so that people like you—people who do not care to look past their own bubble—cannot see my vulnerabilities.”

[y/n] bared her teeth. “you think me ignorant? blind, even? i have seen more of the world than you, i have fought dream-walkers, watched as my baby siblings had death looming above their heads. you are clueless to what is beyond awa’atlu.” a growl built in the back of her throat, their faces extremely close together. “i build my—my ‘bubble,’ as you called it—because i know what is beyond your dimwitted understanding!”

the two were silent, the tension electric between them. behind them the sun was set beyond the horizon, eclipse having already passed. waves lapped at the rock, the incoming high tide making it so their feet were splashed with the salty water.

as they stared at each other, a sense of understanding seemed to bless both of them. fali’s eyes never left those of [y/n]... her ( beautiful ) narrowed eyes. and [y/n] didn’t miss the way that the moons reflected on fali’s aquamarine skin, his bioluminescent freckles splattering the sides of his face.

[y/n] could have sworn she felt herself lean in, towards him, until the familiar call of her mother brought her back to reality.

“[y/n]?” neytiri called from their marui.

the girl swallowed, stepping back quickly. she cleared her throat before yelling back, “coming!” and with one last look at fali, she dove into the waters.

the next few days were odd, to put it simply. suddenly, there was no aggravation towards each other, but it was much more tense in an… awkward way.

a part of [y/n] was filled with spite, and by the time they got to working again, she was doing better than she had been for weeks. she was actually making progress! and it was all to shove it in fali’s face.

unfortunately for her, fali was much more hesitant when it came to helping her. he refused to touch her stomach as to help her breathing, his movements stiff and scared, resembling that of a baby hexapede.

but, [y/n] didn’t need him…? the others found it extremely peculiar. one day, she’s out past curfew, and right after she suddenly fixed nearly all her mistakes. very odd indeed…

it did not take long for her first free dive. her breathing improved astoundingly, her swimming technique also getting better from watching tsireya when she showed kiri and tuk around the reef.

“do you see this shell?” fali held it up, the sunlight reflecting off of its shiny exterior.

she rolled her eyes. “yes, i see the shell.”

“that’s good.” he blinked, eyes shifting away from her’s with a sheepish grin. “uh, anyway,” he continued, clearing his throat. “i assume you understand the drill? i drop it, you find it.”

“yes, fali,” she sighed. “i am fully aware of how this works. now, i would rather get it done with soon so i don’t have to live in anxiety anymore.” [y/n] locked eyes with fali. “please just drop the shell.”

and he did. she swallowed as she watched it float down, the depths looking much more abyssal-like than they normally did.

“remember,” fali’s soft tone grabbed her attention, “there is nothing to fear. you are stronger than you know, and if you begin to doubt yourself… think of you returning with the shell and rubbing it in my face.” at that, [y/n]’s face flushed, embarrassed. he smiled at her expression. “yes, i know that’s the only reason you’ve suddenly been trying, but… if it works, it works.”

and for once, she smiled. actually smiled. and fali felt himself burst with pride. somehow, it felt better that it wasn’t one of his stupid jokes, or his silly slip-ups. no, he made her smile just by talking to her. by being fali.

stunned, fali only remembered that he was supposed to be helpful when she stared at him expectantly with those bright [e/c] eyes of her’s. he lifted his hands, miming lungs filling with air as he reminded, “deep breath. this is all yours. nothing to fear, only to look forward to.”

with that, the girl dove in.

underneath the surface, she felt at peace. for the first time ever, [y/n] wasn’t freaking out while submerged in the salty water. instead, her jaw seemed to gape in awe at the scenery around her.

the deeper she went, the more starstruck that she was. there were layers to this reef that she hadn’t even been aware of. layers that she’d only heard from tales of her siblings, not truly understanding how magical they actually were.

as she kicked her feet towards the ocean floor, she heard fali’s voice in her head. “the way of water has no beginning and end.” she caught sight of the shell. “the sea is around you and in you. the sea is your home, before your birth and after your death.” she stifled a cry of joy as a school of fish swam around her, tickling her sides with their soft touches. “our hearts beat in the womb of the world. our breath burns in the shadows of the deep.” she was nearly there, her hand outstretched to grab the small artifact. “the sea gives and the sea takes.” she got it! oh, eywa, she got it! it was in her hand! oh, how proud fali will be! “water connects all things.” she began to swim up, a smile stuck on her face. “life to death,” she resurfaced, “darkness to light.”

“fali!” she cried, spinning around in a circle to catch the eyes of the boy. “fali, look!” she held it up, her expression beaming with pride.

and fali couldn’t help it either, his own smile taking over his features. “[y/n]!” he exclaimed, jumping off of the rock and swimming to her. “you did it! oh, eywa, you actually did it!” he stared at the shell as they tread water. “oh, how proud i am!”

her silence caused him to turn, staring her in the eyes. “[y/n]?”

she swallowed, her eyes locked on the shell in her hands. “fali,” she began, voice quiet. “i have a wallowing fear that you were right.”

at those words, fali gaped silently. instead of answering right away, he began to tug her towards the rock, allowing for them to get out of the water so her could properly comfort her.

once she was settled on the rock, she carefully placed the shell down, pulling her knees close to her chest. she felt like a child again, helpless against her emotions. “i was scared. not of the ocean, not of swimming, not of drowning.” she looked up, locking eyes with fali. “i was scared of abandoning my people.”

a tear dropped from her eye, and fali immediately had her hands resting on [y/n]’s biceps. “hey,” he called softly, forcing her to look him in the eyes again. “you are not abandoning them. you are… learning. you are learning how to adapt, how to survive. in fact, i think that is more in touch with your culture and ancestors! you are just like them, trying to adapt and survive in a world that is trying to kill you.” she smiled a little at that. maybe he wasn’t so stupid. “you are not weak for fearing change… you are normal. it is okay to be normal every once in a while, as much as you enjoy being the big sister that is oh-so mature and oh-so strong.” his finger lifted her chin up, a soft smile on his lips. “because people who love you do not mind how mature, or strong, or stupid, or careless, or responsible, or up-tight you are. because you, [y/n], are what you are.”

once he was finished, he noticed that [y/n]’s tears were dried, a smile on her face. a look in her eyes had him floored… oh, she was so beautiful, wasn’t she?

luckily for fali, she seemed to think the same of him, raising her arm, grabbing the back of his head, and bringing his smiling lips against her’s.

the sully family knew and loved [y/n]. of course they did! she was their’s, afterall. but, they also knew that she was never this easy-going or even this happy.

both jake and neytiri knew they’d seared little moments of trauma into the brain of their eldest daughter, and they hated knowing that, but parenting is never easy. especially when she was expected to become the tsahik way back when.

but, ever since a few weeks ago, ever since she finally overcame her own issues regarding leaving the omaticaya, ever since she finally found someone that she loved as much as she loved her family ( and he seemed to love her even more ), she was a new person. a better person. a person who actually seemed to enjoy life.

neteyam and lo’ak were the first to become skeptical. ever since her successful free-dive, she’d been so.. giddy. it was not their big sister.

kiri started to catch on when she noticed [y/n] disappearing four hours at a time, and when she came back, she was ten times happier.

neytiri and jake were so wrapped up in the fact that their eldest was finally living a happy life, they didn’t once question, “hm, why could that be?”

it was only when [y/n] returned home a little late one night after the rest of the family, minus tuk since she was still quite young, had a busy day full of duties. she blamed it on finishing an errand with her new best friend, fali, but neytiri scanned her daughter’s body for any sign of injury. neytiri was just that type of mama bear!

“[y/n],” she began, eyes narrowed at her neck. “did you get bitten today? are the bugs bad on that side of the island?”

[y/n]’s face flushed almost immediately. she swallowed, grabbing her hair to cover her neck. “yeah—” she attempted, before tuk interrupted. [y/n] immediately cursed herself, remembering the stupid excuse that fali and her’d made up to cover-up their “hang-out” when tuk had walked in unexpectedly.

“uh, no, mom,” the youngest said matter-of-factly. “she was playing shark with fali. obviously.”

immediately, the sully family burst into confusion.

“[y/n]!” neytiri scolded, although her eldest daughter didn’t miss the amused smile that played on her lips.

kiri burst into laughter. “that’s why you’ve been so happy? because a guy? who even are you?” she teased.

lo’ak was absolutely losing his mind, face flushed from the laughter he was overcome by at the reality of it all. his big sister, little-miss-uptight, getting her first kiss before him and neteyam? unbelievable!

neteyam was absolutely shocked, face frozen in disbelief. “you? fali?”

jake, of course, was on immediate protective dad mode. “fali? the son of vi’ieo and fpai?” he questioned, eyes squinted at [y/n].

all [y/n] could do was sit there, a hand covering her mouth. of all people, tuk had to expose her. it’s always the ones you least expect.

but, despite the surprise of it all, the sully family was extremely happy. [y/n], the one who entered the metkayina by trying to one-up the tsahik and also deal with her own absolute soul-crushing homesickness, was making a life here in awa’atlu. and they couldn’t be more proud.

someone was suckered into a part ii

[o-uncle-newt]

I'm not going to reblog Neil Gaiman's thing about how S2's episodes "don't have any fat on them" but I DO have some (spoilery) reactions to that below the cut-

OK so I already did another post here where I gave my impressions of the writing- but Gaiman mentioning this actually reminded me of something that I didn't put in there at all but kind of wish I had.

Because honestly, I don't think that the episodes not having any fat on them is a good thing.

Here's the thing- Good Omens, the book and the first season of the TV show, is a bunch of set pieces that loosely come together into a plot. The TV show less so, maybe- there's more of an effort to create a narrative- but fundamentally it's a bunch of ridiculous stuff all strung together to create the Apocalypse. (Like, there's a reason why book fans were so upset when the Four Other Horsemen of the Apocalypse didn't show up in the show- they did literally nothing for the plot but they were absolutely hilarious.)

So far, in the first 2 episodes of S2, I have to agree with Gaiman that there's no fat on them. And I think that's one of the things that kind of threw me. EVERYTHING that has happened thus far has felt like it's something that's probably going to lead to something else, like it's connective tissue for the upcoming story that will presumably make more sense later- and while there's plenty of entertainment and humor and sweetness, it's all to the point. You have to be paying attention, you have to take everything seriously (even if it's something that by rights feels inherently unserious) because it could matter later.

In S1, you didn't have to think too carefully about why a telemarketer is being eaten by maggots or even why there's still a witchfinder in the 21st century (for the show) because fundamentally it doesn't REALLY matter. Something will all come together at the end and in the meantime you can just enjoy it in the spirit in which it's given, which is of course an insane one. Each scene is just fun on its own. (I think this is in some ways truer in the book than the show- there were a lot of these scenes that I don't think worked on the show- but that was more about the execution than the concept.)

The fat in S1 was the good part, really. The plot wasn't all that important- it was all the moments along the way.

The closest thing to fat (to continue to use the metaphor) in S2, so far, is the minisode. It's the only thing where it doesn't necessarily feel like you'll be tested on it later. And it's also easily the best part of those episodes! You can just watch it and take all the ridiculousness for granted because it doesn't really matter. It's there to draw out the characters, it's there to give the world more color, and it's there to entertain.

Not that S2 isn't also there to entertain- it very much is, but it doesn't really have time to. It can be silly and random in the way that the book and S1 are, but instead of those being random throwaway moments (like Newt blacking out all of Dorking in the book- which signifies that his tech-unsavviness may be relevant to the plot later but is really mostly just there to entertain because it's so out-there), they are intrinsically tied into whatever the plot will turn out to be. That's really clear, even though we don't actually know yet exactly what the plot is going to be! The leanness of the plot is immediately evident.

I think, so far, that the main negative consequence is that it makes it so much harder to suspend disbelief. When you have a ridiculous moment in a throwaway scene, that's worldbuilding- it shows that this is the kind of world where ridiculous things happen, and then when a particular ridiculous moment ends up being important to the plot, that's fine because it's part of a whole constellation of ridiculous things in this ridiculous world- they've already deconstructed our sense of disbelief. When all you're getting is plot, when something a bit crazy happens you're like "oh, hang on, that doesn't make sense, that's a bit farfetched."

I think that that's one of the things that, so far, is giving "fanfic vibes" to the first two episodes. Maggie and Nina get locked into the cafe? In their first episode?! When we know that they're going to get together?!?! That's ridiculous. In the book and to a lesser degree S1, where like five other ridiculous things would have already happened that aren't heavily signaled to be important to the plot (Gabriel doesn't count because we know he's important to the plot too), this would just be one more ridiculous thing. In S2, it feels like something we need to suspend disbelief for because we haven't really had it suspended for us yet.

Everything I write about Good Omens here is going to come down to John Finnemore in the end because I can't help myself lol, but honestly, my first thought was "well he's really into plotting, so maybe this is part of that." But- he's also done nine and a bit seasons of a sketch show. While he was writing this he was also writing a season of JFSP (the sublime S9) where there was very minimal plot but everything was propelled by character building sketches, very much in the spirit of Good Omens. He knows exactly the power of random ridiculous moments to build the world and explain its ludicrousness. When him being a writer was announced, I saw so many people say "he's definitely got a bonkers enough brain to do this" except that it turns out that, while true, his bonkers sketch-writing brain doesn't really have a lot to do here.

That, plus the fact that I'd be really surprised from everything that I've heard over the last 2ish years if Gaiman wasn't the first and final voice behind everything written for this season, leads me to the conclusion that the issue might just be that S2 may be, as a group effort, over-plotted for its length. There's little room to breathe and live in the world. There are barely any humans, and as such there's not much time to remember that the story is set in a world where humans matter, which, as I pointed out in my previous post, is something that was really important in Good Omens the book and S1. It just doesn't have any fat.

Now- I should be clear- as I said with the other post, it is way too early to tell if GO2 is good or not, because all of the stuff in E1-2 was clearly building up to other things that haven't happened yet. I actually think S2 probably will be good. The above may not be "issues" per se. But I do think that talking about the original Good Omens like the "fat" is the problem kind of misses the point of why so many people liked it- and leaves GO2 with a pretty big burden to overcome in order to convince viewers that it is a continuation of the same world and same story they loved in S1.

[enigmaticexplorer]

ALLI!!! CONGRATULATIONS ON FINISHING IYASIF 🥳!!!!!

I have absolutely LOVED reading this series and I am so happy that you've shared it with us! It's definitely a series that I'll be revisiting forever and it's certainly a favourite of mine 💙!

My favourite parts (so far) include the firework scene (I love the effort that Wolffe was putting in to try to show Kazi how much she means to him then how she sees him in a vulnerable state), Wolffe sitting watching Kazi swim after Aro had assaulted her (I am a forever lover of how protective Wolffe is of Kazi 🤌 and I could GO ON FOREVER about it!), Neyti talking for the first time despite how sad her reason is (also where she calls Kazi her mum in her muse!!!!), and lastly, I was seriously cheering Kazi on for her first time having sex with Wolffe (I was sitting so proud that she let him get that close to her you have NO idea, I was like a proud mama hen 🥰)

While I've fallen behind, I can't wait to find more favourite parts in the coming chapters and I'm going to really miss reading IYASIF for the first time 💙!

I also need you to know that I love how you characterise all of the characters, I love their motivations and personalities !! (Fox was a favourite who snuck up on me 🥰)

Last but not least, I have some questions!

What have you enjoyed the most about writing IYASIF?

From my own writing I have redrafted plot points and outcomes so many times so, did IYASIF look different when you were first writing it?

That last question in your list is calling to me! How much of yourself and your life experiences have made it into IYASIF?

Out of all the characters, who is your favourite, to write or to read (if that gives a different answer)?

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

I Yearn, and so I Fear Fic Celebration

Maia! Thank you!

You've included some of my favorite scenes (and I'm SO HAPPY you've liked them, too!)! If you like the fireworks scene, you might enjoy an upcoming scene, even if it is super short :) I, too, am a lover of protective Wolffe and him sitting there, watching Kazi, tired from lack of sleep, needing to check on her because, even though they're still becoming friends, he cares about her - something about that scene sits right with me. I'm surprised you mentioned Neyti speaking for the first time! It's an emotional moment, for me haha, and such a pivotal moment, so I'm glad you like it! And Kazi and Wolffe's first time! That was such a meaningful scene to me! All of the trust building from so many months (and so many chapters) and Wolffe's consistent patience and Kazi taking another step forward in trusting him - it all meant so much to me. Thank you for sharing your favorite scenes, I really appreciate it! (And I'm ecstatic knowing you liked the characterizations! Fox snuck up on me, too. And he did the same with Kazi haha.)

What have you enjoyed the most about writing IYASIF?

Seeing each chapter take on its final version. I am so critical of my work, and I think I've mentioned before how I won't reread things I've written because I can't stomach my old writing. But the final version of each chapter in this fic has surprised me. I find myself rereading sections when people reblog and I smile, or I chuckle, or I feel giddy. It's such a unique experience for me; I've never felt this way about a fic I've written. I wanted to give up on various occasions but I'm glad I didn't, because seeing this in its final form has been a comfort. So, I think that's what I've enjoyed the most, seeing this in final form and being proud of my writing.

From my own writing I have redrafted plot points and outcomes so many times so, did IYASIF look different when you were first writing it?

Yes! I wrote an entire outline with specific scenes for 32 chapters last May and June, and then I wrote my first draft immediately after. And then I wrote another draft. And then I started working on individual chapters and tinkering/editing/revising/rewriting them in December and throughout the posting schedule (I consider that my third draft, however, most chapters in Parts III and IV had five different drafts because I kept editing/rewriting them).

Most of the overall story remained the same: Kazi and Wolffe's relationship/individual arcs, Kazi and Daria's relationship/individual arcs; Kazi and Neyti's relationship/individual arcs; Fox's story arc.

A few things that significantly changed:

Originally, Aro was supposed to be a rebel leader. He was a questionable leader, set on destroying the Empire but willing to hurt anyone during the process, and he had an obsession with Kazi. To the point that he blackmailed her into a "relationship" with him. I scratched this entire plotline because it was too much for me. I've explored the dark writing in A New Tomorrow (which I believe you've read, so you probably know what I'm talking about) and I could not stomach writing something dark like that again. So, I removed that plotline during my outlining process in May and decided to make Aro a megalomaniac Empire sympathizer.

Along those lines, Moff Harpy was supposed to play a minor role in the story. During the first draft, I wrote in a few scenes where Kazi interacts with Moff Harpy. (It's Harpy who created a clone assassin lab and was also obsessed with tracking down traitorous clones.) However, it felt like too much. I didn't want this story to focus on the clone assassins/the Empire as much. I wanted to emphasize how normal, ordinary people are trying to survive under Imperial rule (I took inspiration from The Kite Runner) and bringing in Moff Harpy made the story too focused on trying to defeat the Empire rather than exploring what it would be like to live under a fascist government. I love stories that get into the nitty gritty about taking down the Empire, but I wanted to do something different here.

I don't want to spoil things but Daria and Cody's relationship was not in the first draft. (I get into this in a Behind the Scenes XIV, but I'll explain it here, too.) In my outline, I intended Daria and Cody to explore a relationship together. I thought their personalities matched well, and that they would be good for one another. However, I thought that readers would find it cringey that two commanders chose the two sisters. So, in my first draft, I wrote Daria having a relationship with Nova. It was AWFUL. I was forcing Nova to be someone he wasn't, and the chemistry between him and Daria was lacking. In the second draft, I said "fuck it" and rewrote Cody into the relationship with Daria. And I'm so glad I reverted to my original idea because they were such a delight to explore. (I also have delusional thoughts about writing their own fic as a companion piece to this haha.)

Those were the major changes to the story. But Parts III and IV had significant changes in each chapter between drafts 2 and 3. I'm glad that I wrote the first two drafts because it helped me decide what to include, what to remove, and what needed to be added. I felt like each draft allowed me to dive deeper into the story, the characters, the themes. And if it hadn't been for draft 1, then I never would've written the Muses! And if it hadn't been for draft 2, then I would've never dug deeper into Fox and Nova's characters! Both of whom surprised the hell out of me! Cody was a given - I actually spent so much time writing a character document for him (because I'm that person) - and didn't change much between the drafts, but Fox and Nova did! Anyway, I believe Chapters XVII through the Epilogue are all fairly different from their first versions. There are some consistencies (such as Chapter XXII being about sex, Chapter XIV being about Kazi's breakdown, Chapter XXV being about the winter holiday) but most of the scenes were drastically rewritten! And the last two chapters weren't even written because I kept telling myself I wouldn't do them justice until I was 100% sure of all the chapters leading up to them (which ended up being true).

Oh, I also had a few more smut scenes in draft 2 but I wanted to focus more on the emotional side of things rather than the physical (and I get afraid that I can't write smut well) so I removed quite a few smut scenes. I was afraid that readers might give up on the story without the additional smut, but I'm glad I made that decision.

That last question in your list is calling to me! How much of yourself and your life experiences have made it into IYASIF?

Oof, you're calling me out 😅

Honestly, I view IYasIF as a therapy project. Kazi is a direct reflection of me, my insecurities, my struggles with romantic relationships, my fears of abandonment and not being enough. Her storyline about sex and her discomfort and insecurity with it draws from my own experiences. Maybe this is embarrassing, I don't know, but writing her story was a way for me to acknowledge my insecurities, fears, and fearful-avoidant attachment style; it was a way for me to see a female character like myself [someone who isn't curvy or outgoing; someone who is aloof, and cold, and heartless (and yes, I've been called heartless by friends, in a joking way but it still stuck)] be loved, to actually be attractive to a male character. So Kazi is a reflection of myself.

As to life experiences: Kazi's resentment against her mother draws from my own experiences. Many of her conversations with Daria about marriage and loneliness and settling are conversations I've had multiple times throughout my life. Kazi's strong relationship with her father is also based on my own (my dad isn't dead, though). Her relationship with Daria draws from my relationship with my sister and how we struggled for many years (to the point that I despised my sister) and then evolved into something where we've grown closer. (Kazi and Daria have a closer relationship than my sister and I do, so perhaps I was projecting.) But their conversation in Chapter XXII about their parents is something I've thought about regarding my sister and me and our individual relationships with our parents (I am my dad's favorite, and my sister has always clung to my mom).

Out of all the characters, who is your favourite, to write or to read (if that gives a different answer)?

This is such a tough question. I loved writing Fox! He grew on me with each iteration of this story. Kazi was exhausting to write because I was writing about myself and that introspection sucks at times and weighed me down a bit; but her story was amazing to write. Again, I loved being able to write about a male character falling for a female character like me, and I liked the safety of writing Wolffe as this patient, consistent, understanding man. A part of me wants to write this story from Wolffe's point of view because he has so many thoughts (and there was a point in the first draft where I was going to include a chapter on the most memorable moments from his point of view but decided against it). But Wolffe is hard me to write inside his head. I don't think I do him justice, but he's such a delight to write from an outsider's perspective. I've totally screwed up this answer because I've listed three characters I liked to write for haha. Oh well.

For reading: I'm in a phase where I don't want to read fic about Wolffe, Cody, or Fox because I have such a firm view of them in my mind after writing this story, so other developments of their characters aren't interesting to me right now. Which is horrible, I know. Once I can remove myself from this story, I'm eager to get back into reading for all three, because I love seeing how other people portray these three men!

Thank you so much for these questions! If you couldn't tell, I had a lot of fun answering them :)

[tmntkiseki]

Originally, I wasn't going to go public about this...

But I realized something yesterday: Suffering in silence is stupid. While it is true that there are a lot of horrible people on the internet, there are also a lot of incredibly kind people--people who may be complete strangers to you, but are more than willing to reach out a helping hand if you let them know that something is wrong, and I'm tired of pretending that everything is fine around here when it's not. So here we are.

The short version is this: Ever since I disabled anonymous asks back on the 6th of this month, I've been repeatedly stalked and harassed by an individual I've taken to calling Troll-san. Why Troll-san? Because I'm an older internet user, I've been active online since the mid-2000s, and that's what they are: a troll, and they've gone through so many URLs at this point that I have nothing better to call them.

Troll-san primarily harasses me through my ask box, but they've occasionally attempted to do what they've been doing through reblogs on my posts as well. I will give them credit where it's due because they've been incredibly persistent; every time I block one of their URLs, they proceed to delete and then remake it in order to circumvent the block feature and continue sending me more hateful messages. This also has the side effect of making reporting their behavior incredibly difficult, and that's assuming that Tumblr staff decides to even try doing something about this. (And I do not trust Tumblr staff at all.)

This is one of the only asks I made an effort to take a screencap of, sent not too long after I made my post on Friday regarding my recent ER visit, and let it be said that this is FAR from the worst message they've sent me. (They have, in fact, sent a couple of asks telling me to kill myself.)

So, at this point in their little harassment campaign, I can confirm a few key details about Troll-san.

This is indeed over the fact I disabled anonymous asks. I'm not particularly special for disabling them since so many Tumblr users do it, but presumably the reason Troll-san is so wound up over it is that if they're having a bad day and feel like being a dick someone (me), they can no longer send rude asks and avoid the consequences for it by using the anon feature. (In fact, that's the entire reason why so many Tumblr users disabled anons in the first place! Because people were abusing them to be assholes!)

I am definitely not their first victim. I did some digging around yesterday and can confirm that there is at least one other user who has also been harassed by Troll-san, and there are likely more people who may have/are dealing with the same person.

Even though Troll-san has been constantly deleting and remaking their URLs in order to bypass the block feature and continue their harassment, I am about 99% positive that their primary URL is grandangelkitty. It's one of the only URLs that they haven't deleted and remade at some point, and the other user who was harassed confirmed it was one of the URLs that they had to block. Whether it'll still exist by the time anyone reads this, I don't know, but I figured it was worth mentioning.

I realize that by acknowledging what's going on, I am potentially inviting yet more harassment and allowing this situation to drag out even longer than it needs to, but A) cyberbulling is never okay, and knowing I'm not the first person to be harassed by this particular individual makes me more angry than knowing I have to put up with it at all and B) I've never been afraid of Troll-san. They lost all my respect when they ignored my first block and I had pretty much lost my ability to take them seriously by the time they remade their URL for the fourth time. I just wish they'd learn their damn lesson already that no means no and that being horrible to strangers online is going to result in them making enemies rather than any friends.

I did finally reach out to a couple people online regarding this ongoing fiasco and while I won't be naming anyone specific; thank you all so, so much for your kindness and support. I was originally quite content to try and deal with this problem on my own, but I find so much comfort and renewed energy in knowing that I'm no longer alone and that there are people who do have my back. I'm not at all weak for having to ask for help; in fact, I'm all the stronger for it.

I am hoping that by finally acknowledging what I've had to endure for the last week that not only will I be helping to protect more users from this person, but that they'll finally get the message that this kind of behavior is not tolerated in this community. For anyone who has read this far, please, stay safe and I hope you have a good day!

P.S.

[blubushie]

ABOUT ME

READ THIS BEFORE YOU SEND ASKS/INTERACT. ASK BLU ANYTHING DAY (ABAD) is on the first full weekend of every month!

MINORS: Block the "#blu lewd" tag OR I WILL BLOCK YOU and do not DM me unless it's to ask to join Blucord. This goes ESPECIALLY if you're 16 or under. Adults on the internet are not your friends, and I am not comfortable speaking with you privately without a third party present.

G'day fellas! You can call me Blu, and I can be invoked like some Lovecraftian horror by mentioning Sniper in the TF2 tags. King of Sniper Lore (and Australia), Messiah of Bludaism, also known as the "Sheepshagging Roorooting Horsehumping Mountainfucking Melonpiping 13x-Divorced Breastmaster Hitman Inenrt Dingoboy Piss Cheese Jorts Bludysseus Blu'nt Bushgod Sniper Blog" despite not being a Sniper blog (and not actually shagging a sheep or rooting a roo or being married to start with or caring all that much for cannabis, I'm a psychedelics bloke). I'm just Like This.

Been told I'm the "Sniper kin of all Sniper kins." Not sure what a kin is these days but from what I've heard I'm content with not knowing.

This is my only blog. I have three sideblogs. One is @blu-doods, where I post my shitty stick figure art for laughs, and the other two are @art-reblugs, where I reblog art on (I reblog art here too, but the pickings are far more slim) and @post-reblugs (same as art but for text posts).

Again, not a Sniper roleplay blog. That said feel free to call me Sniper as a joke because I do very much enjoy it. Just keep in mind that I am my own person and not a fictional character. There's a real person behind the screen.

Sometimes I go on tangents and start infodumping. You can find the masterlist here. Also please read my DNI list and check out my pronouns page (I spent so much time on it).

My ask box is always open to whatever you want to say. Questions, comments, infodumping, or whatever else comes to mind. I particularly enjoy things relating to TF2, astronomy, nature, classic cars, and weapons. :]

If you find a weird animal or plant and want to know what it is, send me a picture with the location and there's a fair chance I can ID it! ("Location" doesn't need to be city, just state or general region!)

If you're looking to do art or something of me, please see this post for a guide to what I look like and this post for my rules on what is and isn't acceptable!

We now have a Discord server! If you want to join just DM me, but please ask only you and I are mutuals or we interact often :]

My avatar was done by the incredibly talented @grumpygrumblet!

SOME INFO ABOUT ME

I have autism, selective mutism, and some other issues that aren't really important. Point is that sometimes it can be hard for me to talk or properly put my thoughts into words. This makes me come across as cold sometimes. I'm not good at communicating with words and I'm better at expressing it in person where I can rely more on touch. I apologise if I seem rude because I'm not trying to be. Let me know and I'll try to articulate what I mean to say in a gentler way.

I'm 23.

Bushstraight. AMAB transmasc. Weird bloke.

I grew up in Alice Springs and spend most of my time in the NT. On the first Friday of the month there's a good chance you can find me at the Daly Waters Pub. CU in the NT! (Not now though because I'm stuck in America for the foreseeable future. Oops. Try me again in 2025!)

I hunt professionally for pest control. Usually it's invasive animals like pigs, cats, or feral dogs. I'm also licenced to occasionally deal with nuisance native wildlife like crocodiles, but aside from assisting in relocation efforts I've yet to be called out for a crocodile. I'm alright with this—I really don't want to shoot a crocodile.

I also hunt to feed myself and my dog. Her name is Misty and she's an Australian Shepherd/Golden Retriever mix. You can see her here or by checking out my "mistyposting" tag.

I used to participate in kangaroo culls and by law I have to shoot them in the head so if you ever want to know what it's like to pop skulls, reckon you can ask me. Also on the kangaroo thing: if you're Australian and from 2020-2021 ate kangaroo or bought kangaroo dog food or leather, there's a chance I'm the one what got it to you.

I'm a bushie. This means I'm a survivalist who lives out in the bush. I technically live in a van (ute + camper in the tray) but if there's good weather I'm usually sleeping outside unless it's an area with a lot of dingos (they don't usually bother people but I'm not going to take risks with my dog). I have no permanent residence and I move from place to place for work. Occasionally I have to go into cities for work (I'm looking at you, M*lbourne) but these are thankfully rare occasions and only when I'm strapped for cash.

Sometimes while clearing a squatter's land I'll find Psilocybe mushrooms and take them back home and get high when I'm done working. It makes for an interesting experience and my favourite thing to do is lay on the top of my van and watch the stars for a while.

I have a mullet and I am awful proud of it. It's easy upkeep since I can cut it using the mirror of my van.

I've drank my own piss on more than one occasion. The first time was because I was dying of dehydration out in the bush and it kept me alive for 2 days until I found water. The second time was for science. Certified Piss Kink Guy. (Editor's note: I do not in fact have a piss kink.)

I have infinitely large balls.

I am a bogan. I am proud of that too. Viva la boganism.

I am Ameristralian. I was born in the US and came to Australia when I was 2 years old—both of my parents are American but my parents lived in Australia for work. I grew up in Australia but when my parents split Dad went back home to California to buy back my grandfather's station and I spent most of my high school years in California (years 10-12) and lost my accent. I now live in Australia with a very thick American accent so I get the "lost tourist" spiel a lot and I reckon I'm never going to stop having to prove I'm Australian. It's gotten me into pub fights before and will continue to do so. I had a stroke in 2023 and now have my Aussie accent back LMAO

I've been told I'm "Sniper IRL." (Cheers, bloke I met in a Sydney pub, for getting me into TF2 by telling me this.)

I fucking love crocodiles to a possibly dangerous degree. Technically I love everything nature and especially animals, but crocodiles are just something special to me. I blame Steve Irwin and the fact my favourite thing to do as a nipper was go up to Darwin with Mum during the dry season and go croc spotting.

I like TF2, nature (particularly plants and animals), astronomy, and history. My special interest is sniping. I also love science and medicine. PLEASE ASK ME ABOUT THESE THINGS BECAUSE I LOVE TO TALK ABOUT THEM.

I swear a lot. I will not apologise for it. Fight me, cunt.

Please ask me about the shit I've seen out in the bush. I have so many stories. Actually, just ask me anything. Just talk to me in general, please. I need it.

I like knives (penchant for Bowie knives and machetes), firearms (penchant for antique bolt-actions), and old cars. I think pre-1970 Land Rovers are pretty spiffy. I can alternatively be invoked by incorrectly stating what model of Land Rover Sniper drives. It's a bloody 1965 Series IIA!

DO NOT ATTEMPT ANY OF THE SHIT YOU SEE ME DO ON THIS BLOG. I AM A PROFESSIONAL AT WHAT I DO—ATTEMPTING TO REPLICATE IT IS LIKELY TO RESULT IN SERIOUS HARM AND/OR DEATH. DO NOT GO INTO THE OUTBACK UNLESS YOU ARE WITH A GROUP AND HAVE AN EXPERIENCED GUIDE WITH YOU.

If you wanna learn the rest of the lore, you'd best delve the blog. ;]

I can also be found on AO3 also under Blubushie.

A GUIDE TO MY TAGS

IMPORTANT BLOCK TAGS

blu lewd: Horny asks and reblogs of suggestive art. I'm making a tag for this since I've been getting so many asks from thirsty anons (I love you, thirsty anons). MINORS: BLOCK THIS TAG OR I WILL BLOCK YOU.

haemocyanin: Usually reblogged gore art (blood is not included in gore, I'm talking viscera). Also includes discussion of gory topics. THIS TAG IS STRICTLY GORE. Please block this tag if that makes you uncomfortable.

blu slew: Discussion of hunting. May contains photos from hunting. This includes animal death/animal gore, so anyone who is uncomfortable with seeing this PLEASE BLOCK THIS TAG.

blu a fuse: Angryposting. Will include venting—if that bothers you, block this tag.

blus blues: Venting/sad hours/personal, generally depressive, journals. Basically me screaming into the void about how shit sandwich my life is. May include discussions of trauma so if that bothers you, block this tag.

blu jarate: Anything that mentions piss in referral to urine because it's brought up a lot on this blog (not in a kink way, just in general). Block this tag if piss makes you uncomfortable.

blu boos: A personal medical journal of sorts. Block this tag if talk of injuries disturbs you.

Postbin: Hate asks. Will probably include transphobia or homophobia or intersexism because people pick on the easiest things ay? Block if you don't want to see people clowning on me.

GENERAL TAGS

💙: Random thoughts or stuff from me. No worries, I don't ramble often. Also contains reblogs of things I just Vibe With that don't fit any of my other tags. Formerly #bluposting

💬: IRL quotes. Usually things between me and my father, but sometimes includes other people.

blu news: Updates on my life. This may include failsafes.

blu whos: Answered asks. Please send me asks or talk to me in literally any way as I often spend weeks without even seeing another human out in the bush and let me tell you it is NOT good for one's state of mind. I may not like people but humans are social animals and it's a terrible Catch-22. Ask me about my work or life or my fic or about TF2 lore or Sniper or literally anything please.

abad: Discussions or asks from Ask Blu Anything Day, a monthly... Event? Where some of my ask rules are suspended. ABAD is your licence to go nuts in my ask box, and the rule of ABAD is that I have to answer everything honestly.

mercposting: Catch-all TF2 tag. As I get asks about TF2 often, this is the tag used so I don't clutter the main tag.

blu drew: My sketches. I don't do digital art so all of it is traditional and usually of varying quality. It's typically animals or plants I see out in the bush.

blu bushie: My adventures in the wilderness.

🍄🍄🍄: Contains discussions of drugs.

🍄: Triposting! These are trip reports from the times I get high on various different drugs, but usually mushrooms. Also contains any posts I reblog or make while under the influence of drugs. (Formerly #blu flew)

🍺🍺🍺: Contains discussions of alcohol.

🍺: Drunkposting! Contains any posts I make while under the influence of alcohol.

learnin the blus: Random thoughts/rambles regarding my fic.

blu hoohs: NOT MY ART. Just stuff I've REALLY liked and reblogged. My own art is never tagged with this.

blus clues: Me speculating on headcanons and lore, usually about TF2. I love lore speculation.

sniperposting: Shit specifically about Sniper since I seem to talk about him so much. Also things from my life that Sniper would also probably do.

bushman: Reblogs relating to survivalism, bushcraft, camping shit, and general bushman activities. Also includes reblogs of things related to these.

blu planet: Reblogs relating to nature and the natural world.

blu zoo: Discussions of animals and plants. May contain pictures of things I see on my adventures!

stockman: Discussing my former job as a stockman.

blu pew: Weapons, mostly firearms and knives.

true blu: Things specifically relating to Australia. Usually cultural things.

code blu: Things relating to medicine. This especially applies to bushmedicine.

blursed: Reblogged shit that I think is cursed. Usually text posts, sometimes images.

blusome: Just uplifting things I see and reblog. Everybody needs some added light every now and then.

blu spew: Funny things. Titled for me spewing out my coffee in the morning when I see them.

blu polls: My polls.

blu views: The VERY rare occasions I discuss politics. Most of this is either about firearms or rarely nature conservation.

mistyposting: Posts relating strictly to Misty.

moonyposting: Anything relating to Mundy, my emu. On this blog he's referred to as "Moony" so as not to have him confused with Mundy from my fic (or canon Mundy).

blu tunes: Anything relating to music.

blu chew: Anything relating to food.

ford blu: Anything relating to cars.

blu id: Posts where people ask me to identify animals and plants.

blu marbled jack: Anything relating to Jack. This is because I once saw him eat an entire block of cheese.

ask game: Ask games I find.

answered asks: Answers to things I've asked.

blubook: Posts relating to literature. It's a pun about the Australian boobook, a type of owl. Get it? Because owls are smart? And it's reading? Nevermind.

fanart: Art specifically of me because I get a lot of it (and adore it when I do)!

blucord: Discussing things that go down in the Discord server.

blu muse: Poetry I write (because apparently I'm doing that again).

blu misc: Anything that doesn't fit into the rest of these tags.

blu queue: Queued posts.

blu reviews: Submitted posts.

bluroarer: Things I'm tagged in.

smoke signals: Back-and-forth discussions in reblogs.

dozposting: Posts about my lovely lady, @eyes-like-iron-fangs-of-rust

horseposting: Me talking about horses. I fucking love horses.

dream journal: Where I log my dreams.

eminence: Me infodumping about DND/my DND character Redd (cuz Redd + Blu = eminence purple).

PMP: Info relating to my job as a pest management professional.

matildaposting: Me discussing my late 70s Dreamer camper or other campers.

🌌: Wereshitposting—late-night blogging I get up to when the world is quiet and I can't sleep.

Also I'm writing a Speedingbullet fic on AO3 because it's boring out here and I have brainrot so go read that I guess, cheers. Chapter 10 is my magnum opus.

Here's the link to the original F/M version of the fic, and here's the link to the M/M edited version of the fic. The M/M version isn't as good and there may be pronoun errors here and there because the F/M is my primary focus and how the fic is originally written. The M/M version is also discontinued at Chapter 7 as I couldn't work Jesse's backstory properly into Jake. Sorry, folks.

If you're looking to do fanart or something I have a reference for Jesse and Suki. I also have an appearance detail for the rest of BLU team. (If you do fanart of Jesse and Mundy together I will love you forever and ever.)

[atlantis-just-drowned]

hiya! do you have any hurt // comfort headcanons for pluto x reader? or really just anything pluto x reader. i have to keep going to your post since there is NO pluto content out there. thank you!

A/N: Hi Anon, hope you'll like this, because I had so much fun writing it!! Thank you so much for your ask, I always love receiving new requests from you guys! Don't hesitate to drop some more ideas in my askbox :] Also this small story has barely been edited so I hope it's not too wonky! I might come back to make some small changes later. This can be read as romantic or platonic I think? Anyway, TW for anxiety/panic attack, slight PTSD symptoms, and also this man has little to no self-esteem.

"Who did this to you?"

Please reblog to show support! Likes don't boost posts on Tumblr :(

Masterlist

Thinking about where Pluto went after discovering what Monty has done to his best friend. The way this asshole threw away the few belongings Duke has taken into death, like he has never – not even for a second – seen the magician as a human being. Who deserved respect. Dignity. And was now trapped somewhere, out of the black-haired boy’s reach.

Pluto was unable to get to his friend. All of the efforts he could put on would always be useless. He was defeated. Confronted to Montresor’s absolute hatred of others. Something he could never even fight.

And he has nowhere to hide either, because even his room was shared with one of Annabel’s arrogant little puppets. Where could he go now that his best friend was surely doomed to die again while he was standing there, a weak, helpless, wandering soul, his sore eye bringing up to his mind fuzzy, almost unintelligible words from a past he wish he could forget when he barely remembered it.

His sight was blurry, he was barely able to see the corridors he walked in. It took him far longer than it normally would, before he was finally knocking at your door. He realized only after that he has no idea what to tell you. But it was too late; before he could turn back and hobble away, your door opened, and the abstract form of a face was in front of him.

“Pluto?”

He wouldn’t have been able to recognize you if it wasn’t for your voice. Your tone was laced with a surprise and concern he couldn’t see on your face, but still made his heart tighten. You were worried for him.

What a pathetic thing.

His physical state was probably pitiful enough to give away how beaten up, broken and exhausted he felt, and he hated it. For a second, Pluto would have preferred you to be the one deprived from sight, so he wouldn’t have to be feeling your troubled gaze piercing him. He held himself tighter, and tried to give you a wobbly smile in reassurance.

“H-h-hi…!” he mumbled, and his voice came out so much more broken than he meant it to. He looked down, body trembling, humiliated and wishing he could vaporise in the air rather than stay here.

Right now was too much, he couldn’t handle any more of it. He was going to crumble down any minute.

“Can I… C-Can I come in please?” was all he could stutter out through a tight throat. The mere thought of his breathing being restricted sending alarms in his brain that only succeed in making him panic more.

“Y-yeah of course!”

You sounded shocked, almost. More than just concerned by this point. But he couldn’t even see clearly and your voice was the last thing he could anchor himself to. So he would take it.

The door opened wider and Pluto practically burst into your room before his legs could get a chance to give up on him. Resting his back against the wall next to you, he let himself slide down until he sat on the floor. Legs bent and arms wrapped around them. His head down, forehead pressed against his knees, face hidden in his small, curled up form.

He couldn’t breath. No matter how much he tried, oxygen went in and out of his lungs chaotically, too fast, occasionally missing and choking him up even more as he tried and tried and tried but his efforts were vain and he couldn’t do anything couldn’t think clearly couldn’t stop choking couldn’t stop wishing for it to stop just stop.

Thoughts were swirling in his head so fast he couldn’t catch up on them, the feeling of being small and helpless and in danger at the forefront of his mind, and a distant voice telling him Duke was surely dead and he would probably follow soon enough along with the others and everyone else who wasn’t cruel enough because they were doomed they had been since the moment they had all passed those gates when this unfair wicked stupid painful game has started and now he wanted to get out he just wanted it to stop all he has ever asked for was something to live for a hope for a better future for someone to tell him he would be okay in the end for the world to be brighter he wished it could stop he just wanted-

“Pluto.”

His head shot up and he looked at your figure, barely distinguishable in the blur of nonsensical colours. He hasn’t registered you had kneeled down to his level. Or that you’d been calling him. Or that he has been crying.

“Pluto, can you see me?”

He opened his mouth to answer you, but not even a sound could go past the lump in his throat. So he closed it and shook his head no.

“Okay… Okay.” Your voice sounded like a headlight in the middle of a storm for the shaking mess he was.

“Is it alright if I touch you?”

He didn’t respond right away. Not because he had to think about the answer, but because he struggled to make sense of your distant words, in the chaos howling inside his skull.

Ultimately, he nodded with a slight hesitation.

You didn’t need any more confirmation. Your form moved closer to him, before Pluto felt the palm of your hands on his shoulders gently pulling him forward, until he sat on his knees and his head laid against your chest.

The moment he felt you arms cradle him in a warm embrace, he let out a small, choked up sob. Like a sort of tension has just been released from his body. Before his hands found purchase in the back of your shirt and he almost mechanically clung to you. As if you were a lifeline. Or something warmer. Perhaps a safe haven. A place where he could rest.

His face buried into your chest, he could hear your breathing. Calm. Tranquil. The kind words you were repeating to him like a mantra created a constant melody he could feel behind your ribcage; and he finally allowed himself to get lost into your soothing presence.

Tense muscles relaxed, loosening his tight grip on you. The shaking of his body finally finally subsiding while his breathing calmed down enough to let him get the oxygen he so desperately needed.

The debilitating fog of constant anxious thoughts clouding his brain replaced by you. Your warmth. Your voice. Your kindness. Your fingers running through his hair.

Oh, this was heaven.

He wished he could simply never open his eye again.

For now, he wouldn’t have to.

“I’m… sorry.” he said, his throat no longer as tight as before but still leaving him with a raspy, drained voice.

He listened to you breathing in and out peacefully, before you answered him.

“You don’t have to be. You did nothing wrong.”

Another day, Pluto might have argued that he was still sorry nonetheless. That he felt bad for annoying you this way. But he was too tired to argue, so instead, he tried to give some credit to your words.

It was hard. But if he didn’t unclench his jaw, he would probably get a headache soon enough, and he didn’t want to deal with that now. So he told himself that what you said was true, and pretended to believe it.

Your chest moved up in a deep inhale, and then you sighed. Maybe somewhere, deep down inside of you you knew he didn’t completely think you were right. But if you were aware, you didn’t bring it up.

Instead, you caressed his hair some more before cupping his face and bringing it up and away from your chest to observe him better. Pluto took one more moment to enjoy the relaxing darkness of his closed eyelid, and then his right eye fluttered open again, with a sting, to an abstract blur of colours. So close to you, he could make out a few details – the ways your eyes darted across his face, and the displeased frown on your lips.

“Who did this to you?” You asked softly, carefully approaching a thumb to the blackening outline of his eye, getting a hiss and a withdrawal reflex from him when you brushed the skin there.

You knew the dark-haired boy has spent most of the afternoon searching for his friend. He has asked you for help, and seeing his panicked state, you hadn’t been able to say anything else but “yes”. Sadly, none of the people you had spoken to knew anything about the French magician’s disappearance. But this new bruise told you some more things might have happened since you last saw the one-eyed man a few hours ago.

Replacing his cheek against the palm of your hand, Pluto looked away, a distant, annoyed expression on his face as he grumbled “Monty. Who else?”

You scoffed at his answer. Now that he mentioned it, Montresor has definitely been shooting you some of his annoying, oh-so-punchable self-sufficient glares while you searched for someone who might have seen Duke. You could easily imagine at least a dozen reasons why Pluto and him would have gotten into an argument.

Though, for now, it would probably be better not to ask for any further explanation. Instead, you brought his face closer to yours and pressed a kiss to his forehead, before leading him to lay back against your chest.

He needed comfort. This, at least, was obvious. You’d do your best with the very few informations you had.

“Whatever happened, I’m sure Lenore will find a way to solve this when she comes back.” You spoke softly, holding him tightly against you.

“Right.” He groaned back tiredly, seemingly trying to let your warmth sip through him to make him forget about his day. Sighing, he paused before repeating your words, more to reassure himself than anything else. “Right. Let’s wait for her. She’ll come back. She’ll have a plan.”

“I’m sure she will.” You emphasized his point to help him calm down, while you stroked his back, getting another sigh out of him.

There was a moment of silence, where the two of you simply held each others, allowing yourselves to relax a bit, especially after the events of today. And then, after some time…

“Thank you.”

Pluto’s whisper almost startled you. Opening your eyes in surprise, you looked down at his resting figure, before repositioning your arms a little tighter around him with a sigh, and whispering back.

“You’ll always be welcome.”

Speaking of being welcomed... You remembered about his roommate. The fuss his argument might have caused. And another idea flashed in your head.

“If you want to, you can stay here for tonight.”

The proposition stayed suspended between the two of you for a moment. You couldn’t really tell if Pluto was simply reflecting on his options, or if he was fighting some sort of inner demon telling him he would be a burden.

Knowing him, there might have been a bit of both.

“I… I think I’d like that, actually.”

You’d be a liar if you said you weren’t a bit exited to have him with you tonight. The thought of spending more time with him always brought a smile to your lips. Holding him tight, you buried your face in his hair in contentment.

“Well I like that too. So it’s decided, I’m kidnapping you for the night.”

And when you heard him laugh at your words – timidly, for no longer than a second, but a laugh nonetheless –, you felt prouder of yourself than you had ever been.

[r6shippingdelivery]

I want to preface this by saying this post isn’t about any fandom in particular, it’s an issue that concerns all fandoms and it was a thought that sparked in my mind after reading some posts from generic fanfic sites/AO3 related. And it’s about the way fanfic writers are treated in general, even by fellow writers.

When someone makes a post reminding people that liking and reblogging/retweeting is the best way to help their favorite artists, or that comments help the algorithm and boost the creator’s confidence, everyone shares this and I don’t really see any dissenting voices. However, the moment someone makes a post saying that the way to support your favorite writers is by leaving kudos and commenting if you can, a lot of people flip their shit and start saying writers ask too much and feel entitled to comments and interaction. Why the fuck is there such a double standard?

Why is it okay to tell writers they should be grateful if people passively read their stories and never make their appreciation known, but I have never seen a post with people complaining in the same way about how artists expect engagement on their art posts? Occasionally, there’s some posts about the importance of sharing (by reblog/retweet, not reposting), but it’s usually more in the vein of pointing out how that’s on a downtrend and warning people that if they don’t share the art and stuff they like, the artists will eventually leave the platform. And yet the moment someone points out that if writers don’t get any encouragement they’ll eventually stop sharing and updating their stories, it’s a giant argument about how writers see fandom as a big transactional event and how they feel entitled to comments. Even writer focused spaces are spouting such sentiments, it’s mind boggling! 

If a writer talks about their lack of engagement on a story, they get bombarded with replies about how they should write for themselves only. Which is fair to a degree, but let’s look at it like this: if you baked your favorite cake and brought it to a potluck and nobody tried a slice of it, everyone would understand why you’d be a bit bummed. Yet writers get inundated with contradictory advice: you have to ask for concrit if you want interaction, try asking for specific questions at the end so your readers know what to comment about! Don’t ask for concrit and much less ask specific questions cause then the readers feel pressured and won’t comment. Answer to all comments you get or the readers won’t bother commenting if there’s no reply. Don’t reply to comments cause then you’re artificially inflating your story’s stats and commenters will be put off by that. Give a blanket statement about how you appreciate comments and kudos. Don’t do that because you look desperate. Etc. It’s a ‘damned if you do and damned if you don’t’ situation. No matter what route you pick, it seems like you’ll come off as entitled/desperate/clingy to people, just for saying “please, let me know there’s someone out there and I’m not throwing my stories to an empty void.” 

And while most of the focus of these big “writers ask for too much” rants are about comments, there’s also the kudos. Apparently the idea that if you read a story and enjoyed it you should leave kudos (aka, clicking a button - it’s like giving a like) is preposterous for some sectors too. So people won’t leave kudos on ongoing stories, and commenting is out of the question/too much effort, so they just read those ongoing multi-chapters silently - and then complain when the story is abandoned. God forbid the author saw the lack of interaction and decided that sharing their story wasn’t worth it since nobody seemed to like it, as far as they could tell. And to those crying they did like it…  well, if you don’t actually show that in a tangible way, how the fuck did you expect the author to know? Fandom might not be transactional in the way some people seem to think it’s suggested, it’s not a review/comment exchange, no. But it’s a place where people seek connection and community, and if you don’t talk to people you won’t make those connections. Not everyone is on the same social media circles, sometimes a comment on AO3 is all the fandom interaction people will have. And that’s okay. You can still make friends and connections like that. Hell, a lot of the fandom friends I met started with them commenting on a story of mine or vice-versa! 

Nobody is asking you to comment on every single story you read, that’s asinine and impossible, and tbh sounds more like a strawman argument than a real idea you can see in these discussions. All fanfic authors say is “if you enjoyed my work, leave a kudo and consider leaving a comment if possible, even if it’s just an emoji or keysmash, please”, and yet that’s deemed too demanding and/or manipulative. But being told artists need you to support them with likes and reblogs, and comments if possible, and please consider donating to their ko-fi - that is perfectly okay. And I’m not saying artists are entitled for that, not at all! I’m just asking y’all to consider why there’s such a double standard in the way people treat fanfic writers versus the way they treat fan artists. Because at the end of the day, both are creating the content fandom people like to see, and yet it doesn’t feel like both types of creators are treated in the same way.

[wisdomseeker02]

Tarot services

Pick a card (Pick a tote bag) Tarot reading

How can you attract love? 💖

Please REBLOG so this message can reach more people and my effort not to have been for nothing. Thank you 💕

Group 1 🦄: Dear group 1, you can attract love by tapping into your inner child more. By just looking to have fun and be happy, and enjoying the little things in life. By dancing, and playing, and having fun, by doing the things that used to bring you joy when you were a kid. By enjoying the moment more, and being grateful for what you have. By showing people you love them openly, the way you used to when you were a kid. Without being burdened by all the things that made your heart closed off. Show people you love them, by kissing them on the cheek, hugging them, telling them that, playing with them, without being afraid that you'll be rejected, or that you are too much. You're not, it's okay to be affectionate, let your love show. And for some, definitely just go and admit your feelings for your crush, because that will bring you into a relationship. Just show your feelings for the one you love right now, if there is one, be bolder! Also get together with people more, allow yourself to get close to more people, make more friends, it is good for you. For some, it's definitely a good time to go and offer the person you're into to be in a relationship with you. To attract love, you need to heal some internal issues, related to your heart being closed off. You definitely need to deal with your fear of rejection and being hurt, and go show your love for people.

Group 2 🐕: Dear group 2s, you can attract love, by just working on your projects, planning your future, and how you can bring those projects further. You also need to heal some fears of yours, but I don't even think they're related to love, they're related to your projects, business, work, study, stuff like that. You need to deal with those fears, and advance with your projects, without letting your fear of failure, judgment, disappointment, etc., hold you back. It's just that your focus needs to be on work right now. Work is the most important at this point of your journey. When you handle these matters, that's when you'll attract love. What you're working on is related to your divine soul's purpose, you are encouraged and protected on your path. The ideas and creativity you're getting come from the divine, so go on and act on them, it's definitely good for you. And it will eventually lead to you attracting the love that you deserve. You might even meet your so, because of working on whatever you're working on.

Group 3 ❤: Dear group number 3, you can attract love by establishing a better work/fun balance. I feel like you have been focusing on work far too much, and putting your relationships with others and having fun with them, in the background. You really need to stop working so much and go out and have fun with friends, meet new people and stuff. That's how you can attract love into your life. Go out and meet people, make new friends, get to know them. But even go out with your current friends and have fun. Or just do something, that you enjoy doing, instead of working all the time. Your love is there with the things that you enjoy. So you need to put effort into doing more of the things that you love doing, and that's how you're going to attract your lover. Ask yourself what makes you happy, what you truly love doing, listen to your gut, and do that. You might think that you don't know what that is, but deep inside you do, you just have to listen. Don't ignore it.

If you'd like to help me out and encourage me to make more pick-a-cards like this, you can tip me here ❤️

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

(tag!anon again) Thank you! I appreciate the immense effort you put into entertaining the rabid masses with polls <3

You're welcome! And thank you. :)

I'm going to use this ask as a jumping off point to make a masterpost of the tags in use.

The original posts get collected into rounds, and reblogs don't go into these tags (but statistic and chaos-causing posts sometimes do). So far we have #Preliminaries, #Round 1, #Round 2, #Round 3, #Round 4, #Round 5, #Round 6, #Round 7, and finally #Round 8.

The original posts will have more variations on character and podcast names, in order to show up in the tumblr-at-large search results.

Propaganda reblogs will be tagged with #Propaganda, #[Character Name], and #[Podcast Name]. There will be two character tags if the character has an accent in their name, and some of the podcasts get both an overall podcast tag and a campagin-specific podcast tag (but not all of them).

#Anti-Propaganda is used for anti-propaganda. I try to only reblog things in good fun as I explain in detail here, but my sense of fun isn't everybody's sense of fun, so I suggest people blacklist that tag if it's something they don't enjoy.

#Results is for the winner announcements and some statistics. I reblog with the number of votes and the percentage the winner won because the website version of the blog (versus the dashboard version of the blog) doesn't show results.

#Statistics is for statistics. ^_^

#Mod Update is for updates from me, the moderator. I put stuff in here both about the brackets and about things going on with me that might interfere with my presence as pollrunner (for example, traveling for the eclipse and thus not being here for the final hours of Pickman vs Glenn Close.

#Rules has announcements for how the brackets are run.

#Not A Poll is for posts that aren't polls.

#Other Polls are for polls from other tournaments (I only reblog ones with podcast characters, feel free to send me any you find).

#Technically A Poll is for polls that I make that aren't head-to-head match ups.

#Podcast Networks is for my poll on podcast networks, a subject I don't know much about.

#Bonus Poll is for non-bracket match-ups that I am personally interested in, and may not be as impartial as I am for the actual brackets.

#Adaptations Poll is for polls about stories that were originally fiction podcasts and later adapted into other mediums. I'm always taking recs for this one!

#Friendless Bracket is for a hypothetical 32-entry redo of the Unscripted Bracket that would only happen if a Friends at the Table character wins the Unscripted Bracket. This did not occur, so this bracket will not exist. In 2024 I will have stricter limits for how many characters from a single podcast can enter the bracket.

#Eye Bracket is for the bonus bracket that will occur after the main tournament has finished, focused on podcast characters with an eye motif.

#Monster Bracket is another bonus bracket, this one focusing on uniquely powerful characters that straddle the line between divine and monstrous.

#fictionpodsexyperson is my attempt at finishing the bracket that inspired this blog. Carlos won that one too.

#AI Bracket is yet a third bonus bracket, about artificial intelligences.

#Honorary Mention are for characters that didn't make it into the brackets.

#Ask is for answered asks. I also tag these with the username of the person who sent the ask. This is not because I am keeping a record of you all, but rather because I've been on Tumblr since before @ mentions and before people got notifications when their asks were answered.

#Last Reblog goes up roughly 1 day before the poll ends. These are scheduled posts that have only the propaganda those characters started that round with.

#Weekend Reblog, #Monday Reblog, and I'm sure there will be others are midweek reblogs of the polls, assuming I have the time to make them. Round 1 took 5 days to post so did not get midweek reblogs.

#Post-Polls Reactions is for reblogging people's reactions to the results of polls.

#Mod Interferes is for when I make an announcement during an ongoing poll in an attempt to get an interesting outcome.

#Love Wins is for ties. :)

#Voter Fraud covers what is and isn't allowed during these polls.

#Art Propaganda is for art that was added as propaganda, made in response to the polls, or that was sent to this blog to reblog.

#Masterpost is for big long posts like this one that I might edit and add to over time.

#Actual Play Rec List is for all non-D&D actual play podcasts and games.

#Listen List is for podcast recommendations.

#Valentine's Day is for childhood style valentines, and will only be posted in when it's February 14th somewhere in the USA. If you find any I haven't reblogged feel free to send them to me at any time, and I'll save them in the drafts until next year.

I will update this post as I remember or create other tags.

[the-au-collector]

I have no backing for this but I feel like every post about KH I’ve been making lately has been very negative??? Idk I reblogged a post today and realized it was really really negative? And like. I don’t like KH3. I stand by that. And it’s because I fucking love this series. I love it’s characters. I love how much of a madman Nomura is.

But. I can also feel the lack of love that went into KH3. That’s not to say there wasn’t any love. The world designs are phenomenal (did you know they modeled a specific city block in San Francisco for San Fransokyo’s level? I need to post that comparison soon). The gameplay, while too flashy and breaking the flow of gameplay constantly, looks really good. The game looks good. It feels good to play. I hate the game yet it’s my most replayed KH game to date.

Yet I can’t help but feel like Nomura was tired when writing it. He was tired of these characters. Tired of this arc. He wanted to move on. I don’t blame him. He’s been working on the Xehanort arc for around a decade. Damn, I would be tired too. But it’s a problem when I can feel that tiredness in the story.

And it permeates the story. The sequel-baiting. The bringing up things out of left field. Fucking Verum Rex. It’s just. KH3 feels tired. It feels tired of its own IP. It feels tired of the arc it’s supposed to be ending. It feels tired of Disney and Sora and the characters we’ve been following for years.

Idk, I mostly just feel disappointed about KH3. At this point, I’m just tired of it. I loathe the game because I love the series and I hate how lackluster of an ending KH3 got because Nomura got tired/wants to do other things with the series (*side eyes the hideous rebrand of Versus XIII as Verum Rex*). This series is near and dear to my heart and it’s just sad. When the game came out, I felt betrayed. There was too much coming out of left field. Too much focusing on what was ahead instead of closing off arcs. It was too little too late.

We waited thirteen years—and for what? For Sora to be sent left and right with no direction across 6 Disney worlds? For everything to be wrapped up in a nice little bow with little to no struggle or emotional agony that all of the previous games have consistently given us? For Sora to just be able to fix things with no consequences? For every world Sora was sent to to feel inconsequential (and I can see the effort there. I can see so, so much effort to make something. Each movie featured has themes of loss and sacrifice but it’s just not there in KH3)? For Sora to not even take a front-seat in most of the story? He’s just there, a vessel for the player to watch events that he has nothing to do with unfold? What happened to Sora, the main character? Why does no one want to involve him on anything? Now he’s just the dues ex machine all the important people get to call when they get in trouble. Where’s the setup? Where’s the payoff? Where’s the hours of Lea agonizing over Roxas and Xion? Where’s Aqua and Ven trying desperately to save Terra, knowing he might be too far gone? Where’s Sora, facing up against the biggest foe of his life, who’s supposed to be the most conniving, deceitful man ever? It all just gets shoved to the end, barely mattering outside of a single world.

The worst part is—I know Nomura can write something good. I know he can do the setup and payoff. He explained why Mickey was shirtless in KH1 for Pete’s sake! He did really good at Union X’s story and making us really care about the new characters we have never met! He made impeccable Disney Worlds in Dark Road that had plot relevance! I know he can make something good, great even! So why didn’t he with KH3?

Sorry for the long post. Figured I’d explain some of my disappointment in KH3. I really do love the series, and it’s what makes KH3 so disappointing and bad to me. I know this is a 5-year old conversation but I’d figured I’d put my 2 cents into the pot.

[hxhhasmysoul]

I remember you mentioned how most of your online friends in the jjk fandom are meta analysis people.

I’m assuming it due to you being excellent at media analysis, however… I was wondering if you have any online friends that you made who’s media literacy isn’t the highest out any sheer chances?

I’m asking this since I’ve personally have not, in fact I tend to go out of my way and not interact with anyone who’s not within the meta analysis group of the jjk fandom. Which would also include artists. I would still like their fanart and occasionally reblog it, but I’ll not personally interact with them beyond that. For fanfic writers, I personally don’t read any, so I also don’t interact with them either.

Lately though, my other friends notice how I’m been intentionally limiting my circle and being too judgmental, for they mention that while not everyone can create amazing meta posts, they are still expressing enjoyment about the same series.

I’m just personally curious to hear your thoughts and opinions on this, since you’ve also mentioned how you tend to block people you deemed unworthy of your time, so I feel like you might understand a bit where I’m coming from.

i'm not excellent at media analysis, @subdee or @cursedvibes are. and they tolerate me so.

i'm also judgemental and mean and i can rant to my friends and be very unpleasant, i do it less in public but i can also lash out in reblogs.

about the media literacy... with some people you can discuss stuff and kinda point out that they are ignoring some stuff or they could consider something. but online it's hard. and i usually just become snide about it and it never goes anywhere. it's like several stars have to align for it to happen: 1) the person needs to be open to have their opinion questioned, 2) you need to be open to question in a way that will not put them off before the message gets across, 3) you actually need a good argument, 4) you need not to be like me and get confrontational and angry 90% of the time, 5) the conv o needs to move into the dms - in public it's almost guaranteed to fail, 6) other - who knows what really.

most of the time however it ends up in a confrontation. and then blocking.

when i'm in a calmer mood i block preemptively not to rile myself up. but sometimes i'm in a bad mood and then i will start shit.

and there's also the question of flavour of the media illiteracy. like i will not discuss stuff with bigots, these are insta blocks. i will not discuss stuff with the fandom purity police, one because they are often bigots and two because they don't understand they use the language and concepts of the far right and it's like a very fundamental problem.

in the jjk fandom specifically i will not discuss stuff with people who espouse views that "gege hates ...", or call gege a misogynist or accuse them of an incest fancier, or use violent language towards gege, those people are too far gone, those are insta blocks.

i will also not try to talk to people whose main interest in hxh or jjk is completely different than mine. i don't give a single shit about stsg, at this point it actively irks me and i will ignore people who engage in it. ii will not engage with people who call yuuji boring or say he's not the main character, it'd be too much effort to talk to them and probably with no reward.

i have also a lot of smaller pet peevs that i will either block people over or not engage at all. so i do understand you anon and i think life's too short to waste on people you'd have nothing to talk to.

though my situation is quite different, i read a lot of fanfic and write it too so i interact with a lot of writers. not everyone i interact with is into meta.

it honestly depends on what you like and how you want to interact and what you want to talk about. if you only care about meta then interact with people who like these kinds of discussions, it's ok not interact with people if you don't vibe on the same wave length. i've said it before, i'm very much into organically finding people you vibe with. sometimes i interact with people and it feels we have stuff in common but the convo just doesn't really work, it's kinda awkward or whatever. and well it's not meant to be, there will be others.

[thirdmagic]

ah, yes... i dont know if it is people we share on our following list and I am not even sure if i was mutuals with them or if they unfollowed at some point before this but there were a few people, from fate fandom, people that i at least have been following for years and years, who put some stuff on my dash on the day of october 7th that. well. i jumped ship pretty much instantly because it sure was something to see after being woken by sirens and spending most of my day running between my apartment door and the bomb shelter and then seeing what was happening on the news. but yeah i havent seen a lot of it, like two-three people but i also know just enough of tumblr fate fandom to know how insular it is that i can pretty much extrapolate what must be going on in other blogs and what you must have seen. so i clearly ran away right on time lol

i don't even know if they've even forgotten some of these parts so much as they never learned about them or never knew. or maybe they haven't forgotten but need their specific easy narrative and to project their own familiar political issues on it so badly that they willingly remain ignorant. i also think there's just such an issue where the only antisemitism that registers as such in many people's minds really is just the shoah and the idea of a jew as a tragic victim of the shoah is the only one they can work with, so they just compartmentalize that from any kind of currently living, breathing, existing jewish person who is not so easily perfect-victim-ized.

but honestly, i think none of us here realized how bad it was too. i had a feeling something like this would happen one day eventually inevitably but it seemed to me like the next moment of devastation had to be way more far off and also that people would obviously do at least the bare minimum of caring and acknowledging that it's bad that it happened and to at least be a little compassionate because that's normal to expect, right. again, not a high bar, surely, right. and well. you know how that worked out.

and to you both: thank you for your kind words and your compassion and understanding. i am pretty much as safe as i can be, there has been rockets and attacks in the areas around where i live and smaller individual instances within it but nowhere near the scale of what's been going on elsewhere. emotionally i've had a few very rough days and very, very low points this past week, i won't lie, especially since i've spent the first week just kinda absorbed in following the news, but i'm doing much better than i used to and figuring out ways to deal with it and to cope, i've had a lot of people willing to listen and talk to, and i managed to find community in several different places to bond around this and work through it together

and you know for all the awfulness and all the ways people have been horrible about it online and elsewhere there's also been a lot of goodness, many, many people reached out to me personally in support, and i treasure and appreciate every single bit and every single effort you can make. and honestly it's especially valuable coming from gentiles and in general everyone who isnt affected or involved, i understand the risk it carries for you all to go against the grain and how much easier it would be to just go long with the narrative that refuses to listen and understand. so again, thank you. this stuff kinda helps me get through the day, even if it's just thoughts, words, or reblogs, it is still valuable to me and others.