#if only i could write my thesis and essay like this

[synthe4u]

Part two to this | Part three here

masterlist

Requested by @hani-amerta

-

Now you've been seeing him wherever you go. His bloodied mask haunting your dreams.

You had to take an early retirement because of your 'hallucinations'. But even still, no matter what, he follows you.

He would sometimes be behind your shopping cart when you go to grab something. Only turning back to the cart when you're ready to put the item in.

Sometimes you can see his face on other people. You once scared a man after staring at him too long. The stranger had come up to ask if you were okay, but you could only do nothing as you muttered Ghost's name. It really freaked the man out.

Your psychologist said it was a normal reaction after the loss of a comrade, but they've put you on medication. You don't bother to check what kind of medication because you decided it would be best to be crazy and see him instead of being lonely and cold.

He was your friend and hope. He helped you stay in lane and not quit after the third mission you had together. You've been through thick and thin. So it doesn't matter if he's just a hallucination or an actual ghost. You only care that he's with you.

You told your psychologist once, which they proceeded to give you heavier medication. You still didn't take them. After that, you've started to lie.

Lying to both your psychologist and others, but most importantly, you've started lying to yourself.

You started staying indoors more. Making two cups of tea instead of one. Setting two plates out, but only cleaning one. Ghost usually cleans his own dishes.

When your old captain came to visit, it was only then that you realized the stack of moldy plates are a problem. The cups left sitting on the table, taking up to much space is a problem.

"The medicine given to you is supposed to help."

The captain was silent for a moment before continuing, "Have you been taking them?"

You didn't answer him, nor did you divert your eyes away from the couch. Ghost was right there. How could your captain not see him?

Maybe you really were going crazy. Maybe you should start to take your medicine.

But you didn't want to be alone.

Your captain left, once again reminding you to take your medicine.

You didn't feel like swallowing pills any time soon so you decided to just make some tea. Tea was his favorite. Now it was yours.

You couldn't leave him alone. He needed you. You needed Ghost. You wouldn't take your medicine, but you wouldn't go crazy. Though, you were already crazy and couldn't go crazy any more.

Closing your eyes to take a rest, you awoke to find yourself in a hospital.

(Also not edited or proofread)

[frogathy]

im just waiting until the day i can get married and be a mom what do you mean i have to “go to college” and “have ambitions”

[alectricblue]

what do they put in that angel that makes people question their aro-ness

[gnc-tits]

i have to write an essay today and like. i overall have enjoyed the professors classes but mostly just bcoz theyve been asynch. the professor…..idk maybe itd be different if it were taught in person or multi modal with a set class Time but overall she is just not tht great at teaching 😭which is FINE like im fine with teaching myself especially for a lit class but also??? this essay is a “literary analysis” and not only is the rubric ultra fuckin specific with what we have to write about but its also broken down by paragraph structure like in the rubric she Tells you what to write about paragraph by paragraph. like what are we even doing here

[mitsies]

-;. eye contact ; nagi seishiro > in which nagi seishiro realizes he has a crush on you!

you're a little bit unnerved by how intently nagi seishiro is staring at you.

his blank grey eyes have been fixed on you for the past however-many minutes, hardly blinking and barely shifting. he only spoke when prompted by reo.

you were perched on the edge of reo's bed, legs crossed and head propped up by your hands. your purple-haired best friend was leaning back against the bedframe, his laptop on his legs, as he chattered away about some essay he was writing for school.

nagi sat on reo's desk chair, head slouched against his arms, directed towards you. he's also meant to be working on his paper, and his laptop is open on the desk. the document he has pulled up is blank.

instead of his homework, nagi has been opting to watch you, and you can't think of a possible reason as to why.

it's not like you're doing anything interesting- you've been scrolling through social media on your phone and minding your own business, ignoring reo typically did when you spent time with him.

you've known reo since you were both young, and as a result, the both of you have become exponentially closer over the years. so, when reo made a new friend, one he seemed incredibly excited to meet, you'd been happy for him, and readily agreed to his offer to meet him.

he'd described his new friend nagi as tall, reserved, and interesting- you found yourself compelled to agree with all aforementioned aspects.

he's tall, for sure, taller than reo, and he doesn't speak much unless prompted. and he was definitely intriguing, to say the least. you try not to glance at him because he will definitely see you, but every so often you attempt to sneak a furtive look towards the other boy.

each time, you find that his stare is still fixated on you, and your skin burns under his gaze as you snap your head back down to your phone and vigorously tap to pretend you had some kind of important business to attend to.

"nagi, what do you think about my thesis?"

reo's voice cuts through the awkward cycle of staring-contact-staring, and you could get on your hands and knees and thank him.

"it's good."

reo furrows his brows at nagi's reply. "you didn't even look at it, dude. what have you been doing this whole time?"

nagi doesn't respond, and you pretend that you're not listening to their conversation. a startled noise sounds from him, though, as reo shoves his laptop in his face, effectively breaking through nagi's line of vision.

"i'm not reading all that."

reo sighs dramatically, before turning his attention to you. he turns the screen so you can see it. "what do you think about my thesis, then?"

you raise an eyebrow. "i'm not even in that class. i don't think i'll be much help, reo."

he exhales and pinches between his eyebrows. "okay, whatever. i'm going to go downstairs and ask someone else."

"is there even anyone else home?"

"probably not," reo grumbled, "but nobody'll still be more useful than you two."

he flounces outside his bedroom, and you could almost swear you hear him muttering something cryptic about how 'the two of you deserve each other.'

you glance back over to nagi after the door clicks shut and you see that he's looking at you again. this time, you don't turn your head away, though- there's something new in the air, something electrifying. you feel compelled to return his gaze.

his eyes, you note, are really big. they're not the kind of grey that's cold and boring, either; they've got a certain warmth to them that makes your heart skip a beat.

"what's up, nagi?"

you opt to break the silence, shifting awkwardly on the bed to face him properly. nagi blinks. "nothing much."

"ah. cool."

"not really."

"oh. sorry."

"it's okay."

you purse your lips. could this get any more awkward?

"so... what's your essay on?"

"what essay?"

"the one you're meant to be working on. like, right now."

"oh. i don't know." at this, nagi's attention drifts to his laptop screen, which has gone dim. he jitter-clicks the spacebar and the white light of his screen illuminates his face.

a smile tugged at your lips. "that's a little worrying. isn't it kind of a big deal?"

nagi swivels in the chair, pulling his knees to his chin, and meets your eyes again. "i'll deal with it eventually. just not now."

"what's stopping you now?"

nagi blinks. a cloud of puzzlement drifts over his vision, because why wasn't he working on his essay? there was the obvious factor of just not wanting to, sure, but what had he been doing for the past half hour he'd been at reo's house?

he wasn't playing any games, and he hadn't been asleep. he'd just been... sitting there. watching you.

oh. nagi was watching you.

he rests his head on his knees in a really uncomfortable-looking way that only tall people can manage as he rewinds, mentally recollecting the images of you- of the slope of your nose, the shape of your lips, how your face contorted into smiles when reo said something funny, how your hair swished around your face when you moved around- oh. nagi was watching you because he thinks you're pretty. really, really pretty.

"not sure," he says.

"good reason."

"thanks."

the conversation is dry, and eventually your attention shifts back to your phone, but it's less awkward now- when you'd smiled, an air of tension had broken. you smiled, and nagi had a crush on you- that was all there was to know.

"i'm back!" reo announced, slamming the door open and causing you to jump a little where you sat.

"and my thesis was wonderful, apparently, so thank you, guys, for helping."

you glare at reo. behind you, nagi is doing the same with more passion than usual. reo looks a little taken aback, before he realizes- oh.

oh, he was going to have fun with this.

[judasgot-it]

Ello o/, may i request again (dk if i can tho, don't feel pressured if not maken), really love the post you made for the request my heart literally- aawkwkw, i have so many things to say to that post but really busy asfck like if i wnated to, i could literally write a essay or thesis statement, */ahem anyway

BSD boys, while having a fighting/argument with s/o they suddenly grip they're s/o's wrist too hard and ended up leaving a mark (they didn't mean to tho ;-;) that reminded the reader's past child abuse/not used to this type of conflict which lead to angst to comfort or just angst hehe. Idk this is just a random 2am thought(my time rn) I have classes later waking up at 4am too…

AHHHHHH omg yes I'm so sorry I haven't like set up any request rules yet which I should do lol, but I'm so shehejwj but I don't have limits on requests! I just try to get to them when I can <3 Also I'm so sorry about the late response! College is hard x[

But also, I wanna do some scenarios for this, so I'm gonna have to only pick a few that I feel I can write the best for this if that's ok cause ngl I feel the mercury retrograde rn,,,

Scenario: Accidentally triggering past abuse/trauma during an argument (Ranpo, Dazai)

Ranpo

Ranpo was a rather loud guy. That's not his fault, since he's only loud whenever he has a reason to be - he's confident because he knows he can get away with it. He's smart enough to survive some of the most dangerous killers, and is bold enough to laugh in their face about it too.

But god is it aggravating as hell whenever you want to truly talk to the man one on one. Sometimes, you just want to have a normal date with him - like a normal couple and do normal couple stuff.

Like right now, you just want to walk down this busy street and not have to listen to him boast about how stupid people were. It was embarrassing how loud he was about it, how the person who got hit with a car could have easily avoided it had they just checked both sides of the street.

A normal conversation to have after witnesses a horrible event, but you could feel the stares from across the street from the mans wife. Especially towards Ranpo, who seemed to have no social boundaries as everyone else in the area seemed to instead be occupied with the normal human behavior of freaking out after witnessing a man flying in the air and being hit by a car.

To save face, you dragged him away, with him still talking about it as if it were a normal everyday thing. In his world, it probably was - but not to you. Not to normal people, who didn't think about death everyday.

"Ranpo, you need to quiet down."

"What? I'm just saying. It was pretty avoidable you know?"

You turned around to glare at him, gripping your enclasped hands tightly. He thought nothing of it, swirling his ramune bottle rather casually. The ball clinked around with each step the both of you took together.

"I know that. But you do know that it's pretty insensitive to say that in front of him and the wife who saw her husband get hit with a car."

"Y/n."

You were forced back as Ranpo stopped on the sidewalk. It was apart of a narrow stretch of road, empty and away from the commotion, which forced you to look at him. He was staring at you with his eyes, as if trying to puzzle something.

"You don't actually care about them."

There was a pause. You blinked once. Then twice.

"What do you mean by that?"

He held your hand tighter, almost painfully so.

"You don't really care about them that much. So why are you defending them?"

His viridian eyes bore into yours, which deeply unsettled you. He meant nothing by it, especially with the iron grip he had on your hand which kept you in your spot.

"Because not everyone is a superfreak like you Ranpo!"

But it made you incredibly uncomfortable.

You felt the need to defend yourself, somehow.

"Some people have 'empathy' which I know is a foreign concept to people like you."

It was as he cocked his head to the side, like a crow trying to understand what you had just told him. It was as if what you just said had gone right through him, like the wind.

"You don't mean that."

He pulled you towards him. You tried to step back, but you only found yourself stepping around and trying to find your balance again.

You flinched when Ranpo reached to balance you, but you still felt the energy from your sudden bout of frustration pumping through your body. It was embarrassing, but your mind and body were reacting all on their own.

Ranpo kept staring at you, looking past your angry scowl and into something deeper.

"I'm not your enemy Y/n, I know you're upset but there's something more."

He left you feeling naked there.

"It's not that deep. You don't need to defend yourself against me."

You looked down, avoiding his eyes. The sidewalk underneath you was rather cracked and abandoned - there was a dandelion growing just underneath your feet, a rather resilient flower.

"I'm not defending myself, I'm just..."

Ranpo lifted your chin up so you could meet his eyes again, which were now softer, as they had quickly figured out the puzzle that he's struggled with.

You looked back at him. A part of you wanted to keep arguing - it was in your nature, to keep fighting. Unfortunately, it was something you've done for a long time, which Ranpo has figured out by now.

Another thing that made you feel a little uncomfortable.

He met you with a cheeky smile, like a little rat. He closed his eyes, his cheeks raising to meet his eyes.

"I know. You're a good person Y/n."

Dazai

"I just don't think you understand. I can't expect you to, but it's not your problem, so why are you so upset about it?"

Dazai was looking at you from the couch, watching as you were once again picking up bottles he had left from one of his drinking binges. He still smelled of last night, wearing the same clothes and smelling of the various drinks he had lost himself in.

"It clearly is my problem. I'm the one cleaning up your mess right now, so how could I not be involved? Dear god, do you ever look at yourself and want to even try to be better?"

Dazai looked at you, sitting up from his previous lounging position. He stared up, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at you - his eyebags prominent in the early morning sunlight.

"What do you mean 'try' to be better? Have you ever even known what it's like to be like this?"

You rolled your eyes, dragging the bag to the front door so you could later bring it to the dumpster of your apartments. In your eyes, he was clearly being dramatic - sitting like some sort of mafioso, needing only a cigarette to seal the deal.

"Everyone has had it hard at one point Dazai. Losing yourself to alcohol every night and weekend doesn't justify it. You have a life to live you know? It's worth living."

You heard footsteps approach behind you, and looked up to see Dazai standing a little too close for comfort. His body was warm, and you could see the sweat and stains on his bandages. His hair was usually fluffy hair was greasy, but his eyes - they were dark, simply staring down at you.

"What do you know about living?"

"What?"

He had backed you into the wall, his hands now on either side of you, blocking you from exiting the danger that had become him and whatever emotional rage he had thrown himself into.

"You act like you know so much about life but you know nothing! You don't know anything about death or life - I don't think you know anything at all really. You feel all too comfortable making these assumptions about me when you don't know who I am, do you?"

He was smiling but it didn't reach his eyes at all.

You pushed at him, trying to find space to escape from his hold. His clothes and warmth made you want to burn your skin and run at that moment, and you closed your eyes in order to avoid the worst of your fears as you knew he was staring at you with those eyes that seemed to hold nothing but contempt in that very moment.

When you couldn't break free, instead feeling him pressing himself more against you, you felt your eyes begin to tear up.

"Dazai get the fuck away me."

"Or what? What will you do, oh sweet belladonna?"

You could feel tears build up in your eyes as your pushing did nothing against him - so you resorted to what you knew would work.

You raised your knee as hard as you could, and watched as Dazai fell hard on the ground, falling like a sack of potatoes. He writhed around, clutching his pearls while you gripped your pants, trying to soothe your nerves.

"Dazai I'm..."

You looked around your apartment, looking at the mess that it had become because of him. You looked back down at him, who was still on the ground and wasn't saying anything.

"Dazai I'm going to leave for a bit. Sorry."

I'm so sorry this took so long waaaaahh I'm a slow writer I'm working on it tho ;( also I was thinking about doing Jouno but I felt that it would've been super harsh so maybe I'll do him another time

[mourninglamby]

i would pay insane money to hear about your thoughts on ctommy girlism because it’s actually such an important part of his character analysis to me

I’ve been wanting to make a patreon for stuff like this + art I don’t wanna post, so I’ve decided to go this route with the essay I will likely end up with based on this thesis. But I’ll use this post to summarize some thoughts im VERY confident about (and could be a sneak peek into what else the paper will entail)

C!tommy is fem-coded based off of fandom interpretation and reception, textual evidence, and meta analysis (will get more into meta in the big doc).

To start, a lot of this coding has to do with how he is victimized and why, which mainly concerns him craving approval from these older men (c!wilbur, c!dream, and even c!techno,) that he views as role models. Power imbalances are something that can also affect boys, yes, but this is where the coding comes in to set them apart. PLEASE REMEMBER Coding is used to identify traits that align with minority experiences, both good and bad. That does not mean c!tommy is LITERALLY a girl. It is a tool utilized in rhetorical analysis.

In this case, the constant subjugation of c!tommy by the men he yearns to trust, and subsequent self blame and denial when they hurt him fit into an experience closely associated with misogyny, and to go even further into the meta, a misogynistic view of feminine victimhood. The way c!tommy’s trauma interrupts his psychological and emotional development is received by thousands of fans who still deny his abuse even happened as “annoying”, “mean”, and “just as bad” as his perpetrator(s). This is observed from the existence of c!dream apologists and sympathizers, and to a more complicated extent, c!wilbur apologists. But I digress.

C!tommy is coded as feminine because in the majority of media centering victims of this kind of abuse, the character is a woman, and a woman can and will always be blamed for what happened to her. In the case of DSMP, this blame comes from the man who is protected by the spoils of his privilege as an oppressor, status in his community, and the many other people (predominantly young women) he has managed to manipulate to be in opposition to his victim. Fiction affecting real life and all…. Which is why I think this evidence of coding is so important.

To add another disclaimer for the bad faith warriors, being a victim does NOT make a character femme coded, however, the way he is treated in canon and the way the fanbase reacts to how he grapples with the lasting trauma is certainly rooted in misogynistic talking points.

Looking forward to writing more ^__^ thank u for being so interested anony. I’ve welcomed some friends who I trust very much to help me write it and I’m very excited.

addendum: there is no right or wrong way to interpret ctommy or dsmp or the response to how he was depicted... i only wish to start a conversation and get my thoughts out. if u disagree that is ur prerogative and i respect it <3

[leilakisakabiri]

request: Hi can you do where the reader is wearing Gavis hoodie and she accidentally stains it and starts freaking out. Thank uuu and i love ur writing

I Got You (Gavi)

Summary: You need Gavi to come help you after you get yourself into a bad situation.

Warning(s): None

A/N: Thank you so much for the request and for your support! Requests are open. Currently working on The Promises We Keep Pt 2. Also, guys if I haven't done your request yet, don't worry, it probably means it's gonna be a long one.

Word Count: 3.1k+

Masterlist

It was a Saturday night in Barcelona, and you were holed up in your room, feet tucked under you, a knitted blanket over your shoulders as you read over the words in front of you for the hundredth time.

While the city was alight with people getting drinks, dancing, and laughing, you silenced your phone, closed your blinds, and put your headphones on to quiet any outside noises. 

You had decided to stay in this weekend, caught up in writing an essay for your criminal law class that was worth 50% of your grade. Safe to say you did not take it lightly. You had been hunched over your computer for the last nine hours, brain numb and fingers aching as you had tried to come up with a thesis and strong argument for your essay. You had blocked out this weekend to finish the essay, letting everyone know ahead of time not to contact you unless it was an emergency, including Gavi. 

Gavi had been gone for the last couple of days, traveling around Europe for the last leg of La Liga, and he had been adamant about spending as much time with you as he could once he got back - before his summer schedule kicked off. However, that hope was quickly cut short when you informed him you most likely wouldn’t be able to see him at all this weekend due to you being stuck finishing your essay. 

Although he had tried to convince you to change your mind, bribing you with the idea of endless cuddles and then promising to be as silent as possible while you wrote when his first idea didn’t work, you relented, knowing that having him around would be a major distraction, one that you couldn’t afford. 

“I’m sorry Pablo I don’t think I can this weekend. What about Monday?” You asked hopefully. 

He sighed over the phone, his face pulling into a frown, “I can’t. We’re leaving Monday morning for France.”

You bit on your lip, feeling bad, “I’m sorry I just really need to focus this weekend.” 

He nodded, “I get it. It just sucks. I wanted to see you at least once before I’m gone again. But it’s fine – I’ll survive.” He replied dramatically. 

You grinned, “Well I’ll miss you Pablito.” 

“I already miss you.” 

The smile on your face only grew as your heart warmed at his words, “I’ll text you if anything changes. Have a great game, I’ll be watching.” 

He gave you a wink, “Damn gotta show off now that my girls watching.” 

You giggled at him, “Bye Pablo.” 

He mocked your tone playfully, “Bye Y/n.” 

That was last week, and now you were nose deep in your essay, textbooks scattered around you as you looked for possible quotes to strengthen your thesis. You had been so busy scanning the words on the page that you hadn’t noticed your phone buzzing non-stop next to you. 

Once you saw the glow of your phone screen curiosity got the better of you and you flipped it around seeing you had eight missed calls from your best friend. 

Your eyebrows knitted in confusion, it was almost two in the morning, she would for sure be at a club right now, happily dancing the night away with your friends, so why was she consistently calling you? 

The phone buzzed once again and this time you were quick to answer. 

“Hello, Gia, what’s going on?” 

Her voice was slurred on the other end, but you could sense the panic regardless, “Y/n? I don’t know where I am, I was with the others but then I went to the bathroom, and I then couldn’t find anyone anymore. And this guy won’t leave me alone-”

“Gia, where are you? I’ll come get you.” You cut off her rambling, already rushing to put on your shoes, essay long forgotten. 

She hiccupped, “I’m at Macarena. I’m sorry no one else answered.” 

“No, no problem at all. I’m coming right now, Gia. Don’t move. I’m glad you called.” You comforted her. 

The club was only a twenty-minute walk from your house, and seeing as you didn’t have a car or the time to wait for public transport, it was your best option. 

You cursed yourself for not answering sooner as you rushed to get your keys, grabbing a random hoodie on the way out. 

Although summer was beginning to creep into Barcelona, the nights were still chilly with cold winds rushing through the area. 

You sped through the streets, walking with purpose as you finally reached the club. You were severely underdressed for the club wearing a random hoodie and yoga pants. You saw the line for the club was still extremely long, wrapping around the corner and you knew you had no time to waste. 

You took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself, you were never one to break any rules or ask for any special favors, but now seemed like a good time to start. 

You walked up to the club bouncer, ignoring the nasty look the guy at the front of the queue was sending you, “Excuse me. I need to get in right away, my friend is inside alone, and I need to help her.” 

You heard the guy next to you scoff. 

The bouncer looked at you unimpressed. “Sorry sweetheart. You want to get to her, you have to wait in line.” 

You relented, “Sir please, just look at my outfit,” you said gesturing to yourself, “clearly, I’m not here to party, I just need to get my friend and leave. You can even come with me!” 

He gave you an apprehensive look, taking in your appearance, “I can’t leave my post.” 

You groaned, “Fine, then can someone else escort me? I can literally call her right now. She’s not in the right head space.” 

He squinted his eyes at you, “You look familiar.” 

It finally clicked. This is where you had gone with Gavi and his team, celebrating after they had won a final a few weeks ago. They had treated you like royalty, blocking off a whole section just for you, the club owner even making an appearance to congratulate the team.

You didn’t like to use the fact that you were dating a well-known athlete as a way to get special privileges but if it meant helping your friend then you would do it. 

“Yeah, I was in VIP a few weeks ago. I know the owner, so please let me in.”

“What’s his name?” 

You racked your brain trying to think of that night, “Santiago. It was Santiago!” You replied, finally remembering. 

The bouncer gave you a once over before he finally nodded begrudgingly, “Fine – but be quick.” 

You heard the other people in line begin to argue but you quickly thanked the bouncer, rushing inside, not wanting to wait long enough for him to change his mind. 

God bless Gavi.

The place was packed, bodies pressed together so closely that you had to squeeze in between heavily making out couples and groups of friends to make your way to the middle. The strobe lights were going crazy, changing every few seconds to the beat of the music. There was a DJ booth twenty feet above the crowd playing EDM Spanish music and the crowd was going insane, chanting along. 

You hit your head on your forehead as you realized you forgot to ask her where she was. 

You pulled out your phone, letting out a breath of relief when she answered, “I’m here Gia. Where are you?” 

“I’m at- I said no, stop, I’m at the bar.” She huffed. You felt your anxiety rise, who was she talking to? 

“Ok, I’m coming.” 

You pushed through the throngs of people, finally spotting the bar, seeing her leaning against the counter, hands flying as she argued with someone. 

You walked towards them hearing the tail end of their conversation, a bad feeling in your stomach.

“Gia!” You yelled, coming to stand next to her. 

She gave you a relieved look, falling into you, the effort of standing up being too much. 

You caught her, hugging her back. 

“Oh wow – two for one. I got a buddy that would love you.” 

You steadied Gia looking up to see the guy she was talking with giving you a smirk. 

You held his gaze, annoyed, “No thanks. We’re leaving now.” 

You went to turn but he caught your wrist pulling you back, the drink in his hand sloshing,

“Woah, don’t go yet, the fun’s just getting started. Look my buddies are in VIP we can hook you up.” 

You yanked your hand away, giving him a disgusted look, “First don’t touch me. Second, we’re leaving.” 

“You’re not leaving.” He persisted. 

You raised an eyebrow, “Fucking watch me.” 

He reached for you again, but you were prepared, grabbing his hand, and flinging it off you, as you weaved into the crowd, ignoring his shouts. 

You let out a breath as you stepped outside of the club, grateful for the cold air after sweating through your hoodie in the packed club. 

You adjusted your hold on Gia, holding her waist as you started the trek back to your apartment. 

She stumbled over her steps as you walked, giggling, “Oh my god Y/n your bleeding!” 

You gave her a confused look, dragging her, “What?” 

She giggled again, reaching for your hoodie, “It’s coming from your stomach, look it’s red!” She pointed at your shirt. 

You looked down and you stopped in your tracks, breath hitching as you began to panic, “Oh shit Gia I’m wearing Gavi’s hoodie!” 

She stopped as well, letting go of you as she plopped onto the ground, staring up at you,

“So?” 

“So? He’s going to be so mad at me. That dick spilled his drink on me. This is a white hoodie – who knows if it will come out?” You stressed.

“It’s-" she hiccupped, “fine.” 

You shook your head, “No It’s not it’s his favorite hoodie, I didn’t even realize I was wearing it. Fuck, I have to clean as soon as we get home.” 

You started walking before you realized she wasn’t following you. 

“Gia?” 

You turned around to see her slumped against the sidewalk, eyes closed. 

You rushed to her side, shaking her, “Gia? Gia, are you okay?” 

She hummed, “I don’t feel so good.” 

“Can you walk? We’re almost halfway there.” You asked, helping her sit up so she was leaning against you. 

She groaned, “I’m going to throw up.” 

You looked around anxiously, unsure of what to do. You had left the main strip of clubs and restaurants, and were now on a back road, walking in an area that was dimly lit and that you weren’t too familiar with. 

“I can call an Uber.” 

You reached into your pocket, cursing yourself as you realized you had forgotten your wallet in the rush to get to the club. 

“Shit, I don’t have my wallet. Do you have yours?” 

“Antonio.” She groaned, leaning her head against your shoulder. 

You let out a huff, contemplating what to do. You attempted to get her to stand up once again, desperate to get out of the area, but she couldn’t stand, and you weren’t strong enough to carry her the rest of the way. You chewed on your lip debating a solution, but you didn’t want to do it unless it was the absolute, last, last resort. 

You spent the next five minutes calling all your friends, but no one answered. You groaned, frustrated, knowing you had run out of options. 

You heard your friend beginning to doze off and you shook her, “Gia stay awake.” 

She moaned, “Y/n I really don’t feel good. I don’t know what’s wrong.” 

Your finger hovered over the contact, and you finally pressed it, feeling the guilt build inside. 

It rang seven times before going to voicemail. You called back. 

On the third ring, the line finally connected, 

“Y/n? Why are you calling me so late?” Gavi’s voice was thick with sleep, his words murmured. 

Hearing his voice sent a pang of relief through you, and suddenly you didn’t feel so alone,

“Gavi I’m sorry. I really need your help.” 

He was up in an instant, wide awake, “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m stuck in the middle of the road with Gia. She got drunk and I went to get her but now I’m worried there’s something wrong. She can’t get up and we’re all alone. I don’t have any money. I called our friends, but no one answered, I-I didn’t know what to do.” You rushed out. 

You heard his breath accelerate on the other end of the line, “Ok don’t worry baby I’m coming. Send me your address, everything’s going to be okay. Just stay on the phone with me.” He reassured you. 

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see you, “Thank you so much Gavi.”

You heard his car door open, “Anytime. If anything happens like this again you call me first, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

You stayed on the phone with him, rubbing Gia’s shoulder to comfort her, readjusting her whenever she began to doze off. 

Finally, you saw a familiar car pull onto the street, and you waved your hands, trying to get him to see you. 

The car made a quick turn and then Gavi was rushing out, a worried look on his face, 

“Oh thank god you’re okay. I was so worried.” 

“I’m so sorry for waking you. Thank you for coming.” 

“Y/n stop apologizing.” He said, helping you carry Gia to the car. 

Upon feeling that she was being lifted, her eyes shot open, “Y/n what’s going on?”

She glanced over to her left seeing Gavi before she turned to look at you, it took two seconds for her eyes to widen and then she was whipping her head back, “Gavi? The hell y-you doing here?” 

You giggled at her abruptness, “I had to call for help.” 

She turned to you, snuggling into your shoulder affectionately, “You’re the best Y/n. She was a rockstar today.” She spoke, as you both pushed her into the car. 

Gavi raised his eyebrow at you as you both got in, “A rockstar eh?” 

You rolled your eyes, “She’s just spewing nonsense.” 

Gia groaned in the back, hands clumsily coming to slap your shoulder, “Ehh don’t lie Y/n. You should have seen the way she talked to those guys – even I was scared.” 

You saw Gavi’s grip on the steering wheel tighten, his posture stiffened as he looked over at you,

“Guys? What guys?” 

You opened your mouth to reply but Gia beat you to it. 

“This one guy, he kept trying to get me to come with him, but then Y/n was like no way we’re leaving, and then he started hitting on her, but then he tried to grab her, and she karate chopped his hand! He was so embarrassed!” 

You felt yourself blushing at her recollection of events, “I did not karate chop his hand!” 

“Yes, you did. It was like in midair when he was talking about his friend that liked you, and then I blinked, and it was gone!”

“Did he try anything?” Gavi’s voice was hard, as he looked at you.

You shook your head, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “No don’t worry. We were fine.” 

You felt his body relax under your touch, and one of his hands came to grip your own, “You should have called me sooner. I’m sorry you had to deal with that asshole.” 

You felt your heart flutter at his words, “Don’t worry I handled it. But thank you, next time I will.” 

Soon you were pulling up to your apartment and hauling Gia up your steps. 

“I really wish we had an elevator right now.” Gia groaned as she was being half pulled, half carried up the steps. 

You made eye contact with Gavi after hearing her statement, and you had to bite your cheek not to laugh out loud, 

“You and me both G.”

Finally, you reached your apartment, and all let out a sigh of relief as she fell onto your bed, passing out almost immediately. 

You cringed as you saw her head land centimeters away from the sharp edge of one of your textbooks. 

You reached over, clearing the space so she was able to sleep without the risk of a concussion. 

You looked up once the area was cleaned to see Gavi looking at you intently, a weird expression on his face almost like he was stuck in his thoughts. 

“What? Is everything okay?” You asked unsure, looking down at yourself. 

That’s when you realized. 

You were still wearing his hoodie, the one that had a massive red stain on it now thanks to the jackass at the club. 

You had completely forgotten about it. 

You quickly apologized, “Gavi I’m so sorry. Gia called and I was so worried so I grabbed the first thing I could find – and then the guy kept grabbing me and had this drink – anyways,” you let out a huff, “I’m really really sorry, I can buy you a new one.” 

Gavi stared at you in surprise, shocked by your outburst, “Y/n relax. It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry I know how much you love this sweatshirt.” 

Gavi shook his head slightly smiling, you were just so adorable, and he physically couldn’t hold back the words he’d been dying to say any longer, “I love you more though, so it’s fine.” 

“Wha-what?” You stumbled over your words, clearly not expecting such a big revelation.

“I said I love you.” He said it with so much confidence, almost like he was reciting a fact, something that couldn’t be changed, and you melted a little at how sure he sounded. 

You didn’t know what to say, your brain still playing those three words on a loop. He loved you. He had said it first. 

The silence stretched on and now it was his turn to get nervous, “Is that okay?”

Your mouth was still open in shock, but you quickly recovered, 

“Yo-you love me?” Your voice cracked. 

“Well, yeah… why would I not?” He asked, eyes locked on yours.

You shook your head, a smile gracing your features as you took a step closer to him, “I love you too, and I’m sorry-”

He cut you off with a sweet kiss, pulling you closer into him, as he slid his hands under the sweatshirt, fingers gently squeezing the soft flesh of your hips. 

Your lips moved in sync and your hands went to play with his hair, gently tugging. 

You heard him let out a groan and you bit his bottom lip instinctively. 

He pulled away out of breath, a dazed look in his eyes, “Joder, you can ruin all my hoodies if this is how you apologize.” He muttered breathlessly. 

You rolled your eyes, smiling as he brought you back into him for another kiss. 

[ticklygiggles]

hii! for the drabble event, could you please do a reader x scaramouche (genshin) one for me please 🙏 romantic one! thank you so much if you do it!💕💕

[You & I Event - entries closed!]

A/N: first drabble (that turned into a fic skskdk), from this event! I hope you enjoy this! I love Scara so so much I'm dying dkfkfkg

This was highly inspired by that event where Nahida forces Scaramouche to study in the Akademiya and that she'll personally revise his thesis!

Words: 1.5k

Rumor has it that the new Vahumana scholar was dating someone. 

Everyone at the Six Darshans knew about the new student: Hat Guy—ah, no, Scaramouche.

Men and women were crazy about his handsome face and his terrifying intelligence. Scaramouche could write up to three essays of many several pages in a single day on extremely complex topics that even Vahumana's seniors were not able to fully understand.

He was a reserved person and limited himself to speaking only when necessary. He was constantly seen in the library with his nose buried in a book. He wasn't sociable, and his humor wasn't the brightest, so when rumors of Scaramouche having found a mate began to roam the halls of Vahumana, everyone was curious as to who had stolen such a complex person’s heart. 

Were they a student from the Akademiya too? Were they in the same classes as him? Was it a man or a woman? 

They all wanted to know the truth behind all these rumors, but there was no way in all Teyvat that any of them would dare ask Scaramouche directly. So the rumor that Scaramouche was seeing someone would remain a mystery to everyone. 

But of course, there was someone who knew all about it. 

"Ugh, would you stop staring at me? I'm trying to focus here, you're being annoying."

You giggled, looking back at your own book. Scaramouche's mysterious partner was no other but you. One more student of Vahumana who was lucky enough to catch the attention of someone like Hat Guy. It would be a lie if you said that you had not fallen for him long before your classmates relationship turned into a romantic one, but to think Scaramouche would also feel attracted to you… well, that was something you were not expecting. 

"You're doing it again!"

You laughed, "I'm sorry," you said, smiling brightly. "You're just so pretty, I can't help but stare." 

Scaramouche made a face that had you laughing again.

"You're so weird, why am I even dating you?" 

"Because I have a great personality and I love you nicely?" 

Scaramouche huffed, but by the pink hue appearing over his ears it was more than evident that you were right. 

"Let me finish my thesis," he mumbled shyly.

Your boyfriend was not hard to love, he was actually quite easy to read for you. You could know what he wanted and needed at any time because, even though he had a big brain for school work, he was terrible at expressing his own feelings, good thing he had you. 

"I think we should take a break."

"Not now."

"You are tired though," you said, closing your book. "And perhaps a little hungry, and maybe also thirsty?" You watched with great pleasure as Scaramouche's pencil halted for a second before he continued to scribble here and there, you smirked. "Maybe also… in need of cuddles?"

"I have to finish this thesis soon," he growled, completely avoiding your eyes and clearing his throat. "You can go and eat and drink and… whatever you want to do, by yourself.”

You chuckled. His painfully shy personality towards you always warmed your heart. He truly was not hard to love, on the contrary, you knew, even though he was still reluctant to tell you about his past, that he needed love. So desperately so, if you dared to say. And you thanked the Dendro Archon in every chance you had for his existence.

But he didn’t need to know that, you thought, his face would probably explode if you dared to tell him about your little prayers. 

You giggled, leaning in closer to him, arms touching. “I’d be very bored if you’re not there with me, though,” you said, blushing yourself when his ears turned red. “I also think that you should rest. We’ve been working nonstop since morning, isn’t it dark outside already?”

Scaramouche turned his head to look outside the window. It was indeed dark already. 

“... I have to finish,” he insisted and you rolled your eyes fondly.

“You can finish,” you said, hugging his arm and expecting him to push you away but he didn’t. “I will help you as much as I can and as much as you allow me, but we need to take a break, otherwise you’re going to tire yourself and you will not be able to work, hmm?”

Scaramouche wasn’t writing anymore, he was listening to you carefully, his fair cheeks glowing beautifully red, you resisted the urge to kiss them. 

“Or should I make you take a rest?”

He perked a little at that and he finally turned to look at you. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, trying to appear intimidating to you, but all you wanted to do was kiss him. 

“What- What do you mean?” He said, cautious and just slightly nervous. 

“I don’t know, I have my methods,” you said, shrugging. “Unless you decide to take a rest, that is.”

Scaramouche looked at you intently, his eyes jumping from left to right, staring at your own orbs. His lips were slightly pursed in thought and his eyebrows almost touched in the middle from how hard he was frowning. You smiled brightly at him, making him jump slightly and turn his head back to his thesis. 

“I can’t. Let me work.”

You were not expecting him to agree and you could only giggle, leaning your head against his shoulder. It had to be the hard way, huh? Well, that was what he asked for. 

Silence reigned in the room once more. The sound of Scaramouche's book pages and his pencil writing rapidly seemed to echo against the walls of your room. It was a soft, relaxing sound, you felt like you could fall asleep at any moment, but no. None of you could sleep for now. Scaramouche seemed to be relaxed, his features had turned to his usual color and he seemed to lean in closer to you. 

This was the perfect chance. 

The jacket of his casual attire had fallen a bit off his shoulder because of you hugging his arm, so shifting a little, you placed a tender kiss to his bare skin. He shuddered slightly and made a little sound deep in his throat when you kissed his shoulder one more time and another and another. 

“Stop, I can’t focus if you’re- haah, w-wait, I- ahahahaha! Gehehet your hahahands ohohoff!”

Success! Between tender kisses that made his skin prickle with goosebumps, Scaramouche had failed to notice both your hands sneaking under his arm, fingers wiggling against his armpit, tickling him nicely. He had also failed to try to hold his laugh back, and now that sweet sound filled your ears making you smile brightly.

"Stahahap tihihihis instahahant!" 

"Sure thing! Tell me, are we going to eat first or just walk around for a bit?"

Scaramouche shook his head and he tried to talk, but his words got lost between his loud cackles. Ah, how could he be so ticklish, you wondered. He simply didn't look like the ticklish type, but there he was cackling with his head thrown back as he tried to squirm away from you. 

"You can't talk? Does it tickle too badly?" Scaramouche nodded. "I'm just tickling one armpit, though, should I get the other one?"

"NOAHAHAHA!"

"Ah! So you can talk, silly boyfriend of mine!" You said playfully, your fingers unstoppable. "Tell me, are we going to continue working like this?"

Even though he was nearly laughing his head off, Scaramouche stubbornly refused to let you win this, but that was okay, you were not one to give up either. 

Smirking against his shoulder, one of your hands pulled out from under his arm and quickly sneaked under the leg of his shorts, your fingers easily finding that tender spot that always drove him up the wall. 

"OKAHAHAY!" Scaramouche shrieked, his knees hitting against the desk when he brought them up. "Fine! FIHIHINE! Nohohot thehehere, PLEHEHEASE!" 

You giggled, your cheeks pink. "So are we going to-

"EHEHEHAHT! Wehehehe'll eat fihihirst!"

"Very well!"

As quickly and surprisingly your attack had started, it finished, causing Scaramouche to collapse against his chair, giggling softly and twitching a little. You grinned, leaning to kiss his flushed cheek.

"Hmm, what would you like to eat? I kind of want-" You couldn't finish, all words got sealed in your mouth when Scaramouche pressed his lips against yours, giving you a tender kiss that made you feel like you had reached Celestia. 

You cupped his cheeks and he shyly wrapped his arms around waist as he kissed you and kissed you and kissed you.

When you both pulled apart, breathless and flushed, your eyes met and a giggle made its way out from your lips, making him smile softly. 

"Maybe we should do the cuddling first."

"Hmph," he said, closing his eyes. "If that is what you want, I guess it's okay."

You chuckled. Ah, he was so easy to love and you were so lucky to be loved back by him. 

[moongothic]

Seen quite a few people comment how they believe it's more likely the Dragodile Divorce happened due to ideological differences rather than because Dragon was too straight to stay with Crocodile, and. Like I did suggest that (or at least tried to) in my Crocodad Giga Thesis (really I should've been more clear about it in my essay so I wouldn't be writing this now lol), but like yes, Dragon and Crocodile absolutely have drastically different beliefs on How One Overthrows The World Government. And that absolutely could have contributed to the two separating and/or Crocodile deciding to go his own way instead of becoming a proper Revolutionary

Because like, as I tried to imply in the essay (but failed to deliver); if Crocodile's goal had always been to get Pluton so he could just nuke Marijoa off the face of the earth by himself and end it all in one go, then Crocodile and his way of thinking could work as this, like... contrasting opposite to how Dragon believes things should be done. Some fans (unfairly imo) call Dragon a "fraud" because over the past 20+ years he has only attacked Marijoa and the WG directly just once, and even when he did, instead of doing something to stop their corrupt reign for good... the Revs destroyed... the Tenryuubito's... food storage..? Like. Sure, that'll bother them for a little while, get their panties in a good twist etc, but in the end they're just going to demand more tributes and more free food. The Revolutionary Army may be successfully inspiring more people and more countries to rebel against the World Government's corrupt rule, but the Tenryuubito are still in power and will continue to be in power for a long time. And that's kind of how Crocodile would greatly complement Dragon within the narrative. Dragon being arguably "too soft" with his slow, methodical way of overthrowing the WG, while Crocodile would just kill them all without mercy, even if it meant hurting innocent people in the process. The two would act as the opposite sides of the same coin, the different extremes of the same spectrum. Crocodile would become like a response to the complaints people have against Dragon.

And yeah, the two having such wildly different ideological views could VERY EASILY contribute to a divorce, for sure.

My thing is that... If (and this is an if) Crocodile is meant to go a character arc and grow as a person, if we're meant to see him as a sympathetic character at all and maybe even feel bad for him... It'll be much harder to write that if the Dragodile Divorce happened only because of the two having ideological differences. Like who's going to feel bad for Crocodile if the two got divorced because Crocodile wanted to mass murder people and Dragon wasn't okay with it? That's not a tragedy, that's not a situation where we as the readers would feel for Crocodile and want to root for him. That's not something that would give a character unprocessed emotional trauma to heal from and overcome. He'd just be a villian who'd need to have his beliefs changed.

Where as, if The Divorce was caused by Dragon and Crocodile no longer being compatible due to Dragon being straight while Crocodile transed his gender... Even in the most respectful of scenarios that is a heartbreaking situation, a painful thing to go through. That is a tragedy without bad guys, a story where you could feel bad for Crocodile and want to root for him. That is a situation that would give him trauma to heal from.

And that's kind of why I so strongly believe in Crocodile's transition being a more important, contributing factor in The Divorce. Again, this does absolutely depend on what Crocodile's actual role in the story is going to be and whether or not he's even meant to go through a character arc at all. Like if he's not going to be that important and if he isn't meant to go through an arc then sure, Crocodile's transition doesn't have to matter one fucking bit. But if he is meant to go through an arc, if we are meant to feel bad for him and find outselves rooting for him eventually... From a writing perspective, that'll be far easier to do if we can find ourselves sympathizing with him even just a little bit.

Also like. Yes, you can have queer characters who are just queer for the sake of being queer, their queerness does not have to be an important aspect in them or a huge plotpoint in their story at all. Crocodile could be queer just for the sake of being queer. Because that's what it's like being queer, you just are what you are. At the same time, from a writing perspective. What would even be the point of making him queer if it didn't matter to his character at all and have an impact on his character?

Also while Crocodile and Dragon clearly have very different beliefs on how the WG should be dealt with right now, we don't really know when Crocodile came to his beliefs. Like for all we know Crocodile could've formed his worldview years after the divorce. Hell, based on the way he spoke to Vivi about her ideals, and how we know he spent over a decade in utter emotional solitude, his current worldview could have been partially born from resentment towards Dragon (and his ideals) that's been simmering away over the years.

All of this to say; yes I think the two's beliefs could have been a contributing factor in The Divorce, but from a writing perspective (and based on the direction I personally want to see the story go), I find it far more likely if Crocodile's transition was the main cause, one way or another.

[chen-feiyu]

Because I hadn't said it here since Twitter is the main social media website I use: my series of Mo Ran meta will be long, meticulous and supported by canon evidence as much as possible.

My main thesis is that Mo Ran, just like Chu Wanning, is demisexual and he displays symptoms from the following conditions throughout the novel: BPD, ADHD, and PTSD — As for Chu Wanning, I perceive him as an autistic-coded character who struggles with masking heavily due to the dehumanization that has been enacted in him all of his life.

Having these mental conditions affect Mo Ran's perception on plenty of things, to the point the reader might end up having the incorrect opinions that Mo Ran holds about his person if several of his behaviors aren't analyzed as trauma responses, mental illness symptoms or mere misconceptions due to constant emotional manipulation.

One of the main BPD symptoms that characterize Mo Ran 1.0 is black-and-white thinking, in the sense that he hates Chu Wanning, gradually changes his view on him as he gets to know him better, then goes back to hate when he's triggered. He can only think about Chu Wanning in absolutes (God he admires for his strength and desperately craves approval from/heartless hypocrite)

The second symptom is his warped view of self: he has faith in his cultivation and boasts about his accomplishments as Taxian-Jun, and in the next paragraph he calls himself stupid, uncultured and incapable of grasping difficulty concepts.

As for Mo Ran 2.0, he doesn't like himself at all and experiences full time BPD episodes with dissociation, intrusive thoughts, self-harm and even hallucination. He's the phase of Mo Ran who carries the most gruesome side of BPD and shame.

Now, for Taxian-Jun, I'll focus on the "favorite person" part of BPD and how his impact was so big in baby Mo Ran, his mind latched onto the love he felt for Chu Wanning and tried to find ways to thrive among the hostility that surrounded Taxian-Jun due to the flower.

I'm not a professional, but I'll be basing all of my arguments on my own experiences as a person who struggles with BPD, ADHD and PTSD.

The meta essays I'll be posting throughout the next months are the following (not necessarily in order)

1. Analysis of his core beliefs and ethics and how his love for Chu Wanning turned into an anchor and entire reason of existence, which explains Taxian-Jun's cognitive dissonance when it comes to Chu Wanning.

2. Justification for my theory that he can only be a strict dominant top for claiming control about sex reasons + his PTSD symptoms when he gets restrained or beaten by Tianwen. He could never take degrading talk in bed unlike Chu Wanning, who actively enjoys it.

3. A complete description of all of the BPD and PTSD symptoms displayed in the novel, along with his comorbid ADHD.

4. Examination of all his self-harm behaviors in the novel (including casual sex)

5. His wrong perception about his cognitive skills which comes from all the verbal abuse and internalized classism that he received from multiple sources, but especially Xue Meng, the "beyond remedy" comment, his period of homelessness and his childhood at the brothel.

As for other non-Mo Ran 2ha meta that I want to write eventually, these are the topics I'll be addressing:

1. An analysis of classism and patriarchy in 2ha's cultivation world.

2. Finding evidence for autistic Chu Wanning in canon.

3. Long dive into Chu Wanning's fantasies and how his experiences with sexual assault in 0.5 shaped his tastes in sex, which is Chu Fei's tragedy, because Taxian-Jun was forcing him to experience things he clearly liked but it wasn't out of love, just punishment and humiliation.

[heartslobbf]

could you talk about food in rgu as a kind of symbol for incest? it doesn't have to be anything too coherent or anything i just loved that post and would like to hear a bit more abt it!

hello yes absolutely!!!!! i appreciate you enabling me to be incoherent because whilst i claim to be a writer, i am godawful at putting anything polished out thanks to my perfectionism. you do not want to see my rgu essay drafts.

anyway. food and incest in rgu. i made a post saying that every food item in rgu at least tangentially relates to the show's exploration of incestuous abuse and how that is directly enabled by the institution of family. underneath the cut im gonna talk about my favourite and most notable examples of this. note that i will be closely discussing examples of incestuous abuse and csa in rgu.

my big thesis on this topic stems from the fact that anthy can't cook but akio can. anthy is capable of making non-substantial food, and otherwise entirely incompetent in the kitchen. she can't really provide for herself, and thus is dependent on others (namely akio) to live. akio is an adult who prides himself on his supposed independence (note how that independence helps shape his americanised masculinity), and not only does he cook and therefore provide for anthy, later utena and nanami, but he's shown to be beyond competent in the kitchen. he bakes a cake in episode 30 which both utena and wakaba comment on as being impressive, and in episode 32 he makes a rose hip jam that suggests his culinary skills go beyond standard measures.

the family institution makes it incredibly difficult for people to leave abusive families, especially when they are children. the ability to feed oneself in rgu determines how stuck in ohtori's system a character is. wakaba, for instance, is presented as an amateurish cook, and despite having proximity to the duels and akio is never fully subsumed by them. saionji and tsuwabuki are probably the other characters most notable for culinary skills, and for both of them they are only ever shown preparing food for themselves or nanami. with tsuwabuki, this is another of his unintentionally sinister attempts to be close with nanami. he is essentially trying to make her depend upon him to live, but he's literally 10 and doesn't really understand the implications of what he's doing. he just wants to provide for her! saionji offers to make nanami eggs when he notices that she's distressed, and i think this gets at the nuance of dependence on others, and being a provider. namely, you will and should be dependent upon others to an extent. offering and accepting help alike is important. saionji offering to make nanami eggs is a nice and genuine moment between them, and is distinctly different from some other instances ive discussed because their relationship isn't abusive or toxic or pseudo-incestuous or whatever else.

i'd like to suggest that miki and kozue's milkshake is actually quite similar to the eggs, even though their relationship is both toxic and incestuous. when kozue asks miki for a milkshake at the end of episode 15, she's extending an olive branch. the milkshake is complicated undoubtedly, but i think it pretty effectively summarises the issues in their relationship a la purity and knowledge and independence. i would write more on this if i'd rewatched ep 15 recently but it's worth noting that the milkshake is textually childish and non-substantive, and that's why kozue initially rejects it whilst miki makes and drinks it.

my magnum opus of incestuous food is the shaved ice, which is kind of like saying the sky is blue. like gee i wonder why anthy tells nanami in episode 4 that mixing the red and yellow syrrups together tastes so good like i just cant work it out its too subtle as utena always is. and of course the shaved ice reprises in episodes 31 and 32, or as i like to call them, Hey Check Out This Show's Thesis On Incestuous Abuse. dont think i need to explain whats going on when anthy feeds akio shaved ice in front of nanami and theyre both horribly uncomfortably coy and flirtatious the whole time. i definitely think theres something in anthy's shaved ice facilitating incestuous implications in all its appearances, but im not sure what. the ice isnt about forcing people to depend upon their family members, it's childish and indulgent and there's certainly something in that which relates to anthy. i actually have a lot of thoughts about anthy's perception of incest, namely because she loves to make jokes about it and all of them make me very sad. all instances of shaved ice are about taunting nanami, also. lots of thoughts here.

final big cornerstone in food = incest relates to a throwaway moment at the start of ep 11 where utena reveals that she intended to eat a single pre-packaged piece of convenience food for lunch, and wakaba and anthy both provide elaborate bentos for her instead. utena is an orphan. there's no one to provide for her in any socially conventional way, her parents aren't making her lunches nor have they taught her how to. returning to my Akio Can Cook point, in episode 26 akio tells utena that he considers her 'practically family'. there is a pseudo-incestuous nature to akio's relationships with both utena and touga, which is a broader point for a broader topic, but what's really important here is that utena feels she can depend upon akio to provide for her. and, horribly, she can! this makes it all the more difficult to reject him, because he is everything she has wanted ever since her parents died. you can also link to tsuwabuki here with pseudo-incest, and returning to touga momentarily there's something about the kiryuu family and all of their food being made by staff and also, you know, incest and pseudo-incest.

i think these are the big things to hit in regards to this idea. the curry episode is also absolutely fascinating, as is kanae and the apple, as is the cantarella scene and tea and cookies in ten years time. im kind of just throwing ideas around now but im not trying to write some deeply considered essay here, more so throw around some ideas ive had and see if anything sticks with anyone else.

[lord-morpheus-ravens]

I absolutely adore your work!! Could I request number 4 from the soft fic prompt list? Only if it sparks joy ❤️

Hiya nonny!! Sorry for the very late reply but I've been writing my thesis (and loving it, but it does leave very little room for anything else). Let's see if I can come up with something short and sweet for prompt 4. Neck kisses!

When Hob finally surfaced from his single-minded haze of grading, of poorly hand-written essays (cursive literacy might be the hill he had chosen to not-die on, but it was still a pain in the arse to have to sift through pages upon pages of shaky chicken scrawl) and weakly debated points, the light in the living room had dimmed, and the sofa clung to the shirt at his back like a second skin.

He unstuck himself and stretched, dropping the papers on the glass table before he stood, vaguely fancying a cup of tea, or perhaps a little water. Without bothering with his slippers, he crossed the hall, popping his spine as he went. The flat smelled like rain, clean rain, not the heavy, polluted kind he hadn't quite gotten used to in the 21st Century, and Hob smiled, peering inside the kitchen to find that at some point between noon and whatever hour of the evening this was, Dream had let himself into his home.

It was good that he no longer asked permission.

He was wearing one of Hob's shirts, the dear thing, and the neckline hung low and loose, exposing the smooth curve of a pale shoulder as Dream floated about the kitchen like a particularly sweet ghost, poking inside each and every cupboard like it contained the answers to all the questions of the universe. And he was singing -humming a gentle little tune under his breath, light and thoughtless and so achingly beautiful Hob found himself hovering by the doorway, just listening.

It was somehow at once familiar and unknown, like a half-forgotten lullaby, ancient and new, dotted with the sound of clinking china and Dream's catlike steps, the sound of home. Warmth bloomed inside Hob's chest, wetting his eyes, and his initial weariness fled him like he'd just woken from a long night of deep sleep.

"Hello, Hob," Dream said softly, and though his back was turned Hob knew he was smiling his shy little smile.

Breaking out of his mesmerised stupor, Hob rushed across the kitchen and gathered his lover's thin, unyielding body in his arms, pressed a kiss to the nearest cheekbone and took the honeypot from Dream's hand so they could twine their fingers. "Hello, my heart," he whispered, suddenly overwhelmed with affection for this otherwordly creature who had taken time out of his impossible duties to come and make tea for him. "It's so good to see you."

He reinforced the point by trailing his lips along the delicate shape of Dream's ear, pausing just beneath to touch his tongue to that sweet spot that always took the breath from him. Dream shivered, melting into his embrace, and raised his free hand to pet Hob's hair. "So I... ah... so I gathered."

Already half-drunk on the scent of him, petrichor and sugar and the sharp sting of star-matter, Hob parted his mouth just so and dropped slow, questing kisses along the white line of Dream's neck, so graciously exposed by his own ratty T-shirt (turned an obliging black to suit the wearer's tastes). Dream's blunt nails dug into his scalp at the tease, and Hob sucked a short-lived bruise into the tender skin in retaliation, splayed his palm over his beloved's stomach just to feel it quiver with tension.

"Come here, Dream, dove," he murmured, urging him to turn around so he could lift him onto the counter by the thighs; Dream's lashes fluttered over the ever-wet blue of his eyes, and he went easily, light as a feather, reaching for him arms and legs. "Christ, I'm the luckiest bastard in the universe."

Dream's huffing chuckle faded into a whine as Hob set his lips back over the curve of his throat, worrying the skin with his teeth. "I love you so much, sweetheart."

Throwing his head back to meet him with an arched spine, Dream folded himself around him and hung on, digging suddenly-boot-free heels at the small of his back. His cool hands fluttered restlessly about his body, finally finding purchase around the strands of his hair. "The tea," he panted, rolling their hips together even as he lifted Hob's face from the cradle of his neck. "The tea will get cold."

Hob cupped the dear face with gentle fingers and kissed his open mouth softly. "I will drink it cold," he promised. "And I will love it."

I hope you liked it!! It's a bit spicier than my usual, but the prompt WAS neck kisses, so...

[aphverse-confessions]

The way that ZaneChan/Zana was handled in canon is so disappointing looking back on it. Zane and KC literally only have maybe 4 significant scenes together before their kiss in the haunted house which leaves the ship feeling so rushed. Sure there's some build up during Aphmau's Year which was nice but again, it was maybe only 1 or 2 scenes. I also very much get the impression that after they kissed and got together, Jess really didn't know what else to do with them aside from having them make out constantly (which is very ooc for Zane imo) or not communicate with one another which is so frustrating to watch. And I feel they would've benefited from more scenes together before their kiss as well as after. Set up the mutual crush they could both have with small outings and them just spending time together. And once tensions begin rising in the relationship, let them actually talk it out! When push comes to shove Zane hits a breaking point and talks stuff out! And since s4 he seems way more willing to set boundaries and establish communication even with those he cares about. So why didn't he do this with KC? We don't need KC accidentally kissing Garroth to make any of that happen! (God I could write a thesis on how absolutely idiotic that writing choice was). Like it's actually so frustrating because a good relationship is right there but no we need to have more Aarmau moments bc Aarmau is our Lord and Savior apparently 😮‍💨 (and I'm mostly indifferent to Aarmau but man the fact it's literally everywhere gets on my nerves sometimes). It's just disheartening because I think aside from DanChan and some other relationships here and there, ZaneChan had the opportunity to become one of the best relationships from Jess' series. Also we never got that subplot with Ghost really resolved in a meaningful way? It was definitely in character for KC to be jealous of her flirting with Zane but why didn't we ever have a moment where she confronts Ghost and tells her to buzz off? Also,, I think it's so so icky that they made Emmalyn so obsessed with Zane enough to the point she kissed him without his consent :/ I have yet to understand why the characters continue to let Ghost hang around them when Zane has been clearly very uncomfortable around her in multiple scenes. Sorry for the essay I can get carried away lol.

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[mdhwrites]

Do Themes Make a Story Good? Featuring TOH and Amphibia

I've tried talking about this subject a few times and never found a good angle for it. Last night, a thought wormed into my brain about the fact that I make a lot of posts defending the thematic strengths of Amphibia, how those themes help justify some of its writing choices and even talk about concepts and the like that people claim are not in the show that are actually represented. Contrasted with my blogs on The Owl House where I usually talk about its themes to highlight poor execution on them or how I disagree with them existing, a fear hit me.

Do I consider Amphibia's themes more valid because I like the show more?

The extremely short and reductive version of this is "to some extent yes." That doesn't get into WHY for this though. After all, one's enjoyment of a piece shouldn't matter for a theme. Not all themes are fun or pleasant and so expecting a comfortable experience with them isn't fair. It limits the sort of storytelling you're capable of.

The problem is that this extends to ALL media. What commonly determines if a piece is genuinely good or not is if it was engaging, not if it was fun or enjoyable. A horror fan and an action fan might both call their movies a blast but the sort of engagement they had is vastly different. One is loving the use of scares, tension, etc. like that while the other may have just enjoyed a popcorn flick with explosions, big set pieces and silly violence but neither opinion is bad because they were both properly engaged by the points of the movie.

Themes are interesting because we often talk about them as engaging but I think this is actually putting the cart before the horse. We pick up on these themes because the work itself is engaging. After all, a textbook on mental health can have a theme of dealing with trauma but we don't frame it that way because, you know... It's a textbook. It's dry. Conversely, an author might tell you that their work was about something but if it was incoherent garbage, then who cares what it had to say because you didn't like it in the first place to dig into every piece of symbolism that supposedly has something to say about the theme the author claims.

So what does this have to do with Amphibia and The Owl House? Well, their ways of dealing with theme are kind of fascinating and indicative of how they are built as shows and play into why I find one's themes great while the other is lacking. I'll try to illustrate with two metaphors: Amphibia's theming is like putting away pennies for a fundraiser to make a park for the community. Everyone pitches in but they pitch in in small ways and no one is able to just dumb a giant wad of cash in. They're small drops that build and build until one day you go to put a penny in and are pleasantly surprised to find that hey, you guys are making some real progress! You might not make the goal you had but this is impressive as is! Next week it's a little higher and higher until the jar is gone, only for the organizer to come out to cheer about how they made it and finally revealing the park, but the sum of it all is so much more than you could have expected from mere pennies, especially in all the small details! However, even if you only glance at it, it still looks complete, fun and satisfying.

The Owl House's theming is much more like a college essay that ends up getting a C. It starts with a really strong thesis to their paper and has a compelling starting argument that implies a lot of knowledge. However, they have fifty pages to fill and the student realizes by page ten, they're running short. So they first start pulling in elements that don't conflict immediately but are still a little strange to include. Then it includes a couple strange tangents and personal anecdotes that don't seem to make a lot of sense and are losing the thread faster and faster. By the end, the tricks to achieve word count are starting to become blatant, especially as they spend so much time repeating the same things as if they were new information or something unique but it's actually well worn. All of it is useless to their argument and even actively harming it, let alone when paired with all the rest. Structurally it works and it finished with enough words but it comes back with the thesis statement circled multiple times and the question "Wasn't this the point?" under it, all in red.

These two approaches have knock on effects though. Amphibia doesn't ask anything of the viewer but to buy in slightly. In return, you are invited to just enjoy the characters and its world. It doesn't have anything to prove and doesn't need to be loud in its messaging and so the story is allowed to function simply on a basic level and be enjoyable on its own. It can tell a simple story with a clear moral because it knows that the moral is playing a part to the larger whole and doesn't care about if everyone knows how grand its scope because the goal of enriching everyone will be reached no matter what. This is how you get an entire season dedicated to Anne's character development that only bothers to actually say that was the goal at the end of the season when the option to be selfish once more and cut off community, to reject change and go back to what is comfortable, comes in the form of Sasha. And heck, that is actually one of the most overt times Amphibia brings attention to its storytelling/theming but only AFTER earning it.

The Owl House meanwhile has something to prove but neither the knowledge or focus to do so but it's stated it so now it has to earn it. As such, anything that crosses its desk that is even tangentially related to its themes gets pushed in so that it can claim to be thoroughly exploring the topic, even if previous examples or the like actively conflict with the new example. As an example, I've seen people really praise The First Day for tackling how the traditional school system doesn't accommodate people or work for all learning types. With TOH's early statement of "Us weirdos gotta stick together!" and all that implies, this is actually a great topic for it to tackle. However, because its being grafted onto this thesis, the supporting evidence hasn't been properly built up and so you have people claiming they should be allowed to do school differently... By literally breaking the law in a way that is met with the DEATH PENALTY. It's technically on topic but it's sloppy and loses all of its bite because you're left more confused than properly satisfied.

This causes a weird issue where you can engage with Amphibia only on the surface level, never take in its themes, and still get a deep enjoyment from it because the basic storytelling makes sense, follows its own internal logic and has satisfying payoffs because of every penny contributed to making the whole thing works. You don't need more than Anne's relationships with others to be able to cheer in joy at the "They're not Amphibia's greatest treasure" moment because those relationships are engaging on their own. Because of this engagement and satisfaction though, you're more incentivized to want to actually take a closer look at what the whole picture was and to enjoy the minor details, even if you didn't have to, like how the whole show always pushed seeing selfish things that could oppress others as worthless when compared to the selfless and communal which is part of the thematic punch of the greatest treasure moment.

Meanwhile, The Owl House paradoxically is hard to enjoy as a basic story due to all the concessions to theme while the choices of the story also actively make the theming worse, making only the absolute most surface level read the one that can be satisfying because only then can it desperately claiming that everything had a point actually be believed. Otherwise, the broken seams that are barely keeping the whole thing together start to show itself until it entirely unravels at the end because it cannot tie them all back together. The epitomy of this is how Luz becomes a chosen one, breaking some early theming, due to a power up she only gets after the THIRD time that she theoretically resolves the same inner conflict in THREE EPISODES, muddling any of the thematic payoffs for any of the three times the themes were meant to climax. The best the show can hope for is that the teacher will accept their excuses for why it's so incoherent, despite the fact that even as early as S1B (When The First Day I referenced earlier was) the flaws in the show's ability to actually meet the assignment were clear.

This is why I personally argue that you can have a good story without themes but you can't have good themes without a good story. If the work doesn't support them then the themes will more often than not get in the way and audiences won't care they were there in the first place. Admittedly, this might be due to my own writing method where I usually stumble my way into a theme that stems from simply trying to make the base concept the best way I can. After all, almost every story will have a theme of some sort but if you go in with the goal of making a statement, well...

You better know what you're talking about and how to present it or you'll become more repetitive and rambly than this blog.

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I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[deathlygristly]

I am reading the reblogs and tags on an older post that goes around the dash occasionally. It's about reading. I'm sure you've seen it - someone talks about Divergent books and 1984 and then someone reblogs it and calls 1984 rape apologism? Which is really weird?

The spousal person ordered a print of this Kate Beaton comic many years ago and he hung it up in the hallway and he told me to go look at it whenever I said my writing was bad:

http://www.harkavagrant.com/index.php?id=44

The first two panels do a fairly decent job of explaining 1984. Which is just....a really simple book. It's like wow look fascism sucks! And that's it, pretty much. Like yeah, obviously you could write papers and essays and a thesis and probably do a whole body of academic work on the particulars of it, but really it's just that Orwell thought fascism sucked. Which it does, so I don't see the problem?

Anyway I am pretty sure a lot of the people on that post come from a very different society than I do, even though the education system they say they hate is the American one. Which, hey, our education is locally funded and controlled so maybe it's just that my working class southern Appalachian rural county schools were a lot better than their schools? Or is it maybe what I've suspected before, that I graduated before No Child Left Behind?

I can't recall my English teachers ever being authoritarian to the extent so many other people claim their English teachers were. Not that I can recall that much about English or school at all, really, but I think I would remember if they marched around all "No, your essay is WRONG and only MY opinion is right!!!" all the time.

But then it's true that I don't remember it that well because I just wrote essays the night before they were due or sometimes in the classes before English if it was a class later in the day, and then I got a good grade and nice comments on it and then I got on with my life. I don't think I ever invested nearly as much emotional energy and idea of my self-worth into English class as the people on that post did. Which maybe that's why they remember it so well? Certainly it's probably a large part of why they still have Big Emotions about it.

Anyway my point is that sometimes I read how people write about their own reading and I'm like oh. This is why I shouldn't care what people say about my work that much. I clearly did not write it for these people who experience the world and fiction and the written word in a way that I cannot imagine at all and that I would have never known existed as a possibility if I hadn't read their own words about it.

Like the version of the post that gets the most reblogs ends with an essay about how in the last few decades people have come to expect characters to be "relatable" and to be like them and to think and experience things the way they do? And there's all this self-identity and irrational and false beliefs about your own moral purity involved?

If you come to my work with that sort of thing in your heart you will bounce off of it, and I have finally come to understand that the bouncing off is for the best for both of us.

If you're new here and you haven't read my stuff yet, here's the pinned post with the directory on my Simblr: Story Index.

Anyway, gotta go to bed now. It's just....I don't think I ever realized just how differently people experience fiction and books and the written word from how I experience it before. Like in the tags someone said they expected 1984 to be more Hunger Games-esque? How is that person perceiving reality? I want to live inside their brain for a bit to learn.