#the stage is complete when I read through the whole thing thinking 'they would SO say that!'

[fodlanficdotcom]

I'm taking my sweet time on the casphardt chapter 3 but the good news is: it is done. (done meaning It's technically complete and technically edited but I want to reread the whole thing start to finish and do another round of editing where necessary. SCRUPULOUS!!! that's me.)

[queenothegeeks]

Awkward creator reader drabbles

This is based off a previous post about the reader being an awkward creator.

(warning, this all based off of chaotic ideas me and a friend had while on call, and this is not beta read, so I apologize for any bad spelling or grammar)

Imagine, just, having tea with Zhongli, and he's just talking about wine or something boring idk, and he notices that you look a little zoned out, like, eyes glazed over, mind clearly elsewhere. While he’s worrying about The Creator not liking him or whatever, you are just trying to figure out how to process being in another world, with all these people that you know everything about, but at the same time, don’t know anything at all. 

When you notice him looking at you weird and not talking anymore, you worry that you may have missed something important. So you just blurt out the first thing that came to mind, to fill the silence. 

“It's kinda funny that you're working under Hu Tao. She’s like, a billion years younger than you. Also, you should cool it on the adventuring, you might throw your back out gramps.”

And then, realizing what you said, you just grab your now lukewarm  (yes, he was talking for that long) cup of tea (or whatever else you want if you don’t drink tea)  and take a long sip, trying to hide your red face. 

(Bonus, you choked on your tea) 

Imagine going to Fontaine, and just gawking at the scenery there. Imagine, in order to find out about where in the timeline you are (and because you want to see some of your favorite characters) you decide to go to the opera house, and see if there's a trial going on, where you can ask Furina or Neuvillette about the wellbeing of Fontaine. Instead, you find a flier for Lyney and Lynette's magic show at a nearby theater. Deciding to go, you pay the ticket master, who looks in slight shock as the creator buys back row seats like a normal person (you were too scared to ask for a better seat while paying, so you just asked for the cheapest one) 

Sitting down, you wait nervously for the show to start, all being completely ignorant of the panic and rumors backstage. 

“The creators here! At our show!?”

“Calm down, it's fine, we don’t even know if it’s true.”

And, just to stir the pot, a tall lady sits next to you. You feel like you should know her from somewhere, she just seems so… familiar. 

Realizing you had been staring for quite a while, you turn your head back to the stage, waiting for the show to start. About midway through the show, you realize who it is you are sitting next to.

The knave, fourth of the Fatui harbingers. 

At the end of the performance, you shift in your seat, suddenly wayyyyyy more self-conscious than you were at the beginning of the show.  Wanting to say everything and nothing at the same time, you decide it's best to shut your mouth for the time being. It’s probably not even her, why worry-

“Excuse my rudeness, would you happen to be the creator?”

She knew you were of course, hence why she chose to sit next to you, instead of the front row seat that was reserved for her, as it always was at one of her children's performances. 

“I.. am… but you can call me y/n! I don’t really like fancy titles or anything! Would you be the Knave? Or do you prefer Arlecchino? ack-wait , sorry. I’ll shut up now, let's start fresh, what do you think of the show?”

You half say-half shout, flailing your hands around, and then shrinking in your seat, trying to become as small as possible. Arlecchino chuckles.

“I think it was a lovely performance, as they always are. My children are very talented, you know.” 

“Y-yeah! They're really great! I have to go! Great meeting you miss-Arlecchino-Knave-ma’am” 

You say as you bolt out of the room, the embarrassment and social awkwardness you naturally possess driving your feet. 

(Bouns, you tripped over your own feet and wanted the floor to swallow you whole) 

@lorkai

[moonstruckme]

hiii!! i love your writing so much i think i’ve read every single thing you’ve ever posted. i’m genuinely obsessed 🫶🫶 i was wondering if you could write something where the reader and remus have been dating/talking for a little while and she hasn’t had her first kiss yet and she starts to get nervous everytime she thinks he’s abt to kiss her and she runs away?? i’m ngl this is based off of very real events in my life 😭😭

i love you so much!! hope your doing amazing

Hi gorgeous, thanks so much! This is soooo relatable of you haha, I have a library of hilarious stories about my very hyper friend who kept literally springing away from guys she liked who were trying to kiss her, but it does make for some very interesting (and often very sweet) conversations!

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

On your first official date with Remus, the two of you went to a drive-in movie. You kept your seatbelt on the entire time. 

You only realized halfway through, mentally kicking yourself for being so jittery you’d lost all sense of normalcy, but by then it felt too late. It’d be awkward to take it off halfway through the movie, try to play that off as casual. You’d made your bed. You didn’t unbuckle until Remus dropped you off at your house at the end of the night. 

On your second date, you’re determined to be less uptight. You want him to know that you really do like him, even if your nerves make you jump and flinch whenever he gets close. At the Italian restaurant, it’s difficult to find a pasta dish without garlic, but you manage it. You’re a girl with an agenda. The two of you split a chocolate cake for dessert. It’s delicious, probably, though you can’t focus on much besides Remus’ story and the way his mouth moves as he tells it. How he tucks one corner of his bottom lip between his teeth when he’s trying to hide a smile. 

You have to hope belatedly that you haven’t somehow smeared chocolate all over your face while eating. You’re not at all confident you would’ve noticed. 

It’s a short walk back to your place, and you manage to jabber the whole way, a masterclass in self-sabotage. Remus doesn’t seem to mind, his hand light and cordial on your back as he guides you up the steps to your door. You savor the touch. It takes every ounce of willpower you have not to spring away. 

“It sounds really interesting,” he says graciously as you finish your tangent about the book you’ve just read. “I’ll have to pick up a copy.” 

“I can lend you mine,” you offer. “Maybe I can bring it the next time we hang out?” Your voice tips up hopefully at the end of the question, and warmth touches your cheeks. 

A similar pinkening spreads across Remus’ freckles. He smiles at you, the scar across his lip stretching. You’re spellbound. 

“Yeah, that sounds great.” You might be imagining it, but you could swear his eyes flit to your lips. “I had a great time tonight,” he says. “I really like talking to you.” 

Your voice is soft. “I like talking to you, too.” 

He takes a step towards you, and it’s like your muscles stage a coup. You take an involuntary step backward, a smile plastering itself uncomfortably on your face. 

“Thanks for everything,” you say brightly. “Goodnight!”

You spin and go for the door handle, and you’re nearly inside before you hear Remus’ quiet “Wait.” 

You turn. Lead in your bones. 

Remus is holding his palms up as if to show you he’s got no weapon. 

“Sorry,” he says, “I just wanted to…you know I’d never do anything you didn’t want me to, right?” 

You’re frozen stiff. 

“Like, even if I thought there was a chance you didn’t want to, I would never…” He shakes his head, looking lost. Guilt settles like a stone in your gut. “I guess I’m a bit confused. If you don’t want to do anything, that’s completely fine, but sometimes it seems like you want me to kiss you, and then you don’t…” 

“Rem,” you say. You feel like you’re breathing through a straw. “Remus, I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart, it’s not your fault—” 

“No, it is. It’s not—I don’t want you to think I’m scared of you or anything. I’m not, it’s just, I get skittish.” You can’t make yourself look at his eyes, your gaze stuck just shy of his chin. Your face feels aflame. “It’s not you. I’m just nervous.” 

“Oh.” It’s a soft thing, more exhale than anything. Then his fingers curl under your chin, tipping your face up. “Well, you can relax, love. I was never going to make a move unless I got a clear signal from you first. But we can just take that off the table completely, if you’d like.” He gives you a small, gentle smile. “I only want you to feel comfortable.” 

Your heart zings right up into your throat. “I do feel comfortable,” you blurt. “I don’t want it off the table.” 

Remus’ eyebrows flick upwards. “You don’t?” 

“No,” you murmur, bashful. 

His eyebrows come slowly back down, puckering slightly as he tries to figure you out. His eyes narrow until his lashes kiss. His tongue pokes into his cheek, just a little. You miss nothing. You find yourself taking in a quiet breath, steeling yourself. 

You move across that tiny bit of air between you and find him there waiting.

It’s everything you could’ve hoped for and yet startlingly simple. Remus’ lips are warm and soft, pressing into yours with an intensity that you suspect is nonetheless restrained for your benefit. He tastes like chocolate cake. 

His mouth meanders over to the corner of your lips, granting one quick peck to your cheek before making its way back to the center of your mouth, reverent. He backs away slowly, easing you out of it. 

“Wasn’t really expecting that,” he admits.

“Me neither. Was it alright?” Your voice is a bit breathy. “I’ve never done that before.” 

For a moment, he’s quiet. 

“That was your first kiss?” 

You swallow, rubbing your lips together as you nod. 

“Sweetheart,” he grins, “you’re a natural.” 

A giggle spurts out of you, dizzy with the taste of him and the novelty of it all. “You mean it?” 

“I wouldn’t lie to you.” He mimes drawing a cross over his heart. It occurs to you that you both seem infinitely more at ease than you have since dinner. The corner of Remus’ bottom lip goes between his teeth, his cheek dimpling. “I mean, there is something to be said for practice, though.” 

You don’t fight your own grin; it comes out in full force. “Mm, I think I’ve heard something about that. Practice makes…defective, right? Something like that.” 

“C’mere.” Remus rolls his eyes at you, but as his arms wrap around you his smile mirrors yours. 

[yelenasdiary]

How about the story of Nat realizing she's pregnant and dealing with it all. Then the day to day life of Nat and her babygirl

Wondering

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Daughter! Reader

Summary: With help from her best friend, Clint, Natasha escapes the control of the Red Room and prepares for a whole new life.

Angst, Comfort.

Warnings: Mentions of Red Room, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Talk, Childbirth | 1.7K

Translations: милый (darling), я люблю тебя, солнышко (I love you, sunshine)

AC: I think this is the perfect request for the first fic of the AU! Thank you for sending this x I hope this helps set a little backstory for Nat.

A Widow’s Sunshine Masterlist

Natasha had been nothing but quiet for the last four days since staying with Clint at his farmhouse. It was a big house for a man who lived alone, Clint assumed that his friend was worried that the widows of the Red Room would find her and take her back but the look in Natasha's eyes told him that was far from her worries.

"Alright, tell me what's going on" Clint spoke as he sat down next to Nat on the sofa. His friend looked at him and sighed lightly, "Nat, come on, you can tell me" he added. Natasha knew the time would come and she would have to talk somewhat about her time in the Red Room. She and Clint have been on the run since she met him, although this was not the first time, she was able to escape, this time was the only time they haven't found her and brought her back. 

"Remember how I was telling you about the graduation ceremony?" Natasha replied, Clint nodded. "Well, I didn't tell you all the stages before it. Before the graduation and after you've completed the program, you're to hav-" Natasha paused, the trauma of her life catching up to her, although she was still young, in her early 20s, she felt she had already lived a lifetime of trauma. Clint placed his hand on top of hers for comfort, "whatever it is Nat, we'll get through it" he assured her. 

"I'm pregnant" the words spewed out. Nat could see the questions flying around Clint's mind and deserved to answer them before he asked. "It's Dreykov's way of getting more widows without getting caught, they inseminate you, you give birth, they take the baby, and you go to what they call recovery which is just them brainwashing you until you have completely forgotten the last 9 months. After that, you go through the graduation ceremony and…well the rest is what you already know" she explained. 

Clint took a moment to process the news he was just told, "do you" He paused unsure if his question would offend his best friend, but it was something he needed to know to be able to help, "do you want to keep the baby?" He asked. Natasha nodded as a soft smile tugged at her lips, "I've done enough bad in the world, and I'll be damned if I let them do the same to my baby. I know this isn't what you expected so I don't expect you keep me here, but I do need a little time to work something out" she replied. 

"Don't be stupid Nat. You can stay here as long as you and the baby need, you're safe here, I promise" Clint spoke sternly, assuring his words got through to his best friend. Natasha hugged him tightly, thanking him for his understanding and kindness and for a moment any worries she currently had were no more. 

----

Pregnancy for Natasha was a whole new chapter that she wasn't prepared for, but she loved every single moment of it. It gave her a sense of normality; she spent her days learning new things that would help her for when her baby would enter the world. Clint helped her along the way, he even began building a small homestead for Natasha to have a little more privacy when her baby was born. It was only a few months into her pregnancy that Clint met Laura. 

Each night Natasha would read you stories from a children's book she would buy from the thrift shop, even though you weren't born yet, the little actions she did while pregnant gave her great comfort and made her even more excited to finally hold you in her arms. She would talk to you about anything she was doing, baking cookies for Clint and Laura? She would be talking you through each step and even asking you questions as if you could actually answer her, sometimes you would kick, and she would take that as an answer. 

Even through all the happiness, joy and excitement there was still worries and fears growing with each day. She was suspicious as to why she'd gone almost her entire pregnancy without even a sighting or feeling that Dreykov was after her. Clint assured her that his farm was a safe place and even offered for Natasha to join the Avengers after you were born, and she felt ready. It was an idea that she spent time thinking about but at the end of the day all she wanted to do was make sure you were happy, healthy and safe.

"Woah there милый" Natasha chuckled, rubbing her hand over her bump, "this isn't the world cup" she added. 

"Kicking a lot today?" Clint asked, taking a sip of his afternoon coffee.

"She hasn't stopped" Nat replied. Clint looked up at her with wide eyes, "she? When did you find out" he asked with a hint of excitement in his voice. Natasha couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips while her hand naturally rubbed her seven-month pregnant stomach, "I didn't need to find out" she replied, "She was always going to be a little girl" she added but she didn't let the faint memory of the Red Room bring out the happiness she had been having with each day you grew. 

Clint got up and hugged Natasha and congratulated her, he could see the sparkle in her eyes for the first time ever, he'd never seen her so happy in the few short years that he had known her. "I wanna show you something" he said, taking her by the hand and walking her out to the small homestead that he had just finished and was waiting until the next day to give her the key. 

"I was going to wait until tomorrow but given the news, maybe you want to start planning out the nursery" Clint smiled. Tears built up in Nat's eyes, "what do you think baby girl?" Natasha whispered as she looked around the empty room, "you can paint it, do whatever you like with it, this is all yours" Clint said.

"You've done so much for us, I can't thank you enough" Natasha turned on her heels and hugged him, "thank you" she whispered. 

Over the last couple months of pregnancy, Natasha was preparing for you to enter this world. She and Clint painted the nursery in a soft pastel green color, she hung a photo from her first ultrasound on the wall above your changing table, baby animal décor stickers were also put on the walls. Clint helped up together all the future and placed it wherever Natasha thought would be best and once the nursery was complete, she couldn't wait to rock you to sleep in her arms in the rocking chair or watch you play with your toys on the purple rug when you would get a little older. 

You entered the big wide world at 5:23am on a Thursday morning, healthy and a little smile that made everybody melt. Natasha didn't want to let you go, she could barely take her eyes off you, even when Clint and Laura came to bring the two of you home, she was nervous as anything when Clint held you. 

"Do we have a name yet for the little one?" a nurse asked, "we really need to get the birth certificate done today" she added. 

Natasha nodded, "Y/n Melina Romanoff" she replied with a soft smile. 

"Melina?" Clint questioned, "I'll tell you later, now give me my baby" the red head replied with a soft smile and arms wide open. 

"A beautiful name, I'll finalise the certificate" the nurse smiled, writing your name on a piece of paper. 

----

Natasha was loving every moment of motherhood, even when she felt like she was going to fall asleep while feeding you and when sometimes she thought it was going to be another sleepless night on the cards but being your mother was the only thing she wanted to do every single day. When you slept, she slept and often Clint would find her asleep in the rocking chair by your crib when he came to check on things. Clint and Laura helped as much as they could, but of course, your mother was head strong and said she was fine with looking after you on her own.

"You look exhausted" Clint said as he placed a small bag of groceries on the counter for Nat. "She just didn't want to sleep last night" she replied, pouring herself a mug of hot coffee and sitting down at the small table in her kitchen. "Why don't Laura and I take her for the night so you can get a decent sleep for once" Clint offered but Natasha shook her head, "it's not that I don't want that, I just hate the idea of not being with her" Nat admitted.

"She'll just be up at house, you need some sleep Nat, you can't keep being supermom on coffee and 3 hours of sleep each day" Clint spoke, worried for his best friend. "Besides, how else am I going to show her how great of an uncle I am if you don't let me do that" he added to lighten the mood. Natasha cocked a brow as she took a sip of her coffee, deep down she knew she had to eventually let her guard down just a little and allow others to help. She just wanted the best for you.

"One night" Natasha replied. 

Clint smiled, "you've got it" 

As the weeks turned to months, things got easier for the new mother, each day you had her in awe. Nat eventually did allow for Clint and Laura to spend more time with you while she had a little me time and caught up on sleep. She loved taking you for walks around the property in your pusher, she loved bath time and hearing your little giggles and of course capturing your sweet smile whenever she played peek-a-boo. 

At night when she would pop her head into your room to check on you, she found herself watching you for minutes on end. Her mind wondering about what life was going to bring for the two of you, what tomorrow would bring. She often wondered what your first words would be, when you would take your first steps and what all your favorite things would be but for now, she wanted nothing more than to just enjoy these early years and learn everything she possibly could about you.

"я люблю тебя, солнышко" your mother whispered as she placed the soft kiss on your forehead.

Taglist: @koinsss | @liloandstitchstan | @marcia-maximoff | @skittlebum | @katethewritersblog | @taliiiaasteria | @nova-kyle | 

If you want to be on the taglist for this series, please see the masterlist. It's linked at the top of this post.

[grapementos]

perseverance

aged up bakugo x reader

pt. 3 to this

numerous panic attacks had ensued since you were discharged from the hospital, but not all of them reached their final stages like the first had.

you’d grown better at grounding yourself and having some semblance of control over your anxiousness. slowly but surely, you felt the pain ebbing away.

it would never be gone completely, you knew, and every day you questioned the possibility of things being different.

what if katsuki hadn’t quit being a hero? what if he’d proposed just as he’d planned to? would your wedding have been beautiful? your marriage successful and healthy?

there were so many what ifs that hurt your heart just to think about.

yet, all you did was think about it—in the best, healthiest way.

you set aside your pride and fears and confided not only in your friends, but in a therapist. you had sessions weekly, and every time you walked out of the office, you felt a little lighter.

for the first time, you understood that it was okay to still love katsuki, to still want to be with him. in fact, they initially expressed how they wished the two of you had tried couples therapy before everything went south.

that was another what if that hurt.

you were always the more rational, levelheaded one. why hadn’t you thought of it, encouraged it? would it have made a difference? those thoughts kept you awake at night, haunting your mind and mocking you with images of a perfect life with katsuki. the life you could've had.

those thoughts were bumps in your path to recovery. it was only through those thoughts, however, that you learned that the road wasn't linear. you had amazing days when you felt strong and independent, days when you'd feel like you were in a colgate commercial. other days, you wanted to set your apartment on fire and disappear. you wanted to scream until your voice was gone, vocal chords torn to shreds. some days, you just wanted everything to stop.

through the good and the bad, you were able to persevere through the challenging navigation of a breakup. still, you granted yourself permission to still love him. to be in love with him. that love would never just vanish, you'd realized a few months into your journey. it dulled, flickered, and faded, but never vanished.

-

you'd found that implementing a routine in your daily life had greatly improved your overall mental health.

this morning, you turned on the news as you made yourself breakfast--a meal you forced yourself to consume, no matter how little it was.

as you grabbed what you needed from the cupboards, a name in the news had you pausing everything.

"...following his spontaneous philanthropic streak, former hero dynamight announces that he will be hosting a tell-all session at our local library. there, he intends to, quote, 'make amends with those i might have hurt with my words, actions, or lack thereof...' well, you heard it here. don't miss a valiant display of heroic vulnerability today at noon. in other news..."

you gaped at the tv, the glass bowl slipping from your suddenly clammy fingers.

philanthropic streak? where had you been?

the sound of the glass breaking reached your ears a whole minute after it hit the ground, snapping you out of your dumbfounded stupor.

"shit," you cursed, crouching down to pick up the pieces.

no, don't even think about it.

you looked at the clock, reading 8 as the time. plenty of time for you to get dressed and go.

no.

you could easily make it in time and sit in the back, just to see him and hear what he had to say.

no.

you'd wear something inconspicuous and hide in the back, just being silent. and then you'd leave, after ten minutes.

no.

every no carried a little bit of yes at the end of it, forcefully dragging you out of the kitchen and into the bathroom for a shower. it was closure, you argued to yourself, closure that you desperately needed.

it's going to be excuses, nothing but lies.

dark clothes are the best choice, you decided, anxiously changing into something you deemed inconspicuous. just ten minutes, it was all you needed.

don't throw all your progress away for ten minutes.

you stared at the mirror, trying to find a single good reason to stay home. yet, every thought in your mind convinced you that this, this is what you needed. you needed to hear him express his regret, his remorse to other people. people who once trusted and supported him in his endeavors, only to be woefully let down by his bouts of anger.

this will just make you hurt more. don't do this.

you discarded every invasive voice in the back of your brain and found yourself at the library come noon, hidden behind a bookshelf. you browsed the shelves with unseeing eyes, thoughts drowned out by the low murmur of the large crowd seated in front of the small stage in the center.

the library was home to many plays around the city, which you found ironic. would this be another display of dramatism and lies?

just as you found a book with a flattering cover, the mic whined with a little feedback.

"sorry about that."

you knew the voice, but the genuineness was foreign to you. you peeked over the row of books, your blood running cold as you saw katsuki sitting meekly on a chair on the stage.

"hello, everyone. i'm, uh, i'm bakugo katsuki, but most of you might know me as dynamight," he began, scanning the crowd, "a lot of you might not be fond of me based, um, based on my time as a hero."

many voices mumbled in agreement at that, which made him laugh, just the slightest. it made your chest swell with pride he didn't deserve.

"and i really don't blame you. i carried a lot of my immaturity from high school into adulthood. my biggest problem was that i saw heroism as a means to an end, a," he motioned with his hands, trying to find the words, "a stepping stone to being 'the best'--whatever that means. and i got lost in my obsession with my image."

you listened intently, at least half sure that you were listening to a complete stranger talk. the katsuki you knew had nowhere near this much humility.

"with that being said, my first apology goes to you, the people of this beloved city. you deserved someone who had your best interest at heart, and i'm sorry that couldn't be me. but, rest assured, i am very familiar with the current top ten and can say with confidence that they are the heroes you deserve."

you found yourself tearing up at his words, so awestruck by the complete 360 in his persona.

the crowd cheered at his words, as pleasantly surprised with his chanage as you were.

"thank you," he chuckled when the crowd quieted down, "next, i'd like to apologize to my friends and family. they definitely got some of the worst of it. for years, they suggested therapy for the anger that i just couldn't seem to control. and for years, brushed them off, over and over again. i insisted that my anger was fuel for my quirk, when in reality, it was detrimental. dangerous. so, mom, dad, all my friends, i'm sorry it took me so long to take your advice. thank you for standing by me."

you werent sure if the session was being broadcasted, but you sure hope it was. kirishima, mina, sero, and denki deserved to hear it. more than that, you were shocked to discover that he'd also been in therapy. so he really meant it..

another round of applause.

"last, and most important," he sucked in a sharp breath, "i'd like to apologize to the love of my life."

you stilled, as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over your head. no, no way.

"i spent three amazing years with the only person i could ever see myself loving. they were the most patient, the most kind person you could ever imagine. they stood by me during every slandering headline, every angry episode, every single ugly moment. they were there."

you covered your mouth and crouched down to the floor, squeezing you eyes shut. no, hell no, you refused to cry.

he exhaled shakily, rubbing a sweaty palm against his jeans, "they were devoted to me, to us. i'd be nothing without their impact on my life, and i've done the worst job at showing it. i," he stammered, scrunching his eyebrows together, "i ruined what we had, and i've never regret anything more. i know all the philanthropy and therapy and apologies in the world can never take back my insensitivity, but i will never stop being sorry, and i swear i'll grow every day."

you had to clamp your hand harder over your mouth to prevent any sniffles or sobs from escaping and alerting everyone to your presence. his words were so genuine, so wholehearted that you knew he truly had changed.

"i'll love them forever, regardless of if they hate me. with that love, i'll destroy any semblance of the douchebag-asshole-monster i used to be." he smiled out to the crowd as a final goodbye, "thank you, everyone. you don't owe me your forgiveness, but i hope you'll consider forgiving me one day."

people clapped, whistled, cheered for him as he turned off the mic.

meanwhile, your heart was racing. you didn't have a single coherent thought in your mind other than the fact that he loved you. he loves you.

he wasn't begging or crying this time, his acts weren't out of desperation. he was completely and totally vulnerable in front of a group of people that he didn't even know included you.

as people flooded out of the library, you shakily pushed yourself to your feet. what now? how could you possibly be expected to walk all the way to your car and drive home in this state of mind?

with a quick breathing technique your therapist taught you, you calmed down enough to get your hands to stop trembling.

katsuki had started helping the security guards pick up and stack the chairs, making small talk with them as they cleaned up the area.

you wiped at your cheeks, hoping they weren't too blotchy. with a quiet breath, you silently crept away from behind the bookshelf and toward the exit.

unfortunately, your far-from ninja-like skills couldn't get past the years of hero instincts engraved in every muscle fiber of katsuki's body.

"y/n?"

you froze, shoulders tensing as you slowly turned around.

"hey, bakugo," you cleared your throat, averting your eyes, "that was, uh, that was nice of you. good job."

there was something undetectable in his face, something you couldn't put your finger on, "oh, thanks, i-" he stepped closer, but stopped when he sensed your hesitance, "i didn't expect to see you here."

"i didn't expect to be here." you said honestly, fidgeting with your fingers, "but i should, uh, probably get going."

he opened and shut his mouth a few times before he sighed and nodded, "okay. but i really meant it, you know? everything i said."

fuck, you were going to cry again. you didn't want to, not in front of him.

"i know." you nodded, "i don't.. hate you, you know? we both had issues that we chose to resolve separately."

"i just wish," he sighed, looking for the words, "i wish that was't the case."

you couldn't hold in your tears anymore, a few cascading down your cheek, but you quickly wiped them away.

"i know." you swallowed hard, trying to prevent your voice from doing that embarrassing, high-pitched crack, "i do too."

he opened his arms, offering a hug and you just couldn't say no. the space was so perfectly carved for you.

you hugged him tight, burying your face into his shoulder.

"i'm so sorry, y/n. i'm sorry for everything." he whispered into your hair, his voice wet with tears, "i never deserved you."

you just cried harder, knuckles white as you gripped onto the back of his shirt. you wanted to speak, to reassure him that it wasn't completely his fault, but you couldn't pause for a breath long enough to say a single word.

instead, the two of you dropped to the ground, arms wrapped around each other with a desperation that you only feel for each other. a once-in-a-lifetime desperation.

the two of you cried and held each other, and somehow you knew everything was going to be okay.

and this concludes the triology! thank you for the overwhelming support on this series that wasn't even meant to be a series!

taglist: @blackout-ice-biohazard @survivorofmath @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @odessa-is-my-queen @firesmokeandashes @valentineshiftz @sil-ver-shadow @echosfadve

[glaciertea]

It's Our Paradise, and It's Our War Zone

Another Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

I wrote this as a very small collection of one-shots from my longfic (you don't need to read that to read this). I made some minor changes, but it's nothing too crazy. Also, if the Spanish is off, let me know~

Word count: 3.5K

Content Warning: 18+, Pwp, PinV, bondage, overstimulation, toy usage, he uses his webs (not just for tying things up), blindfold, cunnilingus, bad jokes :]

Summary: Miguel helps you out with a daydream you've been having for awhile.

For the past few days, you've been self-motivating yourself to finally tell Miguel about a fantasy that's been lingering on your mind from the moment you realized you held that attraction to him. Specifically, sexual attraction.

You wanted to dangle from his webs, completely exposed and restrained, bounded by trust and that gripping lust.

You would stand in front of the mirror, reciting how you would blurt it out or ease it into a conversation; however, when the time seemed permitted, you would chicken out the last second, pretending as if it was some other ‘important’ thing, such as ‘pancakes, waffles, or French toast?’ Or, ‘did you watch that one show as a kid?’

So far, the mission has been an obvious failure. But that wasn't going to deter you from it. Far from it. Tonight was the night you would finally megaphone your burning desires and sensations to him once and for all.

When he arrived (through the window, because he doesn't believe in the key or door), things went as normal. You made some homemade burgers and pre-cooked fries, watched random episodes from some show, and played a few rounds of your karting game. 

There was some chit-chatting in between, but the main topic refused to show itself on stage. Your palms were sweaty as you wiped them on your shorts for the umpteenth time in a row. You battled with how exactly you were going to say this; all that practicing you did began to clash, and it wasn't helping you one bit. You were scattered.

“Alright. Tell me what's on your mind before you blow a nerve over there, amor.”

You yelped at the sudden confrontation before nervously laughing louder than you expected. "Oh, it's nothing, Miggy. I'm just thinking about some funny jokes in my head.”

Miguel raised a brow. You weren't very vague; there was more to it, and he knew it, but he wanted to see if you could get it out with just a bit of a push from him.

“Okay then. Tell me a joke.”

“Wh-what?” You blinked, a bit stupefied.

“Tell me a joke. I want a good one. So go ahead and make me laugh.” His body was facing you fully. 

You were thrown into an unwarranted spotlight. All eyes were on you. You hated that you got yourself into this.

“A… a joke.” You gulped loudly.

“Si. Give me a joke.” Miguel's authoritative tone seeped out, and it wasn't helping you at all. 

A joke? That's a difficult thing to serve, especially when one is put on the spot, unless you're a professional. Witty one-liners and puns are easier, but having to come up with the starter, the execution, and the punchline is a whole process in itself.

You thought about stalling and beating around the bush.

“No stalling either.” 

At this point, you believed he was a mind-reader. There was no other explanation for it.

He was intently staring into your soul with those mesmerizing eyes, as you did your best to look at everything else besides him. 

“Right. So, here's my joke. It's coming up right now, right this seco-”

“You're stalling. Joke. Now.” 

You felt yourself straining in more ways than one.

“Okay, uh, let's see… How do you catch a squirrel? Climb a tree and act like a nut.” You drummed the air, tittering, before tightening your lips together.

The air was cumbersome, and Miguel's dead gaze wasn't helping.

“That was bad. Muy mal.”

“Hey! I don't think it was that bad. You asked for a joke, and I gave one.”

“Yes, but a joke that makes me laugh.” He leaned in, entrapping your body. “That didn't even get a chuckle, corazón.”

You squirmed on the sofa, his husky breath traveling through your veins. How you disliked, but loved the easy affects he had on you.

“So tell me, what's really running through there?” He skimmed his knuckle from your forehead to your chin, your breathing picking up.

He wanted you to speak your mind. He often reminds you not to be scared to do it, especially around him. He loves listening to your thoughts and observations. And one thing he also adores hearing is your wants and needs. He's always ready to care for and respect them.

“I-I…”

“Go on. What's going on in that brain? I know for a fact that it isn't just jokes.”

He had you cornered. Figuratively and literally. That stare wasn't going anywhere, and neither were you. He could do this all night if he really strived for it. He is a strong-willed man after all.

“Fine! Back when we were first getting to know each other and all, we knew each other, but we didn't have that ground of–”

“You're stalling!” He snarled out, pressing his body into yours. “To the point. Now!”

Your eyes widened at that domineering voice. You didn't even realize he could get that booming and demanding. He started to tense up when he recognized that change.

“I'm so sorry, mi corazón. I didn't mean to sound like that. I usually don't use that voice unless others refuse to listen. Wa-wait! I'm not saying you're not listening; I mean–”

“I had this fantasy of being fully tied up in your webs. A sense of trust and longing to be there.” You bumped your forehead into his, that burning passion glazing over.

Miguel's breathing became rapid. Was this what you really wanted? Or was it something that you would believe he would want? He couldn't lie that he also didn't have those lingering around his brain, but would you truly be okay with it?

“I- are you sure you want something like that?”

“Yes, this is what I want to try. This is something I want.” You were determined to do this, praying that he would accept your fiery cravings.

“Corazón, will you allow me to–”

“Yes, I will allow you to take control. To tie me in your webs.” You placed your wrists together, expressing that vulnerability. “Please, Miguel.”

Miguel nodded, knowing that no more words needed to be said. Everything was now on the table. He lowered his head until his lips were on yours. Folding your legs around his waist and your arms over his neck, Miguel picked you up, placing your body on a nearby wall.

“Mi hermosa amor, te adoraré ahora y siempre. Siempre me preguntaré cómo te conseguí.” Miguel whispered against your neck, causing you to moan and writhe. 

He nibbled the crook of your neck and collarbone, his tongue gliding over the delicate skin. His hands dragged down your shirt, lifting it over your head. 

He brushed his claws over your hardened nipples, tweaking them before bending forward and nibbling the nubs hungrily. You blissfully sighed out, when a sudden memory popped up in Miguel's head.

“That vibrator… It's in your left bottom drawer by your bed, right?”

You froze. “You… I… How did you know about that?!” You honestly assumed you swept that in the corner, hidden away from the naked eye.

“I found it when you told me to bring that bottle of lube.” He flicked his tongue over your cleavage, leaving hickies on your chest and the valley.

“How—but you had to really peek to have—”

“You were the one who told me to put it there, baby.” His claws made their way to your shorts and tugged them down, caressing your thighs. “It rolled out when I pulled the drawer out.”

You were flustered, stuttering, when Miguel planted a kiss to quiet you down. “Do you want me to get it? I will only do it if you want me to.”

It took you exactly one second before wholeheartedly agreeing. You wanted to know how far this fantasy of yours would go, and you were excited that there was an unexpected but welcome addition.

You slid out one of your dining room chairs and sat down. Miguel held that confidence in his walk, and you knew it. Strolling back out with your purple and white magic wand and the bottle, you gave a thumbs-up.

Retaking your earlier positions, he sat the items in the chair, pressing your body back into the wall, two fingers making their way in your panties, rubbing the folds, proud of how wet you were.

“Mm, I–ah–want to be gagged and blindfolded.”

“You really want to be tethered up, don't you?” His thumb rolled over your clit as he stared for any signs of displeasure.

“I have an eye mask in the same drawer, and the fantasy includes your webs in between my teeth.” 

Miguel made no hesitation; he was back with it in a blink of an eye. You could tell how roused he was by the throbbing bulge in his pajama pants, as you swore you could see some damp stains. 

“If I do this, you'll need to have a way to alert me if you start feeling uncomfortable. Safewords won't exactly work.”

You closed one eye, thinking for a few seconds, when you snapped your fingers. Propping your hands over your head, you gave a thumbs-up. 

“Thumbs-up means you can go; bunny ears mean slow down; and when I snap, stop.” You demonstrated each motion as Miguel nodded.

“Vale, vale, bien.” He brushed the side of your face and smiled. “You ready?”

You nodded, arms still above your head. He picked you up with ease as you examined him shooting his webs at the wall and the ceiling. Carefully sticking you to the netting, he bound you in a dragonfly shibari tie, thoroughly taking his time. 

“How many times have you done this?” You eyeballed his work as much as possible.

“A few.” He pressed a kiss on your stomach. “But that's all I'm going to say.”

You hummed out at the intriguing fact that'll now be stuck in your brain.

Putting the eye mask on, he waved his claw in front of you, happy that you didn't react to it.

“Okay. Ready to be muted?”

“I'm ready to be partially subdued.” You chuckled as he joined in.

“Okay, just let me know if you feel uncomfortable.” He shot out a long string, double roping it around your mouth and part of your head. “Bite down.”

You obeyed as you tried to get used to the thick organic webbing. It was like a rope, but not. A feeling that if someone asked you to describe, you wouldn't know where to begin.

He strummed over your curves, crooning at the beauty that was secured before him. His full lips and tongue were dragging and wetting your body as you felt two unsheathed fingers hook the bands of your underwear, drawing them down until they were on the floor.

His eyes were locked on your arousal. You exhaled out contentedly, knowing that you were in safe hands. Even if you weren't in control, you still felt like the leader of this.

He dropped to his knees, eye level with your clenching heat. You awaited him, electricity coursing through your veins, desperate to know when he would have his way with you. You could only groan, not being able to move any part of your body as you spread open like a buffet exclusively for him.

“Always a delightful sight.” He nipped your inner thighs, adding suction to leave markings. 

“Mine.” He trailed his tongue over your vulva, making sure to get every part.

A while escaped, your chest heaving from the sensual lick. You yearned for more as you tried, but no matter what you enunciated, only jumbled-up groans from your throat came out.

He pretended not to hear your neediness, teasing your folds with a flick here and there. He would quickly bury his head into your entrance, pumping his tongue for a couple of seconds before pulling out. He did it several times, and you weren't happy with the taunts.

“Mmm! Mm mmmph!” 

“Mmm, no puedo escucharte. All I hear is murmurs, amor.” 

You could envision his condescending smirk just from his voice. You growled, but stopped when you felt the familiar head on your clit.

On a low setting, Miguel settled the toy, knotting the web around your waist and hips so it could stay attached right to the fleshy bud.

“Now, you will cum when I tell you. Understand?” He slid two fingers into your core, scissoring to help with your urges. 

You hastily gave the thumbs-up, and your moans in his ears made him grunt. “Muy bueno, muy, muy bueno.”

He yanked his two fingers out, causing you to panic and request that he keep going as best as you could, when he suddenly upped the power.

“Mmmm—Mmph. Mmn!” 

He removed his clothes and sauntered over to the seat you left out. Cozily perching himself down, he squeezed some of the clear substance on his hands, pleasuring his throbbing cock.

You despised that you couldn't see a thing, but you loved the feeling that he was still providing, even if you didn't know what it could be. You listened to his praises, your ears picking up squishing noises. You couldn't tell if that was from you or if he was doing something to himself.

“Look at my gorgeous moon. She's doing so well, trying not to cum. You're such a good girl for following my rules.” 

He stroked himself faster as he eyed your messy, trembling figure. The vibrator went wild as your legs spasmed, but with the restraints, it barely seemed as though they were moving.

He licked his lips at your dripping pussy—a nice puddle formed on your wooden floorboards. A delicious view for only him to behold.

Your muffled screams and begs were music to his ears. Your face drenched in sweat, tears, and saliva, your mind ragged, knowing that he's observing every reaction and every moment. You knew he was enjoying himself way too much.

“Let's see if we can add a bit more, corazón.”

You shook your head; your faint pleas went unheard. The fact that he already denied you to orgasm, and now he wants more? He's torturing you at this point just because he can. And you adored it.

“Mmph! Mmm!” You wriggled as you sensed him getting closer to you.

“You doing okay?” He stroked your hair, and you gave the thumbs-up to have him keep going.

“Bueno.” 

You heard another buzzing sound. Did he have a second vibrator? Did you? You swore you only had one, so you had zero idea what it could be.

“Mmmm? Mmm?”

Miguel chuckled at your curiosity, placing a kiss on your sweaty forehead. “Remember, mi amor. No cumming unless I say.”

The sound was getting louder. You really wanted to see what it exactly was, so you snapped your finger, and Miguel immediately tore the silk from your mouth.

“Corazón? You okay?” He examined your face for any indication of uneasiness.

“I'm fine, Miggy. Just a bit interested if you had another vibrator.”

“No. It's my web.” 

You were a bit lost. His web? But the ones around you weren't humming or anything like that, so that probed the question: what type of web was this then? 

“But how is it buzz–” Your mouth was once again covered as you screeched when Miguel took hold of the toy, rubbing and pressing it harder on your clitoris.

“Laser web. Now remember. No. Releasing.” You gasped when something heated was pushed into your opening, convulsing and pulsating lightly.

Your toes curled at the overstimulation. You sobbed, your heart hammering at a treacherous tempo. You wanted to cum so badly; you wanted that sweet release of relief and satisfaction, but he wasn't going to allow it.

“There you go, such a good girl.” He pushed the web in and out in a rhythmic pattern. The drones from the objects, the squelching from your pussy, and those cute noises emitting from you made him twitch madly.

Your juices trickled down his claws, the other side wanting to escape as the nectar from your delectable pussy stickied his hand and web, as he knew you were doing everything in your power to not release.

He dropped the web when a raspy, guttural growl rumbled in his chest. “Fuck, fuck—I want you, corazón. I need you. Please.” 

Miguel grasped the webs, his eyes lingering, waiting for that signal. You nodded, as he saw the thumb. He smiled and removed the mesh and blindfold, revealing that warmth and faith in your smile and gaze.

“You are beautiful, you know?”

“You mention it every chance you get.” You giggled out when he pushed his forehead on yours.

“Then I will continue to do it. You are very beautiful.”

He kissed you, sliding his tongue into your mouth, before shoving himself in one go. You threw your head back at the suddenness. A cry quickly turned into a shriek when you felt the familiar buzz on your clitoris once more.

Miguel began to thrust maniacally, your back rubbing against the wall from every pump he gave.

“You like that? Mmn, mmm, fuck, mi corazón, such a perfect little pussy for papi.” He grunted in your ear, licking the lobe.

“Mi-Miguel! Too… too much!” Your screams sprang out, your walls constricting with every deep impact.

“You can- fuck… You can take it—ah, mierda, so good…”

He released his firm hold on the netting to your hips. Pulling all the way out, he paused for a few seconds before ramming himself back to the hilt. He repeated this, prizing himself on the reactions.

Tears rolling down your chin, your shudders, and whimpers that merge into strangled moans. Your disheveled state as you took Miguel, feeling the tip brush against your cervix, as your belly bulged from every breach.

His hips grinding against yours, your brain foggy with white, and him in the center. The vibrator was whirring with every rock; you were losing your mind.

“Too sensitive- Miguel. Please!”

“I'm not stopping. Going to fuck–ah–going to fuck you until you can't walk.” 

“Miguel!” You wailed out as drool leaked down as he rubbed against your g-spot.

“That's right; let them know who's doing this. You're mine. I'm going to have you and everyone else remember.” He rasped out in that ragged, husky tone, making you quiver all over.

His name was the only thing leaving your lips as your soaking walls clenched. The sensation from his throbbing, heated shaft as he hit every point perfectly. You slowly began to garble out his name, slurring it into one incoherent sentence.

“Mig-Miguuel!”

“There you go, who owns this pussy?”

“You.”

Miguel snarled in your face, yanking your head back. “I don't like repeating myself. Who? Owns? This? Pussy?!”

His hip bones slammed into yours. You were aware you were going to be overtly sore and bruised in the morning, but it was all worth it in the moment.

“Miguel! Miguel owns this pussy!” 

“¡Sí, joder! ¡Buena chica, qué buena chica! ¡Papi es dueño de este coño, papi es dueño de este hermosa coño!” 

You were far gone; the sounds of your wet, erotic bodies covered every square centimeter of your living room and kitchen, and maybe even out of the door.

Your feverish sobs and his primal growls sent you into a frenzy. A strong yearning began to creep itself into your stomach as Miguel's brutal pace refused to let up.

“I feel—ah—Miggy! I'm going to—I'm going to—”

“Cum, cum, my love. Yes, yes, cum on my cock. Do it. Cum!”

His hand reached between you two as he pressed the overwhelming toy more on your sensitive bud, jerking it back and forth like a joycon.

Your mouth opened wide, and your eyes rolled all the way into the back of your head when you snapped.

“Miguel!” 

The bubble burst. You squirted out on his abs, your thighs, the floor, and who knows what else. Your body quaked as if someone were trying to perform an exorcism. But whatever was possessing you, you didn't want it to leave.

He growled out, pushing your legs up to change the angle. He propelled sporadically as he was close to his own climax.

“Sí, sí, sí, joder, joder, joder—corazón!”

He roared out, his talons pricking your hips, as he emptied his entire soul into you. 

His chest heaved, your bodies glistening in sweat, as he pressed his forehead into yours, a shaky breath released.

“Ah… ah- ha…. Fuck. Baby? Corazón? You… you okay?”

“I…”

“Yes? You okay?” He wiped some moisture off your face.

“I- if the dove is the bird of peace, what is the bird of true love? It’s the swallow.” You gave a goofy and sleepy grin.

Miguel froze before he snickered and began to laugh. 

“I did it! I made you laugh.”

“Ay, yes… Yes, you did. What am I going to do with you?”

You both smiled into the kiss, happily swirling your tongues in a messy dance.

“Did I fulfill your fantasy, amor?”

“Mhmm, but let's go another round, just to be sure it was completely satisfactory.”

“Dios mío, me estás matando, luna mía. Pero maldita sea, si no es de la mejor manera posible.”

You didn't understand, but your eyes were right back covered, and that was enough for you to know.

[meganelixabethh]

I know I won’t get it- but I want Sunrise on the Reaping to be about Effie Trinket- it would be such a good book!!! All we really know is that the book starts on the 50th reaping and that it’s a look at propaganda. We also know our girl Suzanne only writes when she has something to say- and what better time to make the Effie Trinket Point than now?

Don’t get me wrong- I love to read the fanfics of Effie being disenfranchised from the top of the first book and helping the rebels every step of the way- I live for it- but I also don’t think it’s reality for the canon. Effie Trinket is a character with grey morality at best in the first book. No she’s not organising the games, or planning them, she’s not the iron fist that forces the children to comply nor is she the driving force behind the tradition- hell if she didn’t do it someone else would, right? But she picks the names. She chooses to be close to it. She isn’t as horrified as she should be

SHE. IS. COMPLICIT.

But if you asked her- if you sat her down and said heart of hearts, do you care about these children? She would say yes. She has a complete mental disconnect between the harm she is causing and the compassion she feels for the people being harmed. This is a direct comparison to the modern approach to harm. Just look at Palestine.

I also don’t believe Effie saw anything wrong with the games until one very specific moment. She looked at the glass ball at the 75th reaping and saw a single piece of paper, and she thought ‘this isn’t chance. This isn’t a game. This is a choice and I don’t want to pick up that slip of paper’. I whole heartedly believe it took an emotional closeness to the person being harmed to make her realise all those people were just the same as her- EXACTLY LIKE WE DO IN THE WEST.

Further details under the cut. TW for death, implied SA and pregnancy loss.

So the book starts with the 50th reaping- Effie is between 6 and 16 depending on how old you think she is. I personally think she’s about 8-10. I also think this is the first games where she’s really gotten involved in and is interested in the whole thing from start to finish. She watches the reapings and is absolutely enraptured with Haymitch from the moment he gets on stage- full on little girl crush mode. She follows the whole game and is so happy when he wins. This is the summer she decides she wants to work in the games. She follows the games every summer, gets a glamorous games job in the Capitol when she graduates (I think she went to uni tbh our girl is smart) and then became an escort.

When she’s offered 12 she’s annoyed- after all she’s the darling of the games circuit and she’s put her time in- but 12 is the only job going and if she wants the promotion she needs to take it. She thinks fondly of Haymitch’s games though. She no longer has her little girl crush on him, but she assumes the drunkenness must be an act for the Capitol, some kind of play. When she gets to 12 she realises it’s not. She sees how broken he is. She sees that this destroyed him and she just… doesn’t get it. She develops a fondness for him, still completely believing in the games, and they work together happily enough as far as she’s concerned. She starts dragging him out of bed and shoving him into nice clothes to make the district look good at first, but then she does it because she thinks it might be the only time he has anyone making sure he looks after himself. She is genuinely sad when their tributes die every year. She cries in her room at night after they go, and Haymitch can hear her through the wall when he’s sober enough.

Then the 74th happen. She loves Katniss and Peeta- I fully believe that. She likes them from the beginning, she agrees they have a chance, and when she’s not trying for sponsors, her and Haymitch sit in silence in the penthouse, watching and watching and watching. She grips his hand tightly for hours at a time, eyes almost unblinking and fixed on the screen, knees drawn up to her chest. It’s the first time he sees her as human, and she almost breaks his knuckles during the finale with the mutts. The moment they win, she lets out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding and went to celebrate her first victors. She deliberately turned her face away from the horror because it was easier to not feel the breadth of it. She does exactly what we did to Ukraine. What we continue to do to Palestine.

To be completely clear- she still thinks the games are right through all of this. When she comes back for the victory tour she still thinks this is all fantastic. That mental disconnect is still there. But then eleven happens. If I’m remembering right she gets blood on her and is freaking out about her dress but I would like to see that from her side. I want to see that an innocent man was shot through the head so close to her, his blood and brains splattered across her dress and her skin. I want to see her freak out and everyone assume it’s about the dress but it’s actually about the fact she saw the light leave his eyes. This is the night she goes to Haymitch. She asks him for a drink and she asks him if he thought the man felt it. He isn’t kind to her. He asks her if she ever wondered if the kids felt it? If he felt it? This is the first time they sleep together. She doesn’t spend the night in his cabin. Their physical relationship continues but nothing else changes.

Then the quarter quell- she’s upset when Snow announces the rules. She feels hard done by but also scared for Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch. She understands that she’s avoiding the issue in her mind but she clings to the idea that the games are good so she doesn’t have to face up to the horror she helped meter out. It’s that glass reaping ball that does it. That glass ball with a single slip of paper in that breaks the back of her indoctrination. It all falls on top of her all at once. Her sobs after the bloodbath, alone in her room, the desperation she felt, not just for Katniss and Peeta to live, but for her to not have to watch them die, the man in eleven, the quarter quell, Hatmitch’s sharp words, the drink she craved after she saw it, the smile she plastered on, Haymitch’s hand gripped tightly in hers, the most genuine connection she’s felt in years and oh god are you supposed to be this fucking tired when you’re only 35? She looks at that paper and she is almost incandescent with rage. She loves Katniss and she doesn’t want to be the one who says her name. She doesn’t want to do this anymore. She doesn’t want this life. She doesn’t want the games to happen at all. She’s done.

But now she’s afraid. She’s seen avoxes, she knows what happens to rebels and she’s not quite brave enough to say anything to Haymitch other than veiled comments. She’s not sure he agrees with her and he’s not sure it wasn’t an accidental turn of phrase. The moment the arena blows out she’s dragged away in handcuffs. The prison is harrowing. What little hair she has is shaved off and she spends hours having questions thrown at her that she doesn’t have the answers to. She’s beaten, electrocuted and starved. Her bones are broken, they pull a few of her teeth out and some of the things they do are so awful she can’t even bring herself to think about it inside her own head. She doesn’t feel brave. She doesn’t have the answers to give them and she’s not sure she wouldn’t tell them if she did. She’s too Capitol for the rebels and too district for the Capitol. She’s not rescued, she’s released at the end of the war. Well, ‘released’ is a strong word. The guards unlock all the doors and tell them they have been pardoned and then walk out. She drags herself outside, clutching the walls and collapses in the courtyard as a humanitarian aid worker rushes over.

She spends the first tumultuous month sedated in a hospital bed, blissfully unaware of Coin’s assassination and the last games. When she comes to, Haymitch is sat at her bedside, looking haggard and tired. She looks better than she did on the floor of the courtyard, but not by much. When he sees her open her eyes he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He apologises for not managing to get her out. She knows she should be cross with him, but she can’t find the energy to blame him. They’ve both wasted so much time already. She pushes herself up shakily and wraps her atrophied arms around his neck, telling him that it doesn’t matter, that he’s here now. When he lowers her back down, she asks immediately after Katniss and Peeta. He tells her what happened in as painless terms as he can find, and when he’s done, she can barely keep her eyes open, tears tracking silently down her hollowed cheeks. He gently kisses her on the forehead and says he’ll be back tomorrow. It takes her a long, long time to recover.

She finds out the rest of what happened while she was imprisoned and hospitalised in dribs and drabs. Some from him, some from news, some from conversations she overhears. It takes months and months before she tells him, in halting sentences, when happened in the prison. She doesn’t tell him everything. Some things are too awful to know. They’ve not resumed their physical relationship, but they feel inexplicably drawn to one another, and in a fit of impulsivity, he invites her to come to 12 when he leaves and she does. He doesn’t ask a lot of questions, but she does tell him, eventually, all the things that led to her renouncing the games just before the rebellion. He admits to her the doctor told him she was pregnant when they found her, but miscarried while she was asleep. She can’t get out of bed for days afterwards and he brings her food and water until she’s ready to get up again. She’s glad he knows in a way. She’s glad she never had to tell him.

The next summer rolls around, and Effie is finally well enough to walk up to the woods outside the district and spends all day picking wildflowers. She ties them into attractive arrangements just like her mother taught her, using brown string instead of satin ribbons. Haymitch is in the newly built square when she arrives with her flowers. She lays them all gently on the ground, one for each child she reaped, including Prim. Haymitch walks over to her as she bows her head, slipping her hand into his. She says she’s sorry, he says ‘I know sweetheart’ and the book ends there

I know we aren’t going to get this, it’s not even a possibility but a girl can dream.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Which dorm arc do you think was the best written? I liked the ignihyde arc the most if I have to be honest

This might be unfair to the other books (since most of them have fewer parts/less time for their stories + book 7 isn't even complete yet for me to judge), but I think the writing in book 6 is the strongest (as in, "most interesting" and "most narratively sound") so far. What gives book 6 a massive leg up over other books is that the conflicts addressed in book 6 were foreshadowed WAY in advance through other content like voice lines, vignettes (I believe Ortho's Precision Gear), and events (like Wish Upon a Star). It was sooo satisfying to see all of the payoff (and Idia breaking down)!!

I don't think the other books are bad by any means except for book 2, sorry not sorry Leona, I just feel that 6 had a lot of space to touch on more characters and their development than only the Ignihyde boys; I loved catching up with characters we've already met and seeing how they've grown or changed, even in little ways. Additionally, I personally prefer stories with "high stakes" and family-oriented drama involved in them, so they biases me quite a bit toward book 6. The high stakes and family drama angle is also true of book 7, but again, it's not out in its entirety yet so I'm going to reserve my judgment until it has.

Something that's unique to book 7 (and that I wish previous books did, even if it elongates them significantly) is actually deepening our understanding of every character within the dorm. I would have been so bored if book 7 focused solely on Malleus. I loved getting to learn more about what makes Lilia tick, and seeing how Sebek and Silver develop from their experiences. I feel like I didn't get a significant enough of a look into many of the other boys during the main story campaign... Instead, we're often told about things that happened without truly witnessing it for ourselves. I know, I know, that's the whole point of a visual novel--expecting a lot of reading. I still would have preferred like... more flashbacks and scenes demonstrating what we're being told rather than the dialogue doing it for us. Show me how Riddle's relationship with Chenya and Trey has changed since their childhood! Show me young Jack being inspired by Leona's play and wanting to be in the same team as him! Etc., etc., etc. I could always look to vignettes and event stories for more lore on each character, but those are always portrayed as "AUs", whereas the main story is what is 'canon" so it's sort of sad to see that we never get to look any closer at most of the supporting cast upon that bigger stage.

It’s exciting that we now get to see more of the boys since we’re now dream hopping for book 7; I’m just going to hold my judgment for now since I found the pacing uneven and a little quick for what we’ve seen of Pomefiore so far, especially when compared to the longer Lilia dream segment. Again, I find book 6 stronger in this regard but that could be because its scale is slightly smaller and it has fewer characters to juggle. I guess we’ll have to wait and see how book 7 wraps up—maybe it’ll completely win me over!

[glitteredrry]

5 ways harry mentions you on stage

summary: Being Mrs.Styles has it’s perks, but nothing will ever beat when your husband takes time out of his show to shout you out in some way.

warning: all fluff and happiness. small mention of alcoholic beverages.

wc: 1k

1. pointing or blowing a kiss at you

One of the reasons you fell in love with Harry was because of the little things he has done for you since the beginning. When you both started dating of course the world didn’t know, you just seemed like a friend of someone on his team joining the show, that all changed when fans kept questioning who he was blowing a kiss to at each show. By compiling different tour dates videos, fans noticed that he would blow a kiss or point to the side of the stage during specific parts of songs. It wasn’t at each tour date, only when you could attend. Eventually, they matched the air kiss to the face, and the internet went wild because of you. Immediately you were known as Harry Styles' mystery woman. Fast forward five years later, and both of you were still melting the internets’ hearts, only now you were his wife. Love on tour was a whole new ballpark compared to his first tour. He was breaking records left and right, and entertaining anywhere from 17,000 to 80,000 people a night; no matter how big the arena or stadium was he made sure that you knew he was thinking of you. It didn’t matter what kind of day the both of you had,  he would never stop showing you that small piece of affection.

2. mimicking your dance moves

Now you know that you’re not the best dancer in the world, but you’re not the popstar of you two. You sure act like it though. Your dance moves are not planned or practical, when you attend the shows you go to support your husband and enjoy yourself. When you’re in the family section sometimes you just really get into the music and start dancing with not a care in the world. Oh, but when Harry notices you, he begins to mock your dance moves until you or the fans pick up what he is doing. He’s not doing it with any malicious intent, or to make you uncomfortable. He genuinely loves to see you dance, he also loves your dance moves because it's so unique. He doesn’t know how to explain it, he loved getting to dance with you in a room full of people. The cameras from fans all bounce between you two and your interaction. In Harry fashion, once you notice you get embarrassed shooing him away, and with a giggle, he is running off to the other side of the stage.

3. “what are we drinking tonight?”

On occasion, before he starts to read the many signs across the rooms held up by his lovely fans, he asks you a question first. What are we drinking tonight? Harry knew that you weren't much of a drinker, and the only time you drank was when he performed. You would sometimes have an alcoholic drink, other times it would just be some water. He would joke and say ‘that’s right honey, treat your body with kindness.’ You knew that he wasn’t serious, but on the nights that you would happen to have something alcoholic, he would be shocked and scream it throughout the arena, ‘tequila! save some for me, love.’ He then reads fans’ signs leaving you with a smile. You loved him more than words could explain.

4. straight up calling you out

During a show, he loved to call you out by name. One of the ways that he did it was through a fan's sign. He would tell a small anecdote about your relationship and people would eat it up each time. For example, a poster would read ‘the love of my life broke up with me, what do I do?’ Harry would pause sympathizing with the fan because one time the love of his life broke up with him. “If they’re the love of your life then they will always find their way back to you. The love of my life broke up with me once. Now, she’s my wife.” The whole crowd would cheer because both of you made sure to be private about your relationship. Then sometimes it would be a silly sign like ‘came here for Y/N but you’re cool too.’ Harry would end up acting like a complete narcissist, “I believe the name of the tour is Harry Styles love on tour, not Y/N Styles. It’s my show, come for me and only me!” The crowd would burst out in laughter causing you to blow kisses to the audience. “Look you guys are making my wife conceited.” You would mouth sorry to him with a smile on your face, laughing at all the reactions across the room. “Alright, we are changing the name to Y/N Styles love on tour. Happy wife, happy life.”  

5. flowers

This gesture was something that was private between you two. Each time Harry would catch a bouquet of flowers he would quietly hold it up in the air, notifying you he caught some for you. He placed it somewhere safe on stage where it would remain intact. Each flower that ended up being on stage went to you. Flowers were dedicated to you. Fans of course didn’t know this, because he would give them to you after shows. How did this all start you may ask? When you started dating Harry you were at a more difficult time in your life. He happened to fall into your life when you were in your last year of college. You couldn’t make it to each show, but when you did Harry was appreciative of the sacrifice that you were making to be there. He cherished that you treated him as a priority and never made him feel guilty for taking that extra stretch for him. To show you his appreciation, on your one-year anniversary; He surprised you with a gift that at first you didn’t really understand, but he explained. It was a cluster of different pressed, preserved flowers. Once he explained that each flower represented all the shows you attended. You broke down in tears, and knew that you would be marrying him. Now that you were married, he would always and forever dedicate flowers to you.

a.n.

another little 12am blurb i thought of. i hoped you enjoyed. 💌

[akirathedramaqueen]

The Five Stages Of Grief: Verosika vs. Stolas

Alright, guys, it's time to play the complete denial card and ignore for a moment what we've just seen in the last short Viv dropped like a fucking nuke on our heads (seriously, this woman makes me swear more than a sailor).

Are we going to talk about something light? Ha-ha, you are looking at the angstiest person out here. Sorry. No relief for you.

But maybe some bits of analysis will do? Let's go.

The setup

Some time ago, I discussed how differently Stolas and Verosika react to their breakup with Blitz in response to one of my previous posts (it might be useful to read that to have the whole picture, but it's not crucial—here).

S2EP9, Apology Tour, 8:05

If we recap that reblog, I find that Stolas deals with his emotions much better and processes them in a more mature manner than Verosika does.

We could stop there, really, but I wanted to explore the situation from a different angle. Using the Kübler-Ross five stages of grief model, we can pull out more nuance from their actions and words.

They both went through a similar traumatic event—Blitzø hurt them in arguably one of the worst ways possible. The circumstances, Blitzø's intentions, and the outcomes are slightly different, but at their core, they are both left broken and deeply wounded.

Left: S2EP8, The Full Moon, 22:00 Right: S2EP9, Apology Tour, 18:03

So, what about their personalities makes their responses to trauma so contrasting?

Disclaimer about the model's credibility

This is probably me being overly pedantic, but I want to point out that this model is deemed to be popularized by the media, and professionals’ opinions are conflicted—some say it is accurate while others criticize it for its lack of flexibility or go as far as to say it has no application in real life. The studies are also inconclusive—there are papers both in favor of and against this model.

What am I trying to say here? This is a silly analysis about silly demons from a silly show, and if you do happen to unfortunately experience grief in any way (I am so sorry you have to go through this!), it is essentially experienced by all people differently. You should not feel bad if you skip stages or if their order is messed up.

Okay? <3 Okay. You’ve got this in your own way.

Tomorrow will be better than today.

Stolas: A Classic Way

One of the things I noted in my previous post is that Stolas immediately recognizes the pettiness of the party, and I praised his remarkable ability to see through the issues with such events.

The one day a year the spirits can rise amongst the living and it's spent celebrating mutual pettiness. S2EP9, Apology Tour, 6:55

And don’t get me wrong—his own way of dealing with problems is just drinking them away, and that’s not healthy. That’s why he actually belongs at this party.

But emotionally, Stolas is much more aware of what’s going on with him and the people around him. I think that despite his drinking problem, this awareness helps him process his own grief faster and find resolution—or at least an outlet—in just one night.

Let’s apply the five stages of grief model to him and see what’s going on.

Denial

You can see the denial seeping through during their morning conversation—there are moments when he clearly hopes Blitzø will suddenly listen to him and change his demeanor, despite Blitzø being consistent in his brashness and hostility.

Left: S2EP9, Apology Tour, 3:56 Right: S2EP9, Apology Tour, 4:23

Can you see the hope in his eyes? Can you see how ready he would be to brush off the whole shitshow happened between them just for Blitzø to take at least a bit of accountability or accept his feelings?

Additionally, although it doesn’t fit the term perfectly, we could stretch the concept a bit and say that the following lyrics below are somewhat denialish. Notice, by the way, that it’s not linear to the suggested model—you’ll see why later.

But I, I keep on waiting Waiting to want you less than I do And I do, oh, I do, yes I still do want you S2EP9, Apology Tour, 11:08

'Cause I am not a thief, but you were mine to earn S2EP9, Apology Tour, 11:42

He struggles to accept that the relationship has ended (we struggle too, baby owl, and we're not accepting it… but it gets worse before it gets better), and he still waits for Blitzø to return, maintaining a possessive feeling—“you were mine to earn.”

Anger

Stolas's anger is vastly different from Verosika's—I promise to elaborate on it later.

He uses his anger throughout the morning confrontation with Blitzø to protect himself from Blitzø's attacks and futile attempts to retain the status quo. His anger serves to assert that he is done with the transactional arrangement and Blitzø's behavior.

As shocking as this might seem, Blitzø, I don't think I'm in the mood to "do sex" with you. In fact, I don't think I'm even in the mood to do words with you! So, how about you respect that? S2EP9, Apology Tour, 0:57

[Stolas]: Get out. Right now! [Blitzø]: What?! [Stolas]: I'm tired of this! I'm uncomfortable how you're speaking to me now! S2EP9, Apology Tour, 2:24

And all of this happens just the night after that disastrous full moon meeting! Stolas is pissed off, and rightfully so. But he still gives Blitzø the chance to correct his behavior, explain, and apologize. He asks Blitzø to leave him in peace but stays to hear him out until it becomes clear that Blitzø is not going to relent or give in.

His anger is not used to destroy those he is angry with; rather, it is directed toward keeping himself whole—at least as much as possible.

Bargaining

The whole verse of All 2 U, where Stolas contemplates what went wrong and if there's something they could still do, represents him trying to bargain for a better future.

Maybe there's something here for us to glean? For you to teach and me to try and learn? S2EP9, Apology Tour, 11:32

Of course, this is also something very useful for when they come back together (not if!). Despite Blitzø being the focus in the Apology Tour episode, Stolas has a lot of work to do, too. And him realizing that is a positive step.

But for now, from the perspective we’re looking at, this is a clear sign of him trying to trade anything he can for their relationship to flourish.

Depression

Eventually, Stolas breaks down publicly. He can’t hold the mask on anymore; seeing Blitzø is unbearable, as it reminds him too much of everything that happened and everything that could’ve been.

You! Why are you here? I don't want you here, go home, please! Let me not feel so sad! S2EP9, Apology Tour, 15:50

And he manages to compose himself incredibly quickly…

S2EP9, Apology Tour, 16:07

It takes him just 17 seconds to fall into crying and calm himself. But there was more brewing beneath the surface—he just didn’t show it.

Calm yourself, young prince. You know excitement is unbecoming of a Goetia. S2EP1, The Circus, 00:20

Acceptance...?

Then there's the guy who received more hate than he (allegedly) deserved—Better Than Blitzo guy. He asks Stolas for a dance, and Stolas accepts. He seems to quite enjoy himself there, actually… maybe even a tad too much (arguably).

Well, I just wanted to see if... Maybe... I dunno... You'd wanna... Dance? S2EP9, Apology Tour, 16:16

S2EP9, Apology Tour, 19:08

S2EP9, Apology Tour, 20:08

Did he move on? Did he get over Blitzø? We don’t know. I don’t think so. But that dance was certainly an outlet. A relief he was ready to accept. He was ready not to dwell on negative emotions and allow himself to feel something good for a change.

Verosika: A scorched earth way

Now, let’s see how Verosika is doing after all these years post-breakup. Surely she can’t care less about Blitzø now, right?

Anger

Right… No petty feelings at all.

S1EP3, Spring Break, 8:13

There's still resentment...

A selfish imp in the sheets And just as bad in the streets A reckless, heartbreaking freak! S1EP7, Ozzie's, 11:54

Anger… to the murderous degree, actually…

Fuck Blitzo in the fucking ass! S2EP9, Apology Tour, 8:14

Disrespect...

That cock-sucking motherfucker! S2EP9, Apology Tour, 9:36

Remember when I said their anger is different?

She uses hers to fuel her determination to destroy Blitzø’s reputation. She uses her fame and all her resources to humiliate him.

She never moved past anger. Never really processed it.

But wait…

Acceptance?!

S2EP9, Apology Tour, 18:55

All it took was just one long-overdue genuine talk. The moment she saw Blitzø's remorse and let her feelings out, she immediately warmed up, stopped using his dead name, and even gave advice—it’s debatable whether it was the best one, but I believe she meant well for both Blitzø and Stolas.

Hold it, Blitzø. Y’know, if you wanna change, it just starts with saying: “Good for him, hope he gets laid.” S2EP9, Apology Tour, 19:18

You know, I feel there’s a good chance that the next anti-Blitzo party might not ever happen again.

Because she leaped through all the stages in one night, and, maybe not at that exact moment, but she is on the path to acceptance. Finally letting it go.

Baby, I'm not over it, but I'm over you.

Could've saved many years of simmering in rage and destructing herself over Blitzø though.

Conclusions

Oh shit, now I need to somehow connect all the dots, don’t I?

Well... *chuckles nervously* I guess I gotta put on my nerd glasses and pretend I knew what I was doing here and not just threw shit at the wall and saw what stuck.

What I really wanted to say is that Stolas is much more self-aware and was able to work through all his feelings and process them in one day. He went through the complete journey and made immense progress. We don’t know how it will go further, but from what we’ve seen, his emotional intelligence helps him, if not to avoid problematic behaviors like binge-drinking, then at least not to burn bridges behind him, leaving space for understanding, forgiveness, and acceptance.

It’s not to say that Verosika’s way of doing things was wrong because she was angry and skipped through some stages. It was wrong because she made her entire personality revolve around it, turning bringing Blitzø down in any way possible into her ultimate life goal. It was wrong because she never processed it.

And it shows why, even after the break-up, #stolitz can still work, given that Blitzø is open about how he feels and Stolas is open to listening to it.

AGAIN! There’s no right way to process grief. But there should be a priority to heal and accept instead of doubling down and ruining yourself and everything you cared for.

(I am watching you, Blitzø hater. Don’t you dare to shit on my poor lizard. He has his own heap of issues and has had enough after that fucking penguin slur short. So don’t. >:()

[cedarxwing]

The ending of Hannibal the novel explained

(aka the breastfeeding scene)

Here's the passage (end of Chapter 101):

I thought everyone was kidding about the breastfeeding kink jokes until my partner read Hannibal and the whole ending flew over their head. Their main takeaway was "that was weird." When I checked reddit, it seemed everyone was confused there too. I was gobsmacked to see one guy say that Thomas Harris was playing some cruel joke on the reader by writing an ending that didn't make sense!

How many people are reading Hannibal like this, completely missing the resolution to Hannibal's character arc? They must finish the book confused about what it was all about in the first place. So here's how I understand it!

First, I need to get this out of the way: a lot of people hate this scene, and from what I understand it's because they're weirded out by the "breastfeeding kink." Which is fine, but it makes me want to gently hold them by the hand and tell them that it's ok for someone to suck on a nipple. It happens all the time. Sometimes it just feels good, sometimes it's part of a breastfeeding fantasy, and sometimes it's literal breastfeeding. Between consenting adults, this is all fine and normal. Let's all move past this knee-jerk repulsion (or alternatively, sit in our discomfort and expand our horizons) so we can analyze this piece of art together. :)

Next, authors LOVE Freudian psychoanalysis. Even though it's all nonsense, it's full of literary allusion and makes for compelling narratives and character studies (childhood maladjustment, repressed memories, etc), which is basically catnip for a writer. Thomas Harris was no exception, and probably creamed himself (as I did) when he learned that Freud's oral-sadistic stage was also termed the "cannibalistic stage," referring to the time when an infant is growing teeth and begins to bite at the breast--the psychosexual urge to devour and destroy the thing you love. What could be more appropriate for Hannibal?

Next, consider the pattern of Hannibal's Il Mostro murders. He killed young couples in one of the most romantic cities in the world, then arranged them as Chloris and Zephyr from Botticelli's Primavera, exposing Chloris's left breast just like in the painting. In classical art, an exposed breast is often a symbol of fertility. Chloris is associated with spring, new growth, and transformation.

Perhaps, at the time, Hannibal rationalized these murders as retribution for rude behavior. Maybe the couples were performing disgusting PDA. Maybe they were obnoxious tourists on their honeymoons. Either way, it's clear to the reader that Hannibal has some deep-seated hang up about sex and romance.

The particulars of this hang up are open to interpretation, but based on Hannibal's obsession with the rape and transformation of Chloris as well as his embarrassment at the paintings of Leda and the Swan in the German's house, I think it's safe to say that Hannibal feels like any relationship he has with a woman who isn't aware of his true (monstrous) identity would involve a degree of violence/lack of consent. He is forever barred from normal romance.

Having given up on sex/romance, Hannibal is unable to consciously recognize his desire for Clarice, so he sublimates it into a more general familial love. He longs for a return to innocence, to return to the time before he ate Mischa and became an unlovable monster (cue the teacup metaphor).

But even familial love seems like too much to hope for, so he sublimates it further into something that seems more attainable: resurrecting the person whom he loved and devoured, and who loved him in turn (Mischa) through Clarice.

So we have the breast as a symbol of sex/fertility (Chloris/Clarice), as an object that is loved and devoured (Mischa), and as a literal source of sustenance that must be given up during infancy (mommy).

Big brain Clarice connects all these dots and, in the very same style of therapy that Hannibal has been using on her, distills Hannibal's psychological problems into a single poetic gesture that completely fixes Hannibal in an instant, proving that she's not only his intellectual equal, but is, in some ways, his superior.

When Clarice asks, "Did you ever feel that you had to relinquish the breast to Mischa? Did you ever feel you were required to give it up for her?", she's ostensibly asking Hannibal if he's stuck in the oral stage of childhood development (which yeah he probably is). On a deeper level, she's asking Hannibal to consider if he's given up on love.

When Clarice exposes her breast in the same fashion as Chloris, says, "You don’t have to give up this one", and suspends the drop of wine from her nipple, she is shifting his perception of her breast from familial devoured sustenance to a sexual object. Basically, "Why do you want me to pretend I'm your sister when we could be banging?" Hannibal is being aged out of his childlike mindset, not regressing into one.

There are other layers of meaning in this act. The hedonism of using thousand dollar wine for food play is a sign of Clarice's character development. The way Hannibal kneels before Clarice is a position of subservience, but could also be interpreted as devouring Clarice in a way that's new to him. It's the most self-actualized thing Hannibal has done since escaping prison (LOL) and marks the end of his hero's journey (as one of the first things we see him do in Hannibal Rising is nurse).

Personally, I don't read this scene as breastfeeding kink. Yeah, Clarice talks about breastfeeding, but that was more a metaphor for other stuff. Considering the direction of Hannibal's character arc, I understand this scene as him briefly licking the wine off before they have sex. But to each their own! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ANYWAY, yeah, it's unsettling. It's obviously meant to be. But it's beautifully unsettling! Hate it all you want, but this is peak cannibal romance, to me!!

[alevicke]

This is such a weird request but here it is!!

The reader has either disappeared or has been withdrawn for a whirl and nothing that the cast (I.E. Caine, Kinger, Gangle, Zooble, Ragatha, Jan and Pomni) could get them out. Them and the reader being in a romantic relationship also reaction to the reader coming out after what was a while, tired and injured with a baby that had their features.

So basically the reader somehow got pregnant and refuses to let anyone know about the baby in fear they’ll be treated differently or have it taken away or the cast just outright denying responsibility or refusing to take care of the baby.

Sorry for such a long and weird and confusing message, don’t force yourself to do if you don’t want to!!!

Ah this is going to be hard to write! Mostly because it’s going to be all angst to be honest. I doubt anyone would be happy about their partner suddenly going missing and hiding something so important! Due to my roleplay with a friend I’ve thought about similar things every now and then tho so I have some ideas (Parentship is something I love to think and roleplay because everyone is so different in all stages of it <3) 

I feel like Jax, if he has a relationship, loves the person a lot and goes through the pregnancy with his partner would be hella sweet. Still having the urge to run away, but so different from the request. Might write my headcanons of Jax someday...? And Ragatha and Caine would look so adorable... Everyone would be to be honest ;; I need fluff after this angst help

TADC X READER WHO RAN AWAY AND SUDDENLY APPEARS WITH THEIR BABY

Characters: Caine, Ragatha and Jax

TW: ANGST!!! There is no sweetness nor fluff here ;; Pregnancy mentioned. Huh, having problems to accept the child? Also no beta read, I think that's the word. Sorry I'm Spanish and have no one who can proof read my writings ;;

I’m awful writing TWs so PLEASE, if someone knows if I should write something else let me know! MY MASTERLIST 

Caine:

This guy is not pleased when you first disappear. The first few hours he thinks you just need some alone time or perhaps you just don’t feel like being with absolutely anyone so he doesn’t try looking for you too much

But as time and the day passes and you don’t appear he starts to worry a bit more. His vigilant eyes haven’t seen you around either so he starts questioning the others receiving nothing but shrugs. No one knew where you were and some didn’t even care too much (mostly Jax and Zooble who were just annoyed by Caine continuously asking

As days passed Caine passed from worry to complete stress and panic as he kept looking absolutely everywhere for you, even the cellar with abstracted old characters! But you were nowhere to be found. Adventures were now a past thing as Caine passed his days looking for you

But as months passed, he truly came to the conclusion that you, somehow, escaped. It was way more hurtful to think that you, as lover, left him behind. That despite your whole relationship, you decided to escape

And it took him quite a lot of time to try to cheer himself up. Most of the crew realized that he was faking his enthusiasm and happiness

That was until you appeared back again with someone in your arms though…

Caine ran into your arms as soon as he saw you, he was FRENETIC! YOU WERE BACK!!

“God I missed you so much!!! I thought you escaped! Where have you been? Are you safe? Are you ok? I swear to god I looked EVERYWHERE! Believe me, my eyes have seen things that should have never seen looking for you!!!!” You tried to calm him down while slowly showing what was in your arms covered in a soft blanket. A baby, extremely similar to Caine…

His jaw dropped, literally. But he quickly picked it up. It was obvious he was the father… But he truly didn’t think that was possible. He didn’t look so much into the code to know all the possibilities but now looking back perhaps he should have taken a peek at those keeping in mind it was his job.

He didn’t even know how to reply. For one moment, he stretched his arm to the baby to touch it but he didn’t dare to do it. He had so many emotions at the same time. Was he even human? AI? An NPC? No, they couldn’t be an NPC, he had no control nor knew about them until now… 

You try to explain your reasons to disappear but to be honest he seems to not be listening to you most of the time, he is way more focused on the baby. He couldn’t believe he created it despite him creating a whole digital world. That baby was different.

The next few days were a bit hard with Caine. He accepted the baby and was with them the whole time in arms, but when it came to your relationship he felt quite hurt. He had problems trusting you but he was open to fixing everything and retrying the relationship. After all, he still loved you. But the fear of you going missing again was really big

Ragatha

Much like Caine, at first, she thought you needed time or space. It took her even longer to start looking for you because she really likes respecting space and has no problem if you have other things to do or other people to be with. She can be on her own and not bother you. She’s not nearly as clingy as Caine is. 

But night came and you didn’t appear. It was weird, you usually sleep together…

She tried looking for you in your room. But you weren’t there either… That honestly started to worry her but she tried to think that perhaps you were out having fun in the amusement park or the lake and just were gonna come late or something. There was no way of communicating after all, no phone to sell a message or call so she had to trust you’d eventually come back

But the next day your side in her bed was empty. And your bed was also empty, cold… You didn’t appear all night. What’s worse, no one even saw you.

She spent the day looking for you desperately, asking for help as well to Caine, Gangle and Kinger. As her desperation grew, she asked for help to Zooble and lastly to Jax. Not even Jax dared to say anything against helping, taking in mind the situation seemed important or even critical.

But days passed and neither Ragatha nor anyone else saw you. Not even Caine could find you with her eyes which being honest was annoying for him. He liked to keep control of everything and everyone there but you escaped his sights and were no one to be found!

Ragatha’s desperation grew into sadness thinking you abandoned her there alone on her own. Some were even afraid she could abstract hearing her cry despite how badly she tried to hide it. The always smiley and outgoing doll was now always in her room wanting to be left alone. 

As months happened she started to smile again. Sure, she was sad sometimes, but she tried to accept that you left. Much like Caine she thought you found an exit to that hell and she didn’t want to guilt you for that. But she wished you took her with you.

Until you appeared again. 

Just like Caine she ran into your arms, but she stopped just inches before seeing you were hugging something so carefully that you didn’t hug her as fast as she wanted to.

You moved the fabric away to show a small baby with yarn looking like hair in a reddish tone. The baby cuddled into the blanket looking for its warm while Ragatha was looking at them, eye wide open. She didn’t have to be a genius to know she was the mother… Still, she felt insecure “Is… Is that… Are they…? We…? Had a baby…?” She had problems saying the words. But you nodded answering all her questions at the same time “He’s… Our baby Ragatha… I just didn’t know how to tell you and I was so scared… I thought running away was my best option. I was so scared you wouldn’t accept this…” You said trying to get close to her. But Ragatha stepped back

She was insecure, worried and hurt “I spent months looking for you… I thought you ran away, that you found an exit and left me completely alone… And you took away my baby knowing that I had such a motherly instinct and wished I could be a mother… I want to see our kid. But I need time about us. To think about what's going to happen…”

Next days, Ragatha showed up a lot to meet the baby. She was so happy about having one! She never thought it could be possible but she was a mother! 

But things between you both weren’t the same. Ragatha didn’t feel ok being with you anymore. She didn’t trust you and couldn’t help but hold a grudge against you for doing something like that.

She didn’t want to admit it but you running away and making her miss the whole pregnancy and childbirth was extremely painful. You took away the first moments with her baby. And that was not something she could easily forgive

Getting her affection back was going to be hard. 

Jax

Quick Author Note. Hold yourself, this guy ain’t ready for this. A complete stab in his trust. And he's the kind of guy to hold a grudge…

Just like the others he doesn’t pay too much attention when you don’t appear for a few hours. But damn, after the whole day without news from you he’s starting to get kinda upset. Not with you, just that he wants attention and wants it NOW. 

He loves being your center of attention and you being gone for so long was annoying for him 

But day passes, night passes and you still don’t appear. He tries to act cool and make it seem like he’s completely ok with it. But he is internally panicking a bit. He’s looking for you anywhere and even tries asking for the others “casually” to see where you are but no one knows anything. 

He looked for you at the amusement park, at the lake, in every single room in existence in the tent, he even had keys of the locked doors. BUT NOTHING. You were just… Gone?

And he was so confused…

He truly thought you abstracted and for some reason Caine didn’t want to tell him. He had so much trust in you he didn’t want to believe you would escape that place without him. He was an asshole after all and you accepted him, why would you do that now? 

So since then, he stopped trusting Caine. He didn’t want to believe his words no matter how much Caine said he didn’t put you with the other abstracted characters. He spent months like this hiding sadness in his room. He was way too proud to show his weakness after you left him there. He thought you were gone for real…

That’s why the moment you showed up there took him so by surprise that he didn’t know how to react. He didn’t want to believe his eyes. You were back? But… He thought you abstracted. 

He approached you, slow at first. Then quickened the pace until being in front of you. But he didn’t expect to find you holding something so close to you

You open the blanket showing a light purple bunny much like him. No smile on the baby, but being fair, there was no smile on Jax either. The cocky smile was completely gone. Lost. His mind was nothing but a blurry mess of collapsing thoughts and words. He didn’t know what to think…

“Jax… I just… I didn’t know how to tell you… I thought you would get mad and not accept them… I was so scared…” you truly meant it. But something inside Jax broke as he realized what happened

“You… Ran away because you got pregnant?” he asked, receiving a slow scary nod from you.

You tried to explain yourself while he stood quiet, but he had enough. He stepped back “No? You just- You just don’t *bleep* do that?! I thought YOU ABSTRACTED?! But you were just running away from me because you didn’t trust me to have a baby together!” Jax finally bursted in anger. He never raised a hand, of course, but he sure was pissed by the situation

“Jax, listen, it’s not that I didn’t trust you, it’s just-”

“NO. I had enough. I don’t want to hear anything from you nor the baby. As far as I’m concerned, you lied to me. That could pretty much be an NPC to regain me after being doing whatever knows what during months. You have *bleep* lost me” With that, Jax turned away from you, leaving you behind with a crying baby after the storm.

With the incoming days, Jax left it clear, he didn’t want to know about you anymore. The relationship was over with no way of fixing it. You destroyed his trust.

And every time he saw the baby he had a huge urge to run away. He wasn’t there during pregnancy, he wasn’t expecting this. The baby just came out of nowhere and he sure wasn’t having it easy to accept it. He never asked to be a father. He didn’t even have a relationship to share this experience with anymore. Just a broken heart and a crying creature. He didn’t want to be involved in any of it

It took months for Jax to finally approach the baby at all. Seeing the baby reminded him of the betrayal he felt you made him. So he didn’t want to be with them at all

It probably takes more than a year or even years for Jax to accept the kid and be their father. But the relationship, as he said, was over. 

[calicough]

learning to lose – hazel callahan

— she finds herself mourning what could have been.

angst. situationship? talking stage that never flourished into a relationship. you and hazel were almost lovers.

it's been months since the she last spoke to you. the both of you had mutually decided to end whatever the hell was going on between you two, walking out of each other's lives. but that doesn't mean that hazel didn't regret it. that it didn't hurt at all. and that she never stopped thinking about you.

it would be an understatement to say that she is completely in love with you. she could listen to you talk about your interest or gush about your pet for a whole day and she wouldn't get tired of you. she would change all of her schedule just so she can be with you. heck, she would even give you the moon and the stars and maybe even the whole galaxy if it was possible.

she was in love with you.

so when she received a message from you saying, "i think we should end this," she didn't think twice and sent a simple "okay". if you love someone, you let them go. hazel couldn't remember where she had heard it, but that was the first thing that came to mind when she read your text. she couldn't be selfish in this situation as much as she wants to. as much as she wants you. which is why she let you slip through the cracks of her fingers rather than hold you hostage and suffocate you with her expectations.

she spends her alone time wondering what your relationship would've been like. you'd probably go on arcade dates, competing against each other and taking photos inside the photo booth. or maybe you'd have movie nights at her place, hiding under the blankets as an obvious jumpscare comes on screen. the two of you would probably spend the cold mornings cuddling in bed and talking about the most random shit you could think about.

she often wonders how you are currently. are you eating well? are you taking care of yourself? have you already found someone else? do you still have feelings for her? she hopes that you're doing better than her and that you're happy.

staring at the calm dark skies outside of her window, she finds herself mourning over what could have been, hugging her pillow close to her chest as her heart clenches in sorrow. maybe one day, she'll move on from you, find someone new. maybe one day, she'll be able to forget about you.

hopefully one day, it'll still be you.

just a short drabble hehe . hope you guys enjoyed it! i'm also currently writing some drafts but i'm not satisfied with how they turned out T_T so i apologize if it takes a while to post

[lorre-verie]

i NEED more recent neteyam content from you, the 5 stages of love thing was just- UGH mwah mwah i love it

can i request neteyam x reader where neteyam's jealous bc reader has been hanging out with other people? but please make the ending happy, i beg (im recovering from your aonung series antics 😭)

everything else is completely up to you i trust ur judgement so much 🥰

tysm anon AAAAA made me smile so much after reading this, i hope dearly that it doesn't disappoint!

“I will always love you.”

🗝 oneshot summary: seems you’ve been paying other people a whole lot more attention lately, and it’s making your dear boyfriend feel uneasy (jealous) inside. blablabla sweetie pie stuff happens, by the end of the night u two are cuddly lovey dovey again 💗

🌿 the lovely couple: neteyam x reader

📓 notes! - reader’s gender is not specified + no implications + no given name (used: [Y/N]) - takes place in the forest

🎞 word count: 2.3k

masterlist

“Yo bro!” Lo’ak waved towards his older brother, Neteyam’s hair whipping around with his head as he turned to see what Lo’ak wanted. 

“What?”

He was in the middle of rebraiding his hair in his family’s marui, something he would’ve asked you to do if he could even find you in the first place. 

Lately, you’d been really absorbed with developing your hunting skills, something he respected and never thought twice about, until now. 

“Did you and [Y/N] break up?” 

“What would even make you think such a thing like that?”  He completely abandoned his delicate ministrations through his hair, looking at his brother like he was insane. But deep down inside, he kinda wondered if you did too.

He rarely saw you these days, except for those fleeting moments where you two would wave at each other when passing by, and whenever he visited your tent you were never there. If he asked your friends they would constantly say you were out hunting, and he dropped his attempts at trying to find you. 

But seriously, hunting for almost the whole day for almost 3 weeks? There had to be SOMETHING else you’d been doing. 

“I never see you together anymore. N’ I heard from their friends there’s someone called Akxyeì in the picture. But if you did, there’s no shame in it bro, it’s all goo—”

Neteyam kicked him out of the tent. 

He huffed as he finished braiding his hair, not bothering to give it a last look before stomping out in search of you. Who the hell was Akxyeì?? 

Deep in his chest came a mixture of doubts and emotions regarding your relationship— had he not been showing you how much he loved you? How come you had to hang out with some other stupid dude? What if it was even worse, what if you were beginning to lose your interest in him? He would die without you, honestly. 

Or what if it was even worse, what if this Akxyeì character manipulated you into falling for him? He didn’t know whether what he was feeling was anger or sadness. But I’ll sum it up for you. 

Envy. 

Everyone stared at him as he stormed into the forest, the expression on his face taut and unreadable. The gossipping elders immediately got into their little groups, discussing what could possibly happen to the two of you in great interest. 

Not mud nor rain stopped him from tracking you, crouching along the forest floor, sniffing through the strong smell of rain in order to pick up your scent. The moment he found it, he bit back a growl; an unfamiliar scent was there with you.

He placed his hand on his forehead, taking deep breaths before heading in the direction you were supposed to be, reaching what the omaticayans dubbed the ‘lovers lake.’ He frowned remembering the nickname. 

Lo and behold, his love was crouched under a large leaf just near the opposite edge of the lake, a lovely smile on your face, like always, as you looked at the rain splashing in puddles on the dirt in front of you. 

Just the sight of you made his heart soar. But his mood quickly plummeted back down once he saw a na’vi boy crouched down behind you, also laughing at the predicament you were both in. 

He had half a mind to take his bow and shoot him in the crotch to ensure he wouldn’t ever be able to clone himself, but he had to bite back the urge. Instead, he resorted to letting out a heavy sigh. 

Just then, you looked up, eyes meeting with his as he stood far across the lake. A pang of guilt ran down your body, but it wasn’t like you were doing anything wrong, right? So then why did your heart drop fifty feet into the ground? 

Akxyeì’s laughter stopped once he saw the deathly stare Neteyam was giving him, which your boyfriend was satisfied with. But not satisfied enough. 

He turned his back on you both, disappearing into the thin fog that was starting to cloud the forest.

“..I have to go.” you whispered to Akxyeì, before diving head first into the lake to catch up with Neteyam. 

The only thing you thought about besides holding your breath was how angry Neteyam must’ve been with you. He totally misunderstood the situation, and it pained your heart to think of what he was thinking right now. You had to explain yourself as soon as possible. 

You frantically searched through the camp, your heart racing with worry and fear. Light pitter patters of rain land on your face, causing you to wipe it every few seconds in order to be able to see. You called out Neteyam's name in every spot imaginable, even his own family’s marui, but he wasn’t there.

As you made your way from tent to tent, you couldn’t help but feel a sinking feeling of worry weighing down on your shoulders.

You checked the hunting groups, but Neteyam was nowhere to be seen. You asked the elders if they had seen him, but they claimed to not know anything. 

You were drenched from head to toe from your swim earlier, and the wind didn’t make it any better, shivers threatening to stop your search. The nosy elders murmured harshly at the sight of you this way, according to them you always seemed so put together. 

You finally make your way back to your own tent, hoping that maybe he might have gone there. Although it was unlikely, it was the only spot in camp you hadn’t checked. But as you pushed aside the flap, you were met with your empty home, no sign of your boyfriend anywhere. 

Panic began to set in as you realised that he was truly gone. You sat down, fingers pressed to your lips as you took in a deep breath, thinking of all the possible places he could be. 

He wasn’t anywhere in camp, so that would have to mean he was still out in the forest. But where? You couldn’t possibly— 

Ah. 

He might be at you guys' spot.

You hadn’t been there in what felt like years. It was where he asked to be your boyfriend. It was so silly of him; a smile crept up on your face as you hopped up through the trees, reminiscing the day. 

You were both admiring the night sky together, counting the stars, and he suddenly whispered, “Can I be your boyfriend?” 

Even now, he denies ever uttering those words, claiming it was a figment of your imagination, and that you heard what you wanted to hear. But you remembered vividly the way he nearly fell off the trunk of the tree when you said yes.

The grass underneath you turned into soft clumps of moss as you continued, the rain slowly stopping as eclipse took over the sky. Finally, you reached the two intertwining trees, standing underneath the archway. 

You didn’t have time to look up before you heard his voice among the cricketing insects. 

“[Y/N].” he said, his voice as low as a sigh, your ears flattening once you heard the utter distress from his throat.

You said nothing, instead climbing up the slanted tree, crouching and setting aside the leaves covering your view. 

And there he was, in all his glory. 

Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan.

His feet dangled over the edge of the tree trunk, his hands planted firmly at his sides. He was hunched over, staring blankly at the ground at which you stood before. 

“Neteyam—” you were barely able to finish saying his name before he interrupted you. 

“Did I do something?” he croaked out, his gaze fixed downwards. 

“What?” you blinked. What was he saying? 

“Of course not,” you said softly, sitting on a spot on the tree just inches from him, you looking directly at his crestfallen face. 

A tear ran down his cheek, reflected by the lights of the stars in the night. He wiped it away quickly, now looking to his left, so that you were met with only the back of his head. 

Your heart dropped at the sound of his sniffles. “Neteyam, Akxyeì is just a friend,” you started, trying to formulate the best way to try and explain the situation to him and then beg for his forgiveness. 

“It’s not about that.” he sucked in a breath in attempt to calm himself down. 

“Why have you been avoiding me?” 

Your heart felt like it was splitting into two. 

You’d constantly been reassuring yourself that you weren’t avoiding him, you were just hanging out with your own separate group of friends, but in truth you basically had been. 

“I’m not avoiding you,” you paused, sighing as you faced the fact that you were going to have to be truly honest with him about your feelings now. 

“I just…wanted to be seen.” 

At those words, he turned towards you, eyes glistening with tears. “Wh…What do you mean by that?” 

“With them, I feel like what I always wanted to be— A strong, brave warrior with talent. With them, I feel like I can just truly be myself, and I don’t have to hold back.” 

He looked at you, beckoning you to go on. 

Your eyes flickered down, unable to meet his eyes as you continued, “Sometimes when I’m out with you I feel like I have to keep up appearances. You’re the next olo’eyktan, the next leader for our people, and I feel like I’m always in your shadow.”

“I get comments from the elders like, “How is it dating the next in line for Olo’eyktan???”” you mocked their shrill voices with a face as you quoted their exact words, the corner of your boyfriend’s lips twitching up in amusement. 

“So..I don’t know. When I finally was seen as a leader myself, with Akxyeì and the others, it felt like I was…free. Free from the expectations that other people put on me.” you bit your lip, imagining how selfish you must’ve sounded to him right now. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Neteyam part his lips slightly.

“..I never knew you felt that way,” he half whispered, looking down at his hand and yours, suddenly aching to intertwine your fingers together.

“It’s..not that I didn’t like being with you, you make me so happy,” you let a small smile appear on your face, “It’s just that it makes me feel worse about myself when people only care that I’m your partner. They don’t see me.”

“So…that’s why I’ve been hanging out with my other friends,” the air felt awkward after you finished, and you felt like you had to add on to your words so that the atmosphere didn’t feel so..empty.

“ I’m sorry I didn’t tell you anything before.”

“.....So I take it you’re still in love with me?” 

You looked up at his totally unserious response, slightly baffled. He had a childishly wide grin on his face. The tears from earlier had already dried up, leaving no trace behind. 

Your mouth was open in surprise of his lighthearted reaction. Had he even heard anything you just said? 

“Just so you know, Akxyeì is totally not more attractive than me,” he pushed on, determined to see one thing and one thing only. 

Your beautiful smile.

And his not-so-cunning ploy worked, as a little grin made its way up onto your face. 

He placed his hand on top of yours, slightly gripping your fingers. “But in all seriousness, I’m sorry too.” 

His mesmerising eyes were widened ever so slightly, as if he was trying to take in more of the sight of you. 

“For what?” you mouthed, the volume of your words barely above a hum. 

“For not noticing how you felt. I’m supposed to be good at gauging other people’s emotions–” he sighed, before you stopped him mid sentence with one of your fingers to his lips. 

“That’s why I didn’t want to tell you anything. I was worried you’d feel even more pressured with having to worry about me too, besides everything else already going on,” you tilted your head downwards, glancing once more at the barely illuminated bark you sat on.. 

You wanted to tell him more, to explain further, but the doe look in his eyes as he gently took your finger off his mouth with his free hand told you he’d already understood everything. 

He flipped your hand around, placing a soft kiss on your wrist, maintaining full eye contact with you as he did it. The motion sent butterflies raging frantically in your stomach, the thrill causing you to blush slightly. 

“So. Tell me more about your friends.” he smirked, knowing the full extent of his charm and what it did to you. 

You breathed out, nodding before sitting directly next to him, your hips touching his. You began to recite to him all the fun little adventures you had with your hunting group, and the stupid things Akxyeì would get himself into. 

You couldn’t help but smirk a little bit whenever you felt Neteyam’s hand tighten its grip around yours whenever you mentioned the other boy. 

“And then, one other time- Teyam?” you felt his head weigh on your shoulder. Was he…asleep? 

A small pause followed as you stopped talking, and you just froze completely before narrowing your eyes. 

“..You aren’t asleep, are you?” you rolled your eyes, feeling a chuckle vibrate on your shoulder from his throat. 

You always knew how to read him, and he found it amusing that you were the only person he could never fool. It just added onto his everlasting appreciation for you. 

You watched him as he pulled his head up off your shoulder, smiling as he looked at your face with such fondness that it made you feel weightless. 

“I love you, [Y/N].”

masterlist

aw how sweet 😊 isn’t that so sweet?? i'm so sorry if this genuinely sucked ass cause i have no clue how to write sweet stuff..but thank u so much for your req anon! thank u all for 500+ followers, it truly means so much to me guys 😭���

i hope you guys enjoyed this! as always, thank u for stopping by my blog 💗💚

much love, lorre.

[taylor-titmouse]

Julia is sick of working late. She's sick of being disrespected, and most of all she's sick of her boss. Lance is a burned out, smooth-talking playboy, but he also happens to be the son of the CEO.  When Lance pushes her buttons once too often, Julia is tempted to put him in his place – but is it worth throwing away her career for a moment of satisfaction? Content: -F/M -dom -degradation -small penis humiliation -directed masturbation -power play 5k words,  EPUB and PDF format Only $3, Releases later tonight! you can go read the first two pages on the shop page!

i've mentioned a couple times now that my editor and the author of roger crenshaw: the dogs at duskfall @mortalityplays is now available for freelance work for people other than me, but i don't think i've made as big of a deal how he's ALSO going to start releasing his own smut shorts on the last friday of every month! he is SUCH a talented writer on top of being an excellent editor and it's my absolute delight to work with him on the cover for his first release. FINALLY i have a great answer when asked "is there anyone else writing smut like you?"

and since this was the first time in a while i went through a cover design process that wasn't just me making one for myself, i thought i would go into how it went!

The Prompt

R/L wanted something that didn't visually describe the characters, because he had deliberately avoided that himself in the text. these characters are archetypes, ideas of characters: a woman who works in an office and her playboy burnout boss. for an erotic fantasy scenario, not going into detail can be ideal, as it allows the reader to project their own fantasies onto the characters. but what does that mean for a cover, when showing off the characters is often the point?

The Thumbnails

it means silhouettes, babie! if you're a reader of romance you've probably seen this approach a few times. silhouettes allow you to give the impression of a character without actually specifying them. HOWEVER! that can only go so far. note the female silhouettes in the left and right thumbnails--one with a pony tail, one with her hair down. these two very minor design elements say completely different things about the character, and pin her design down into something specific. (there is a whole line of feminist thought about this, that there is no such thing as an "unmarked" woman, or rather a woman whose presentation does not say something about her, ie a woman not wearing makeup is not perceived as neutral the way a man not wearing makeup is).

so anyway including her in the cover in full doesn't work for the prompt, because how she wears her hair or how she dresses would say something about her that we don't want to say. thus: we chose the middle design!

a man in a shirt and tie are super archetypal, and """neutral""" enough to not say anything specific about lance, our male protagonist, other than he has a job and is of average size (which are of course not technically truly neutral, but for our purposes, are functional as symbols). and while a long, narrow, leg does still say something about julia, it is abstracted enough to simply represent the concept of "woman" without projecting an overall image of her in the reader's head. she has a leg, and she wears high heels. that's all you get!

The Sketch

now we can move on to the sketch stage! this is the point at which the palette and text are figured out. i tried a few fonts before landing on one that had the retro paperback all-caps feel that i liked, and i used what i believe to have been a risograph print texture from retrosupply.

we went with the text up top rather than at the bottom, because it lends weight to the shoe and balances out the blacks in the pants. it also allows the figure to take up more of the cover, which is ideal. honestly, not a whole lot to say about this bit that i didn't cover in thumbnails: which is the point of doing thumbnails in the first place!

The Finish

well you can just scroll up to see that one. the final colors ended up a little less saturated, a little cooler, to bring it home to the retro paperback look i was going for and tie the colors together. i'm very pleased with it and had a lot of fun. cover design is one of my favorite parts of putting out books, and it was especially fun working with someone else to bring their vision to life.

anyway, you should go buy this book! it's only three dollars and i want to make more covers for these! your purchases would prove that i am a very good investment as a cover artist >:)

[skyeventide]

taking a stab at the whole valinor trauma rebirth tragedy thing

without getting into the various iterations of mandos throughout its development, the fact that it shares the etymological root with angband (angamando in quenya) or its use as both a prison/punishment place and as the temporary "afterlife" of elves, I think it should be obvious why "mandos cures everything" doesn't work for most people. it's simply narratively unsatisfying. we know that, technically, spirits are solitary in mandos and don't tend to interact with each other, and we know (iirc) that nienna does most of the healing work, when those spirits don't reflect on things by themselves.

healing in complete isolation might work one rare time, but it's otherwise simply not how healing works, how adjusting to a new life works. being way too in your own head is discouraged. healing all your traumas because a goddess did it via magic counseling gives, at best, uncanny vibes, at worst erases the struggle and journey of adjusting, with help, into the life you're actually living. so people either say that spirits can actually meet in mandos and figure things out among themselves, or subvert the narrative and have people come out of mandos either not truly healed or only partially so, and needing the real living feedback of society to exist within it again. a reading which allows mandos to still function as a recovery, but whose achivement is to "prepare" for the journey of spiritual healing, to bring elves back to a stage where they're able to face the circumstances that generated their trauma (aka the living, embodied world, and maybe more precisely even the people involved in it).

this barely touches on the grievances that dead elves might have with the guys who are running this show. this isn't just feanorian followers (or the exiles more at large) who renounced the valar's authority, it can also be the avari, who now either get valinor or they get valinor. it can be the falathrim, who wanted to go to valinor and lost the chance. it can be those sindar who were waiting for a full intervention from valinor, and it didn't come until earendil came around. it's hard to envision healing within a system when the system itself is what you take issue with. it requires a personal compromise, or an acceptance of the system's authority, and that's simply not always possible, nor can fanworks always easily tackle it — which is also why I think fics where living relatives "bully" or like, strongly entreat, the valar into releasing specific elves from death are popular. it's one way of giving that specific problem a solution, though it may in effect be unrealistic. it's less about realism (I for one don't believe the Valar would ever do that) and more about trying to find a way through wanting to see those characters heal without having to bend and accept the system and its authority.

which also brings me to what comes after and the necessary divide, real or perceived, between people who were always in valinor and people who returned to life after conflict.

to put it simply, making sweeping statements about whether amanyar elves can understand the trauma of exiles and other reborn elves is not possible and in itself pretty silly. even the amanyar themselves don't perceive their experiences of trauma and the darkening in the same way! the teleri refuse to set foot in beleriand despite their own kin being there, and despite the fact that noldor and vanyar embark on a valar-sanctioned war. it's pretty obvious that their own internal experiences and cultural understanding of the darkening or of valar authority is still vastly different, that even going by the imprecise and generalising divide of clan, that trauma was processed differently. or not processed at all.

and then, would those who fight the war of wrath understand the trauma of a continent-wide collapse? yeah, surely in a sense they can, they live through it. but can they understand it from the point of view of a sinda who had lived in beleriand all their life and didn't simply come here with the understanding that this was war? who saw their home be destroyed slowly and painfully, and in the end, when the saving arrives, it's a saving with such an immense and heartbreaking price? maybe they can empathise, maybe they can't. the darkening, by the time of the war of wrath, is no viable term of comparison. even among the living, this isn't cookie-cutter.

so what of those who die and return? I think it's obvious, in the text itself, that someone can go through a death, real of metaphorical, return to their old home which has itself gone through some considerable trauma, and realise that no matter if both you and your home have changed, both have bled, you're still unable to readjust to it the way others can. other people who were with you in your journey can integrate, they find old friends and loves who help them in this. you can't. I'm obviously talking about frodo.

it's not the same for everyone and it will never be. and I do feel as though the reading of valinor being in itself unable to take back people who went through trauma is a push-back against the idea that valinor must inherently be blissful, healing, and perfect; but the text presents us many situations where the environment of valinor plants the seeds of dissatisfaction; the fact that it doesn't work as neatly as it seems is at the core of the early conflict in The Silmarillion (even without pointing out stuff like: troubled people, Frodo included, go to the gardens of Lorien in search of that healing and peace of mind that the rest of the land can't actually provide. it's just a land. it's mostly free of toil because there's literal gods providing things, but it's just a land). valinor is not perfect, but its status as blessed realm invites a certain unease in many readers. I believe this unease leads easily to cotradictory and equally extreme positions, ranging from "no one would or should feel out of place after rebirth" to "actually no one would understand the trauma of someone who died and returned".

plus, of course, the obvious: someone's trauma, collective or individual, and how people process it, doesn't somehow erase someone else's and how they process it. the two things can come in conflict with one another, but they're not, like, mutually exclusive.