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doodlesfromthebird · 2 years

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Hi, Canary! It's really nice to see you back. You've been one of my favorite internet artists since I found your work a few years ago, and I really admire your sense of character and costume design! I found you through KH, but I've since fallen in love with your original characters and story ideas, which are lovely. I was wondering if you had any advice for someone hoping to develop their own original characters and worlds. I've been trying to for a few years, but it still feels pretty daunting.

Hello!! Oh my goodness, thank you so much. I'm so glad! ^u^ I absolutely can give some pointers!

Here's a little guide with a few methods I've used to creating characters and developing the world they live in. I'm by no means a writer of any kind (I rarely create stories, and struggle with plot) but I am passionate about developing funky little dudes who live in your brain.

Designing a Character - Make a list. I somewhat recently compiled a document full of design elements, tropes, personality types, aesthetics I generally really liked to help build a small cast of characters I knew I’d have fun designing for. Think about your favorite characters in media and what you like about them! It could be a great jumping point to creating an OC you’re passionate about. That goes for relationship dynamics, too!

Grab a handful of things from that list, 5 or 6 maybe, and there ya go!

- Make a moodboard. I’ve used this method to create characters based on A VIBE and building off that.

I’ve even figured out personalities just based on the “aesthetic text” I found associated with a color. Part of Cherri’s backstory and personality came forth simply because I kept finding Marina lyrics in pink. - Try using online dress up games! I used to use Dolldivine all the time to get creative. - In addition to mood boarding, pinterest can also be a good resource for design inspiration with official concept art for movies/games and assets of those sort of dress-up games readily available. CocoPPa is a good example! [Let’s please respect the wishes of individual artists and either give credit when posting for inspiration or respect their wishes if they state not to repost their work at all.] - In depth character creators in video games! Or simple ones! I’ve built up such an affection for even a few of my stardew valley farmers with their own personal bits of lore, they could probably be stand alone characters separate from the game at this point. Sometimes developing a character from an established setting can be a good base. Dig some of your old fan characters out of the closet, even!

Get to know your character

Getting to know your OC is one of my favorite parts of the process, and is something I find really important if you want to get attached to them. And you should!! The more these guys are on your brain, the more you start asking questions about them, and the more bigger details start to fall into place. - Go broad. Say you have the base concept of a character with their situation, their goal in life, their goal in the present moment, and the past/future that will effect them. What lies do they believe as truth? How has their childhood effected their habits and views? What's one secret they keep to no one but themselves? Who are the most influential people in their past and in their day to day life? - Go detailed. They're practically a roommate living rent free in your mind, so think about what a day in their life is like. Observe how they do small things. What are they eating for breakfast? How do they carry themselves when they walk? Nervous habits? What are they wearing to go to get quinoa from trader joes??? Detail what a few hours of what it'd be like to observe them, doing what they do every day and how they'd do it. - Give them an interview. Here's a blank bio sheet with a detailed list of questions that could be fun to fill out at your leisure! A lot of good questions to chew on. - Or quite literally give them an interview. Pretend they're sat down to answer some questions and think about how multiple characters would answer the same question. Do they overshare? Are they curt and to the point? Do they frequently lie and contradict themselves? What questions take them off guard? - Write about your own experiences. Giving characters traits and experiences you can speak from in a detailed can really flesh them out as people and gives them that relatability. Even if they’re decidedly different from you as a whole, there’s that point of connection that anchors them to you.

Worldbuilding...ish

Developing a world is a little less easy for me to give advice on, as I’m very character oriented, so my worldbuilding is more of starting with the bigger picture and then filling in details that would affect the character directly, while some other things aren’t as fleshed out and water tight. (I’m working on it!) Some universes have more to them than others simply due to how much time I’ve spent with them over the years. But it’s important, a lot of fun, and gives all the more weight to the universe you’re developing.

- Research. If you’re like me and either have no writing experience or have difficulty pulling key world-building aspects from imagination, there’s a PLETHORA of resources to learn from, a lot of it free and on youtube, even. Make yourself a playlist, grab a notepad and sit yourself down to gather info, and map things out. If you’re, say, creating a country from scratch, look into places with a similar climate and how it affects what species live there. I’ve been researching dining etiquette and shipbuilding lately! It would be of great help to learn from writers as well, if you aren’t one yourself. There's A Lot of advice out there. - Ask cause and effect questions. I create a lot for the fantasy genre, so I get to ask questions like...”What does a world being shaped by the gods/guardians look like? How has their presence influenced the mortals they look after? Their culture, their customs, the way they communicate? What’s the actual truth of ancient happenings and what has been passed down through a long, long game of telephone? What is the truth current day people believe about magic, technology and historical events? What kind of questions could you ask from the world you’re creating? -Appease your inner child. Think back on what captured your attention as a kid and how you experienced them through your eyes at the time. What sort of things did you feel experiencing your favorite games, movies or books that you can still tap into through a nostalgic lens? I feel incredibly attached to my The Spiral OC universe when I’m playing Legend of Zelda games, especially Wind Waker. The mood, the sense of adventure. The feeling of sailing the seas, the quietness of Windfall at night, the reverent silence when arriving at Hyrule frozen in time. Those feelings have lent an atmosphere to the world I’d go on to create for myself, and still illicit a strong emotional response when I visualize aspects of it. the adventure, the monsters, the sweet and emotional tone, and the heaviness of ancient legend lost to time. - Immerse yourself in other people’s worlds. Get into a tabletop game podcast of your preferred genre! You’ve got high fantasy dnd, but there’s also plenty of sci-fi, modern fantasy, post-apocalyptic, and more. Listening to multiple people work together to build their world (sometimes as they go a long!) can really get that creative juice a-flowing. Critical Role and The Adventure Zone are big ones, but I also recommend SkyJacks, Friends at the Table, Dimension 20, Dungeons and Daddies and JemJammer! Worldbuilding prompts/generators! X X X I hope ANY of this was helpful, I’m happy to answer specific questions as well.

#sorry for the delay in answering!#its my birthday go out and give ur OCs some love #INDULGE!! INDULGE I SAY #masterpost #character design #original character #text #letters to the bird

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eldorr · 1 year

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Xenaeli

Xenaeli is a polyfluid/multifluid (Multigender+Genderfluid) term where one:

Has non-fluid genders, those genders being Xenoboy (plus Xenboy), Caelgender (and other space-related genders).

Has fluid genders that are always prevalent/noticeable, these being Thingfluid, Coricfluid, and Xenofluid. (Xenofluid in this case may be part of being Xenoboy/Xenboy.)

Prevalence/Notability in this case may be due to these genders not being flux, and/or being separate fluid genders vs being part of a fluid gender.

Has fluid (and flux) genders that are fluid in some shape or form thru masculine, feminine, aporine/outherine/neutral, and xenine genders. While not being binary man/woman ever. Terms that may fit this definition are Genderslyphen, Genderfloren, Genderfluvi, and/or Genderstagnu.

Is Neurogender, where one uses these terms to describe how one’s gender is affected by their neurodivergency.

Is genderflux, however doesn’t feel one is flux to agender, or other genders that denote a lack of gender. One however feels they’re flux to genders that feel like a blank empty space where one’s gender should be, and this gender may or may not feel slightly gendered in itself. (Examples of these kinds of genders could be Kenochoric, Gendervoid, etc.) One may be flux to agender/genderless sometimes, but it may be rare to experience.

This term was originally posted September 22nd, 2022. The green on the flag has been slightly darkened in the repost.

Anyways yeah coined this as a term to explain my own multigender experience, as it’s a mess lmao. I know for a fact I’m almost always Xenoboy and Caelgender (or a gender space-related gender), while having some genders that are fluid and some genders that are flux, but idk where those begin and start so it’s very messy lol. I also know I’m not agender really ever, VERY rarely that I am, more-so am Kenochoric or Gendervoid, the sorta weird “empty space” kinda feeling vs genderless. I also know neurodivergency affects my gender, but in a sorta “oh yeah” kinda way, and not super prevalent but I wanted to include it.

But yeah being polyfluid is a pain LOL. I’m also xenofluid but I kinda feel like it’s under me being Xenoboy if that makes sense? Xenofluidboy? It’s all a mess lmao. I know the genders where I’m a [x]thing are separate from my main fluid genders? The same with my coric genders, aka coricfluid. Idk it’s so hard to explain but I wanted a term to say “here’s the mess I am”

In general the flag is a combination of the Xenoboy + Genderfluid + Genderflux + Caelgender + Thingfluid + Coricfluid + Xenofluid + Neurogender flags.

#coining #mogai #liom #queer #gender coining #lgbtq+#imoga #neogender #polyfluid #multigender #genderfluid #genderflux #xenogender #xenofluid #xenoboy #xenaeli

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moonlightdisney · 1 year

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I posted these separately on other socials but i wanted to put them all together here !

I feel like these two would be good friends, Mao Mao would defo be jealous of Puss and (poorly) hide how much he actually looks up to him, not just in a literal sense.

Badgerclops and Kitty would totally bond over their dangerously heroic and reckless boyfriends. Kitty is totally not scared of this overgrown badger, nope not at all.

Adorabat absolutely ADORES Perrito. He listens to her complaints about the cuties and offers advice and she helps him be more assertive!

Mao Mao absolutely ADORES Puss’ songs about his adventures. You fought a fairy ?? You swapped bodies with a donkey ?? YOU FOUGHT DEATH???! AND LIVED?????! How tf are you friends with an egg??? Your singing is so BEAUTIFUL??????

Idk what you mean, i never said that last bit ARE YOU CALLING ME A LIAR!

I also took some creative liberties with their designs. Just to make em more fun for me to draw!

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FurAffinity | NOTE | No my art is NOT free to repost on any site for any reason. The algorithm favours most reposts over the originals and I work very hard on my art! If you are to see any of my art on a page that is NOT my own, please link it to me ASAP.

#maomao #mao mao heroes of pure heart #puss #pussinboots #puss in boots #puss in boots: the last wish #puss in boots 2 #art #artist #Fanart #drawing #digital drawing #my art #myart #my artwork #digital art #digital artist #digitalart

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 years

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am i warm enough for you?

➳ tags ;; soulmate au, strangers to lovers, fluff and angst but mostly fluff, some-what canon compliant, bakugo katsuki is bad at feelings, lots of Feelings™, you guys are adults but the end of the fic but the fic is sfw, alcohol, drunk confessions

➳ wc ;; 5.6k..

➳ plot summary ;; you see your soulmate in dreams - sometimes in bits and pieces and other times in full. bakugo is less than inclined to admit he even has a soulmate - and you learn how to cope with it, one day at a time.

bakugo learns that this soulmate shit is no joke. that has to be why he keeps falling for you so helplessly.

➳ a/n ;; i wasn’t even gonna comeback this early but it felt so wrong not to post on my bfs birthday so alas </3 for anyone who cares to know this is @elysianseraph but with my new url. nice to see u all <3

this was originally posted on 4/20 but im reposting cause it didn’t show up in the tags dskjds

It’s hazy.

A cloud of smoke settles over your body, permeating your lung. It smells like sugar, like burning, like smoke and a little like leather. You can feel your toes curl and your hands moving but your body is separate from you in a way you can’t describe. It’s a pleasant kind of warmth that spreads, creeping up from behind your neck till it’s soft and cradling your skull. It’s soft like the touch of a mother, like wool over your ears.

It’s a pleasant feeling, that’s all. Almost cozy but there’s a fading sense of distress that chills in your lungs as you encompass it. Your hands are too small to reach forward, and truthfully the sensation is so powerful that you’re afraid to reach out. You’re 6 years old, so all you know is how it makes you feel. You can’t remember many details, but you feel pleasant. Something about it is soft, but there’s a sharp edge right at the end that has your lungs gasping for air.

It’s a flash of colors. Red. Orange. Pale Yellow. Grey. Black. Forest Green. Red. Red. Orange. Red.

And then it fades into a feeling again. A blurry feeling. You feel conflict, then concern, then inadequacy in heavy waves almost like it’s drowning you. It’s the first time you’ve experienced such a pain, so your wailing and wiping tears away with chubby fingers and saying a name you don’t know and can’t remember.

Ka. You know the sound, Ka. But you don’t know of anything more. It repeats rhythmically in your mind like a knock on the door, rapping with urgency - but it doesn’t do anything to jog your memory. Someone is trying to be let in but you don’t know how to answer them, and you’re still crying. The distress, the inadequacy shakes you and all you feel is frustration in short simple bursts.

Your first encounter with your soulmate is written this way in your memory. A sense of urgency laced with frustration - but they’re not towards you. It’s him, his feelings - you can feel them even deeper then he can. They pierce you in a way that makes it hard to breathe, no matter how you try to escape them it’s an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. The only way to escape the feelings of a dream is either to control them, or to face them and swim through the fog.

Soulmates have an urgency to them, in general. His is different, you can tell as much. Your first soulmate dream leaves the heaviest impression and each one thereafter is like pieces of a puzzle.

Sometimes you simply share random dreams, like a split screen in a video game - the two of you witness different parts of the same dreamverse. Other times, and honestly - most times, you’re experiencing their emotions or feelings. You experience their core memories, their life, in flashes and bits and pieces.

It’s not enough to know them or who they are, it’s like know everything about them except the things that matter

Sometimes you meet too. Just barely.

MEETING 1:

The room is white. When you blink, colors flash in order - red, pale yellow, orange, forest green and you know. You blink a few more times, stretching your hands out in front of yourself. Curling your hands into fist then into stretched palms, you lean forward and stretch. You wriggle your toes - notice you're wearing shoes. Clothes from your closet. Strange.

You take a look around the room but there isn't much to see. There’s a wall in front of you with a glass divider and a mirrored empty room. The room across from yours has spiky decor littered against the walls. An orange dresser, plastic grenades and play guns. You know who it is without a second warning - and a foggy part in the back of your head tells you that it’s him, again but with more force. You don’t see anything in your room, but you figure he might. All of it is confusing to you.

Before you can blink, there’s a loud thud coming from the other side of the glass. It’s a silhouette, the outline of a face - but nothing clear. Dream logic dictates you can’t know a face you’ve never seen, yet somehow you know his outline. Spiky, he’s spiky everywhere.

“Hello?,” you call out, overly tentative. The figure pauses, seems to take in whatever they must be seeing. You’re not sure what response you’re expecting, really. There’s no expectations at all.

“...Who the fuck are you?,” says a pitchy, male voice. He sounds like he’s your same age, a highschool boy. His throat is rough, yet not overly deep. It’s almost scratchy.

“Uhm,”

You’re not sure how to reply. You can see him through the glass, but not really. Still, you take note of his shadows like they’re going to tell you anything more. You shove your hands in your pockets, messing around with something inside.

“Uh.. your soulmate, I think,” you reply.

Scratching the back of your neck as an awkward silence settles, you take a few minutes to try and figure what more to say.

“We met when we were kids once too,” you explain awkwardly. He must know, has too - this soulmate thing is a two way thing, but his silence is deafening. You just want to feel this space. Is it always this awkward?

“Red. Orange. Pale Yellow. Forest Green,” you repeat, like a mantra. You hear him take in a sharp breath, and freeze. For some reason, you’d like to avoid upsetting him. He doesn’t seem like he’s taking to the information too well.

“I don’t have time for this damn bullshit… whatever quirk you’ve got to mimic this - cut it the fuck out,”

Hostile.

You pause, not sure how to feel. Half of you is offended, the other half is confused - had you done something to upset him? You can feel how he feels - but you don’t understand it. You sit with your mouth agape, like a fish out of water. Unsure of how to proceed, you scoff a little.

“Woah.. this isn’t a quirk thing. We’re.. soulmates? That’s already a thing,”

More silence. You’ve.. he doesn’t seem upset, but you can tell he’s not all that keen to the idea. It’s a bare minimum improvement that you find yourself valuing, without your consent. He breathes again, throat even more hoarse than before. His voice is angry but it doesn’t fit his responses, his feelings - so you don’t pay attention to his madness. Something is off.

“... I’m not supposed to have a soulmate. No fucking way I have a soulmate,” he grits. You step back, stumbling. You didn’t have any expectations.. but this wasn’t what you had been expecting at all. You feel uneasy, sick. It must be a shared feeling if the way he leans against a wall counts for anything.

A beat of silence passes before you open your mouth to speak.

“... I have no idea what I’m supposed to say to that,” you admit. He scoffs.

“Nothing you damn extra. Leave me the fuck alone,”

You don’t reply, too stunned. This was your soulmate? This.. asshole? Not that you were a peach entirely either, but this was supposedly the person that the universe had decided for you?

You shake your head. Maybe you’re just being rash? He could be a nice guy behind all the chaos. You try your best to hold onto that, that this was literally someone chosen for you before you gave up all hope. You sigh, cracking your neck.

“You can say whatever you want but.. we’re here, you know? It’s more productive to just go with it.. isn’t it?,”

“Go fuck yourself,”

“After meeting you, I’m not exactly over the fucking moon about it either. It is what is,”

“You’re not my fucking.. soulmate or whatever the fuck. Leave me alone,”

Your heart both aches with anger and sadness. You don’t know what to do. What does this shit-head know about you, anyway? You know he’s been through some shit, same as you - what makes him so entitled? You swallow the lump in your throat. It hurts. It pierces. Stupid soulmate bonds.

“Yeah? Alright. Fuck you too,”

You see him pace around for a longer before he disappears in a cloud of smoke. You didn’t even catch his name, and you’re not sure you wanted too. It must be morning, but at least you're away from him. It feels lonely, but it must just be you.

Your eyes flutter open but your heart is heavy with regret. You don’t know who it belongs to, but you’ve got class in an hour and not enough time to think about it. If he doesn’t want to meet you that’s fine.

It’s fine. Not like you wanted to meet your soulmate anyway.

You don’t have another meeting with your soulmate for months. Lately your dreams have little if anything to do with him or where he is, how he’s been. You have some of those split screen ones, where you know he’s there but neither of you acknowledge each other, even in spirit, like how you did before. When you wake up feeling angsty, you don’t know how to distinguish the feeling but you don’t try.

You wonder idly if he can feel your apathy, if he cares enough too. Maybe he also mistakes it for his own? It seems likely.

It’s a weekday where you’re getting ready for remedial classes at your school. First year advanced courses were no joke, and you find yourself regretting your choice to participate in them.

Still you get dressed anyway, put your uniform on and brush your teeth - wash your face with your eyes half open and look presentable. No one's home in the morning, the house is empty of any life but you. Food becomes a last minute priority, so you make an egg sandwich with cheese and eat it on the way to the train station.

You stare down at your feet as you step outside, music drowning out the noise of your surroundings aptly. The walk to the station is long and the ride is longer, but the streets are packed edge to edge. Musutafu is busy this time of year - the U.A. Sports Festival is taking place today and everything seems to reflect that. You barely manage to squeeze past all the strangers on the subway - clearly on their way to see it.

When you get to school, you're greeted by a mostly empty classroom with a teacher. These classes were straightforward as always, do the work you need to correct, have it approved and leave. It repeats until your finished with all the assignments and you get to be done. You give a respectful nod to your teacher before grabbing your work from your bag.

It goes on and on - occasionally, you hear an excited gasp and quiet chatter from classmates. It’s about the festival, the happenings - but you’re too caught up in completing your work that day and trying to get the fuck out of their as soon as possible.

Shit like that didn’t matter to you, anyways. It’s just a festival.

You leave around the same time the festival seems to have ended, the streets flooded with people - you miss the first station and wander towards an electronics store a block away from your highschool.

It’s the winners on TV. A guy with split hair - Shouto Todoroki, Endeavors son. A guy with a bird head, and a blonde with red eyes - muzzled to the pole.

When you see them, your heart stops. You can feel anger, an unfamiliar rage and humiliation building in your chest. It feels the word has stopped as you watch from afar, through screens. Your soulmate seems upset about something, but you wouldn’t know what.

And that blonde on TV, you wonder if you know him from somewhere.

MEETING 2:

Red.Orange. Pale Yellow. Grey. Black. Forest Green. Red. Red.

You feel him before you even know what’s happening - and it catches you completely off-guard. You haven’t had a proper soulmate dream in two years. Smoke clouds your lungs, the taste of sugar burning your tongue as you cough yourself into awareness. This time, you’re not in a room but it’s a campground. In the middle of the space is a bonfire, burning warmly. This one feels more vivid, more real.

But you know it’s not, your body feel unusually light and your hands can’t hold anything for too long. You know it’s a dream, but you sit in the chair anyway. It feels like you're floating. You feel oddly warm. Dread builds in the pit of your stomach. Even though it’s been so long since you’ve spoken to your soulmate - you can’t forget the terrible first encounter. It sticks to the roof of your mouth - a bitter memory that fills you with unexplainable, irrational resentment.

But it’s not like you hadn’t been seeing him, to an extent. You’ve seen all his memories in bits and pieces - all of them tragic and painful. This time, you see people but they come in the form of small scraps. Spiky Red. Electricity. Tape. Pink with Horns. Music. Green. So much green and red - like Christmas, you’ve called it. You’ve seen disappearances, fear, anguish - so much anguish.

In the weeks after All Might’s fall, you were in so much pain - you couldn’t stop crying for days. It’s been enough time to know what feelings were yours and which were his - and these ones felt so much like him. It went on for nearly a year - you’d almost got accustomed to it. If tears showed up to blot the ink of your lecture notes, you didn’t think twice about it. You tried to keep yourself calm, steady - in hopes you could lend your soothing to him. Even if he hated your guts, you could barely believe so much sadness could exist in one person. You didn’t know what happened but whatever it was - it must’ve been terrible. At the very least, you felt sympathy.

Sympathy was enough to get by for a long time. A neutral, level-headed sympathy that helped soothe some of your own hurt.

All that said, you were hardly expecting to see him again - especially not this soon. You don’t remember the last time you thought about him in anything other than passing - actively. It’s one thing to know what's happening - you’ve felt him passively everyday for damn near two years.

But it’s another thing to see him in front of you, force yourself to acknowledge him as your soulmate even if he insists on not doing the same.

You squirm in your chair, noticing that you’re wearing PJ’s instead of clothes. Just a hoodie and sweats, none of which fit you quite right. You pull your sleeves over your hands, fiddling with the stray strand of thread loose.

“What the fuck is this shit?,”

Your stomach drops. Unsure of what to say, you opt to say nothing at all. Just let him be, sit quietly in your dreams and mind your business. Maybe he’ll wake up soon and it’ll all be over.

You can’t see him from the corner of your vision but you can hear him shuffle. The way he touches things, noticing how they make noise but don’t feel quite right in his hands. How it feels real but doesn’t, how it is real and isn’t. Surely, he’s noticed you by now. The lingering silence makes you squirm.

“...It’s you,”

You flinch, lifting your head up slightly to meet his gaze. His expression is unreadable, but it’s different from before. In a fleeting moment, something occurs to you.

You can see him. What he looks like. Blonde with red eyes, and a sharp chin and thin waist. You know it must mean you’ve seen him before - perhaps you’d even seen each other, but for your life you can’t remember where you’ve seen his face. It’s right there, on the edge of your mind, but you’re stumped.

“Hello?,”

“Oh,” your reply comes short, strained. Your eyes flutter as you press your lips into a flat line. “Uh, hi,”

The blonde sits in the chair, slumping down. His eyes go towards the flickering flames without another word and you decide it’s best not to engage. It stays like that for a while, a beat of silence - not awkward but not comfortable, passing by without another thought. It all feels real, present - not like normal dreams. This must be the special kind of soulmate thing you find yourself feeling resentful towards.

His eyes are heavy. Relief is overwhelming him, with an iron grip and he’s worried you can feel it. If you can, you don’t say a word.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he admits.

The words sound tender passing through his mouth, unmistakably so - but you don’t get your hopes up. Instead, you give him a placating laugh, leaning forward towards the fire and mirroring him.

“I didn’t think so either,”

When it falls silent, it feels comfortable. It’s not like either of you have anything to say to each other right now, with no manual on how this was supposed to go. If he even wanted to go there.

“I can.. see you,” you start. He squints.

“You couldn’t before?,”

This takes you by surprise. You shake your head.

“No..Could you? See me, I mean?,”

Bakugo feels heat rise to his skin. Oh. Huh.

“Yeah,” he replies, a sharp inhale leaving his lungs “I can see you,”

There’s something tense in the air. It’s a strange sensation - to know the deepest and most intimate parts of someone without even knowing their name proper, or where they went to school, or what they normally eat for breakfast. All that connects you are these mutual feelings, shared grief that holds you two to the title of soulmates. This odd bond.

“..d’ya still think I’m a quirk wielding villain?,” you laugh, or try too - you’re doing your best to cut the tension. He can feel your hurt all the way from your sit, so deep in his gut - it’s been haunting him for years. How many nights of sleep he’s lost knowing there are soft and helpless tears coming from these suppressed feelings. He doesn’t know how to say sorry, so he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. He’s changed a lot in two years - but not enough to be good at this.

“No, I don’t,”

“Oh,”

He smiles, just a little. It’s gentle, casts shadow on his face from the light of the fire. It’s warm, everything feels warm and better and invigorating. When you look at him and his uneasy expression - you know he feels it too.

“By the way, uhm - what’s your name? Ka.. something? Right?,”

His eyes shoot up in surprise. He nods a little.

“Katsuki Bakugo,” he replies, expectantly. You seem surprised that he wants to know yours.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” comes your reply.

“Nice to meet you,” says him, Bakugo - your soulmate.

“Nice to meet you too,”

Getting to know Bakugo is unusually easy. You get the feeling it wouldn’t be, in the case that you were anything but soulmates - but Bakugo has never known being this intimate with someone other than you. Despite himself, how much he hates himself - you never seem too. Even though you feel and see all the ugliest parts of him - have since he was small enough to still be innocent, you always treat him the same.

Your conversations are short, and shallow. Regardless, he’s not used to talking so much about himself. But you’re always curious, so much so Bakugo doesn’t have the heart to see your countless questions go unanswered.

You keep a little notebook of all of your encounters. You remember them by heart but write them down too, just in case you miss something. You ask about his friends - Spiky Red and Soft Green, referring to them that way even after you’ve known their names. You ask about his work - the life of a dangerous hero, and if he ever gets nervous flying through the air.

Admittedly, he’s mean to you. He teases you so frequently, he’s lost count of all the times you’ve huffed and puffed at his sarcastic remarks. Still, you never turn away from him. You stand with your foot down and your arms crossed over your chest - insistent on making him feel flustered too. And it works, somehow - because you know all too much about Bakugou and always gets him right where he’s most conscious about. You don’t have to tease him about his feelings since you know them like the palms of your hand.

But these shallow conversations always mean a little more to him that he knows how to verbalize, and half the time he doesn’t need to do that at all. You’ve learned the masterful of working around him quietly, making all the parts of that feel too big to love - something small and fragile. Somehow, you’ve made being with him, even as friends - feel like less of an impossible feat but a dream.

Katsuki Bakugo has been in love with you since he was 6 years old. There must be some feelings we cannot share with our soulmates, because he has no idea if you feel it or not. He just knows he does, somewhere deep in the cavern of his heart, he loves you.

You never cross the barrier of romance with him, though. A paralyzing fear seems to settle in your bones when you breach too close to love and intimacy - and Bakugo understands those feelings, even if he doesn’t know exactly why they’re there. It’s not something you’ve decided to tell him yet, but he feels it in the same way he feels your loneliness. You may be kind but you’re more guarded than he is, and not fearless but reckless.

But he still finds himself aching to love and be loved by you, no matter how much he hates it. The yearning still manages to swallow him, even late into the night.

MEETING 3:

It’s been a while since your last meeting with Bakugo but not long. You were 21 now, but your dream visits were frequent. When you weren't speaking or seeing him through dreams - you were watching him on TV. You’d been yet to meet with him in real life but to you, that was okay. Seeing him like this had been more than enough.

Today was different. Normally, that bonfire was always a back-drop to these little encounters but it was a field today - a filed with rolling hills and hundreds of flowers and tall grass that made you feel itchy. The sun was permanently stuck right before it set but it was so warm everywhere. When you get there, there’s a blanket on the top of one of the hills. You sit on it cautiously and watch the wind pass. Everything is tinged orange, and red - you know he’s there with you before he appears.

When he does, he seems different. You glance over at him as he stumbles towards you in a stupor, and when he does finally sit - you get a whiff of alcohol coming from his neck and mouth. It’s strong enough to make a little dizzy. Blinking owlishly, he sits crisscross besides you, staring a little at the surroundings.

“..the fuck?,” he slurs. You can’t help but break out into a laugh. He nearly falls over, body swaying so you bring his head down to your shoulder wordlessly, a furious heat running all over your skin. Even though you can’t feel him, the gesture makes you feel something in your belly.

“Why’re you so drunk?,”

“Birthday,” he mumbles. Your eyes widen in surprise. Bakugo is seemingly unfazed, eyes drooping with tiredness. He’s completely inebriated.

You feel yourself grow tender. You’d have to wake up and remember the days date. Despite all the times you’ve met, you had no clue about his birthday or how he celebrated. You feel your heart ache at the idea you’ve spent the latter half of it together, in your own way.

“Happy Birthday, Bakugo.”

“Bakugo this, Bakugo that,” he growls, a little incoherent “We’re supposed to be fucking soulmates and you still call me by that.. damn name.”

He hiccups a little as you sit there stunned. You blink.

“.. You think of us as soulmates?,”

“Are you some kind of moron?,”

You scowl, flicking his forehead with your thumb and forefinger. He makes a noise of indignance.

“Well, how would I know? When we first met, you didn’t seem enthused about it,”

Bakugo sighs tiredly.

“I was 15 and an asshole - clearly I don’t fuckin’ feel that anymore,”

You seem surprised again.

“..You don’t?,”

Instead of swearing at you, he closes his eyes and gets closer to you. The liquor runs through his system like liquid courage and he nods a little.

“Not at all,”

“What do you..”

“What do you think I mean?,” he barks a laugh. You feel your pulse under your skin, drumming against your chest like a hammer. You can’t even breathe.

You’ve had feelings for Bakugo from the second proper meeting you’d had with him. It was clear as a day that he was your soulmate for good reason, that inexplicable draw that kept your heart from ever belonging to anyone else. You tried to - tried to go on dates and see other opportunities through but he was always so one of a kind.

Yet, you’d given up all hope that it would mean anything to harbor these feelings, convinced that Bakugo simply wasn’t interested in you In doing any of this. You didn’t want to force him into something he didn’t want - so you kept your distance with hope that he’d still be in your life. It was enough, or you’d wanted it to be.

It’d be a lie to say that you hadn’t started thinking about it more and more as the days pass. What it would be like to see him, touch him and love him and be with him for real - these passive daydreams gone vivid. If he could see your dreams, he must know about them. But you didn’t know how to approach it - how to approach love at all.

That’s the thing with soulmates. You’re told that you’ll just have the answers, destiny will do the hard work but that’s far from true. Because even now, with Bakugo leaning on your shoulder with this confession lingering in the air - you don’t know what to do.

“Stop being so nervous,” he mumbles. You stumble a little over yourself.

“Sorry,”

He chuckles.

“You really need me to say it, huh?,” he sighs. He picks himself. If he’s drunk and reckless, then fuck it - he’s gonna take it all the way. He drops his head onto your lap with a tired sigh.

“I think you’re my soulmate, you fuckin’ idiot,” he admits.

And it’s hard to say, because feelings don’t come easy for Bakugo Katsuki - but it’s the least he can do. All Bakugo Katsuki has ever known is to be lonely. It’s a loneliness that he’d forced on himself. Bottling up all the anger and sadness and swallowing it. It’s long since sunk it’s claws into him. That overwhelming, all consuming ugly feeling that lingers underneath that superiority complex.

That no one would ever, could ever love the ugliness that lingers in him. That no one who knew him for what he truly is, could care for him. Deku was the first of many disbeliefs and not much had changed.

Except for when it did. Except for when he met you - in a dream, and you were real and beautiful even at 15. That the universe hadn’t been playing some sick joke on him when he kept seeing you in his dreams, so soothing to his teenage loneliness. You were real and that was so fucking scary.

But you loved him anyway. Looked out for him when he was at his lowest - the soothing beat of your heart in the days after All Mights end . When he cried himself into sleep and dreamed of you. God, how he dreamed of you. Not especially romantic dreams, but dreams of how you made breakfast. How you watched cartoons on Sunday and read manga in your classes instead of the assigned work. How you fell asleep on the train station and always ate icecream after big tests. How you were especially mundane and how he got to be apart of that everyday routine.

After all, you see dreams of each other, but Bakugo has no clue what your dreams of him look like. His have always looked like you though.

When he was worthless and empty and unable to give you anything meaningful, to apologize or put his pride away - you had loved him anyway. Felt for him with clumsy hands and held on, not letting go. Even when he was begging for you to leave him alone, in fear of this all being nothing more than a cruel dream - you held on tightly to him. With your silly notebook questions and dumb names.

Bakugo Katsuki has never known what it means to love someone who isn’t you. Even if you found someone else and there was someone better than you for him, he would grit his teeth and bear it. He wonders if he’ll ever believe he deserves you. He wants to believe you’re his soulmate - to believe you wont ever leave. To believe that he did something right enough that the universe could give him someone like you.

And he wishes he could say all this, but he can’t - he just closes his eyes and hopes you can feel it.

“You’re so mean,”

“Isn’t that why you like me?,” he grins.

And you can feel his sincerity. He should feels yours too.

“I love you, actually,”

He gasps, a sharp breath that stabs his lungs. He feels sober from the confession.

His voice is gravelly when he speaks.

“Yeah, shit - me too,”

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest. The address is correct, it has to be with the way this place looks. Only a hero could live here, with the floors that lead up to skies. He lives on 3rd floor, so you swallow your fear. You give yourself a thumbs up in the glass window pane of the building before entering through the doors.

When you get there, a box sits. You press the button next to his place, bouncing on the balls of your feet until you answer.

“Hello?,”

His voice feels different in real life. You cough.

“Uh, hi,” you greet awkwardly “I’m here,”

“Oh,” he says. You hear something buzz and then him again. “Come on up,”

And you do. The elevator ride feels like it stretches mild, classic piano echoing against the empty walls. You feel yourself feel sick but you’re not sure it’s from the movement. All you can do is fidget and wait.

When the doors open, you peak your head out into the hallway. He’s the first one on the left, just as promised. You can see a welcome mat - forest green, and something in you knows that it’s the right one.

You step up and knock, three times precisely. Your heart is all the way in your ears and everything in you is filled with unease and excitement.

When the door swings open, the world stops. You gape like a fish out of water in disbelief. He’s tall and big like he promised he’d be, but you’re unprepared. His chin is scruffy, eyes full of sleep. Strong chest and arms that seem to crowd your vision, you don’t know what do.

His expression is full to the brim with feelings you’ve never seen. He steps aside with his head ducked down.

“Come in,”

“Ah.. right,”

You take your shoes off and place them in the slippers meant for you - they fit you just right, and it can’t be a coincidence. Your heart swells up a little as you take your coat off, hanging it on the rack. You can feel his eyes as they linger on your silhouette.

“So -,”

Before you can get a word out, you feel strong arms wrapped around your waist. His scruff brushes against the skin of your neck as he holds you tightly too him. The warmth of his breath lingers on your neck - and he hiccups, a sob stored in his rib cages let out with a howl. The tears blur your vision too. You can feel his drip onto your shoulder as you snivel into his neck. Your legs feel weak, but he holds you up at the door - the only thing keeping you standing.

You cling around him tightly, your nails digging into the meat of his shoulders. It’s him, your soulmate, Katsuki Bakugo. He’s real and holding you - and he smells like leather and sugar and a fireplace. He’s warm and strong and overwhelming and your crying into his shoulder with so much feeling you don’t know what to do. You hit him weakly, unsure of what do with yourself and he laughs.

“Damn you, shitty woman - makin’ me fucking cry,” but his voice is strained. It’s like something connected, how you feel each other so intimately in that moment. Not only because you’re soulmates, but because you love each other so deeply. Your heart feels heavy.

When you pull away, you manage to give him a warbly smile.

Your hands cradle his face - so handsome and wonderful. You lean forward, emboldened, and peck him. He melts into your touch like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life. It makes you grin.

Maybe you don’t realize that he had.

He’d been waiting for you all this time.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x you #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha imagines #bakugou imagine #bakugou imagines #PLEASE SHOW UP IM BEGGING

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asteriskheart · 2 years

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collection of misc kairi headcanons i'm reposting from my old blog

kairi can handle spicy food to an extent, but really she has a sweet tooth. it’s easy to find her snacking on a confectionery of some type, or the (sigh) healthier substitute of sweeter fruits. is partial to watermelons.

purple is her favorite color. she loves those cool, soft shades it has the most, and has it incorporated into her attire in bbs and kh1.

respects authority figures but like. conditionally.

she loves keyblade training after she gets into it. serves as a great method of clearing her mind.

this one isn’t a headcanon, just a reminder that kairi canonically displayed telepathic abilities able to transcend the dimensional barriers separating the worlds and project her voice into the data realm by accident

strong. as of kh3 the girl has muscles on her. she launched another person like 20 ft into the air and somehow smashed through xemnas’ light sabers. she could pick up riku or sora and carry them around if she wanted to.

lacks any great dancing skills. she's light on her feet but she has no real technique.

pretty fond of art. while namine is an artist in the sense of drawing and the like, kairi leans more toward the crafting side of art and putting things together from various materials with her hands. knitting, weaving flowers, making charms. she has a tendency to give away finished products. gets really into synthesis when she discovers it.

likes to wear clothes of her friends. or rather they seem to gravitate towards her in mysterious ways. chances are if you’re her friend you’ve probably lost some articles of clothes and you’ve miraculously gained some around kairi’s size.

one of her struggling points starting out is magic ( outside of light magic ). she has too much power, not enough control, and it's influenced by her emotions.

eventually gets a gummiship for herself after collecting stray gummi blocks across worlds because why hitch a ride when you can snag a ride of your own?

she can be pretty silly and will send her friends late night memes and puns when she’s not playing the games on her new gummiphone.

sora was shown as the focus of her letters which is a habit she picked up during her year alone on destiny islands while struggling to remember him, but you know what goddamn it, she wrote letters both her friends because she was always worried about what riku was doing while missing and continues to do so after she went off to train in bambi's forest.

kairi is a physically affectionate person but she's a bit of a disaster when it comes to anything romantic. she's used to keeping things like a crush on the down low if she gets one, plenty of practice in that area.

has vivid recollections of sora’s kh1 memories. both the good and truly awful, terrifying moments. this gets even worse post kh3

in hollow bastion, sora sacrificing himself to release her heart triggered her ability to use the keyblade after it was bequeathed to her by aqua. her keyblade was actually summoned back in kh1.

kairi froze up in the keyblade graveyard at seeing terranort. not because of him destroying everyone, but because she recognizes that face. she recognizes and remembers the face of the man who experimented on her and tossed her off the edge of radiant garden, she just had those memories buried up until he was right in her face and ready to kill her.

namine has just as much influence over kairi's memories and the people connected to her as she does over sora, though it’s impossible to erase them in her ‘original’ completely. it wouldn’t make sense if namine’s ability didn’t extend to kairi when she’s her nobody. or maybe sora’s the actual add on to the original ability due to circumstance while kairi’s the intended target the memory manipulation stemmed from. it’s just that sora was the one organization 13 wanted to call to castle oblivion and is the prominent figure of connection in the series.

#➥ job class sel. ┊ kairi.#➥ profile. ┊ hc meta [kairi].#( this was sitting in my drafts #but its her bday #so its a good time as any to post it )

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linksthoughtbrambles · 2 years

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"Let us call this dictation one.

(Link's Thought Brambles part 4)

"I am loathe to admit after my initial, visceral reaction to my appointed knight’s interference with the slate, I derive a certain satisfaction from the situation. I am privy to his inner thoughts at last. I imagine he has fallen asleep as the stream of inanity has ceased for the moment.

"It is, perhaps, unfair of me to describe it so. Everyone has difficulties which go unseen by the world. I would not, however, have imagined that my knight’s silence hid such disjointed observances, or such insecurity at their discovery. He appears to be filling his mind with trivial thoughts to hide those which usually spring to mind. Once he left me at my door this night, his thoughts were at first mundane, then degenerated into repeated instances of quote don’t think don’t think don’t think end quote and similar, before a long string of numbers which suggested the counting of sheep. I was unaware that anyone employed such sleep-inducing tactics outside children’s books.

"It should please me that he has not yet revealed his disdain for me, but I cannot help wondering what he thinks when no one can hear him.

"I shall tell him I have discovered how to deactivate this feature on the slate. A simple swipe of the screen hides the text from view along with any indication of its reception. I should consider such deception beneath me, but the court has set their expectations of me so low that I rather feel I deserve a few vices. If the flaw in my character is to be the propagation of primarily inconsequential falsehoods, so be it. I’ve checked the slate’s storage capacity at regular intervals and found it to be of no concern barring continuous operation of this feature for the next decade.

"The ability to record my own musings via dictation with no need of a scribe is endlessly appealing. I shall keep my journal on my desk, of course. I shall even write in it now and then to keep up appearances. The slate will be my private journal, beyond the ability of the maids, guards, or my father to invade. Purah might discover it but would never reveal its contents–not when she’s so aware of my tenuous relationship with freedom. She relies on my continued assistance with the Divine Beasts. If Robbie were to read this, he would get only as far as the description of himself as arrogant before ceasing in favor of confronting my appointed knight. As for him, I have not yet learned how to separate the avalanche of his thoughts from my own dictations, though I note the slate itself distinguishes thoughts from speech via a simulated form of penmanship. I also note that stating quote and end quote is not sufficient for it to generate purposeful punctuation. Further tests are required, and perhaps a small alteration of the source code, though this is hardly a priority.

"I hesitate to sign this dictation. Perhaps the selfishness evident in my words would be better left unattributed. And yet, if future generations were to discover this, it would be all too clear who I am thanks in part to my knight’s initial thoughts and Purah’s verbal revelation. I suppose I ought to accept the responsibility. Here ends my first dictation. Princess Zelda of Hyrule.”

_____

[Note: This replaces my original post of dictation one. I filled in some fun Link's-thoughts stuff that occurred before this, so I reposted with some small edits to put it back in chronological order. ]

Read Next: Link keeps track of jerks.

Read this fanfic from the beginning (it makes more sense that way).

Follow this link for the post list for this fic.

#zelda #zeldaslatedictation #fanfic #botw

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anunvalidcritic · 3 years

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Justice League: Snyder Cut

(DISCLAIMER: MY OPINION IS MY OWN AND CAN BE DEEMED INVALID TO THOSE WHO DON’T CARE FOR IT.)

Oh, the time has come my friends! Now, I originally did a review on Batman V.S. Superman and I didn’t care for it, so I deleted it. But before I start, I would like y’all to read this statement made by @verified-villain-fxcker - You can click HERE to read it. As I stated in my repost, I couldn’t have said it better. May Autumn Snyder continue to rest in peace. Let’s get started!

It’s been so long since I’ve made a post I can’t even remember how I do this LOL.

CLARK is outta there to say the least...

WONDER WOMAN and LOIS look flabbergasted, as they should... BRUCE as well.

Talk about a shock-wave scream

All jokes aside, the hate that LEX has towards SUPERMAN is just to much energy to be giving to another person..

THESE BITCHIES ARE READY

why are they letting a minority approach the fucking the cube?!?!

*insert travel montage scene here*

Part 1 - “Don’t count on it, Batman.”

BRUCE knows damn well he’s talking to AQUAMAN. Let’s move this shit along lol

“Oh Gotham? How’s that shit hole?” - AQUAMAN

Ik these bitchies aren’t singing rofl

I’d sniff anything wore by Jason Momoa too.

“Maybe a man who broods in a cave isn’t cut out to be a recruiter.” - ALFRED

TALK YO SHIT ALFRED!!!!

AMY ADAMS can literally take my heart, step on it, throw it in a river and I still wouldn’t be mad.

Here comes the lovely WONDER WOMAN!

broooo her hands were moving like Donnie Yen in Ip Man!

Fucked that entire ceiling up

Ofc the one who tried to touch it would make the stupid statement.

STEPPENWOLF is really wildin’ out

Don’t look back! I hate it when they look back!!

These are some strong as women!

PART 2 - “The Age of Heroes”

“It’s toxic, that’s good.” - STEPPENWOLF

I can only imagine that this is how toxic people think.

this dude really just threw that lil demon fella like it was nothin’ lmao

You know you're working at a job for too long when you say this is the first time in a while that they're going home early smdh

Now that shit was pretty lit....

SILAS thinkin’ shit I better check on my son.

“You know a lot about monsters, don’t you? Especially how to make them.” - CYBORG

If that isn’t teen angst, then I don’t know wtf is lmao

Seeing Gal in this tomb makes me want to re-watch Wonder Woman 1 all over again!

DARKSEID ol’ trifflin’ ass

plopped him down like he was dirty laundry

God bless Willem Dafoe, this man is a fuckin’ legend!

“This world is divided. They’re a primitive species. Unevolved and at war with one another. Too separate to be one.” - STEPPENWOLF

DeSaad kinda looks like Doctor Doom in the Fantasic Four reboot lmao

GREEN LATERNS!!!!!!!!!!!! OH SHIT!!!!!!!!

we really need a Green Lantern Corps moving...

ZEUS + ARES = A Dynamic Duo When They Aren’t Being Dicks To Each Other

You know I feel bad for man because all they did was bury that shit in the ground rofl

Part 3 - “Beloved Mother, Beloved Son”

BARRY + IRIS = Love at First Sight

The burger can’t be that good like damn.

Bro the detail on his fucking shoes and the glass!!

ROFL PLEASE TELL ME HE TOOK THE HOTDOG FOR HIS DOG!?!?

damn did the car really need to explode...

lol BARRY must really need the job lol

... I would’ve just played dead after he threw me against that rock...

Man of Steel probably has one of the best soundtracks not just for a superhero movie but just in general

Americans love their football!

I have this love-hate relationship with CYBORG being in the JL and not with the TITANS you know since he’s a kid, but he’s a college student in this one.

Thank God DIANA spoke with VICTOR instead of BRUCE because I honestly don’t think he would’ve gotten him on board.

Everyone can literally zigzag zoom across this planet at undeniable speed except for BATMAN lol

Come on, VIC, help the lady out.

You know honestly, BARRY has a pretty cool pad for someone who's trying to get by paying for a Criminal Justice Degree.

“A very attractive Jewish boy. Who drinks milk, I don’t drink milk.” - BARRY

“Fuck the World.” - CYBORG

dang Ik DIANA has every right to grieve over STEVE, but damn that man has her whipped!

“You’re looking at the hottest thing on Earth. The exact same thing I said to my prom date. She dumped me anyway.” - RYAN CHOI

Why does MERA have an accent in this but not in AQUAMAN?? (ik the answer)

DAAAYYUUUMMMN MERA TURNED INTO A WHOLE BLOOD BENDER!

PART 4 - “Change Machine”

CYBORG just glided over silently

STEPPENWOLF + WONDER WOMAN = EPIC FIGHT SCENE

Seeing BARRY move like that to stop the debris and to ping DIANA’S sword really is amazing..

But he should not be screaming like that LOL

How do you not remember the planet that’s habitants almost killed you?? Because if that was me, I wouldn’t have forgotten that shit at all!

Would've held a big ass grudge until I could go back.

“I know we’re all thinking the same thing right now. Who’s gonna say it? I’m not gonna say it.” - BARRY

WOOOAAHHH J’ONN JONES?! (forgot about that)

“There are six, not five. There is no us without him.” - BRUCE

Damn, no faith at all

PART 5 - “ALL The King’s Horses”

ICONIC DIALOGUE

BARRY - “Wonder Woman. What do you think, man? You think she’d go for a younger guy?”

VICTOR - “She’s 5,000 years old, Barry. Every guy is a younger guy.”

I would’ve kept swippin’ that ID like a cashier at Wal-Mart swippin’ a debit card.

They're movin’ a little too slow for me. Ik they’ve never been on the ship before, but I would’ve been zoomin’ through that entire ship just to hurry and get the job done.

NOT THE PREGNANCY TEST

Damn, they couldn’t have at least picked up the photo??

The foreshadowing was spectacular! It will always amaze me.

I’m sure Allstate will cover that person’s car...

Just when LOIS was about to move on.

CLARK grabbed DIANA like miss me with that Rafiki shit.

I would’ve come back to my senses too after looking at Amy Adams.

AQUAMAN + THE FLASH = A CONUNDRUM

DR. SILAS takin’ one for the team

PART 6 - “Something Darker”

As crazy as radiation is, it’s quite an amazing spectacle.

I wish this Justice League movie could’ve held off until we got some other heroes such as the Green Lanterns, Hawkgirl, and many others.

Our generation was truly blessed to have an incredible actor as SUPERMAN, and we are not putting him to use!

JONATHAN sounds like President Biden lol

Alright, team?! Break!

AQUAMAN is totally enjoying this fight. He rode that Parademon like a surfboard.

AQUAMAN + CYBORG + FLASH = *THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN*

I swear every scene that WONDER WOMAN enters into does not fail to include the “Ancient Lamentation Music”.

VICTOR hurry up and say “one” god damnnit!!

SUPERMAN COLD!!!!

Somebody needs to put this fight on WorldStar

BARRY = HE’S A RUNNA HE’S A TRACK STAHHHHARRR!!!

THAT WAS FUCKING IMMACULATE

The Unity = The Three Bitchies

I bet DARKSEID will remember that shit now

EPILOGUE - “A Father Twice Over”

VICTOR = A Final Requiem

LOL VULKO and MERA look stressed tf out!

“Uh, I have too much to live for. And more important things to do.” - LEX

A cocky motherfucker LMAO

Alright, we’re back in this type of dream sequence.

“Who have you ever loved?” - MERA

Uh, bitch his parents, Robin tf?!

Thank you, JOKER, for stating the facts for Ms. Fish-stick

Oh shit, they let LOIS die, goddamn it!

HARLEY’S DEAD TOO?!?!?!

BRUCE LOOK SICK AF!!!

Well, the dream is over once again...

I just don’t see how people can live with all those fuckin’ windows.

“Oh, and some have called me The Martian Manhunter.” - J’ONN

Alright...

________

Yes, the movie was long but what needed to be expressed was. As we already the Snyder Cut wasn’t supposed to be seen because a father simply wanted to grieve the death of his child. I’ll once again reiterate what @verified-villain-fxcker you don't have to like the film but at least give it the benefit of the doubt from its predecessor. For me, I did enjoy watching his version, but let’s be honest what he who shall not be named did was just fucked up.

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gagmebucky · 4 years

Text

hiiii i wrote this awhile ago but took it down because i was 👉🏼👈🏼 embarrassed about it (because i do not have the skill to pull off peter parker) and sorta still am but everyone’s been so nice to me about it i thought the best way to repay the kindness by posting it for those who did like it 😅 (originally inspired by spider man 2 with andrew garfield but loosely set in the 2018 issue of the amazing spider-man.)

in which the guys are making fun of peter and accidentally see a video of him fucking you. (includes avenger!peter x girlfriend!you, peter’s pov, voyeur!steve and voyeur!bucky, a sex tape featuring d/s dynamics, bondage, praise kink, exhibitionism, unprotected sex.)

do not repost.

—

Despite being twenty-one years old; a proper adult who lives with his high school sweetheart, a photographer doubling as a seven-year veteran vigilante in the dangers of New York, Peter Parker is still considered as a super-powered amateur to his seasoned peers.

Nonetheless, given his success in countless battles in the state, country, world and even galaxy-wide, he more than qualifies to hold the title of Avenger; it’s official now. A laid-back induction ceremony and his very own identity card: a sturdy rectangle, shiny with full clearance and all. Yet, as an official member, his teammates still treat him like he’s that same goofy, out-of-his-depths sixteen year old.

To be fair, yes, his style of heroism isn’t the most serious. He favors levity in the face of danger, a cheeky flare with smart quips and an infuriating grin. Even after taking a beating from the worst of foes, his demeanor never wavers because in the end, he wins. The villains are slayed and the people are saved, even comforted by the boyishly confident way he works.

But beyond that persona, he has grown into a skilled warrior. On that note, he wants to be regarded as such—at least, to a certain extent. The jokes and teasing, poking fun at his age or the shenanigans he gets himself into, don’t bother him. No, his playful wit handles it with relative ease, and he’s a good sport about it. The only thing that he’d want to see change is some recognition that he isn’t a naïve kid anymore and is fully capable of taking charge when needed.

With his recent acceptance into the gifted pantheon, he’s intent on making that known. The jesting can continue but he wants it to be with an understanding of his capabilities. Luckily, a perfect opportunity has presented itself to showcase his abilities: a training session.

He’s late. And yes, he knows that’s probably not a good impression to make.

In his own defense, it isn’t technically his fault. He forgot that you, his personal alarm clock (amongst other things), left early this morning because you volunteered to help his aunt move. Four years of mornings and nights, he’s gotten used to—and prefers—your languorous wake-up call.

Without your reminder, he regains consciousness fifteen minutes after the scheduled time and ends up scrambling to the compound. In a flurry, he throws on his suit—unknowingly backwards, he realizes later—trips at least three times over his own footing before he finally springs out of the balcony with webbed bursts.

When he reaches his destination, Captain America and the Winter Soldier are unimpressed; mid-simulation, it powers down. Both super-soldiers whirl around to face him, fixing raised eyebrows at his disheveled arrival.

He adjusts his now front-facing suit and shuffles forward into the space with as much confidence as an interrupter can have. “H - hey, guys,” Peter greets sheepishly and manages what he hopes is a charming smile, absentmindedly fidgeting with his phone. “Lookin’ good for a couple of geezers.”

Unfortunately, Steve Rogers is not charmed or disillusioned from the tardiness. “You’re late, Parker.” His arms fold, and he shakes his head when punctuating his disapproval with an echoing, “Again.”

Thankfully, to his right, more relaxed and cool, Bucky Barnes steps up. “C’mon, Stevie. Y’can’t be that surprised,” he chimes in matter of factly, contrasting against his friend with amusement sparkling in his blue eyes. “What’d you expect with Parker?” He gestures at the younger superhero. “Kid’s gonna be late to his own wedding.”

(Beside the point, but worth noting, he will not be late to meeting you at the altar. That is, of course, if you accept when he pops the question. Which is going to happen relatively soon, considering he has the ring in his nightstand drawer.)

The consult seems to relax him. “Yeah, I guess you’re right and—Peter, you—seriously, man?!” Steve sputters the last bit when he glanced over to see him blatantly check the notification that’s vibrated in his hand (on the device that is ruled to be stowed away during training). “Now the phone?!”

Even though he shouldn’t, being on thin ice with Cap and all (pun not intended), Peter’s gaze flickers down to see your contact name appear on the screen, and he can’t resist. While Bucky guffaws a laugh at his audacity, he’s swiping up to pull up your text thread.

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:37AM: spider boyyyyy you’ll never guess what i found in a box labeled ‘peter’s junk’ ;;;)

peter, 10:37AM: those magazines are NOT mine and i don’t know how they got there.

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: not quite but close, naughty boy

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: for a man who depends on keeping secrets and a penchant for home movies, you might ought to keep a lock on your phone unless you want someone to see me like this...

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: (video attached)

Immediately, he recognizes the pornographic thumbnail. One glance, and he’s remembering the first couple of times you guys explored the exhibitionism side of things. It was at the end of his freshman year of college and taped on a phone he thought he had lost. But he must've forgotten it at his aunt’s house, and she tossed it in the box until you came along.

Although there’s been plenty more made, he recalls that one being a shared favorite, his especially. When long-distance duty calls, it was his go-to media. The angles, your face and body beneath the lights, the sounds it caught, you once asked if he considered switching to cinematography instead of photographer

Subconsciously, his teeth run over his bottom lip, feeling that blazing spark of desire igniting in the pit of his gut, partially at the memory and partially at what’ll happen once you guys can re-watch it together; his thumbs start typing away with that message.

“Peter!” Steve’s exasperated voice snaps, but to no avail—the real gall of the youngster, or the effect of you. His weight shifts toward his best friend, and he nudges him with his elbow. “Kids these days!” The hundred-something year old’s gaze cocks a brow back over. “Is that why you were late? Blowing off training to text your girlfriend?”

The text delivers with an audible bloop. Finally, his concentration gives, and he can look up, though his expression is clueless from the last minute. “Huh?” His brain registers what he missed, and he winces. “Sorry, Cap. My bad.”

Bucky chuckles. “Give him a break, Steve,” he faux comes to his defense, a teasing quality underlying his tone. “He’s young and in love. It’s not his fault he’s pussy-whipped.” He cracks him an antagonizing grin as Peter rolls his eyes. “He can’t go an hour without sending those little weird pictures with heart eyes, or she might not know he’s thinking about her.”

“As if you know anything about romance, old man,” he fires back and presses past them with squared shoulders, correcting him quite seriously: “And they’re called emojis, by the way. But that’s not what I was doing, if you want to know so bad.”

The brunette tilts his head thoughtfully, and small hackles arise for reasons he doesn’t understand, or pay attention to. “You know, I do want to know really badly,” Bucky decides and poses a question to his left, “Wouldn’t you, too, Steve? Aren’t you curious what his girlfriend sent that was so much more important than training?”

The blond mimics his actions and clicks his tongue. “Yeah, I am.”

Peter’s eyebrows pinch while his skin tingles and the hair on the back of his neck stands straight up. “What—” Before his senses process it, one of the super-soldiers plucks his phone out of his hands and darts back beside his best friend. His jaw drops as he tries to follow after him. “Bucky, you asshole—”

“Some spidey senses, huh?” The Winter Soldier lifts it high over his head, utilizing his six-foot stature against his five-ten like elementary school bullies do and older siblings to their juniors. “Haven’t ‘cha heard about sharing with the class?” He laughs and practically stiff-arms him to squint up at the screen. “Aw, he can’t wait to see her. What’s it been, more than two hours since you two saw each other last?”

Conceding to the height difference, Peter stops his physical efforts and diverts it to someone reasonable. “Cap, you gonna help me out here?” he addresses the entertained onlooker in the most friendly voice he can manage.

“The kid’s got separate anxiety not just from his girlfriend but phone too, Buck,” Steve drawls with a lopsided curve of his lips. He side-steps Peter to stand next to Bucky, and for a second, he thinks he’s on his side despite the tease, but he simply adds a stern, “So be careful. You don’t want to break it, or Parker will have a fit.”

Peter crosses his arms and scowls. “Ha, ha,” he retorts dryly, only somewhat amused by their banter. He tilts his head up at them, and the duo look thoroughly pleased with themselves. “You know, you guys are kind of dicks.”

“No, we’re your mentors, kid,” Steve corrects with a wink and rests his arm on his friend’s shoulder. “This is a lesson. No phones—” He jabs his thumb back in reference to the device’s unlocked screen: “—when you’re supposed to be training.”

“Yeah,” Bucky chimes in upon glancing up from his phone. “And a little advice, women don’t like clinginess. Try being a little more stern and see how that works for you. If you’re able to manage that. But I won’t hold it against ya if you can’t.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter patronizes with a bob of his head, biting back a response pointing out the hundred-something year old’s inexperience. Instead, he focuses on the electronic readily loaded up with some private content. With that, he decides to do the rational and mature thing and ask nicely. “Noted. So, uh, can I have my phone back now?”

To his shock, Bucky merely flashes a smirk and his thumb scrolls half-heartedly over the thread. Thereafter, he leans toward Steve and raises his cell for him to see. “Oh, look, it’s a video,” he teases. “What could Y/N send that would take priority of training?”

There’s an unspoken let’s see then a metal finger taps the play button. Before Peter can think, much less react, Captain American and the Winter Soldier are watching how he effortlessly renders his pretty little girlfriend into a cute nonsensical yet eager mess—

In his point-of-view shot, the ratio holds in portrait view in a bid to capture every bit of you. Above you, the camera focuses on you and your beautifully debauched state beneath warm lighting where it’s unalienable that the camera was made for you.

Your eyes are dilated brightly, desperate with desire as your lashes flutter up at him. A sheen coats your features and glistens like glitter at the highest points of your face while the shape of your face is framed by your stretched arms.

Your wrists are bound over your head, splotched with expertly sprayed strong, white webs. The mesh sticks them together in a criss-cross, comfortable but nearly impossible to break out of, fixed in place atop his headboard. The tautness tugs a mild strain on your figure so your breasts are jutting out like an offering, and it’s obvious he’s taken advantage of it. Darkened marks adorn your glowing complexion, peppered across your décolletage with imprints of his teeth; including your nipples, sucked swollen and tender.

The angle trails down until it reveals the sight of him mercilessly pounding inside of you. His better-than-average girth is sliding in and out of your tight channel; slicked in shared translucent essence, creaming around the base, your inner walls visibly clinging to his cock with every backward stroke. His hand splays on your mound, using his thumb to abuse your engorged clit. He easily keeps the sensitive nub pinned under his control despite your wildly twisting hips.

Like the display, the soundtrack is equally obscene. Loud, your stuffed depths gush and squelch as skin slaps rhythmically. Your breathy, wanton moans overshadow both, drawn out whimpers, almost nonsensical other than the syllable of his name. A melody of neediness, you sound so fucking pretty, (depraved, like a whore, you once told him during your little film marathon with a sly smile), and for him specifically.

The frame pans upward and confirms you look just as good. A perfect mess, unhinged by the skilled ministrations of your boyfriend. Passion beads on your forehead like reflections off of a diamond. Panting, your lips are plumped from kissing parted with mewls of pleasure.

“P - please—I need to—can I - I please—” You’re begging like the sweet little thing you are, incoherent babbling the result of his excessive edging. Of course, you know better than to give into the sensations ravaging you; instead you ignore your visceral desire and ask him for your release. “Peter, please!”

A deep chuckle vibrates behind the camera as his big hand slides into view, trailing over your jiggling tits to the slope of your throat. “Maybe,” he says breathily and grasps the line of your jaw between his fingers. “Open your mouth first, babe.”

No more preamble necessary, you follow his direction, your pink tongue flat over your Cupid’s bow. Immediately, a long string of his saliva drips into view and onto your taste buds; the vulgar act is accepted with a swallow and a quivering moan of, “T - thank you.”

“Good girl,” he praises huskily, and the voiced approval has you visibly shivering. “Alright, then, pretty girl. Make it good for me, and c’mon—”

Before your otherworldly reckoning washes over you and his teammates can watch your bliss immortalized in film, Peter snatches his property back.

Not much force is necessary as Bucky’s grip has been stunned loose. A dark expression permeates on young hero’s face but not because of embarrassment; if he was still nineteen or eighteen, he would’ve been mortified that his titular superiors caught a depraved glimpse of his sex life, on both his and your behalf. Rather than, there’s just a flit of annoyance when he folds his arms.

“Shit,” Bucky is the first to speak, exhaling the swear raggedly. His blue pupils have widened in obvious attraction, dilated dark, blinking rapidly as if it’ll help calm him down from the clip of you, his innocent seeming girlfriend, all ruined and begging. “Parker, fuck, I - I didn’t know you got down like that.”

There’s a swell in his chest, pride beating steadily while he remains reticent-faced. He prefers you keep your bedroom activities secluded there. Yeah, he likes to be in control and you like to be controlled but it’s only in a sexual nature. Yet, their reactions—stunned, embarrassed and viscerally affected—surges smug satisfaction he’s never known before through his veins.

Even the prestigious Captain America is bothered, though he may try to hide it. He clears his throat, a flustered pink coloring his cheeks. “Peter, uh,” he says, barely maintaining the confidence to look him in the eye after witnessing his girlfriend like that. “We - we shouldn’t have invaded your privacy like that.”

“Uh-huh,” is Peter’s response, a hint of a smirk curling on one side of his lips. “Why don’t you guys call me after you’re finished with your cold showers, and we can actually train. Until then, I’m gonna go to my girl who’s more than eager to handle mine.” He pauses. “Maybe if you guys ask nice enough, I might let her show you how well I’ve trained her.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #marvel smut imagines #spiderman x reader smut #marvel smut #heh I am going to pass out #I..#goodnight im off me ass sjdjjsxj

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penclicksound · 3 years

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“Willow” by Taylor Swift line by line Analysis

Welcome to a very elaborate analysis of the song “Willow” by Taylor Swift. My goal is to analyse all songs on Evermore, therefore creating an extensive but organised analysis of the whole album. A link will be provided when more song analysis are available.

Note: this is just my interpretation and in no way discards any other interpretation. I don’t claim my interpretation to be the “right” interpretation.

Please do not steal my words or ideas as your own or repost, but refer to me, when you talk about my ideas or post it somewhere else, thank you so much!

“I’m like the water when your ship rolled in that night

Rough on the surface, but you cut through like a knife”

The song kicks off with rough waters, which may equal to stormy waters. Taylor thus refers to herself as stormy waters, potentially thinking of herself or her life as chaotic or turbulent. A love interest then enters her life like a “boat”. This is an interesting metaphor, as Taylor has often referred to music as a “floating device” on a stormy sea (e.g. the piano in the Cardigan music video). Potentially, this means that she sees herself and her life as a stormy sea and the love interest enters her life as floating device (= the ship). Although the water seems rough, the love interest “cuts through” it “like a knife”, suggesting that underneath the surface, the water isn’t rough at all. This could mean that the love interests sees right through the stormy life/character of the singer and by doing that, enters the quiet part of her life/character. The ship/water metaphor is an ongoing metaphor throughout evermore (later: Gold Rush “eyes like sinking ships”).

“And if it was an open-shut case

I never would’ve known from that look on your face”

An open shut case is a case “which is easily decided or solved because the facts are very clear” (collinsdictionary.com). This could mean that Taylor herself did not see the getting together with the love interest as an obvious thing that happened easily. She did not think of the issues that arise during the first period of dating and getting together as easily solved. And the look on the face of the love interest did not suggest he thought it was easy. Even if it was that easy to get together, she would have never guessed it.

“Lost in your current like a priceless wine”

This is an interesting line, as it reverses positions. In the beginning, Taylor was the water and now the love interest is. Opposed to the love interest, she is not a ship that cuts through it, but instead she is lost in the waters. The priceless wine may be a reference to herself as being of high value, but the high value is lost in the relationship. It could also refer to the ships that sank while shipping wine, that then started aging in the sea, increasing in value only more. This would make more sense, as it could mean that while Taylor loses herself in her love interest, it only increases her personal value more. Aside from that, one may notice that Taylor uses “current” instead of “water”, perhaps referring to the actions and the course of life of the love interest, more than their personality. It also appears he is in control of the current, of the waters he’s in of he is. Taylor on the other hands, seems out of control, storming.

“The more that you say, the less I know

Wherever you stray, I follow”

The more the love interests say, the less Taylor knows. This could mean that the love interest is very wise to Taylor, and therefore makes her feel unintelligent and discard old beliefs. It could however, also mean that the love interest is not making any sense when they’re speaking. Maybe they’re sending conflicting signals. This interpretation ties in with the upcoming lines “Now this is an open-shut case, I guess I should’ve known from the look on your face”. However, even though Taylor is not understanding what the person means (or possibly, what their intentions are), she will follow him wherever he goes. This ties in with the previous line: “lost in your current”. She is unable to separate from him, lost in his current, bound to follow him wherever he decides to go.

“I’m begging for you to take my hand

Wreck my plans, that’s my man”

She then asks the love interests to take her hand. This could again refer to him as a floating device. She is lost, following him around in his stormy sea, and she’s begging him to take her hand, so she won’t get lost in his current. She’s also asking him to wreck her plans, possibly meaning that she’s confused and abandoning her own plans to follow him wherever he wants. She then goes on to say “that’s my man”, which has some sense of pride. Possibly she admires him for being her “current”, taking her everywhere and guiding her.

“Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind”

This again ties in with the resemblance of the love interest to the “current”. He is in control of his life, deciding where to go, changing course and she will follow. Life bents to his wind. This is the first time the song title is named, so why did she chose a “willow” to equal life? A willow is often considered a beautiful tree, but also a sad tree (willow often means the “weeping willow”). This may mean that life is beautiful, but sad and weeping. All the same, the love interest is able to steer the beautiful and sad life.

“Head on the pillow, I could feel your sneakin’ in”

Taylor is in her bed, possibly pretending to sleep, while the love interests sneaks up on her. This could mean that she felt like she was in “pause” in her life, sleeping, doing nothing or maybe just not being on guard, but vulnerable. The love interest sneaks into her life, but although Taylor is not on guard, she does know he is entering her life.

“As if you were a mythical thing

Like you were a trophy or champion ring

But there was one prize I’d cheat to win”

He’s entering her life like he is a mythical thing, like he is not real. This may in a way refer to folklore. It is as though he isn’t real, but stories are told about him. Taylor then compares him to a trophy or a champion ring. Perhaps this line means that she sees him as something that people admire and desire to have, but nobody really ever wins. For example a Grammy is rarely won by anybody, it may feel rather mythical to many musicians. The love interest thus doesn’t seem real to her, but he is highly desired. She would even cheat to win him. Cheating could referring to cheating in a game (this ties in with the champion ring metaphor, such as taking dopamine to win a cycling race), but also cheating in a relationship (which ties in better with the fact that she’s talking about a love interest).

“You know that my train could take you home

Anywhere else is hollow

I’m begging for you to take my hand

Wreck my plans, that’s my man”

After repeating the chorus, where she is again subject to his course of life, she then goes on to state that her train could take him home. This seems a lot more in control in this second chorus. She’s following him anywhere, but if he steps on her train, he’d go home. Perhaps this means that she will follow him, traveling anywhere, doing anything, but if he wants, he can come to her and she will take him home. She then states that anywhere besides home is hollow. This could mean that, yes, she will follow him anywhere, but she thinks it’s rather a waste, because she’d rather be home. Home could be referring to a familiar place, somewhere where there’s peace. She would follow him into the storm, but she’d rather be at home with him in peace. In this version of the chorus, her asking the love interest to take her hand, may mean the opposite of what it meant in the first version. In this version she’s begging him to let her control his route to take him home. Perhaps going home and staying in peace, however, wasn’t her original plan, as she does refer to it as wrecking her plans. She loves it though, as she again proudly states: “that’s my man”.

“Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

They count me out time and time again”

Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

But I come back stronger than a ‘90s trend”

While he is completely in control of his beautiful and sad life, the people in Taylor’s life (“they”), keep counting her out, as though she’s no longer a part of the world/life. After stating again that he is in control of his life, she then takes control over hers and states that she “comes back stronger than a ‘90s trend”. This could mean that, in the beginning of the song, she felt out of control, following her love interest anywhere, unsure and confused, but now she’s back, and she’s stronger than ever.

“Wait for the signal and I’ll meet you after dark

Show me the places where the others gave you scars”

Waiting for signals and meetings in the dark suggests there’s secrecy in the relationship. This could be because she is cheating (“there was one prize I’d cheat to win”) and therefore they have to meet secretly. In my view, however, it could also refer to some sense of darkness in the world and they have to built their relationship in secrecy to avoid other people from interfering (this could tie in with “they could me out time and time again”. It also interesting to note that the love interests enters her life in the nighttime (“your ship rolled in that night”), so perhaps they have always met during the nighttime in secrecy. It is also interesting to note the parallel this line has with Cruel Summer (album Lover track 2): “I snuck through the garden gate every night that summer just to seal my fate”, perhaps referring to the same type of secrecy and nighttime meetings. During the meeting in the dark, they tell each other everything, showing each other their scars and where they got them from. They get to know each other deeply, in secrecy.

“Now this is an open-shut case

I guess I should’ve known from the look on your face

Every bait-and-switch was a work of art”

Then follows a slightly different version of the ending of the first verse, where she states that if it was an open-shut case, she never would’ve known. Now, however, she states that it in fact was an open-shut case and she should have known. Where at first, she thought that starting and building their relationship was a complex and uncertain thing and perhaps she wasn’t even sure her love interest wanted it, now she knows. It was clear as day and it was quickly and easily done. And apparently he was already aware of that, before she was. An interesting parallel can be drawn with Cruel Summer again, where she sings: “I love you, ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?/He looks up grinning like a devil”. This means – as is widely accepted among Taylor Swift listeners - he was already long aware she loved him and he was just playing along. She then goes on to state that every bait-and-switch was a work of art. A bait and switch is a “sales tactic that lures customers in with specific claims about the quality or low prices on items that turn out to be unavailable in order to upsell them or a similar, pricier item”. In this context it could mean that the love interest was pretending to be something he was not, therefore luring her into getting to know him. Then, as she dedicated herself to him, she stays with him, even though the costs are higher. In this case, I believe this is a “cheeky” comment, about him selling himself a player, but when she falls for it, she finds out he actually never intended to enter her life as a player, but as a life partner. So now, instead of just dedicating to a period of fun loving, she is in the relationship for life. There is, yet again, a parallel with Cruel Summer: “Bad, bad boy, shiny toy with a price, you know that I bought it”.

#willow #taylor swift #evermore #willow analysis #evermore analysis #willow lyrics #lyrics #taylor swift lyrics #evermore lyrics #taylor swift lyrics analysis #willow interpreation #taylor swift willow #taylor swift evermore #me #mine

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tickle-bugs · 3 years

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I had two people ask for some advice on starting up/running a blog, so I thought I’d make a little post for anyone else looking for advice! There’s no one right way to run a blog and I am by no means an expert. This is just a compilation of some of the things I’ve learned :)

Feel free to add advice to this!

- The first thing is something I cannot stress enough. Write for yourself first. You will be absolutely miserable if you’re only writing for attention. I’m not saying it’s easy, but it’s so incredibly important. If you don’t like a prompt, fandom, or scenario? You don’t have to write for it! A personal example: I’m a theatre kid and total musical nerd. I could probably write some compelling Dear Evan Hansen or Hamilton headcanons if I wanted to, but I don’t. That’s fine! I’m allowed to say I won’t write for it and deny prompts/requests for those fandoms.

- Set boundaries. This is a very mixed community with all sorts of creators and participants with hands in different baskets. Don’t want minors to interact? Put minors DNI in your bio. SFW only? Put it in the bio. No RP? Bio. This goes for private conversations/askbox/other interactions as well. If someone comes into your askbox/dms and says something that makes you uncomfy, shut it down.

- My advice is more geared towards writing than art or video, but I suppose you could apply this advice as well. Make what makes you happy! If you’re only in one fandom, feel free to stay there and make content for it. Multi-fandom? Excellent! Completely non-fandom? Epic! Make the content that you want to see and the content that makes you happy to create, especially if you’re in a more niche fandom/area.

- Organization. ...I’ll admit this one is more of a personal pet peeve than something urgent, but it is something that people positively respond to. If you have some sort of consistency/organization to your blog, it’ll make it easier and more enjoyable for people to navigate. Make a fandom list/indicate your fandoms somehow (mostly for prompt purposes. people can’t read your mind, so it’s important to tell them what you will write for and what you won’t, however you want to do that)!

Make a masterpost/link your fic tag! Use a fic tag of some kind. Give your fics summaries and leave a little bit of the fic above the ‘read more’ to intrigue folks (look at #my fics and my masterpost for basic examples of how I do this, if you need!). Use read mores. Please use read mores (if you can, idk if they’re on mobile. regardless no one wants to encounter a three thousand word block of text on their dash). (No seriously though, organize your blog, even if it’s super simple. literally just a ‘mine’ or ‘my fics’ or ‘[pseud] writes’ and a fandom tag. It’ll make it easier for people to find your stuff and support you)

- Practice general internetiquette. Please remember that the people in this community are real people with feelings, boundaries, and lives outside of the blog that they run. Be genuine and people will respond to you! Don’t manipulate people into likes/reblogs/attention. No one wants to be on the other end of that. Being in this community isn’t a transaction or a mosh pit, it’s an experience.

- Be ever-so-liberal with the block button. Someone’s user makes you uncomfortable? They give you bad vibes? They’re a minor/older than you and you don’t want them interacting with your content? You don’t wanna see their blog for some reason? Block em. This goes for anons too. That’s what the button is for. Don’t feel guilty for using it. Use it.

- How you write is 100% a personal choice and not really something that I can give advice on, but embrace your style! take prompts if you want, or don’t. Write oneshots, series, drabbles, or novels. Write romantic, or don’t. Etc. Change things up if you feel like it. Do what you want. Your blog, your style, your rules.

- Numbers matter. Don’t let them define you. This is a bit of a harder one to explain, but I will try. I often say that I don’t care about numbers, and I really don’t, but that’s not to say that I don’t see them and they have zero effect on me. I absolutely notice and am bummed if a fic doesn’t get notes, or at least the notes that I was expecting. That is entirely normal and okay to experience. What isn’t okay, though, is creating for the sake of getting notes/numbers/attention (re: write for yourself first, internetiquette). If you find yourself relying on tumblr for gratification and a reward, I implore you to take a break. I’m not your therapist or your parent, I’m not gonna tell you what to do, but when you make things only for the sake of notes, people notice. Celebrate your milestones. Know that it’s okay to be bummed about low notes/celebrate getting plenty. Just make sure that you don’t depend on the numbers for your happiness, or you will be miserable.

- You’re (probably) doing this for free. You are providing people content: a service. Produce as much or as little as you’re comfy with, but always remember that. No one is entitled to what you make. If someone asks you for headcanons, sends a prompt when prompts are closed, etc, and you don’t feel like fulfilling it? You have no obligation to do that. Getting commissioned is another story entirely, but as long as you’re making free content, you have zero obligation to do anything for anyone and certainly no time constraints. It can take me months to finish prompts, and that’s okay. I do them when I do them and I fill them how I want to. If my prompts are closed, I deny new ones until I’m ready to accept them. Make yourself happy first.

- How you interact with others is up to you! It’s generally considered good practice to like/reblog your mutuals fics/art, but this is not necessarily a hard and fast rule. I veeeeeery rarely reblog fics for fandoms that I’m not in, even from my mutuals. What you can do to show your support (and you should try and show support somehow. No one is in competition. Everyone’s in your boat, whether they have no followers or 1k) is send an ask/reply to the post/leave tags to let the author know you liked it. Like the fic and don’t reblog it, if you don’t want to. Just make sure you show your mutuals (and others in general!) roughly the same support they show you, however you decide to do that. Treat others how you want to be treated, as cheesy as it sounds :)

- Don’t repost content that isn’t yours without express permission from the original creator, and credit them appropriately. If you see a cute piece of tickle art and the artist doesn’t want it reposted? Don’t repost it. Don’t post fics/videos/gifs that aren’t yours (obviously if it’s like a scene from a movie/a clip on youtube that’s different, but don’t take credit for things you didn’t make, including ideas). Can’t tell you how frustrating it is to have work stolen from you. Don’t be that person. ‘Credit to original artist’ and ‘credit unknown’ is total bullshit btw. Link/tag the creator in the original post and make it clear you don’t own the content. Best practice is to ask the original creator if they’re okay with reposting, work inspired by or connected to theirs, etc. This goes doubly for saving/downloading someone’s fics.

- It is not illegal for a minor to have normal, nonsexual, healthy friendships with people older than them. There’s a weird attitude that minors have nothing of value to offer adults besides a relationship/sex, which is...not true? Minors are thinking, living human beings with feelings, thoughts, and opinions. You can talk to them like normal people, because they are. Just obviously don’t talk about/introduce sex or endanger them. Minors don’t bring up sex/activities you’re underage for with an adult. IDK this isn’t a seminar just...don’t be weird. Adults can offer great life experience, support systems, and the basic joys and needs of human connection. Minors can too. Mind your business unless someone’s actually in danger. The next point is a caveat, though:

- If you’re a minor, don’t interact with NSFW blogs/blogs with ‘Minors DNI’, NSFW blogs don’t interact with minors, etc etc. Not your parent or whatever but this is pretty common sense and it’s for everyone’s safety, but especially the NSFW person. internettiquette!

- If you use your TK blog as a side blog (meaning you have another blog as your main blog, not two separate accounts) and don’t want your main exposed, that is up to you. I recommend not liking posts. Also, follow people that you trust. These actions route through your main blog and your main will show up in the notes. You can reblog from a sideblog. If you want to send an ask “as your tk blog”, send an anon and sign it somehow, like ‘hey :) // @/tickle-bugs’. It should tag you in the post so you get a notification when it’s answered!

- Find your people! As an anxious person this one has been hard for me, so I know it’s hard for a lot of people. Fandom is literally a community of shared interest. Peachy and I have an iron bond almost two years later and we met talking over shared interests. You can absolutely find your people here. If someone makes you happy, strike up a conversation! Send an ask! You never know what doors it might open or whose day you might improve :)

- If you were an anon/lurker on someone’s blog and they inspired you to write/submit/start your own, sign your messages!! the common form that I see is either an emoji or [noun/context of the ask]!anon (prodigal!anon (i miss u every day), butterfly!anon, etc.) Let us know how to find and support you!! Those messages produce good brain juice.

- The big finale: Have fun. If you’re not having fun here, maybe you could tweak something to make things enjoyable. Running a blog is like driving a car. Keep your hands on the wheel, respectfully indicate your intentions (flashing lights optional), and be safe. Poebody’s nerfect, y’know. If you make a mistake, course correct. I’m by no means perfect. Your favs aren’t either. Just do your best and have a good time :)

@rosytickles and the anon in my inbox, I hope this helps! Thank you for asking me, I’m very honored that you value my opinon/experience/advice. I apologize if I come off as preachy or aggressive, I envisioned grabbing my younger self by the lapels and shaking me vigorously while I wrote this. Probably a bad idea.

Anywho, hope it helps. Anyone with questions, additions, or comments, my askbox is open! Just be constructive, is all I ask.

#bug speaks #advice tag #sorry again if this sounds preachy or aggressive at any point i literally wrote it like i was grabbing younger me by the lapels #these are all things i learned through experience/observation i promise im not talking out of my ass here #the largest obstacle to maintaining a blog is how you view your happiness in relation to it. talked about it above but yeah.#also like i said: not a professional and not your parent. just giving friendly advice sine i was directly asked for it.#might add more to this if I think of more #my askbox and dms are open for questions/comments/additions just pls be respectful and constructive #other tfb community members feel free to add to this!

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ayuuria · 3 years

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Yashahime Translation: Animedia September 2020 Issue

Please do not repost this translation without my consent! This includes screenshots of any type and amount. If you wish to share this translation, simply link to this post.

For more information regarding the use of my translations, click here.

This is an old article that was published back in August of 2020, before Yashahime began airing so please keep that in mind as you read this. I never translated this article until now so this is not a reprint or anything like that.

The Key to Successful Feudal Survival Lies Within the Birth of the Two?!

As “the story of Inuyasha and Sesshōmaru’s daughters”, “Hanyō no Yashahime” has been a hot topic. Sesshōmaru’s daughters, Towa and Setsuna, were raised separately in the modern and feudal eras and Inuyasha’s daughter, Moroha, spends all her time slaying demons in the feudal era. When the time traveling tunnel opens, Towa and Setsuna reunite and Moroha also comes to the modern era. What sort of fate awaits the half-demon princesses who have been drawn together without knowing their parents? While the three of them have been put under harsh circumstances, this time we look into the survival techniques of those girls. In addition, the existences of Inuyasha, Kagome, and Sesshōmaru in the main story is of interest but why is the story relating to them being depicted once again in the first place? We asked producer Naka regarding the details.

Character Bios

Setsuna 14 years old. She is Sesshōmaru’s daughter and Towa’s younger twin sister, but she does not have any memories from when she was little. She makes a living slaying demons under Kohaku and has a personality that is calm and unphased.

Higurashi Towa 14-year-old middle schooler. She is actually Sesshōmaru’s daughter. 10 years ago, she time traveled to the modern era via the Tree of Ages’ tunnel. She is good at martial arts and tends to get into fights.

Moroha 14 years old. While she is Inuyasha and Kagome’s daughter, she does not know them. A bounty hunter who sells the heads and fangs of the demons she slays, her alias is “The Monster Killing Moroha”.

Our Survival Master, Producer Naka Toshikazu

The “Inuyasha World” once again depicted by the gathering of the main staff!

— Please tell us the details on what prompted the creation of a new work that is like a sequel to the Inuyasha series.

The production team of “Inuyasha” continued to meet periodically even after the anime, “Inuyasha The Final Act” ended. It all started a couple years ago during one of those meetings when producer Suwa Michihiko-san said, “I want to do “Inuyasha” on TV again”. Although it seems there were some who thought that continuing a story that had already been cleanly concluded as well as having someone besides Takahashi Rumiko-sensei creating it was a little… Then with scriptwriter Sumisawa Katsuyuki-san getting involved in the conversation, it turned into if the story is about the second generation, depending on the content, it might work. That’s how the story of Sesshōmaru’s daughter being the protagonist was born.

— What sort of back and forth did you have with the original creator of “Inuyasha”, Takahashi Rumiko-sensei?

After it was decided that “Sesshōmaru’s daughter would be the protagonist of the story”, we had scriptwriter Sumisawa-san create the character set-up and plot. However, we had Takahashi Rumiko-sensei create the character bases and the designs of the 3 main characters and do scenario checks. But fundamentally, the onsite (staff) generally handle the episode scenarios and character designs.

— Are there any points where Takahashi-sensei’s ideas were used in the main characters’ designs?

We did the designs once we got to the current character setups after receiving a lot of ideas. To say which ideas were sensei’s is difficult to answer. However, she was extremely conscious of Towa being a girl when she designed her.

— I see that there are those who worked on the Inuyasha series gathered among the main staff of this work.

Director Satō Teruo and character designer Hishinuma Yoshihito continued to work for us at our first studio, even after “Inuyasha The Final Act” ended. Even before the work took on its current shape, we had a conversation that “We plan to create a continuation of the “Inuyasha World” so we’ll be in your care when that time comes” and they just naturally took part. Scriptwriter Sumisawa-san has been participating since the start of the project.

— While the expectation of Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha’s efforts rises, please tell us some highlights.

To have you like the “Yashahimes” Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha. In addition, be able to feel the atmosphere of the “Inuyasha” world. We keep these two points in mind during creation, so it would be great if you could enjoy both the new and the nostalgic.

Survival Question for Producer Naka!!

Q. Since the work is a dangerous world of going between the feudal and modern eras, which character do you think has the most proficient survival techniques and the most adaptable?

A. Setsuna. Setsuna and Moroha grew up in a harsh environment since childhood so both of them have a high survival ability. However, with the skills and knowledge she obtained from the demon slayers as well as her calm personality, I think Setsuna can adapt to many situations while demonstrating a sense of stability.

Q. It seems that Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha have the strength to battle demons but to make it through the survival (world) that is the feudal era, what other abilities are necessary?

A. I would say economic strength. Setsuna is a demon slayer and Moroha makes a living as a bounty hunter. I think the reason why both of them acquired a trade at 14 is because they need financial strength.

Q. If Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha lived together in a survival environment, who do you think would be best at taking care of others?

A. Moroha. Moroha is bright, cheerful, and friendly so I think she would be the nosiest one among the 3.

Setsuna Style Survival Technique

Can make calm, collected decisions, no matter the circumstance

Setsuna ruthlessly slays evil demons with a cool expression. It is thought the figure of her not being phased by anything is something she inherited from Sesshōmaru. It is possible that the survival skill of always staying calm is so that she can live on her own.

Towa Style Survival Technique

When getting mixed up with hoodlums, she uses martial arts (her forte) to pull through

Towa chastises hoodlums, becomes the target of revenge, and fights again, thus continuously getting into trouble and repeatedly transferring schools. Even in daily life survival, she does not forget the honest martial arts spirit. That is Towa’s true strength.

Moroha Style Survival Technique

Slay demons and collect the bounty

What Moroha is after when slaying demons is the head, fangs, and other body parts that can be obtained from them. Selling those that have a bounty is what provisions her living (translator’s note: aka how she puts bread on the table). One truly feels traces of Inuyasha in her form.

What is the True Identity of the Father Everyone Has Been Wondering About…?!

Moroha’s father, Inuyasha (voice: Yamaguchi Kappei) A half-demon with a demon father and a human mother. He was on a journey to collect the shards of the Shikon Jewel with Kagome, (a girl) who possessed the powers of a priestess. Sesshōmaru’s younger half-brother (different mothers).

Towa and Setsuna’s father, Sesshōmaru (voice: Narita Ken) Inuyasha’s older brother and a full-fledged demon with a demon mother. There were times when he fought both against and alongside Inuyasha. He traveled with a young human girl, Rin.

Illustration Description

Towa is overjoyed at reuniting with her younger sister who has been in the corner of her memory. While Setsuna, who has no memories, is constantly bewildered, she’s a little embarrassed from Towa taking her hand…?

#yashahime #hanyou no yashahime #yashahime: princess half demon #translation

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all1e23 · 4 years

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Powdered Sugar

Pairings: Sugar Daddy!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Boston didn’t come without repercussions.

Warnings: A bit angsty, but Bucky is all love sick if that helps.

A/N: It’s a shorter chapter but it’s still important and it sets up where our slightly dumb couple is headed. I tried to grab everyone who asked for a tag recently if I missed you please let me know and I’ll add you. This is the fourth part of my series Sugary Sweet. Make sure you catch up!

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!***

It felt good to be home. Every time Bucky’s left New York and came back, it made him realize how much this city really was home. Now you were part of that. You were home. It had been five days since you left Bucky to fend for himself in Boston. On the morning of your flight, he got up before the sun was and drove you to the airport. He kissed you for fifteen minutes in front of the airport security check-in and nearly made you late for your flight; he couldn't help it. He hated being away from you, and knowing it would be days before he could hold you again, he might have gone a little overboard — Bucky wanted to make sure you wouldn’t forget about him before he made it back to Brooklyn and to you.

Steve handed over three folded bills to the cashier behind the counter and took two paper cups of coffee, passing one to Bucky. It was their first day back in the office since closing the deal with Carol, and Bucky was having trouble focusing on his job for the first time in his life. He desperately wanted to ditch work and spend the rest of the day in bed with you, but he had a company to run, and he had to be a grown-up.

As Steve reminded him, all damn day.

“So, what’s going on with you and Y/n? You both were... different in Boston.”

“I don’t know Stevie. That last night…” Bucky shook his head and stared at the white plastic lid over his coffee, he couldn’t explain it — there were no words to describe how he felt about you and what happened this past week only made things more confusing.

“It was different. She said I was her stupid, and things were just different from how they usually are. The way we were with each other... I dunno, man.”

Steve was quiet for a long beat before he looked at Bucky with a small grimace he asked, “You’re excited because she called you stupid? I call you stupid all the time.”

“No, it wasn’t like that—”

“Sam constantly calls you dumb. All the time. I have to separate you two—”

“Steve!’ Bucky groaned and shoved Steve away from him. He was not in the mood. He was already grumpy because he wouldn't get to see you until the Stark Gala, and now Steve was pissing him off with the dumb questions.

“She said my stupid. It’s the ‘my’ part I was talkin’ about, dumbass. She called me hers, and it wasn’t the first time, either.”

“What else did she say?” Steve urged with a wide grin.

Bucky felt his cheeks pink, and his ears were burning. He cleared his throat and grumbled through a forced cough. “Uh, she called me her… fella.”

Steve chuckled and bumped Bucky’s shoulder with his. If Sam were there, he probably would have teased him over the pet name, but Steve didn’t. He liked seeing Bucky this happy, and Steve knew it was all thanks to you. He wasn’t about to cheapen Bucky’s feelings by teasing him over a silly name.

“You’re in deep, aren’t you?” Steve asked, already knowing the answer, and Bucky grinned and told him honestly, “Yeah, I think I am, Stevie.”

Bucky fished his phone out of his pocket, with all this talk, and he realized he hadn’t heard from you yet today. This was a sign. Boston was the push he needed. He needed to stop this nonsense, and tell you what he wanted, tell you where he wanted your relationship to go. He was going to tell you what’s on his heart at the Stark Gala — he was done playing around. You had to know he was all in, but if you wanted to keep things the way they were, he could be okay with that. He will stick around for as long as you’ll have him because he was already in love with you.

It was going to hurt when you leave him no matter what, you should at least know how he felt when you do walk away.

You arrived home nearly six days ago, and from the moment you stepped through the door, you refused to talk about the trip or Bucky. There wasn’t a moment of that trip you wanted to relive — even the good parts, it would only make the bad parts more painful. Pretending as if the terrible, awful, wonderful week never happened was the only way you could clean up the mess you made of your heart.

Of course, it would be easier to forget if your roommate minded her own business, and she wouldn’t let it go.

Every time Natasha asked you a question about Boston or Bucky, you evaded. You would change the subject back to her or offer to buy dinner, and Clint would change the topic for you — the pizza or Chinese debate always bought you an hour. Natasha would only put up with that for so long, though. There was no way you could keep that up forever, and you knew that, but you couldn’t get the words out even if you wanted to.

It hurt. You needed distance between you and the damage that was done — if you were going to find a way to repair it.

This morning, you sat at the counter spoon hanging loosely from your hand, spinning your cereal as you stared at your phone in your other hand. You had been like this since you opened Instagram, sitting and gawking at your phone. You couldn’t eat. All you could do was stare. Not after you saw what Sam posted. Most of his additions were of the boys and usually picking on Bucky, but the latest picture was what caught your attention. It looked like it was their last night in Boston, and Carol was smushed between the men.

Against your better judgment, your thumb took on a life of its own and clicked her profile. Carol had reposted Sam’s original image, but there was another photo that made a green monster stir in your chest. The look of their attire said it was towards the end of the night, jackets had been shed, and hair was let down— it was only her and Bucky this time.

Bucky had been caught mid-laugh, glowing smirk and little eye crinkles in captured in Mayfair or whatever the hell filter she deemed was best to highlight your boyfriend— Bucky. He was not your boyfriend. Carol's arm was linked in Bucky's, and she was gazing at him adoringly, but it was the caption that had your hackles raised.

Can you believe no one has snatched this man up? He’s more than just a pretty face, let me tell you. Sweet like you wouldn’t believe and knows how to negotiate. Can’t wait to start working with this stud.

“Why don’t you snatch him up?”

You jumped at the sound of Natasha’s voice coming from over your shoulder and dropped your phone to the counter, narrowly missing your bowl of milk. You hated it when she did that.

“Seriously?” You whined loudly. “I told you not sneak up on me!”

“Sorry. I said your name three times, but you were busy staring at your phone like it was going to turn into something. So, did you snatch him up?”

You shook your head, letting her know you didn’t want to talk about it, but you had to say something. It had been days since it all went down, and she would find out eventually. It was better she found out now before Bucky tired of you and found someone else. You slid off the stool to drop your bowl in the sink. Your cheerios were soggy anyway.

“No, I didn’t, and no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Y/n, what happened--”

“He doesn’t want to be snatched up, okay? Least of all by me.”

Natasha watched you dump your breakfast in the trash and pour your glass of orange juice down the sink. You avoided her eyes, but she could still see the hurt filling them, as you explained everything that happened in Boston and everything you heard that night. None of it made any sense. Bucky told her how he felt, the whole truth, and no one lies to Natasha.

“Y/n, I know that’s not true.” Natasha pointed to where you were standing and told you what happened that morning he invited you to Boston. “He stood right there, looked me in the eye, and said you meant something to him. He said he was going to tell you in Boston how much you meant to him and that he wanted more than this game you two are playing."

"Well, he lied!” You shouted, falling back against the counter from the blowback of the admission. “Of course, he lied. You’re my best friend. You probably would have killed him and hid the body before I got out of the shower. He’s not going to tell you the truth because he knew you would tell me.”

“And why do you think he told them the truth?”

“Steve is his best friend and his business partner. They all served together, Steve, Sam, and Bucky. They are brothers, and he’s known Sharon for over a decade before she ever married Steve. There is no way he lied to them, and even if he did lie to them, it doesn’t make him any better. It only means he’s embarrassed to with me, so he lied to the people closest to him.”

Natasha wanted to argue, but she couldn’t. He lied to someone, and no matter who caught the lie and who heard the truth, none of it was good.

“You need to talk to him. Tell him what you heard and let him explain himself. Maybe it’s all a misunderstanding. If it turns out he is a total dick, you can use the moves I taught you freshmen year and give him a broken arm as a parting gift.”

A single kiss dropped to your cheek, and she left you alone to find your way through the tangled web of dark thoughts spinning around your head. Natasha was right — like always. You needed to talk to him about the trip, but first… You grabbed your phone from where it fell on the counter and pulled up your messages. Your stupid fingers were at it again. A quick screenshot of Carol’s post, you dropped into the textbox and typed furiously before your brain could gain control over your fingers.

You: Looks like you had fun. Did you finally get snatched up?

That sounded awful and jealous and childish. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to be with you, your phone mocks.

You watched three bubbles pop up right away as if he was already sending you something or at the very least, had his phone in his hand, and guilt swam up your throat, choking you. He was probably working, and you were sending him childish messages fueled by jealousy.

Fella❤: I had more fun when you were with me. I got snatched up months ago. Sorry to say. A sweet girl stole me away. Made me her fella, didn't you hear?

You hated how he could say things that meant so much to you and mean so little to him, and you really hated how much you didn’t hate it at all.

You: Did she? Really?

Fella ❤: Really and truly. She did. I was hoping she would be my date to the Stark Modern Art Charity Gala this weekend. I was about to ask her when I got your message. I haven't seen her in days, and I'm itchin' to have her on my arm again.

Of course, on his arm for show and nothing more.

You: That can be arranged. I don't have a dress, though. I don’t want to embarrass you.

Fella ❤: You could wear a garbage bag and be beautiful, and you could never embarrass me. BUT if you insist on getting dressed up. I think I have something in mind. I'll send it over.

Fella ❤: What has you thinking I could ever be embarrassed by you?

You ignored the question and hoped your answer would keep him distracted so you could have that conversation in person.

You: Okay, I’ll be your girl for the night.

Fella ❤: I hope after the gala it will be more than just one night, sweet girl.

Ordinarily, Bucky’s flirting and little sexual innuendos would make your toes curl, and those stupid butterflies in your stomach flutter — maybe even laugh if it was silly enough, but it didn’t. It left you feeling empty and… wanting. Which only made your choice easier. Of course, you were going to go wherever he wanted you to go because truthfully, five days was far too long without him. You missed him. You missed so much your chest ached, and the only thing that could ease the hurt was seeing him.

If being Bucky’s sugar baby was the only way you could have him, then you were going to take what he could give until he was done with you because you were not ready to lose him just yet.

#sugar daddy!bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #sugar daddy AU #alternate universe #sugary sweet series #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes

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reimenaashelyee · 4 years

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Capturing a Portrait

A post I wrote in March and cleaned up. Reposted from my blog (which has more thoughts on craft and other nonsense). About Alexander Comic.

----

A year in... and I think I've got him.

Disclaimer: I won't deny it. Alexander is impossible to get an accurate picture of. His personhood is made out of sand and everyone brings their own bottles to shape him into. I don't think my jar of sand is the One True Alexander, nor will it ever be. But the good news is, all the other jars aren't that either. The nature of his (after)life is elusive. That's what it is.

But I think I've gotten a hold of him. I mean this in an authorly, character-study sense. I think I've found something interesting.

In the beginning, I had three images of Alexander that I used as my guide: 1) the journey to the Water of Life with the Servant 2) the siege of Thebes 3) the many faces of Alexander. Later I added a fourth image, tied to Hephaestion. Those are the four ingredients for this brain stew. I let them sit. I let them bubble.

There's also a motif that comes up in the ancient biographies and the Alexander Romances: the pursuit. The drive to do things, see things, be things.

Pothos. Desire. Longing.

For a long time I had this suspicion of a particular type of sadness in Alexander's story. I didn't know the name, but I saw the symptoms: the competitive insecurity with his father, the destructive restlessness, the death/fallout of his friends one by one through his own hands, the death of Hephaestion totally out of his hands, the breakdown of his empire after his own death.

Even in the Alexander Romance, the legendary accounts that make him heroic also double down on that sadness. Alexander, kingship is wicked. Alexander, you'll die and never see your beloved mother/sisters again and that's your problem. Alexander, look at this poor, deformed stillborn child – it represents your end. "From my coffin, show the world only a rag in my hand. Say that in the end I die not with the kingdom I sought, but with scraps." Oh, it turns out that Alexander specifically is not fated for the water of life. The two angels warn him, turn back. "You may conquer the world, but the only land you physically own is the land on which your two feet stand on." But even that land is fleeting.

Pothos. A longing for a goal forever out of reach. A goal already lost in its accomplishment. Death gets to you first.

That was the name of the sadness.

Now, I don't intend to use pothos to absolve him. It is sad, but it is separate from the choices he made (in life and in fiction). I still have every intention to put him in the fire.

But I think I got him. My Alexander.

Pothos is not the most original thing ever. I mean, the ancient historians and the Alexander Romance writers already use it. I totally borrowed it from them. And besides, pothos is a posthumous motif that originates from a storyteller's (well, historian's) analysis of Alexander's life. Objectively, it has nothing to do with Alexander's real state of mind, whatever that may be. But man, that motif is powerful and potent and dazzling. No wonder it survives with his memory.

That's why pothos so core to my project and why it needs to remain a thematic forefront.

Not too long ago, I had a kind of epiphany related to the philosophical attitude of some of the Romances. It started as a spark of familiarity at first. Why does the attitude seem so familiar? I realised that, of course, it's the same philosophical attitude behind some of my favourite stories in media. And those stories happen to be East Asian. Japanese, especially.

Now, I already came into Alexander Comic with my postcolonial South East Asian lens. I grew up with a lot of Asian media that was only for the Asian gaze, with no consideration or need for Western understanding – alongside Western media, both Hollywood and artsy European and in between. So the way I view the world and the way I tell stories will reflect that media diet. Sometimes it tells me things I wouldn't have known if I had stuck to one source of media.

The funny thing about pothos is that this concept of transcience and imperfection is a whole thing in Japanese and Chinese thought. Mono no aware, wabi sabi, kintsugi... (sorry, all Japanese terms since I'm unable to find the Chinese equivalent... due to a language barrier)

The joy and sadness of autumn. The sand between fingers. The idea that nothing lasts forever and that’s why they are beautiful. The brokenness of a thing being its history. It’s not a brokenness be proud of, or to disguise; it’s simply a brokenness that’s just is. Mundane magic.

It's a thing in the non-English West too.

Saudade. Ubi sunct. Hiraeth. Memento mori.

Closer to home, it's what rindu (and sometimes, sayang) means.

I find it fascinating how someone who used to be the king of the world had not only lost his empire, but his own story. We in the modern world have almost nothing from Alexander's time that speaks about him, to him, and from him. Much of what we know is secondhand, either some hundred years after the fact or from someone else not him. A king of the world cursed to be known by everyone and no one.

Admittedly, it's a long dizzying way to obtain a portrait of Alexander... and who knows if this portrait is objectively in line with the real person (probably not! I mean, who knows!). But I think this exploration is part of being an Alexander Romance author.

Nizami said it himself in the first chapters of his own Sikandar Name E Bara: he was a poet overwhelmed with a thousand treasures, desperately trying to find pearls out of them to string into a beautiful narrative. Heck, forget Nizami. Arrian said it too: he had to read through fables and books (Arrian paraphrasingly calls them "trash" in contrast to Nizami's "treasures"), desperately trying to find the best-sounding materials to make his biography of Alexander.*

*the Anabasis is not part of the Romance

At some point in the future, someone will ask me who or what my Alexander is. It won't help that my Romance is neither a straight biography or a complete fantasy, though it includes some of both to paint his portrait. But that's my Alexander. A mish-mash of junk and trash and history and legend. A mosaic or stained glass of foreign words with no equivalent in English.

#alexander comic #long post

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

And Everyday: When Life Gives You Lemons, Put Some Vodka in Your Lemonade (Crystal Methyd/Gigi Goode, Jaida Essence Hall/Jan Sport) - Campvanjie

AN: This was originally written for a fic exchange, and posted to AO3 under my now deleted account there on May 1st, 2020. Reposting here, because I’m proud of it, and am clearing old S12 fics from my Google drive. I’m the original author of this work, and there’s absolutely no plagiarism going on!

Summary: Gigi needs a soft place to land after her quarter-life meltdown, and Crystal realizes the happily every after she gave up on, might not be totally out of reach. Meanwhile, Jaida and Jan work on restoring an old barnhouse; because marriage begets home improvement.Prompts: Parenthood AU, Enemies to Lovers, Idiots in Love, and Angst all used to varying degrees.

CW: conversations around divorce/child custody and (past) bullying behavior, character mentions (non-specific) mental health issues as the reason for a past breakup.

“- Ugh, anyway, it’s like 3:30, he’s almost an hour late and I don’t know why the fuck I even got all dressed up just to sit at court being looked at like I’m some cheap bitch-”, Gigi grumbled into her phone. It was pressed against her cheek as she tried her best to juggle her purse and a extra-large coffee held in her other hand, her livid glare captured perfectly in the harsh, white light of the bathroom mirror across from her.

“I dunno, maybe because you have to be there? Kind of the mom thing to do.”, Crystal told her, static edging into her voice.

It was a long-distance call after all, and Gigi had fought against her fingers dialing the number almost by muscle memory. She had only relented once she had gotten through the packed hallway of the courts complex, and almost collapsed into what seemed like the only empty bathroom.

Call Crystal, had been the only thing she could think of do, in between beating her palms against the cool, brick walls, and shaking with sobs she refused to shed for fear of ruining her makeup.

Without missing a beat; Crystal had picked up, her voice always high and slowed, syllables enunciated in a way that had trained Gigi into asking for coffee, like it was spelled with a K, calling her son’s name, with the E in the middle a sharp, upward spike.

Crystal, Gigi realized with a start; was who had taught her to gulp in her breaths to hide herself crying, and shove her fist into her front pocket, to keep herself from shaking so much.

“I know. I know you’re right. I just- God, I’m so sick of it. It just want this all to be over so I can go back to what’s important, and stop feeling like my entire world is crashing down around me."

Crystal laughed, a little too dry for it to be genuine. "Hey, Gigi?"

"Hm?"

"If you- if you wanted, maybe you and the little munchkin could visit? Come see me in Missouri, maybe it’ll get your mind off things."

Gigi’s hands stopped underneath the stream of lukewarm water flowing from the faucet, her eyes meeting her reflection in the mirror. She looked like shit, no matter how much her carefully applied façade remained in place, her gaze jittered around the small room and she had never felt so truly tired in her entire life.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I mean, me of all people should know something about everything falling apart."

Less than an hour later, Gigi found herself dialing Crystal’s number again. She stood outside the courthouse, her glasses misted from the early- evening rain shower as she waited for her car.

Relinquished. She didn’t know whether to laugh, or cry, or take her parents up on their offer to live in their Florida timeshare and disappear off the face of the planet, too.

"He’s not coming because he filed paperwork to relinquish parental rights two weeks ago. In the eyes of the law, it’s just the two of you.”, her lawyer had told her, after finding Gigi just outside the bathroom. Jackie Cox was always dressed in tweed, pastel, pantsuits, dark hair coiffed in buttery smooth curls at the top of her head, her lips pursed in a thin, straight line, as though she was perpetually exhausted.

Gigi supposed that, being one of the city’s longest-serving family court attorneys would do that to you.

“I don’t know how I missed it on the dockets, but I should have told you first.”, Jackie apologized; her hand warm and steady at the small of Gigi’s back as she walked her client back up the hallway.

Gigi grunted, shrugging her shoulders underneath her jacket. “It’s fin- It wouldn’t have changed anything, Jackie. Really, thanks for everything."

She let herself lean against Jackie, letting one of her oldest friends wrap her arms around her, breathing in the scent of Jackie’s honeysuckle perfume on the courthouse steps.

"I’m sorry this happened-”, Jackie started, and Gigi could feel her heart sink to her stomach.

She had never done well with pity, least of all when she truly deserved it.

“Don’t be. Please, just don’t.”

“What are you going to do now?”, Jackie asked, as Gigi stepped out of her embrace, surveying the street before them that was quickly filling with cars and bikes and buses as the work day finished and school let out for the day.

“Right now? Get in an Uber and hope they don’t charge me triple for being late at daycare again.”

Crystal picked up on the fourth ring, and Gigi could hear the sound of a sink running in the background. Water splashed against metal, and the distinct sound of another woman’s voice, screeching with laughter, buzzed through the speakers of Gigi’s phone.

“Whoo- chile, I’m telling you if you come any closer with that flour, I’m gonna-"

"Shit. Sorry.”, Crystal had muffled the phone against her chest, the static only cutting out when Gigi was sure she had ducked into another room.

“How quickly can you get that guest room set up? I’m pretty sure we can make it for tomorrow if I drive through the night.”

“Mom- Mom it’s twelve-thirty-five. It’s way, way, way past your bedtime!”, Destiny crowed from his carseat, kicking at Gigi’s back. His blonde curls were plastered to the side of his face, lips dusted with salt from the bag of chips that Gigi had let him pick out form himself at their last rest stop.

Their entire lives had fit neatly into the sickeningly suburban five-seater that his father had insisted on, the largest luggage case filled with her son’s clothes and bedsheets still having enough room to jostle under his bare feet.

She knew it was impulsive, and stupid, and half-expected the police to pull them over several states away, but as the highways emptied to nothing bur a ribbon of white lines that kept them on the right side of the road, Gigi became more and more convinced she was doing the right thing.

“My bedtime is five-thirty, kiddo. Yours is eight, so you get to stay up so much later.”, she joked easily, never having had Destiny for so many hours, all by herself in the years since he had started preschool.

“Wait, that doesn’t make sense! It’s eight at night and right now it’s morning! Nobody goes to sleep at five in the morning!”, he shrieked, and giggled at his own reflection in the rearview mirror.

“That’s when the garbage truck wakes up!”, he added. Gigi didn’t remember, if he had ever talked so much, his voice jarring and so different from the toddler babbles she had recorded, and kept on her phone to watch on her worst days.

Her textile studio had taken up her days, until her partners had grown tired of Gigi stumbling in at eleven in the morning, unable to force herself to care very much about their bottom line, and the grey, dull world outside until Destiny had come to kick her out of bed.

Afterwards, his father would take her nights, the pressure incessant that they be exactly what they looked like- a family that belonged in a catalog, with a perfectly dressed, perfectly quiet child, money to burn and success in spades; drinking from matching flutes of champagne while Destiny was left alone in his basement bedroom with a baby monitor and his collection of stuffed animals.

Gigi faltered in a sea of plastic smiles and shallow conversations, and at the end of the day, all of her friends who had warned her off marrying her senior-year rebound, giving her life over to the promise of a bright, empty future, had been right.

He wanted to live in a dream, where she was only ever a sidekick; their son nothing more to him than a prop to parade, an filled-in item on a checklist that he had given up without a second thought.

Gigi had named him Destiny, because she liked it first, but second, because it had sounded so good with his last name; that she had never even considered having to change it.

Destiny Goode was a name that sounded like a motivational quote from a caveman, and she briefly wondered, merging on to the next interstate her GPS system highlighted- if a six-year-old would remember his name if she changed it right now.

He could be a Garret, or a Jaden, just like every other boy at school.

A fresh slate with no more questions to be asked, and nothing left to tie her perfect boy to Gigi’s worst mistake.

“-So, she’ll be here at nine-thirty, and we’re all going to be nice as fuck and not make it weird, okay?"

Crystal smoothed down the pleats of her skirt with her palms, her legs crossed in front of her at the breakfast table, as her eyes flitted between Jaida and Jan, who both had forks in hand as they enjoyed the chilaquilles that Crystal had set out for their meal, knowing this was going to be a big conversation.

"Chile-”

“Okay, go back to the part where she broke up with you and then ended up married to darksided Warner-"

"Guys!”, Crystal protested, glaring down at her friends.

Jaida and Jan had bought the barn on her family’s property not even weeks after Crystal had agreed to put it on the market, the decrepit, white-washed wood tower an eyesore along the country highway.

They were the closest thing she had to neighbors, in the wide acres of rolling plains that separated everyone by miles along the road, and it hadn’t taken long for the three of them to grow close.

Together, they had carved a guest house out of the front entryway, laying water pipes and television cable; and were working on renovations to turn the barn’s hall into an event space, with glass lanterns hanging high along the rafters that Crystal remembered walking across like a tightrope when she was a child.

Jan drilled in heavy wood planks to form a catwalk that overlooked the barn floor, which you could reach from the outside fire escape, and Crystal had been thrilled to finally put her years of following behind her father to use, toolbox in hand as she sanded down the reinforced beams holding up the roof.

If Gigi hadn’t called her, Crystal and Jan had a day ahead of them of hauling the shingles from a pallet left by the side of the road, in Crystal’s truck up to the barn, while Jaida had her camera, and a full calendar of Senior Portraits to finish before the end of the school year.

“I know it sounds like a lot, but please, please, don’t make it weird. Gigi always…- She always needed everything to go perfectly, and I hate to say it but… I might be her only real friend. Like, ever.”, Crystal told them, biting down on the inside of her cheek.

Gigi, who for the past few years, had been nothing but a collection of memories that would fire in her brain occasionally, like a slight twinge from an old injury, would be back in the flesh at her doorstep, at any minute. Crystal barely had the time to recruit Jaida’s help in clearing out her guest rooms for Gigi and her son, much less process how she truly felt about offering up her home as their refuge.

Gigi had never responded to the birthday cards she sent for Destiny after his third birthday; barely ever logging into her Facebook page that had been filled with photos of the two of them through college; and seemed to abruptly be cut off after she had gotten married. Occasionally, something would trickle through, a vacation photo of her little family, and anniversary note, a first day at school and a post that asked everyone to go and follow her business page.

For all of the refreshing Crystal did, Gigi’s studio seemed to never upload anything beyond its logo and business hours.

“Nah, listen, I get it, babe.”, said Jaida, a tortilla chip hanging from the corner of her mouth. “People grow and change and we gotta meet them where they’re at."

She nodded towards Jan, who was gulping down her orange juice, with a fond grin. "If you would have told my queen bitch ass when I was in high school, that I would end up married to Miss Team Too Much, I would have stole your man and told the whole school some dirty secret.”, Jaida laughed. “Everybody’s dealing with something, and I was so closeted and angry I was acting a fool for free."

"You were never closeted.”, Jan piped up, her voice rising an octave from normal, making Crystal widen her eyes as she looked to her side.

“Glass closet, honey. Besides, my point is, it’s water under a bridge, whatever we do when we’re young. I love you now.”, she said, pressing a kiss to Jan’s temple as she rose to go take their dishes to the sink. “You ended up turning out to be an amazing woman. I’m sure Gigi’s just the same."

The sun was high over the horizon line when Gigi’s car rumbled up the range road, rocks spraying into the grass as her wheels skipped over the pockmarked dirt.

She had taken Destiny to a hotel waterpark with a free breakfast, the absolute joy and shock on his face more than worth being several hours off of the arrival time she had texted Crystal. He was asleep now, only dressed in a pair of shorts and his sneakers, the buckles of his carseat starting to chafe red against his skin.

Gigi turned left at the barn, towards the yellow-shuttered house she remembered visiting over so many spring breaks and reading weeks, surprised to see two workers, stacking pallets of shingles by the barn door. One was a gorgeous, darker-skinned woman, the sun glittering from the highlights in her hair as she waved over to Gigi, making her grin despite herself.

Crystal’s tiny town had always been welcoming, the huge open expanses of space seeming to make everyone all the more willing to seek a connection- though Gigi would have never guessed that Crystal and her family would ever do anything with the barn, which looked just a little less decrepit than she remembered, so many years later.

She parked by the balcony, just in front of Crystal’s truck, and shook Destiny awake, helping him into the first shirt which she could reach from his bag.

"C'mon, Des. We’re here. Are you excited to say hi to Mom’s friend? She stayed up all night to make you new room!”, she asked, watching as he took in the word around them.

“You have friends?”, he blurted out, so plainly that Gigi couldn’t keep a smile off her face, even if he had probably heard that from a TV show she probably shouldn’t have been letting him see.

“That’s not very nice."

Still, she kissed the top of his head, and helped him out of the car, his tiny hand feeling heavy in hers as they made their way up the stairs to Crystal’s door.

The balcony creaked under their feet, as Gigi raised her hand to press against the doorbell, Destiny tugging against her shirt, pointing up at the colorful strips of cut paper that still adorned the windows, the sun cutting what must have been a stained-glass glow inside the house.

"Snowflakes, like at school!”, he called to her, pressing his face against the windowsill before Gigi pulled him back.

“No, it’s called papel picado.”, Gigi corrected, remembering how Crystal had spent hours at her paper press in the basement of the art rooms in college, a mess of stencils spread across the desk, a chisel and mallet in hand as she studied the pictures her grandmother would send her.

Crystal’s tongue would poke out of her mouth, her pupils blown wide in concentration, oblivious to the darkening sky above her until Gigi would find her, at half-past midnight, standing still wide awake in the middle of confetti slices of cut paper piling around her.

They would kiss, exhilarated and young and alone together, and Gigi would never think anything was wrong until-

“Gigi! Geegs! Look who’s late to their own party!”, Crystal squealed, the door swinging wide open to reveal her; red-brown hair still as wild as ever, piled into a messy ponytail atop her head, and a smile so wide Gigi could see nearly all her teeth. Crystal sparkled with the same craft glitter that had always hung from her fingertips, her cheeks flush as though she’d run from one end of the house to the other.

Her eyes looked bright again, the memory of which was so foreign to Gigi that she took a moment to take it all in, Crystal’s bright skirt and her tight, sleeveless top looking all the more like relics of the summers they had spent together.

“Ahoy.”, she greeted, raising a hand to her forehead in a mock salute.

Crystal giggled.

Giggled, like she always had, and waved them inside with a flourish of her hand.

“Are you mad at me?”, Jaida asked, kicking open the toolbox that she and Jan shared.

They had watched Crystal let the storied Gigi into the house, and decided to occupy themselves with bolting down the side light fixtures in the barn, until whatever was probably going on between their neighbor and ex calmed down enough for Crystal to invite them in.

But, Jan’s temper had grown increasingly short through their day, her drill now clenched in a white-knuckled grip as Jaida held the ladder she was on steady below her, digging in the tool box for the next drill bit she would need.

“Why- the fuck- would I be mad at you?”, she said through gritted teeth, over the sound of the power tool in her hand.

“‘Cause you just said fuck, for one.”, Jaida muttered, her eyes rolling skyward. Her wife had always been a little dramatic, but there was nothing Jaida hated more than the silent treatment, far preferring a knock-down, drag-out, screaming fight to being frozen out for hours with little more than a sharp glance or a silent nodded sent her way.

Jan shrugged her shoulders, her favorite blue and red flannel shirt stretching deliciously tight across her back.

Was Jan teasing her? Was it all some kind of elaborate game that was intended to be finished in their bedroom?

“Well, whatever you’re doing, it’s killing the mood, babe.”, Jaida teased, hoping that Jan would get the hint.

Instead, she dropped the drill from her grip, clattering down the ladder as it bounced on the hard-packed ground. The battery pack popped from the tool’s back, not that Jan could be bothered as she stalked away, ignoring Jaida’s raised eyebrows.

“Hey- hey- you can’t just wreck stuff because you’re having a bad day!”, Jaida called after her wife, looking down at the mess of wires at her feet. “And I don’t know how to fix this shit so-"

She fell silent, as Jan’s steps echoed up the outdoor fire escape, her body disappearing until Jaida could only see the outline of her long, blonde hair, blowing in the wind from the balcony.

"Jan?”, she shouted, following her up the steps. “Hey, I know I fucked up, but you gotta tell me how otherwise I’m not gonna know how to fix it."

"Right.”, Jan scoffed as Jaida rounded the corner, the two of them facing towards Crystal’s house, where a second-floor light flickered on and off several times. “I forgot that everything’s so easy for you, I just have to spell it all out."

"Okay, what does that even mean?"

Jan glowered at her wife, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Why did you tell Crystal the reason you were a bully in high school was because you weren’t out?"

"That’s what this about? Baby-”, Jaida reached forward, her hand only barely touching Jan’s shoulder before her wife flinched away. “I was just trying to make her feel a little better about the whole thing, everything going on with Gigi. I don’t even remember if I was a bully in high school."

"Maybe I do.”, Jan snapped, her eyes flashing up in anger for a split second.

Jaida sighed, looking back over the horizon; where the sun was starting to dip at the back of scattered farmhouses and cottage homes littered accross the plains. “Look- I- I’m sorry and I shouldn’t have brought it up-”

“You’ve never apologized."

"You want me to say sorry?"

It had been years since Jan and Jaida had reconnected, long separated from the people that they had been as children.

Jaida had remembered Jan as an easy target from their first day in kindergarten, a tiny, loud girl who fell into a pattern that followed until Jan had left for college on a musical theatre scholarship, and Jaida had gone to play basketball for a small, comfortable liberal arts college in the heartland. When she had met Jan again; she was another person who shared the same name, at an alumni event where both of them had been invited to promote their respective colleges.

Where Jan had always worn her heart on her sleeve, the woman Jaida had married was confident, and passionate, witty and driven beyond belief.

She hadn’t had a second thought proposing to her, in the middle of the butterfly sanctuary at the zoo in the springtime, kissing her passionately without question at their Central Park wedding, their families both swaying together underneath the canopy of a white tent, to the music of the very first DJ they had found on Google.

"I just want you to- admit that it happened.”

“You’re acting like this was a big deal.”, Jaida groaned. “Baby, we were kids."

"It was a big deal. I thought about the stupid shit you and your friends said, for years after- and you don’t know what that was like."

"Okay- I-”

Jaida sighed, laying her hands on the railing that rounded the balcony, squeezing the metal rung tightly against her palms, the fight seeping out of her as she studied her wife, who looked on the verge of tears.

“Jan- baby, hey, I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

Silence fell between them, the sound of the crickets the only thing that cut in between their breaths. Jan buried her face in her hands, elbows resting against the railing beside her wife.

“I know. It’s just, that stuff adds up sometimes.”

She pressed herself into her wife’s shoulder, letting her head rest against Jaida’s arm.

“It adds up the other way around, too. Don’t think it doesn’t.”, Jan whispered, and Jaida finally let go of a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding in, her arm snaking around to rest around her wife’s waist. “It’s just a lot of work.”

“Then I’ll work on it, baby. Just tell me what you need.”

Gigi was surprised, at how instantly familiar Crystals kitchen was, breakfast leftovers heaped on top of Destiny’s plate while she quietly accepted a Diet Coke, sipping at the flat beverage as she finally began to relax. Gigi could tell her son was starting to feel sleepy, his eyes losing focus even as he kept lifting his fork to his mouth.

“Cielito.”, Crystal cooed, as she ruffled his curls, passing by the two of them as she moved to shutter the blinds in the kitchen. Destiny clearly thrived under the attention, and Gigi wondered if he had always craved touch, or if he was only a child who was excited by all of the new things around him. The heat was sticky, and Crystal’s brightly painted walls made the whole house look even more like an eternal birthday party, the fridge covered with photos and magnets.

Crystal had never learned to speak Spanish, at least as far as Gigi knew, having begged Crystal to help her pass her class for months when they had been roommates, but she supposed, she must have picked up more of it, with all the time she must have spent with her family afterwards.

“Where are you Mom and Dad?”, Gigi asked, swirling her straw in her Diet Coke. “I should say hi, right?"

Crystal shrugged. "We could Facetime? They were back in Mexico for a while after my Dad got sick, but right now they’re travelling Europe, living the old people dream. I’m sure my Mom still misses you."

Gigi took a deeper breath, her lips pursed as she watched Crystal dump dirty dishes in the sink.

"Is um- are you getting the barn demolished? I saw a couple people working on it outside."

"Oh, that’s just Jan and Jaida. They live there. I sold it a few months ago, and they’re trying to turn it into, like, a wedding hall. You’d love them- they’re the gayes-”, she paused, looking down at Destiny as he tipped his glass of orange juice into his mouth. “They’re super, super in love, and so gross."

Gigi could feel herself start to blush, even though she had started having that conversation with her son almost as soon as he had started to learn to talk.

"I usually have them over for dinner, so you can say hi."

Gigi coughed, swallowing the question that had been at the tip of her tongue since she had spoken to Crystal the day before.

"So? are you seeing anyone?”, she asked.

Crystal shook her head. “I’m not really looking.”, she said. “Still putting the cry in Crystal!”, she laughed. “And you were right, I wouldn’t want to put that on anyone else."

"I- ”, Gigi bit back her reply, not quite knowing if this was a talk she wanted to have, with her son arranging chips on his plate not two feet in front of her.

“Hey- buddy”, Crystal tapped on Destiny’s shoulder, nudging him with her hip. “Go wash your hands in the bathroom. It’s the one with the fish on the door and Star Wars on the curtain."

He looked back up at his mother, Gigi giving him a curt nod of approval as he skittered up the hallway.

"He’s a cute kid, you know? You’re doing a good job.”, she told Gigi, pushing the boy’s chair back in.

“Yeah… mostly not my job, but I’ll pass it on to our last nanny."

Gigi had stood with their plates, following Crystal to the sink where she happily plunged her arms into the hot, soapy bubbles, not caring very much for how her shirtsleeves got soaked in the water, navy fabric clinging to her wrists.

"Seriously. Gigi- look at me.”, Crystal reached around her, shutting off the faucet with a decisive clicking noise. “I don’t blame you for being twenty-one and not sticking around after I flipped out because I didn’t know how to deal with college, and real life and everything. It’s a day by day thing.”, she shrugged, reaching to open a cabinet and put the glasses in the drying rack away.

Crystal’s body was almost uncomfortably close, pressing into Gigi’s side like she remembered them being like, when they had shared their first apartment, having barely enough room for two people in between the fridge and the stove.

“Some days are better than others. But it’s-”, she paused, and smirked, her lips curling into the same wicked grin that Gigi could never shake from her memories, no matter how hard she tried. “No offense, but you’re not important enough for it to have been your fault."

"Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”, Gigi couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “Kick a girl when she’s down?"

"Or, some people just have shitty brain chemistry, and other people are assholes. Stop thinking it’s all on you all the time, you absolute flaming fuck-up.”, Crystal told her, her words softening behind her smile.

“Maybe don’t say flaming, but I did fu-"

Destiny padded back into the room, rubbing at his eyes. "Is it adult time yet?”, he asked, his tiny mouth yawning open. “Everyone’s saying all the bad words."

Crystal snickered, turning her undivided attention back to rinsing out the sink, her back turned to the both of them as if to say Gigi was on her own with that one.

"Good night, I guess.”, she muttered, shuffling across the tile towards him.

“See you tomorrow, Geegs. Just don’t forget, there’s always that.”

Gigi laid in bed with Destiny resting half on her chest, her son not wanting to leave her side, once the novelty of their adventure had worn off, and he had started to realize that there was a certain kind of permanence, to Crystal’s rainbow-colored walls, to the laughter from the kitchen that came from Jan and Jaida, who had eyed Gigi with enough suspicion to let it be known to her that she was absolutely not welcome in whatever little world they had built.

Okay, maybe the last bit was just in her head, and she could just introduce herself properly at breakfast the next morning- but she had still jumped at the chance to lock herself in Destiny’s appointed bedroom, pretending that he would need her to fall asleep, even though he had only wanted to cuddle before passing out completely the second that she dimmed the lights.

She scrolled through her phone, mindlessly as her son shifted in her arms, the message bubble beside his father’s name still lit up red with unread texts, that she skipped through to flick past her Instagram feed, landing on Crystal’s profile at the very bottom of her following list. The very first account which she had followed, years ago, and the very last that she kept up with, the creeping intimacy of being under Crystal’s roof, trying to piece together the life she had dropped out of, thicker than the heat of the air around her.

Crystal’s photos were all filtered through something that made them look brighter, more vibrant than the rainy afternoons and damp wetlands that they featured in the background, the captions all long, effusive essays about the importance of showing up to vote, or the beauty of the creek behind her house in the summertime. The most recent photo, featured her lying in a bed of sunflowers, grinning up at the sky, eyes half-shut against the sunlight.

Don’t look right into a solar eclipse!, the caption started, followed by at least a dozen laughing emoji faces, alternating with bright pink flowers. Sometimes life just punches you in the face, dummy! And you just gotta deal with it anyway. Don’t waste a second!

Gigi chuckled, locking the phone and laying it back on the bedside table, trying to move as little as possible as she turned off what was left of the light in the bedroom, and drew herself closer to her son in her arms.

His breathing was steady, his hands reaching for her hair in his sleep.

“Okay, kiddo. I got you.”, she said to nobody in particular, sinking lower in the sheets so she could tuck them tighter around him.

There’s always tomorrow, she could hear Crystal telling her, her voice clear as the dream Gigi was starting to slip into.

The next morning, she would start putting everything back together again.

#rpdr fanfiction #gigi goode #crystal methyd #jaida essence hall #jan sport #crygi #jaida x jan #lesbian au #hurt/comfort #parenting au #s12 #angst #fluff #campvanjie #tw mentions of divorce #tw mention of mental illness

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