#idk whether to write a fic

[moominsuki]

about your recent post, could u recommend any fic with the “bakugo and you travel to the future” trope?

@bfbkg has a some tags going for this trope!! but i will be writing something on this so if u guys have any ideas lmk

[2btheanswertothequestion]

Okay hear me out.. this: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMYmB1Vj4/ as Steve actually agrees to sit down for once at Hellfire

"... he picks you up by your breastplate straps and pushes you against the wall. He screams in your face; bits of spittle hit your chin."

Eddie grins, all his teeth on display, as he describes the scene, but he's the only one. Everyone else is fidgeting in their seats or grimly contemplating their next actions.

Tension hangs thick in the room. They're nearing the end of the session and were so close to exiting the catacombs when they ran into another enemy encounter: ghouls, four of them. Their party of nine will probably make it out mostly unscathed, but it's still an obstacle between them and aboveground.

And worst of all? One of the ghouls just grabbed their least experienced member.

Steve stares at the miniatures representing him and the ghoul, listening to Eddie with a furrow between his eyes. For someone who needed months of aggravating pleading to even sit down at the table, he's been really serious about playing. No one would fault him for showing up merely to be a nuisance in the quest of teaching them to accept 'no' as an answer (well, actually, they would fault him, but they'd also, like, understand why he'd do it). But he hasn't done that! He's put in the effort to be a model player and has barely partaken in any shitheaded shenanigans.

Which is why it's a bit of a surprise when, once Eddie finishes, Steve looks him straight in the eye and asks:

"Can I flirt with him?"

Splutters and groans erupt from around the table. Eddie himself barks out a shocked laugh. Steve simply raises an eyebrow in question, coolness personified.

Still snickering, Eddie shakes his head. "No, man. You can't do that."

"Why not? I'll use my charms and convince him to let us pass."

"Ghouls are immune to charm spells-"

"Hey, it's not a spell! S'all natural!"

"-and why would you want to flirt with it?"

Propping his elbow on the tabletop, Steve rests his chin on the palm of his hand and smiles, almost coquettishly.

"Maybe being pushed into a wall by a strong man turns me on?"

More groans, louder and more dramatic. Heads tossing and eyes rolling. Which might be why none of them notice that their fearless dungeon master has turned the deepest shade of crimson.

No one except Steve, who's yet to break eye contact with him.

Eddie sighs, burying his face in his hands out of frustration (and only out of frustration). He says, voice muffled, "You still can't do that. There's no reason for him to be affected – his goal is to eat you. Persuading him to do anything is a waste of time."

Steve hums. "So, he won't be affected?"

"Exactly," Eddie says after a moment, peeking through his fingers. "He won't."

"Hm. Guess I'll try to push him off me, then."

Nodding, Eddie removes his hands. He's still slightly pink, but that could just as well be due to the basement's stuffy atmosphere.

"Do an athletics check."

And if he's casting semi-distracted glances toward Steve for the remainder of the session, his players are too absorbed by the game to notice.

(It's not until the next morning that Dustin jerks away from his Lucky Charms to exclaim "That's what that sonuvabitch meant!")

(Claudia immediately scolds him for swearing at the breakfast table.)

[marragurl]

Saxaphone player Gallagher has not left my mind since the jazz night art dropped AND THEN Robin saying Halovian’s innately have good voices and Sunday used to hum lullabies to her as kids happened in the 2.2 special program, and I’m sure you guys can see where my unfortunate Galladay heart is going with this.

Whoever decided to make this art, I love you. I hope your pillow is cool every night, you’re never stuck in traffic, and your water is refreshing with every sip.

Also the art of Sunday with the White Gentlemen drink in the S.P.A.R.K.L.E jazz night event has also spiraled into me delusionally thinking that’s his go to drink. Which is hilarious since Robin has hinted before that he seems to have a massive sweet tooth in her letters.

(Sunday how do you even make holding a drink menacing, Sunday please get some therapy-)

So imagine this:

Pre 2.0 Galladay, where they’re both wary and suspicious of each other but didn’t do anything outright. Sunday slowly began to visit Gallagher’s bar whenever he had time to observe the Hound, initially on the down low just to get a sense of what he was working with and what to keep an eye on. He always gravitated to that one corner booth that every bar had with the most privacy, and just stalked there for a few hours before leaving. (Smol menacing birb in a tree vibes)

Gallagher obviously knew that Sunday was doing this (even though everyone else seemed to somehow completely miss him, Gallagher wouldn’t be surprised if Sunday was doing some weird Harmony mind tricks), and after the first few “stakeouts,” he bit the bullet and actually approached the table to engage with Sunday, on the off chance this was some weird “test of loyalty” by the Halovian to see if the Hound would swallow his pride to serve his so-called masters.

Nothing terrible happened, but he remained passive-aggressively polite when serving him, and Sunday remained passive-aggressively cool-headed in response. There was some snark of what dear “sweet-toothed” Sunday would want at a bar, and an icy reply of “aren’t you the master drink smith? Why don’t you show me those skills you boasted about?” which led to Gallagher being petty and giving Sunday the White Gentlemen drink, both for the story behind it being such a metaphor for Sunday, and because it was on the more bitter side of alcoholic drinks.

Sunday wasn’t too against the drink; it wasn’t something he would have ordered if it had been his choice, but it wasn’t a bad drink by any means. He couldn’t help but continue to drink it even after Gallagher left his little hidey booth to go back to the main bar, but he’d never stoop so low as to complement the Hound. Of course, he never ordered anything else from then on, only White Gentleman. In fact, over time it seemed to slowly get better, the flavors grew on him, and he couldn't help but look forward to it during difficult nights in the Dreamscape.

If Gallagher tried to needle him into a different drink, Sunday just bit back a “oh? Admitting defeat? I thought this was your best drink for me?” with a little smirk while Gallagher had to use every bit of self-control to not punch him in the face.

As time went on, the bar slowly became a place Sunday frequented to not quite relax, but to get away from the hustle and bustle of Penacony and his duties as one of its main faces. The stresses slowly started piling up, especially with the Charmony fast approaching in a few months and all that came with it.

Gallagher didn’t seem to loosen up regarding his attitude with Sunday, but he did get better at shoving down the visceral hatred he had for everything to do with The Family and Sunday as time went on. He didn’t get soft with Sunday per se, but he definitely kept an eye out for him, and definitely knew when to cut off his drinks on days where it seemed that Sunday wasn’t all that there for their usual veiled comments towards one another when he went to serve him his drink.

It started small, with Sunday staying later and later until sometimes he was the last one to leave the bar to return to reality. Gallagher wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, still wasn’t quite sure this wasn’t some weird long-term test Sunday was devising, especially since he still seemed to be the same ruthless Family member, the same Head of the Oak Family, when Gallagher was working as a Bloodhound outside the bar. For some reason though, within the enclosed space of this strange sanctuary, it was almost peaceful between the two.

One night, there was something wrong when Sunday entered the bar during Gallagher’s shift. He saw a bit of a crowd near the small stage that was within eyesight of his little hidey booth, it seemed some of the musicians of the live band were arguing? He watched as Gallagher came over, seemed to try to speak with the group before honing in on one of the musicians who had been making the most noise and seemed to be about to get physical with the rest. Sunday watched as Gallagher picked up the musician by the scruff of their suit with one hand and carried them towards the doors and lightly tossed them out.

(It was the first time Sunday had actually seen Gallagher perform anything resembling the actual duty of a Bloodhound. It only hit him that he’d only ever seen the other when giving reports, orders, or at the bar. Why was this so shocking to him, he’d seen the man’s arms before, hard not to with his slovenly dress and messy clothing style, as if he couldn’t bother to hide away his imperfections from the world, not like Sunday who refused to be seen by the world, to dare to show one thing off about himself despite his countless failings- he’s getting far too distracted by one meager showing of strength, focus Sunday)

There had always been a live music segment. Sunday was curious to see what would happen with the band missing a member, but was distracted by Gallagher placing his usual White Gentlemen in front of him before heading back to the musicians without a single word to him. Gallagher took a moment to speak with the rest of the band, who seemed to be coming out of their shock and took on worried looks. Sunday could only watch in muted shock as Gallagher went behind the bar and came back with a case, opening it to reveal a saxophone. He then went on stage with the rest of the group, positioned himself further to the side and in the back amongst the shadows within Sunday’s line of sight, and played with the band for the rest of the night.

Sunday couldn’t look away.

He was frozen as he watched Gallagher seamlessly transition from song to song, taking only small breaks to continue serving the other patrons before heading back in. Sunday only remembered about his own drink when his gloves began to get wet from the ice melting into condensation on his glass.

Something felt off within Sunday, and for the first time since Robin’s debut, he couldn't help humming to the music of the band, music that wasn’t of his own sister’s making. He couldn’t help but remember those little concerts the two would have, taking care of his little sister, his only world. He would do anything to keep the Harmony, to keep their family going. When was the last time they truly spent time together? Before he became the Head of the Oak Family? Before he couldn't recognize his own smile?

He was so lost in his thoughts, in memories he thought he buried, that he didn’t realize that it was once again closing time, and he was once again the last one left. He only snapped out of it when Gallagher came by to grab his empty glass, only quirking a questioning brow at him before heading back to the bar.

Gallagher had been keeping a quiet eye on the Halovian that night from the back of the band, in the shadows he felt the most comfort in when in the Dreamscape of Penacony. He had watched Sunday’s eyes glaze over, and the only reason he hadn’t felt offended by the seeming disinterest was the look in the other man’s eyes reminding him of his own when he looked in the mirror. The same look of shame, regret, loss, longing, of the wishes to regain everything he had lost. The same look he strove to hide under every bit of the facade he had crafted of this new self, but came back all too often with every reference of the Family found within his prison in the Dreamscape.

Maybe it was the shared nostalgia within his own heart, that little bit of his true self that he thought died when the Family tore out everything that made him who he was, that made him return behind the bar and begin making Sunday another White Gentlemen, giving Sunday a small nod to beckon him over. He wasn’t expecting anything from it, and he masked his own surprise when Sunday actually left his little shelter to come and take a seat in front of him at the bar. Even while out of it, Gallagher made note of the quiet confidence the other still carried himself. Nothing seemed wrong to anyone else looking at him, only for the lost look in his eyes.

The first time in the many months that they’ve been skirting around each other, and finally they seemed to be face to face.

It was quiet as Gallagher made Sunday his usual drink, a drink he had been slowly changing over the months to be sweeter and sweeter that Sunday never quite seemed to notice, or if he did, he never said anything, only seeming to savor it more each subsequent night. Maybe not even Gallagher noticed his own changes to the drink, subtle as they were.

It was quiet as Sunday took the finished drink, and it was quiet as his eyes slid over the bartop to see the saxophone case laying open with the instrument inside. It was quiet as Gallagher followed his eyes, as he came out from behind the bartop to take the saxophone out and take a seat in a chair only one seat down from Sunday’s. It was quiet as Gallagher began to play to his audience of one.

It was quiet as Sunday quietly hummed along.

It was quiet as they both knew that it would not last.

OK yea so this was all because I heard ‘La vie en rose’ at the end of the Jazz night event and went “Damn I wish that’s Gallagher playing on his Sax” and then we spiraled.

Uh. Idk what it is with me having a small ship moment which then spirals into a full blown writing session. My mind blanked out and as I came to I find out that I made a whole ass little one shot over here then completely forgot about it WHOOPS

So yea, hope my fellow Galladay enjoyers… enjoyed! I think I’ve slowly begun to crave… not domestic or fluff per se from these two, but after every AO3 fic being super dark between them (which I get! They are the toxic yaoi kings of Penacony as of writing this, no one is denying that!) I think I want to see them be explored in a more melancholic sense. Not quite the “forbidden” love angle, but in the “damn we kinda have some parallels, and maybe in another life we could have gotten along but there’s too much baggage and anger, both historically and currently to really even try anything”

I have this feeling this may not be the last time I write about these two… is Galladay going to be the ship that gets me to actually use my AO3 account?

[lovesickeros]

can.. can I ask for an affectionate reader with characters who aren’t normally like… used to the love? like, not just through words but physical affection like hand-holding, kisses, hugs, all that shebang. probably with a few people like yelan, ei, basically any character that is either cut-off from society or seems socially distant or isolated. 😞

☆ affectionate reader with yelan, ei, & furina

[ 4.2 Archon Quest spoilers ]

× yelan

Varies between how you display your affection, to be honest. Just like being affectionate with people? She's cool with it as long as you don't pop by while she's working (mostly because she'll end up dragging you into it for a bit of fun). I don't think she's all that touchy feely herself, but she'll absolutely get you gifts instead– like pretty knick nacks? She'll make sure to snag any she thinks you might like. Like a good meal? Sure, she'll take you out to one of the restaurants in the city, doesn't matter how expensive. Her treat. If you do prefer physical gifts rather then being taken out, you'll eventually get used to the random unmarked letters and packages showing up where your staying pretty often. It's obvious to know who it came from even if she never signs anything.

Flirty reader, though? Whole nother can of worms and now it's a challenge. The more confident you are the more interested she is. The other acolytes would absolutely seethe at the idea but she has no hesitation at just straight up flirting back– she's as charismatic as they come and she's got a poker face that's basically impenetrable. She'll probably also make a bet to see who cracks first (she always wins, unsurprisingly). Probably won't get dragged into any of her schemes this way but if you ask politely maybe she'll consider it, anyway.

The smell of freshly brewed tea and the clatter of dice across wood was a common sight at the Yanshang Teahouse– less common was the woman secluded in the far corner, her lips pulled into a grin that flashed fangs and a look that would scare off the most confident of men.

She'd normally try to scope out any new blood that'd made the mistake of stepping into her teahouse and was equally stupid enough to accept a gamble against her just for the thrill of it, but she was far too absorbed in the warm body at her side, one of her die clasped tightly in their hand as she guided them through the motions– they had a knack for it, she had to admit. The thought made her preen, the clatter of the die as it rolled across the table giving her that subtle, familiar rush.

Even if she knew exactly where it'd land.

"Six. Hm, maybe you're just lucky," She muses, plucking the die from the table and holding it up to her eye like a prized jewel, "Or maybe you're not as innocent as you'd have us believe." There's a sharp glint in her eyes at the prospect, but everyone else has the sense to keep their heads down and their words to themselves as she tosses the die herself.

"So why don't we find out and make a bet, just between you and me?"

× ei

Varies between Ei and the Shogun, because you'll probably be seeing either as much as the other. Sometimes you gotta really squint to tell who it is sometimes, but you get used to it. Both are fairly similar, though, in that their first instinct (especially in public) is to tense up like you're about to attack them or something. Difference is Ei eventually relaxes after a solid minute of trying to process your sudden affection and, if no one else is around, she might even reciprocate. Just don't tease her for being a little stiff and awkward about it, she's trying. That's what happens when your only company is a robot and uh. Nothing. For like 500 years. She's trying. Raiden, on the other hand, is just about as awkward as you can imagine. She's polite (blunt) about it because Ei is fond of you and also you are. The Creator. But she's not really built to deal with personal relationships and so she doesn't know how to deal with affection.

..Depending on what you do you may or may not blue screen Ei hard enough that she retreats back to PoE

Ei usually isn't fond of sitting still, unless it's to meditate. At least then she goes in with a purpose, something to achieve– but now, she's just focused on trying not to make a fool of herself. Her muscles are starting to ache from how hard she's tensing, though, in an effort to sit as straight and still as possible as their hands glide through her hair, weaving it into a single braid.

She can just barely hear the subtle lilt of their voice as they hum– and though it is soothing, it is also..very distracting. She can't focus long enough to try and meditate, too lost in the gentle rise and fall of their voice and the care they take to braid her hair. If she'd had a heart, she'd sure it'd be beating so wildly against her ribcage they could hear it.

But then it stops– their hands fall back to their sides and their humming falters. She freezes, too, racking her brain for any slights she must have committed. Instead, she is met with a calm, tender touch on the back of her neck, making her inhale sharply.

"Am I making you uncomfortable, Ei? You're so tense.." She has to grit her teeth to stop herself from bowing so low her head presses against the ground, her hands folded in her lap, clenching instinctively. "..No, Divine One." She answers simply, trying to contain the adoration swelling in her chest.

Yet as much as she tries to relax, to ease their worries, she finds that she cannot.

"Hm." That small murmur, a simple sound that nearly made her jump, was the only warning she got before they scooted closer, wrapping their arms around her stomach and resting their chin on her shoulder with a grin she would liken to Miko's, if she dared to make such a comparison. "Really?"

She swears she must've been feverish at the affection, lightheaded and dazed until she thought she might simply perish at the brush of their hands against her own.

Much to her embarrassment, however, she doesn't realize she's instinctively pulled back into Plane of Euthymia until she sees the familiar dull purples engulf her vision once again.

Though only a small solace, it seemed a little..brighter, this time.

× furina

Varies between pre 4.2 and post 4.2 archon quests to be honest.

Pre 4.2 she comes off as very vain– of course the most Divine would see fit to spoil her with affection! She deserves it, and is obviously their favorite! Just don't look too hard because she's terrible at hiding how flustered she actually is. Absolutely goes home right after and screams into her pillow for at least thirty minutes minimum.

Post 4.2 she's a lot more openly bashful and flustered. She's really not used to affection and even the smallest show of it has her folding immediately. Now that she doesn't need to worry about being found out she's a lot more receptive to affection. Cup her cheeks and compliment her and her knees are buckling. Like. Especially weak for compliments and praise (she deserves it. please spoil her).

She swears she must be hallucinating– she had been having trouble sleeping recently. But..no. The visage of the Creator was as real as the sweat beading on her brow as she stared at them for a long, awkward moment. Should..she let them in? But then they'd see the pathetic state she was in, and the last thing she wanted to do was make a fool of herself in front of them-!

Her choice was quickly made for her, anyway, as she let out an undignified squeak of surprise when they suddenly tugged her forward into their chest, enclosing her in a hug.

Her first reaction was to freeze– her second was becoming absolutely flustered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink and her mouth closing and opening as she tried to find her words.

"I– ah..um." She stumbled over her words instead, floundering like a fish out of water. Yet she felt a distinct sense of emptiness wash over her when they finally pulled back, looking a touch sheepish. "Sorry, sorry– you just looked like you needed a hug."

The silence spoke for itself, her shoulders tensing slightly. But the way the concern and affection bled through their voice made her waver, her hands trembling as she let out a shaky breath that almost sounded like a sigh.

"It's..It's fine! Fine, I'm fine." She repeated, trying desperately to ignored the way her voice cracked and how hot her face felt– though it was more an attempt to affirm herself that she was not thinking about how warm they felt, how much she..actually enjoyed the hug. She wasn't thinking about it all! Absolutely not!

..Maybe a little.

"Just warn me next time, please?"

[theminecraftbee]

can i request three somehow forced into a fake dating situation

Three stares directly into Martyn’s eyes. They are blue and of an average size. It feels as though maybe this should be against the rules, but according to the book it had read, this was… normal. A normal thing to do on a date. Look deeply into someone’s eyes. It would not be suspicious at all, even though Three isn’t really sure how to look more or less deeply into anyone’s eyes at all. Eyes are not flat, but even when Three Looks, it isn’t as though there is anything interesting in there.

Martyn is sweating somewhat. He looks away first.

Three’s pretty sure this counts as a victory, especially given Martyn can’t see Three’s face behind the mask anyway. It is good Three has now won the game of ‘staring lovingly into its date’s eyes’, because that had been a strange, threatening mortal ritual. It would rather not do that again.

“Haha, thanks again for agreeing to this date,” Martyn says, very suspiciously looking around the small cafe in a bustling semi-private Origins server. “It’s been so long since we’ve gotten to hang out like this. Gods, do I sound stupid.”

“You do,” Three says.

“You don’t have to answer those,” Martyn says.

“Will comply,” Three says.

“Oh, for the love of—we’re on a date. A date!” Here, Martyn winks obnoxiously. “It’s not a mission.” He winks obnoxiously again. “Besides, you should lighten up!”

“Will comply,” Three says.

“You know, I had forgotten how obnoxious that was,” Martyn says cheerfully. “Anyway, I should order us some drinks! Have some conversation! Keep an eye out around us, yeah, for our waiter?”

“You are not very subtle,” Three says.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Martyn says. “Besides, honestly? I am really glad to just hang out with you. Because we’re dating! On this server for fancy couples. Yep.”

The problem is, of course, that a fancy origins server is a great place for the strangest of people to hide.

When Martyn had asked a favor, Three had been… uncertain. This was not because Three doesn’t care for Martyn—it does, greatly—or because Three didn’t want to see Martyn—they’d met up a few times before now, tentative and quiet and frustrated and all the things that were hard to explain, and then in all the ways they were okay again—but because Martyn, for all Three cares for him, is still an idiot.

Three is its own handler, now. It does not have to follow handlers that are morons. It had told Martyn this. When Martyn had stopped wheezing, he’d explained that it’d be fun. Not Listener business, he promised; he still hadn’t quite gotten out, but he wouldn’t drag Three in, Scout’s honor.

(Three believes him. It’s never been that Three doesn’t trust him.)

It was a friend of Martyn’s that had gone missing. Apparently, on some fancy modded server? And now, Martyn wanted Three to come help him do some recon because, quote, “Jimmy laughed at me until he cried and that hurt me a little bit, not going to lie, and I’ve used up the favors Ren owes me, and Oli was busy. Have you met Oli? You’d like Oli.”

(Three did not like Oli.)

Three agreed, despite its better judgement. The reason it thought this may be a poor plan was because—

“Ah, the lovely Valentines,” the waiter says. He gives them a plate of lovely heart-shaped calamari. Three wonders if they had belonged to heart-shaped squid. “It’s a lovely evening, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s wonderful here with my beloved!” Martyn says.

The waiter and Martyn both look at Three. Three doesn’t say anything and sits perfectly still.

“Um,” the waiter says.

“It’s for a health condition,” Martyn says, which technically isn’t a lie.

“Very well, sirs, although it may get in the way of the kissing competition!”

Martyn, who had just started sipping some wine, chokes on it.

“I will win the kissing competition,” Three says.

Martyn chokes harder.

“I will see you to it!” the waiter says. “And of course, our patented species comparability exam is the highlight of the evening.”

“Oh. I am not sure I can produce viable offspring,” Three says.

The waiter stares at Three. Three stares back, although not into the waiter’s eyes, as to not cause any confusion. The mask somewhat prevents that from working, though.

“Very well then,” the waiter says. “I suppose just—do you need help?”

“It knows what it’s doing,” Martyn hisses.

“I did do research before coming here,” Three says.

“I’ll just head on,” the waiter says, in a tone that suggests to Three that maybe it did not do enough research before agreeing to help Martyn.

Oh well.

At least the mask means it doesn’t have to keep a straight face as it picks Martyn off the ground and, completely flat in tone, says: “Do not die. I would be sad if you died of something as stupid as choking on wine.”

“I asked for this,” Martyn says.

“Yes,” Three says. “You did. That is why I am here.”

(Beneath the table, it grabs Martyn’s hand. Martyn squeezes Three’s hand back. It had missed him, though. For all they do not see each other often—)

(Well. It had missed him, though.)

[izharmilgram]

u versus the victorian vampire that emerged from ur cupboard (harrymort au)

[astarlightmonbebe]

“when you play go, you pursue your desires in silence. you seduce, and you fall. you strip each other bare. and if your partner doesn't reciprocate, then it's just a game of go.”

go as an overarching symbol throughout the glory, both figuratively as a representation of dongeun’s revenge, and also as a metaphor for class and relations (between her and the men in her life, i.e. yeojeong and doyeong).

on a relational level, go is a game of seduction. it’s a mental sword dance, so to speak. dongeun learns it with revenge in mind - she plans to catch the interest of doyeong, the husband of the girl who destroyed her life. she uses go to approach him - she seduces him the very first time he sees her play, so much that he can’t get her out of his head. she uses go to entice him; she wins before he even knows that he’s playing.

dongeun learns go for the purposes of ensnaring doyeong, but it’s yeojeong who first teaches her go at all. and it’s go that becomes a cornerstone of their burgeoning relationship as well. throughout the seasons, go helps both of them, as something that centers them, tethers them to current life. for yeojeong, his sessions mentoring dongeun in go were the only thing that created a schedule for him in his most turbulent time (after his father died, etc.). it becomes their mode of communication - he asks her to make a play so that he can know she came by. a silent way of saying i’m alive.

and then there’s dongeun approaching doyeong to play go, then them meeting again at the park he designed. yeojeong also approaches doyeong to play go, also purposefully - the man who taught dongeun vs the man she learned to play for. 

but for dongeun, go is never about the men so much as it is about herself. go becomes something she loves for what it is, a game that builds territories, a game where the enemy can be slowly and methodically destroyed as you take all their territories, like how she plans to take everything from yeonjin. it reminds her of the dreams of being an architect she had before she had to drop out of school from the bullying/assault.

doyeong says that one of his go teachers tells him that he was born holding the black stones. when dongeun plays with yeojeong for the first time, she says she has to start with the white stones, since she’s the beginner. that’s how they play, for months. when doyeong meets dongeun after finding out the beginnings of the truth, he says that this game is more difficult than the ones he’s played in the past (and she beats him, the first time they play prior to that meeting). 

the black stones represent the upper hand, the wealthy. it’s a class metaphor, especially when related to doyeong. yeojeong also starts out with the black stones, maybe because of wealth, maybe because he’s learned it for far longer. maybe because life was kinder to him. dongeun starts at the bottom, with the white stones, because she has nothing and knows nothing.

but when she places her first stones on the go board, she plays with the black.

[zukkaoru]

the disparity in kudos between a skk fic and a fic for literally any other bsd characters/ship :/

[jrueships]

I WANT WRITING PROOOOMPTSSSSSS

[frnkiebby]

your thoughts on frank are being helpful for my shitty fanfic, I appreciate it :)

😂☠️ i’m so very glad i can be of assistance~🎃

[extra-somethin-somethin]

hey so do you think wtv keiko had to deal with growing up with yusuke could be considered a type of parentification

[solardistress]

everyone who is in the stanley parable fandom should somehow get sucked into the rabbit hole of the story and or characters and or the concept the game presents . not like ohhh i looove the narratorso much heres my design and lore for them for it kind of rabbit hole where you fixate on this character that like. you are making uo backstory for to the point it deviates from canon because youve gone too far from the game details or whatever but but really aanalyze the game the moments the dialogue for just a moment . mmfind the meaning in the words . find somethin g profound in the data the papers the desks the situation as a whole . you cant just . romanticize the characters. without. like. understanding them first . tou cwnt do anything with the characters until you inderstand them at a gut wrenching level . at least brush uo on their wiki once in a while ? play the game ? every now and then ? treat stanley right ? anyway if you like the stanley parable so much why cant you tell me about 432 and their situation . how profoundly sad their existance is and how you trea t them. how about cookie9? why do you hate themm so much. because of a review ? tou antagonize them for what ? the narrators doing ? bexause the narrator what . yeah . tou cant even explain his actions . go go play the game and hav eit rewrite your brain . go down the rabbit hole and bask in the true horror and unrealism of their situation

[saeshiraw]

tired girl hours i’m just ranting bcos i don’t have enough time to cry

[renegade-skywalker]

delving into fic for larger fandoms is always such a gamble for me bc I know it will just be riddled with ooc writing which is quite possibly my biggest ick, especially when it comes to romance (I get that fantasies are a thing but... I like my smut canon compliant lmao what can I say??)

[illegiblehandwriting1]

lmaooooo who's up for a repetitive convo while casually fighting some skeletons

[ckret2]

@actuallyaltaria said: You could probably get away with something newer still like Steven Universe! They sing about their feelings!

This is gonna be a long post because every time I go "man it sucks I can't mention [some kids' cartoon] lmao" I get multiple people trying to suggest ways I can include some kids' cartoon, so I think I need to explain myself.

"Use Steven Universe instead" is a solution if you're assuming I'm coming from a position of "my ACTUAL GOAL is to reference a TV show, any TV show, that people know about, I'm just struggling to find one that's universally familiar." So let me clarify: my "alas, if only everybody knew the plot of Rainbow Brite" theatrics are me being funny for my own entertainment.

I want, very specifically, to NOT reference a real TV show, no matter how well-known it is.

I've mentioned before that I don't want any part of this fic to be dependent upon the audience knowing some other series. I'm extremely firm on this. It would be alienating to any readers who aren't familiar with the property, it would be alienating to readers who ARE familiar with the property but dislike it, it would be distracting to people who know the property TOO well—and it doesn't fit into the Gravity Falls universe.

Gravity Falls doesn't make references to real world pop culture! The hit rap song of the summer isn't attributed to a known rapper like Lil Jon or Snoop Dogg, it's Lil Bigg Dawggg. The biggest boy band isn't NSYNC, it's Sev'ral Timez. There's no Dungeons & Dragons; there's Dungeons, Dungeons, & More Dungeons. There's no Fun Dip, there's Smile Dip. The master of claymation isn't Ray Harryhausen, it's Harry Claymore. Hoo-Ha Owl substitutes for Chuck E. Cheese, Fight Fighters for Street Fighters, BABBA for ABBA... for Journal 3 they even made up a dimension named Exwhylia so that they could avoid canonically mentioning Flatland.

Almost every song, show, cartoon, band, movie, food product, chain business, or other brand name that gets mentioned in Gravity Falls is either a parody of a specific real-world equivalent or a broader parody of a whole category of pop culture.

In a universe where some of Mabel's favorite series are Believe in Yourself and Dream Boy High, it would be weird and jarring to throw in something real like Care Bears.

Honestly—putting my jokes about forcing all of tumblr to watch a cartoon aside—gun to my head if I was forced to include a reference to a real world cartoon, I'd probably be less likely to use Steven Universe than something like Care Bears or Rainbow Brite. Steven Universe would be even MORE jarring. Like, most of the people who are inclined to read Gravity Falls fanfics probably haven't seen Rainbow Brite, so—even though it still has the "this is a Real Thing so it feels like you're expected to know about it" stigma that adding ANY real thing to the fic would have—it's at least is on equal footing with Believe in Yourself and Dream Boy High in that it's still the name of something distant and unfamiliar to most readers, and therefore I could say anything I wanted about it and most people would be like "sure, okay."

On the other hand, Steven Universe? This is tumblr. SU and GF are plot-driven kids' sci-fi cartoons about kids caught in supernatural shenanigans and complicated family relationships that were airing at the same time. The audience overlap between Gravity Falls and Steven Universe is almost a circle. Anybody who sees Steven Universe get name dropped in a Gravity Falls fic is NOT going to see it as some distant unfamiliar story-within-a-story being introduced as a lighthearted narrative device for a goofy "Mabel thinks showing Bill children cartoons is a valid form of therapy" scene. It's going to be the heavy handed insertion of a MASSIVE fandom that a LOT of readers will already have EXTREMELY STRONG IN-DEPTH OPINIONS about—and any that DON'T have such strong opinions are probably the ones who are sick to death of seeing Steven Universe everywhere and are just gonna be irritated that now, apparently, knowledge of that show is necessary to read this Gravity Falls fanfic??

If I said "Bill thinks he's totally exactly like Rainbow Brite" a few readers would politely chuckle and the rest would wait for me to explain the metaphor and why it matters to the storyline. If I said "Bill thinks he's totally exactly like Rose Quartz" I'd have dropped one hell of a bomb of a hot take into a fic that isn't in the LEAST BIT about any alleged character parallels that might exist between Bill Cipher and Rose Quartz. Anyone who's seen the show will immediately start thinking VERY HARD about the comparison and anybody who HASN'T will assume that, because SU is so big, I'm expecting them to know enough to understand the comparison.

If I were to put either of those comparisons in the fic, the point I would be trying to make is "Mabel makes Bill watch a kid's show hoping it will teach him to be a better person, and is surprised that instead of taking away moral lessons from the viewing, he's concluded he's basically the same as the idealistic young hopeful rebel leader fighting against oppressive conformist forces and protecting the people of earth." My authorial intent would be at least partially drowned out by any reference to another show (especially for people who don't get it), but it would be SUPER drowned out by a reference to an extremely well-known show.

The only way to avoid distorting that authorial intent is to not hinge part of the story on some other show.

So am I melodramatically sighing and lamenting over how tragic it is that I can't directly reference The Last Unicorn or whatever in the fic because it would be so totally perfect and very funny and absolutely has valid narrative parallels to stuff that's gonna happen in the fic? Yeah. But my problem wouldn't be solved if TLU was universally watched, or if I substituted something that is universally watched for TLU, because the root of my problem is that TLU is a real cartoon in the real world.

I accept that the specific comedy that can ONLY come from saying "[character from Show A] is EXACTLY like [character from Show B that's jarringly incongruous with Show A]" is comedy that I'm not going to have in my fic, and I cope with this by comedically kvetching about it.

And I'm gonna make up an imaginary girly 80s cartoon for Mabel to force Bill to watch.