#if this was written about me i would’ve killed myself though i think | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shiftingparadise · 8 months

Note

Hey, I’m unsure if you still write for MHA but I’d love a comfort fic/drabble about a reader who’s struggling with guilt and bad thoughts, to eventually get some support from Dabi? I’ve been struggling a lot so much lmao

I'm so sorry to hear you've been struggling. It's been a long time since I've written anything. So forgive me if it's not as good but I hope you like it. I'm here if you want to talk.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1776

“It’s my fault”, your voice shaking. “It’s my fault, right?”, your head now resting against the wall behind you. “It’s my fault that they’re-“. A sentence you fail to say out loud. A stinging sensation greeted your eyes. You were sitting in an ally, your hands resting on your knees as little clouds left your lips. It was a cold night and even though your mind failed to notice the cold, your body did. Leaving you shaking, your teeth grinding on each other. Were you angry or sad? Probably both. It was unfair. The way Deku didn’t flinch, the way Bakugo grinned, … All why you were frozen in place. Too scared to save the lives of innocent people. What kind of hero were you? A joke. That’s what you are. “I hate them”, tears now flooded your eyes. “I hate the way things are so easy for them, the way they always seem to save everyone while I’ve worked so hard for this. I’m not a pro hero. I’m a joke, a coward-“.

He knew you hadn’t noticed. His staring eyes. The way he was leaning against the wall just a little bit further. If it were someone else, he’d probably would’ve laughed, or done something to upset them even more. Probably killed them eventually if they’d dare to talk back to him but… You looked so ‘good’. So, innocent. As if you hadn’t done anything wrong in your entire life. And the way your tears were dripping down your cute nose, the way you cutely rubbed the palm of your hand on your eyelids… Not to mention your voice. So soft, so ‘good’. There wasn’t any other way he could put it. You seemed ‘good’ and here you were, talking down on yourself like that just because you couldn’t be like them. A feeling he understood all too well. The feeling of not being good enough.

“Why? Why am I like this?”, your eyes darted to the sky. Desperately searching for an answer. “If I just swooped in, if I just managed to move my feet they would’ve been saved. They would’ve been able to return to their families, their loved ones… I hate myself”, your sobs getting louder, not caring about your surrounding anymore. Because it hurt. The feeling in your chest, the way you could hardly breathe anymore. “I hate myself and everyone else does too, right?”, your eyes still looking at the sky, hoping someone would talk back. “That’s why I’m always alone. Why I don’t have any friends”. Right, this wasn’t just about the lost lives. It was about your hurt. About everything that you tried to bury in your past.

Alone. He was always alone. He never had anyone. He knew the way you felt. The desperation, the sense of hopelessness.

“You’re not alone”, a raspy voice travelled through the air and startling you.

“Creep”, the word flashed before his eyes. You were crying about being alone, thinking you were alone in that ally. Probably one of the times you even wanted to be alone, and this is what he chose to say? Not even a hello? Or a dry cough to let you know someone was there.

“W-who are you?”, you narrowed your eyes, not bothering to wipe your tears. The darkness around you made it hard for you to see. “No one”, the voice replied.

He already regretted this. That he let you know someone was there. That he was there.

“If you’re too scared to speak, then don’t bother letting me know you’re here”, you turned your head to the side.

Scared? He wasn’t scared, right?

“Then don’t cry in the middle of an ally”, a snappy remark that he immediately regretted. “Well, I’m sorry that I bothered you”, you quietly replied. Your heart felt heavy. The last thing you needed was a stranger that made you feel even worse.

“You didn’t bother me”, the voice sounded almost desperate. “I-I guess I’m… sorry?”.

Did he just apologize? Or tried to anyway.

“Who are you?”, you knew that voice. You heard it on the TV once, right? But if you were right then… “No one”, he repeated himself.

He noticed the way your breathing got heavier. The way you tensed your entire body.

“No one you should be scared off”, his hands now in his pockets, his eyes closed.

Hate. Once again, the word flashed before his eyes. He hated himself.

“I know who you are”, you tried to relax your body. For some reason you believed him. Even though a murderer was standing practically next to you. But you were one too, right? You didn’t hurt people on purpose, but you failed to save them while you were standing so close. Wasn’t that even worse?

“Then why don’t you kill me?”, his voice sounded cold.

“I don’t know”, your teeth digging into the soft skin of your lips. “I don’t know”, tears once again streaming down your cheeks. “Probably because I’m scared, right? I’m a failure”.

“H-huh?”, your breath stopped, your eyes wide open as rough digits stroked over your cheek. His eyes now staring directly into yours as he squatted before you.

This wasn’t like him. He was never like this, or not that he could remember anyways.

“You must be freezing”, he sighed as he let his head fall back. “Here”, his hands wrapped around yours. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to burn you”, he coldly looked into your eyes again. Your heart was racing as you could feel his hands getting hotter, causing a nice sensation against your skin. Like holding them in front of a fireplace. “Feels nice”, you softly whispered.

His eyes unwillingly widened at your small praise. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone said something similar to him.

“It’s fine if you’re not like them”, his gaze now fixed on your hands. They fitted perfectly in his. Your skin felt so soft against his scars… He could stay like this for hours. “It’s fine if you’re scared”, his eyes found yours again. “I don’t need life lessons from someone like you”, you suddenly pulled your hands away, leaving an empty feeling behind. What were you doing? He was a villain. He couldn’t be trusted. “Right”, a painful look in his eyes. “I’m sorry”, he lowered his eyes as he stood back up. “So, you want to fight me or are you going to let me go without a hassle?”, his voice cold again. You stayed quiet for a second as you looked up at him. He looked handsome. Painfully handsome. Even with all of his scars, even with his messy hair… but most of all, he looked lonely.

“Cold”, you turned your head to the side, “My hands”. “Huh?”, his brows pulled together. “Could you please do that thing again?”, your cheeks red as you held out your hands, avoiding his gaze at all costs.

Even if this was a trap, even if you were going to capture him… He couldn’t refuse when you looked like that.

“Tsk”, an unexpected smile on his face, “Come here”. He lifted you from the ground with your arm. “I’m not going to sit on the ground like an idiot. Let’s go to my place, it’s warm. I promise”, he already started walking. For some reason he didn’t doubt you’d follow him. And you did. Without saying anything. If this was wrong, then why did it feel so right?

It was only a five-minute walk and for some reason it made him sad. He could’ve walked through entire countries with you walking beside him.

“We’re here”, he stopped in front of a tall building. To be honest, it looked like it was going to fall apart any minute. “Know it’s not much”, he scratched the back of his head, “But it’s warm… and safe”.

He knew he was a hypocrite. How could he say something like that when he killed people for fun?

“Hm”, you softly smiled. “Y-you still want to come in?”, he now sounded nervous. He couldn’t believe you actually trusted him enough to follow him like this. “Yeah”, your arms wrapped around your body, trying to keep the cold away.

How could he forget? You probably didn’t have a quirk like his, that kept him warm. He should’ve offered you his coat, or at least try to keep you warm.

“Let’s go inside. You must be cold”, he opened the door for you. It. Was a quiet walk to his apartment. Your mind and heart fighting against each other. “So”, he awkwardly kicked some boxes of fast food to the side as you entered his apartment. “Like I said, I know it’s not much but it’s warm”.

He felt embarrassed. He only had a small TV and a bed. Not even a chair or a couch to sit on.

“It’s enough”, you smiled. “Here, sit down please”, he quickly straightened his pillows. “You can sit here. I know it’s probably not comfortable to sit like this-“. “It’s perfect”, you sat down while leaning with your back against the wooden frame of his bed. “H-here’s a blanket”, he grabbed one from a box. You thanked him once again.

“Why are you doing this?”.

Your question pierced through his chest. He didn’t know why. He wasn’t like this. He never was kind to anyone.

“I don’t know”, he awkwardly sat down beside you. “I guess I understand the way you feel. That’s why I said it’s fine if you’re not like them. You don’t have to pretend all the time”. “Pretend?”, you pulled the blanket over your legs. “They’re scared too, you know? Everyone is. They just pretend they aren’t. It’s fine to be scared, to not show up sometimes. It’s fine if you can’t fake being happy, or brave, or …”, he hesitated for a second. “All I’m saying is, it’s fine if you’re you”. “But I-“, your eyes already glossy. “Don’t cry”, he turned to look at you. “You can’t cry. You can’t show them you’re weak-“.

What was he doing? He cried all the time, or he used to anyway. And yes, he felt weak because he did so, but when he saw you cry earlier… All he saw was a girl who was tired of being strong.

“You don’t need this, right? A lecture”, he shook his head, unsure of what was happening to him. “Cry your heart out”, he wrapped your arms around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Cry. Let it out. You’re not alone. I’m here with you. It’s brave to cry”, he tightened his grip as he heard your sobs. “You’ll never be alone again”.

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won4ver · 3 months

Text

prompt + dialogue list

you can request up to 3 at a time + feel free to use :)

“stop pouting or i’ll kiss it off of you”

their friends see them with their s/o’s initial on their neck/wrist

their friends find out you’re not as scary as you look

you rub your cheek against their chest

they’re laying down and you randomly pop up above them and kiss them upside down

they find out a random fact about you, one that they should’ve already known (ex. they find out you’re a twin)

you ask them to do your hair because you’re too tired

you ask them to help you with your makeup (ex. ask them to hold your mirror. ask them to put on your fake eyelashes)

they pick out your clothes for you

you were playing the skipping game “strawberry shortcake” and you land on their initial. (strawberry shortcake, appleberry pie, who’s gonna be your lucky guy? *sing the alphabet*. whichever initial you land on after messing up is your ‘soulmate’)

you go skiing and accidentally almost bump into each other

*person one* has a crush on *person two* and they glare at the random person flirting with *person two*

without being asked they go and refill your drink along with theirs

“you think they can treat you better?” “no one knows your body like me”

*person one* walks around with their hand in *person two*’s back pocket, glaring at everyone who looks at them

“i’m going to kill him” “you’re not allowed to talk to him anymore”

“try harder next time, baby”

“I hated them because I loved them more than myself”

you both sat side by side in the garden making flower crowns, unknowingly making one for each other

*person one* spends days crocheting/knitting a sweater for *person two*

they both attend different schools but have always noticed each other at their shared events. athlete!*person one* finally goes up to athlete!*person two* and offered them a deal. If they win then they get to get *person two*’s number.

you confess to them in a photo booth, the photos capture the moment + their reaction

*person one* has small beauty marks across their body and *person two* adores them and always kisses them. *person one* noticed that *person two* would always pull out a notebook, tallying down how many freckled they’ve already kissed.

“I wish we had more time together, their lifetime isn’t enough”

you both attend a dance without a date and a slow song comes on. you saw that they didn’t have anyone to dance with and so you went up to them, offering your hand with a shy smile on your face. “Can I have this dance?”

“don’t you want… revenge?”

“they watched as you burned, no one helped you” “but... they were scared” “they weren’t scared, they just didn’t care enough about you to actually save you”

you were both attending a painting class but instead of painting the model you both secretly painted each other.

“i’ll never forgive you, any of you”

even though *person one* hated the cold, they still went out at the same time every night to walk their dog, knowing you’d be skating at the public parks arena.

“i’m not real, none of this was” “look in the mirror, i’m just another version of yourself that you created”

your brothers friends didn’t know that you’re his sister, not until they invited you inside after your brother forgot to ask you to pick him up later.

*person one* asks *person two* to paint their nails, *persom two* gets super excited and pulls out the nail supplies they secretly bought just in case you ever asked them to paint your nails.

“but that’s not what happened, is it?”

“you’ve always said you’d protect me, I didn’t know the person I would’ve needed to be protected from would be you”

“i…i cant reach her/them/him/etc”

they’re both famous and went to a sports game together, the kiss cam focuses on them.

secret relationship! *person one* grabs *person two”’s waist as they walked around them.

*person one* has a usb drive filled with unreleased love songs and *person two* accidentally listened to it, realizing that all the songs was written about them.

“this drink’s called a love bomb” “love bomb? why” “because i put my love into it” *silence* “just kidding, it’s because of the heart shaped ice cubes”

“you’ll be alright” “but you won’t be” “but you’ll be okay, once i know you’re safe i’ll be alright”

“i need to make sure you won’t need me”

“you were there to save everyone, but who was there to save you?” “don’t worry about me, you’re what matters the most”

“this wasn’t all by chance, it was because of me. I sacrificed everything to give you the life you deserved”

“you don’t have to worry about getting shot through your window since your bed is above it!” “well i wasn’t worried about that to begin with..”

“you can’t just pretended none of this happened! that we didn’t happen”

“you never really loved me, did you?” “i loved you with every part of me”

“relax, i’ll wash your hair for you”

“don’t fall asleep yet, i haven’t finished removing your makeup”

*person one* gently grabbed *person two*’s chin and tilted their head up, carefully giving them water

*person one* comes home to *person two* sleeping with their clothes / a plushy with their shirt around it

#won4ver ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི #really emptied out my notes app for this #won4ver ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི prompts #writing prompt #dialogue prompt #story prompt #prompt list #fic prompt #enhypen prompts #kpop prompts #fanfic prompt #writing prompts #story prompts #dialogue prompts #fanfiction prompts #kpop

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valerieismss · 5 months

Text

Okay I did another manga panel recolor to illustrate my point about Danny’s freakassness and how it could’ve been written more effectively.

My main issue with Danny’s character has little to do with his design and nothing to do with his personality and motivations. It’s just his behavior that drives me up a wall. You really don’t have to change anything about Danny himself to communicate his main internal conflicts: his desperate need for unconditional love.

It’s frustrating because I know that others (including myself, when my friend introduced me to this) will misinterpret Danny to be a pedo when he’s explicitly not one, it’s just that his behavior communicates something that’s different to his actual character. You see this in the manga and the anime, especially—a lot of his expressions are weirdly horny even though he never actually communicates or suggests he really feels that way about Rachel. Notably, his need for her is familial. He sees himself in her, and his mother’s eyes in her. In another post, @wlwfav said in a reply to a post by @mothwithapencil that he wasn’t projecting his feelings about his mother on Rachel so much as he was projecting his desires for unconditional love onto Rachel to mother her, like a reverse projection (trying not to plagiarize here!). I fully agree. This is especially apparent when you see a flashback of Danny counseling Rachel in the game. He directly relates his shit onto her. The amount of countertransference (which is when therapists project their own feelings onto their clients) this man has is immeasurable. It’s part of why I’m so attached to him. (For reference, my favorite character of all time is also a therapist with an assload of countertransference.)

Anyways, I think you can make Danny just as unsettling if not more if you get him to stop acting as horny as he does. It causes some really uncomfortable mischaracterizations. There’s really no need for it. That’s why I edited the second panel a little bit. You can change a character’s behavior and keep their motives and desires the same. I wouldn’t change an extreme amount about his behaviors. I think his lack of physical boundaries actually works really well for his character. It makes sense given his isolated and rejected upbringing. I draw the line when he pins Rachel down in the anime. What was the reason. He just wants her eyes. Explicitly. Just her eyes.

Also, the tongue? Can anyone explain why it’s necessary??? It’s GROSS AND WEIRD! It also gives his character a weirdly sexual undertone that isn’t necessary to making him a terrifying guy. Like you can still get freaky with it without that damn thing. The excessive use of peepers…I mentioned this in my last post. It’s a good way to disarm clients/players from his obsession with eyes. If he treats his fascination as a joke (“I just really like your peepers haha!”) it makes him less suspicious. Contextually, it also makes sense. Danny canonically becomes a psychiatrist because he knows he’ll encounter people with lifeless eyes. Unsurprisingly, in the art of the game, they tend to be younger patients. To me, when we first meet him, he came off as a pediatrician. I mean, he calls himself Dr. Danny instead of Dr. Dickens, like a pediatrician would. His tongue shit and his peeper shit could sound like some silly thing he’d say to get clients to feel more at ease around him before he legit kills them and takes their eyes.

All of that is really unsettling to me. You could characterize his freakassness in ways that aren’t sexual but just as chilling. If Rachel’s needs for a perfect family and things that are “hers” can be conveyed in a horrific way without sexualizing her, the same could be done for Dr. Fuckface. He’s so similar to her, after all. He wants a family—Rachel, specifically—that mirrors what he wishes he would’ve had in his childhood, because he believes that comes with unconditional love. Even when Zack stabs him in the anime, his line is, “I’ve been so terribly lonely!” Because that’s his actual issue. He thinks Rachel, having had a similar childhood, is the only one who could understand, and he believes he’s fundamentally unloveable because of his trauma. He literally thinks his eyes killed his mom. He’s so fascinating!! I’m so obsessed with him. I can’t wait to start episode 0 of the manga.

So, yeah. In the second recolor I tried to convey his creepiness by giving him a more wistful expression that still strikes you as fucking weird. Instead of seeming excited sexually, he seems excited at the idea of a forced family. It’s more accurate to who he actually is. He literally does not want her like that in canon. I wish his behaviors reflected that more.

#valerieisms #daniel dickens #danny dickens #i love you dr. dick in me…

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defectivefanboy · 1 year

Text

You’re better when you’re quiet

trying to take a moment to yourself in teyvat you decided to take a walk around the land, but it didn’t help much when it slowly became taking out treasure hoarders, hilichurl camps. Just to make it better, you took out one wrong fatui camp and the silhouette of a man casted a shadow behind you. Seems you both could use a stress reliever…

Overall notes: While this story doesn't use specified pronouns for the reader, it is AMAB and is written for the gays and they's. My boys and... bOiis? idk but it isn't written with female in mind, same with all my other stories. if you don't like that, find another blog. don't know what to tell ya.

C/W: NSFW. sub scara. top!male!reader. cursing. hate fuck. choking. degradation. praise if you squint. hair pulling scratching impact play yah da yah da. bit of blood. disappointment in myself. the fact ill have to explain some things to my friends bc i let them read these :’)

Notes: Minors DNI. this is old asf this was written on oct 13th 2021. So this is when scara was still thought to just a rumor of a playable character. he literally only came up in game once and then the trailer dropped. I crack up reading this

you’re better when you’re quiet.

It was supposed to be a peaceful walk. Supposed to help you, y’know, clear your mind. Yet, it only made you feel worst. After having to deal with a night full of drunkards you were tired of people for the day. So once you completed your daily commissions for the guild, you set yourself off for a simple walk.

And simple was the last thing it was.

First it was the treasure hoarders roaming around the place. Next it was the uncleared camps that the normal knights should've taken care of, and it’s still too early for Diluc to take his nightly patrol. That would’ve been fine if it wasn’t for the Fatui.

Of course when you were finally able to take a breathe, a mob of them were gathered within a small clearing surrounded by trees. At this point, you just sighed, because either way,

you were going to be the one dealing with them.

After getting shoulder checked into a tree, to almost be hammered into the ground like a nail. You were over it. Over the pain. The soreness. Over the fighting. Oust over everything. Like the snap of a rubber band your sword slashed the last of them as you stared off blankly.

Before you were able to let your guard down for a moment, a figure had to appeared behind you. Only to be luckier, the shadow had casted a large outline of a rather familiar hat. Turning around and clicking your tongue on your teeth, you gave a glare to the male.

“Wow. Not even a word in and you already look like you want to kill me. Color me impressed, Honorary Knight.” With a low laugh at the end, the male lifted his head as he held a smirk on his face.

Letting out a low groan you brought your empty hand up to your face. “I don’t believe now is a good time to be a brat.”

his smirked dropped at the name. A what? Who do you think you are. A brat? Absolutely not. He was about to make way to you when you took the first step.

“Ah, ah, ah. Not a step, I'm in control today, doll” stepping close enough to hold his face in your hands. You grab his cheeks with your hand with a sinister smile on your face. One that could be mistaken for a innocent one if you didn’t know any better.

If anyone were to look, if they even could, Scaramouche was wide eye at your actions. It quickly changed into a look of annoyance as he was about to say something, most likely yell. Though, before he could get a word out or even a letter, you shut him up as you placed your lips on his in a rough kiss.

Frozen once again his eyes went wide. The thought to push you off did cross him mind as he brought a hand up letting off light sparks of electricity, but the kiss you had him in was a terrible poison. So intoxicating and addicting, yet so deadly and dangerous. Kissing back, his body relaxed moving his raised hand to your hair as it became tangled in it.

As the kiss grew more heated you both pulled each other closer as you fight for dominance over the other. That was quickly shut down as you grabbed his ass and lifted him up, pushing him back into a tree. Keeping him caged between you and the perfectly place tree.

“What would happen if someone saw you like this, doll? Think they would still see you has the high and mighty Harbringer? or just a horny puppet in my hands.” Hiking a knee between his legs, lightly grasping at his neck. He bit back a moan, closing his eyes and clenching his legs.

Pushing your leg up further, you move a hand down to his waist before trailing his jaw and neck with kisses. Leaving dark marks as you trail further down he lets out small whines and hushed moans as he lightly grinds down on your leg. His hands move from around your neck down to the bottom of your shirt, trailing his hands up your chest, before you removed it completely.

Placing your own hands under his top you lifted it passed his head, revealing his chest as you trailed your kisses down, leaving marks on his chest in your wake. Removing your leg from between his, he let out a low whine, stopping once you filled in the spot with yourself, letting him wrap his legs around your waist. “Awe.. was someone enjoying that?” you whispered moving close to his ear.

“And you seem to have a death wish you perverted freak.” He spoke through his clenched teeth with a hiss as you pulled him down against your bulge. “Hmmm..? What was that love? I couldn't hear you. Could you speak up for me?” placing your forehead on his you pushed yourself further into him as you begun grinding at a slow pace.

Light gasp came out of his mouth before he bit his tongue and his hold around your neck became tighter. Only letting out a low laugh you begun fiddle with his shorts, he brought his hands to your hair and pulled your neck to close him as he begun to leave marks of his own. Pulling down his shorts you brought your hand to the tent that had formed, precum leaving a stain in the fabric.

“If i didn’t know any better i would say you’re quite happy about this. Am I right, Scara? before you could say anything more, he bit down on your neck harshly breaking the skin drawing a bit of blood out that he lapped up with his tongue. “you speak one more time i’ll-... fuck” he cut himself off with a moan as your hand pulled back the fabric and began to jerk him off.

“Awe.. What happened, darling? Cat got your tongue?” you smirked as his hands pulled at the back of your hair as he tried holding himself up, but the motion of your hand was telling him a plan. He was about to open his mouth and speak, but you shoved two fingers into his mouth to keep him silent.

“You’re much better when you’re quiet, doll” moving your head back to his neck, leaving more marks on the other side. He sucked on your fingers, twirling his tongue around them. His hands had moved to your waist pulling at your pants, even lifting his waist up to pull them down as he fiddled with the fabric to pull your cock out.

Sitting back on your waist he placed your dick next to his as he began to jerk you both off in a sloppily manner, short gasp coming out of his mouth––

––and thats where I had left off and I'm too embarrassed and shy to write anymore :')

hope you enjoyed

#foolish writing #request #request open #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact scara #scaramouche #genshin scara #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x male reader #scaramouche x gn!reader

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letters-from-dekarios · 1 month

Note

[From Dusk, a changeling assassin rogue. He used to work for a group of assassins in Waterdeep, and he’s generally extremely paranoid but he’s working on it]

[An envelope appears on your windowsill one day. There isn’t any writing on it. The letter within is written in a code with neat, precise handwriting. It doesn’t take you much time to decode]

Gale,

Hey, don’t be put off by the code, it’s just a force of habit. I would’ve double-encrypted it but Astarion laughed at me for even doing this much. He says being so paranoid about my personal mail is unnecessary and he’s really annoying when he thinks he’s right. That also kind of put invisible ink off the table, but whatever.

The Underdark is kinda nice, when things aren’t trying to kill us. Feeding the spawn is an issue, but we’re managing them alright. I use my true form more often than not, and it isn’t as terrible as it used to be. It helps that a bunch of vampire spawn hardly have a place to judge me for being a monster.

How’s Waterdeep been? I’m going to visit at some point but I’d rather wait for things to cool down in case I run into my old “friends”. Your tower has security, right? If it doesn’t you should put in security measures. And not just magical ones because if you have a sussur flower it’s extremely easy to kill a wizard, trust me. If I show up in Waterdeep and you don’t have physical locks you won’t have to worry about other assassins because I’ll kill you myself.

Just… remember to stay safe, alright? I don’t like that I’m not there to watch your back.

-Dusk

(P.S. Astarion says hi. He misses you but he’s in denial about it) Love your blog. Very good stuff <3

Lovely Dusk,

Quite frankly, the decoding is like a fun little game before reading. I know this eases your mind and your worries, encode your letters as much as you would like.

It brings me the greatest joy to know you’re enjoying the Underdark! I’m sure the Myconid colony is much more receptive to you now that there’s no longer a threat of mindflayers. Send them my warmest regards. The information bestowed upon me from our time there has proved ever helpful in my studies!

Waterdeep is as busy as ever! Since the defeat of the brain, trading has gone up quite significantly. Though prices have begun to slope back down, things have been quite steep for a bit. No worry, though, the city is known for its splendor. You can be assured that yes, my tower does in fact have physical security measures. One too many strays looking for Tara in the past has led me to install more mundane locking features. You will be safe and all the more welcome if you decide to make a journey here. Tara would be delighted to see you, I’m sure.

I can also assure you I’m watching my back sufficiently. Tara would raise the nine hells if anything happened, you’ve no need to worry. Send word when you’re ready to make the journey back here to Waterdeep, I’ll have plenty of supplies for you when you arrive. Take care of yourself, too.

From the desk of,

𝑮𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒌𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔

P.S. Tell that fiend I say hello, as well. He is due for a trip back to the city soon, too. Perhaps he can stop by for tea.

text reads: gale dekarios

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winchester-girl67 · 2 years

Text

Don’t Say A Word (Part 13)

Summary: Y/N quickly realizes the very real severity of her choices when she comes face-to-face with Auburn’s biggest fan, Dick Roman.

Masterlist

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x reader

Square: Kissed to keep quiet @spnfluffbingo

Word Count: 1,794

Warnings: language, angst, mistaken identity, kidnapping, mature themes, scary situation, Dick being a super creep, talks of him wanting to keep her against her will indefinitely, brief mention of breeding (having a family together), manhandling, mention of a knife, minor panic attack, arguing, pining, jealousy, slow burn, kissing, some fluff at the end

A/N: Uh-oh. Written for @spnfluffbingo.

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You worried, wondering why Sam hadn't stopped them from taking you. Though, you supposed if he had, his cover would've been blown and there'd be a whole other set of problems on your hands. You just hoped that he made it out of there and called for backup. Meanwhile, you took comfort in knowing that Dean still had a tracker on you.

It was dark when Dick finally put the car in park and ripped off your blindfold. He escorted you out of the car and towards a modern house, in the middle of nowhere, that could only be described as a physical endowment of wealth in architectural form; probably compensating for something, you were sure. There wasn't much for gardens but the grass was flawless, almost like the lawn had been carpeted.

He walked you up the path to the twin front doors, unlocking them and dragging you inside. The house almost looked bigger on the inside, if that was possible. Dick took you by the arm and led you up the floating staircase to the second floor.

"What exactly are you planning on doing with me?" You asked, struggling against his hold on you.

"Showing you how a woman of your beauty and talent should be treated... like a princess." He whispered the last part in your ear and you shuddered at his stale breath meeting the skin of your neck.

You just couldn't escape that term. You didn't even find it endearing, Dean certainly never used it as such. And you didn't feel any different about it now when Dick said it. Except for the fact that it creeped you out more.

"And what if I want to leave?" You questioned, Dick leading you down a long tile hallway.

"I'd advise against it."

"I have a boyfriend," you lied, seeming how he wasn't actually your boyfriend.

"Yes. I know. However, a better term for him would be leech." He wasn't entirely wrong.

"I love him."

"You'll learn to love me too." He stated without a doubt in his voice.

"Never gonna fucking happen." You seethed through your teeth.

"Then you'll be my trophy and I'll keep you on display. Just know that the choice is yours and that I can give you anything you want. If you choose correctly. Choose me." He explained, pulling you into one of the many rooms.

You were surprised to see that it was a bedroom, with what appeared to be a large ensuite and a walk-in closet, stocked full from what you could see. Probably all clothes in Auburn's size too, from what you were gathering from the situation you found yourself in.

"I take it, this isn't about the ransom for you."

"Did you ever think it was?" He laughed, snapping the zip ties around your wrists with a pocket knife. "I have more than enough money, I want someone to share my life with. That's where you come in. And maybe in the future we can talk about having a family of our own."

"Touch me and I'll kill you." You threatened, rubbing your sore wrists and stepping away from him.

"I like that fire," he chuckled and smiled. "This will be your bedroom, for now. I may be holding you against your will, but I won't force myself on you, if that's what you're thinking. You will come around on your own... eventually."

"And if I don't?"

"You will," he nodded.

"Wanna bet? Creep." You squinted up at him and crossed your arms over your chest as an attempt to cover yourself from his view.

"I am not a creep!" He hissed, grabbing your face and smushing your cheeks between his fingers. You fisted his shirt and scratched at his chest. "Now wipe that shit off your face and change into the outfit I left on your bed. Then come downstairs. We're having chicken for dinner."

With that, Dick left you alone in the bedroom, but not without noting that he'd come looking for you if you weren't downstairs in twenty minutes. Your breathing picked up as things started to sink in and you felt dizzy. You backed into the corner of the room between the bed and wall, ignoring the silky red dress laid out on the end of the bed. You sat on the ground and curled up into a ball, hugging your knees to your chest. Ignoring the world around you, not noticing the tears streaming from your eyes; until a hand reached out and touched your cheek.

"Sh-h-h..." Dean hushed, placing his palm over your mouth when you started and whipped your head up. "You're alright, Y/N."

"No. No, I'm not alright." You whisper shouted back, shoving away his hand. You noted the open window behind him which he probably climbed up to and crawled through. "He wants to keep me here like a fucking trophy on a shelf. Either that or breed me. Would you be alright if someone gave you that ultimatum?"

"I won't let that happen." Dean promised, brushing your hair back from your face and wiping the smudged mascara from under your left eye with his thumb. "This wasn't such a bright idea after all. Huh, sweetheart?"

"I'm sorry," you apologized sarcastically and stood up, Dean following your queue and towering over you. But you glared up at him with fire in your eyes as your fear shifted to anger. "I was trying to take charge of my life in a situation where I had zero control, until Sam came along. I was trying to do something to help, not just myself, but him and whoever else falls onto this guy's radar in the future."

"Yeah, well, while you've been trying to save the world, I've been trying to save you. Shit, I still am even after I said I was done. What does that tell you?"

"I don't know, you're a sucker for pain and rejection?" You shrugged, throwing up your hands to stress your annoyance.

"There's the Y/N I know. I'll give you one thing, you bounce back fast. Feisty and stubborn as hell. Don't ever change." Dean smirked and you couldn't tell if he was being genuine, it seemed out of character if he was.

"That's because I remembered the main reason I agreed to this was to get away from you. That, and Sam doesn't treat me like a baby, he makes me feel strong." You argued, brushing your hair back over your shoulders and puffing out an irritated breath. "I may be stuck in a room of an obsessive multi-millionaire's mansion, but at least it beats sitting in a tiny cabin with four walls and you, waiting for someone else to do the heavy lifting."

"I bet you feel really strong right about now. So, what's the plan, princess?" Dean asked dryly, furrowing his brow. A look you matched. "That's why you kissed him, isn't it? To get some sort of power trip."

"Screw you."

"You're not my type," he quipped and grinned.

"You are so fucking frustrating, do you know that?"

"Right back at ya, sweetheart."

"Why do you always do this?" You growled, trying to keep your voice down and feeling like you wanted to start ripping your hair out. "I do something you don't like and you throw up your shields and deflect it back at me."

"I only treat you like a child, because you act like one." Dean explained with a pointed tone.

"See, right there. Deflecting again." You accused, pointing your finger at him. "Can't you be open with me for once. Tell me why that kiss really bothered you. Or, why you're here when you don't want to be, you could've just told Sam where I was."

"I guess it's a good thing lover boy's right outside then, getting into position with a shit ton of backup. He tasked me with keeping you out of harm's way. So you guys can continue your little make-out session when he gives us the all clear. Until then, you're stuck with me." Dean ordered, crossing his arms over his chest like you were about to fight him on it.

"Oh my god. When are you going to get over it? I kissed him, big fucking deal. I thought for a minute I might like Sam but I felt nothing, no spark, no connection, no fucking point in continuing this conversation." You said, having had enough of his jealousy when he didn't even fucking like you to begin with. "There is no, me and Sam."

"Good for you," he glared.

"Such an asshole," you breathed angrily to yourself, clenching your fists at your sides.

The both of you nearly at the ends of your ropes now. Dean was staring at you like he was either going to kill you or kiss you and you scrunched up your face, unsure of how to read him for the first time.

You huffed and looked deep into his eyes, "Tell me something true for once. You owe me that much..." You got frustrated after a moment of his silent staring, "You're just so fucking closed off-"

Dean kissed you. He was fucking kissing you. And you wanted him to.

It was different than with Sam. You couldn't think straight for one, and you were actively pulling Dean closer by the collar of his shirt. His lips electrified yours and he cradled your cheek with his palm, your heart fluttering every time he brushed your cheek with his thumb. It all happened so fast, a shiver coursing through your veins when you broke the kiss to catch your breath.

"This isn't really the place or time for this, De-"

Cocky bastard kissed you again, chastely pecking your lips before you pushed him away.

"Shouldn't we-” He cut you off. His nose smushed into your cheek when he attacked your lips once more. You pushed him away again, only a fraction of an inch, "-run?" You panted.

"Sam said, to keep you here-" He paused to capture your mouth with his, pulling away and wetting his lips just as you were starting to melt into him. You were pretty sure his hand on your waist was the only reason you were still standing at the moment. "-keep you safe."

Dean pressed his forehead to yours, staring deep into your Y/E/C eyes. He wasn't judging you this time, you could tell, he was searching your eyes for answers just like you were with his. You didn't know what the hell just happened or why you wanted it to happen again and again, until you were laying on his chest naked and satiated. It was primal almost how he made you forget about everything else and you had to admit, it felt amazing.

_________________________

A/N: Read part 14 here

_________________________  

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33 @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891

Forever SPN: @hobby27

Don't Say A Word: @lacilou @mlovesstories @spn730015 @hunni-bunny @ria132love @fmstafford @spideysimpossiblegirl @houseforwhores @siospins2 @globetrotter28 @nt-multi-fandom @maggiegirl17 @iprobablyshipit91 @tigergirllolipop @stoneyggirl2 @mimaria420 @muhahaha303

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universitypenguin · 30 days

Note

when you are writing a fic do you have most of it planned out beforehand or do you kind of make it up as you go along?

In the past, I've mainly identified as a plotter.

My typical approach to a story was to use Google sheets and write out mini summaries of each chapter. I used Blake Snyder’s story beats, the 27 chapter method, Dan Wells’ seven point story structure, the Highway and Service Road method from Jane Cleland’s book, “Mastering Plot Twists” and everything in between.

However, after composing the blueprint for a story I’d often be bored and struggle to write the actual novel. Knowing what happened next killed the vibe. Another issue that I saw in my writing was that my character development and their growth cycles sometimes felt stilted and forced. Whether or not I could capture the essence of a character was a roulette of hit or miss.

Because of that, I approached TPATL in a different manner. I felt like I finally knew structure well enough that I could pull off a character driven story - I’d attempted it before, around 2018, and it ended disastrously. TPATL exists primarily because Lloyd was the perfect character with enough conflict and personality drama to keep pushing the story forward. The tension between him making a conscious choice to be good, when his natural instinct is to be bad, and the effect that Princess has on him in suppressing a lot of those urges, makes a character driven story about him much easier to develop.

I do still use plotting and structure to set overarching plot goals, but the finer details of the story are left open for spontaneous creation. For example, I knew I wanted to write the scene where the stalker enters Lloyd’s backyard and attacks Princess by the swimming pool from the start. The identity of the stalker though, was up for debate until this morning when I officially decided who it was. I really enjoyed writing this way. Using structure when I needed it to figure out where I was going and letting the rest unfurl organically was fun and frustrating. There have been several points where I’d painted myself into a corner and didn’t know how to get out. But something always came together in the end - albeit to varying degrees of success and gracefulness. (Ahem… subplot with Lloyd and Sheriff Holbrook, I’m looking at you. That ended up taking so long that I just decided to cut it short. I deleted a bunch of content that would’ve rounded it out, and yes, I do mean deleted as in permanently deleting those chapters from my hard drive/cloud.)

Writing TPATL as a character driven story has enriched my ability to think on my feet, solve plot holes as they crop up, and write characters with richer internal conflicts. Even Princess has become more complex to the point where she’s less of a reader insert and more of a real character. Her behavior is fairly consistent and there’s an identifiable personality with its own unique thought patterns.

I even dove into Lloyd’s childhood with the Idaho subplot. Unfortunately, this had the side effect of turning the story into a massive plot sprawl. I needed to wrap things up and tie off loose ends to get back to the main storyline. In hindsight, had I planned this out architect style, the narrative would have flowed smoother, culminating in a more logical conclusion.

As I approach the climax of TPATL, I’ve found myself grappling with a number of challenges because of my lack of planning. At this point, the whole thing is a maze. It’s irritating, especially for someone averse to revisiting their past work, but it’s forced me to think creatively and find innovative solutions when I’ve written myself into a corner.

So, to answer your question: usually I’m a plotter. My natural inclination is towards plotting, but TPATL has been an exercise in flying by the seat of my pants. I’d say that this current story has been 85% improvised and 15% planned.

#penguin replies #penguin comments #writing process #alice comments #alice rambles #writing stuff #creative writing #how i write #alice talks #TPATL writing process

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tellerluna-stories · 2 years

Text

episode 05: rumours that wind like rivers

CONTENTS: 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. m.list!

TW/CW: implied violence, minor injuries and wounds

A/N: 'i'll write a short thoma fic,' I told myself when I started this. 'it'll prolly just be around 1-2k words max.' spoiler alert: it was not, in fact, 1-2k words max. this chapter is 6k words alone. why am I like this

this chapter is dedicated to the loveliest sun @x-zho !!!!! hope this helps you get 1000% better ten <;33

Rumours had begun to wind their way through the campus.

You were no stranger to the epic highs and lows of school drama, but for some reason the rumours seemed to be more than mere gossip. The sound of whispering followed you wherever you went, a low but incessant buzzing in your ears that screamed of malicious intent; heads would turn when you walked in the hallway, unfamiliar stares that were less than friendly.

‘Is that the one who…’

‘I think so, from what I heard.’

‘How cruel. He deserves better than that…’

Naturally, you stared back. Life was too short to deal with the pettiness of other people.

You weren’t sure why these strangers had decided to single you out this time, but you had an inkling of an idea; given the circumstances, there was a high probability that it was about you and Thoma. Most likely it had to do with some admirer of his, seething with jealousy after being rejected by Thoma— wait, just where exactly was your mind going with this? Why was your first instinct to think of something that was straight out of a poorly-written telenovela?

Either way, you tried your best to ignore the rumours. It wasn’t hard to do, especially with Thoma hanging around you all the time. If it bothered you, you tried your best not to show him— sometimes it was just easier to let things slide.

But today Thoma had been called away to assist with some club, or committee meeting, or something like that; you weren’t sure of the details, but the student who had practically hauled Thoma by the elbow looked fed up with the shenanigans of his fellow club members. From the looks of it, it seemed like Thoma would have to baby-sit the other students after school... again.

Well, that’s no problem, you reassured yourself. You’d simply wait for him to finish.

You sighed and closed your notebook with a snap, your pencils rattling on the desk from the sheer force.

Mechanically, you performed your after-school routine, the mindless tasks of gathering your pencils to place in your pencil-case, then putting said pencil-case in your backpack. Stacking your notebooks and textbooks according to height and size and storing them in your bag, sweeping up the leftover eraser rubbings with a piece of scrap paper and then disposing of the whole thing into the waste-bin. Lastly, you wiped your desk clean with a wet wipe, a habit that you seemed to have picked up from Thoma; apparently, his obsession with cleanliness was contagious.

Something was amiss, though.

You looked up to see an unfamiliar face— a girl, presumably from another class. Her hair was swept back in a neat ponytail, and there was an ominous set to her mouth that made your instincts scream run.

“Um… how may I help you?”

“I heard you’re the one who gives relationship advice. Am I right?” She said bluntly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Who was this girl? Your mind went into overdrive trying to recall if you had seen her, but that wasn’t possible; you had stopped assisting people a long time ago, and it wouldn’t make sense for her to complain only now.

Hesitantly, you answered, “Not anymore.”

The girl frowned, looking even more displeased than before. “Oh, so not anymore, huh?” A bitter hue of mockery coloured her tone. “Is it because you’re trying to take Thoma for yourself?”

“…What.”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” She hissed— if looks could kill, your funeral rites would’ve been long finished by now. “I’ve heard all about you and what you’ve done. My friend asked you to help her confess to Thoma a while back, but you refused.”

“That’s because I don’t do it anymore. And I didn’t really help with confessions in the first place…”

Unfortunately you could no longer remember which wannabe ‘Thoma’s Sweetheart’ she might’ve been talking about, due to the fact that there were too many people who fit the criteria; you really should have put more effort in memorising their names and faces.

“No more excuses!” The girl’s nostrils flared, giving her the almost comedic appearance of an angry bull. “When she saw how you’ve been hanging around Thoma day and night, she cried for days. Her eyes have been swollen for almost a week now!”

You tried very hard to look like you were at least concerned— ah, who were you kidding. How was any of this your problem?

The bull-headed girl seemed to be a well-meaning friend, but the fact that she didn’t listen to any of your reasoning made her an immense pain in the neck. Mentally, you made a note to punch Thoma in the arm later for the crime of being too handsome and dragging you into the plot of a (horribly cliche) telenovela.

“Look, Thoma is my seatmate. We are in the same class.” You tried to reason, forcefully willing your eye not to twitch. “Of course we’d be together most of the time.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you were dishonest. You turned her away so that you wouldn’t have to worry about anyone else stealing Thoma, didn’t you?”

“Thoma is not anyone’s property.” The words spewed out from between your gritted teeth, the last shreds of your patience wearing thin. “He’s capable of making his own choices and deciding who he wants to hang out with.”

The bull-headed girl fell silent— for a moment, you felt relief. It was stupid enough to argue about a boy like two spoiled brats fighting over a doll, but to be fighting over someone who you didn’t even feel like you deserved to be close to?

Downright depressing.

All the whispers, the discontented glares that followed you wherever you went— was that what all those frosty stares had been about? A sinking sensation lodged itself in your stomach as you wondered just how many more people were like this girl, wishing for your downfall so that they could claim the place by Thoma’s side.

While you were contemplating your situation, your opponent slowly raised her head, a look of malicious intent in her eyes that signified she was about to say something incredibly stupid. “Y’know, you’re pretty naive.”

Internally you sighed, steeling yourself for the tirade of insults that were sure to follow. Well, it wasn’t like you wouldn’t hear anything new under the sun— your profession had brought about a few nasty customers, after all.

“I don’t believe Thoma’s stupid enough to actually want to hang around someone like you. He always looked empty-headed to me, but this would just be downright pathetic.” Bull-headed girl sneered vindictively, a triumphant look in her eyes as she (wrongly) assumed her victory. “It’s obvious that he’s only hanging out with you to be nice— some guy he must be. But you’re even worse, with the way you’re clinging onto him like a leech.”

Your mind went completely blank.

Thoma, stupid. Empty-headed. Pathetic.

Sweet, gentle Thoma, who always went above and beyond for everyone, even if they weren’t someone from his class. The student who worked hard so he could meet the expectations of those who admired him and to offer a helping hand to those who struggled with their schoolwork. The kind-hearted boy who listened to his parents’ advice and dreamed of becoming someone who could protect the ones dearest to him.

The boy who thawed your heart and made a safe nest for it to call home, even if you couldn’t summon the courage to tell him.

Something behind your eyes flashed white-hot, almost blinding you with how it seared in the back of your head. You could have stomached anything else if she had just been wise enough to leave Thoma out of it, but enough was enough.

If someone else had been in your shoes, maybe they would have cried. Perhaps they would have stared at this wretched girl with shock and hurt in their eyes, and then the hero of the story would swoop in and defend both their honour and his own. It was certainly a beautiful scenario to imagine, the sort of cliche moment that you could only dream of.

But instead it was you standing here today, and Thoma was nowhere to be found. Perhaps there was a more gracious, more main-character worthy way of solving this situation— but today, you were just a little too tired of being complacent and letting things happen.

Softly, you said, “Take that back.”

“Hah?” The girl scoffed derisively, practically spitting her disdain of you all over your face. Ew, saliva.

“I said,” Your voice was deathly quiet as you stood up from your desk, knuckles cracking ominously as your hands balled themselves into fists. “Take back what you said about him.”

It was already almost dark when you were finally released from detention, the sky painted the rich blue that always followed after the most magnificent of sunsets. Normally you would have stopped to admire it, but the sizeable wad of tissue stuffed up one of your nostrils somewhat ruined the romantic atmosphere.

The nurse had done her best to treat and bandage the scratches on your face and arms, but the nosebleed hadn’t stopped till halfway through your detention period. You were probably lucky that your opponent wasn’t actually trained in fighting, or else you could have ended up with even worse than a nosebleed.

Well, you technically weren’t supposed to be happy about it, but she had paid dearly for scoring that hit; two black eyes that made her look like a panda, and a hefty chunk of hair that you'd yanked out by accident. (You'd only grabbed her ponytail when she started using her fingernails to scratch you, but the hair actually coming out had been a surprise to both of you.)

The utter nerve of some people, really. This was why you had always kept to yourself.

It would've been quite flattering that she thought you had the time and energy to manipulate the situation this way, but really, just who did she think you were? And the fact that she talked about stealing Thoma like he was some sort of trophy to be won made your blood boil.

The ground swayed slightly as you dragged yourself to the school gates; somehow, in your weary state, you thought of Thoma. He had probably gone home when you didn’t show up.

Too bad we couldn’t walk home together, your subconscious lamented. You were too tired to argue with it.

But perhaps it was for the best after all; you weren’t sure if Thoma would be happy to hang out with someone who picked fights. There had been relationships you counselled that ended poorly because of situations like that, where one person discovered that their partner wasn’t who they had thought to be. And if your intuition was correct… there was a high likelihood that Thoma would react the same way if he found out.

You shuddered as you imagined his eyes filled with disappointment, a look of disgust as he turned his back on you. If Thoma were the sun, then you were Icarus, blinded by foolish greed— no, no, you shouldn’t borrow tomorrow’s troubles for today. It would just leave a cold, heavy feeling in your stomach and anxiety shivering down your spine.

As you staggered over the gate’s threshold, a figure stirred from its resting position.

“You’re late—“ Thoma began to scold, but froze in shock at the sight of your bruised and puffy face. “What happened to you?!”

Just like that, the cares and worries of the day disappeared (most of them, anyway), and a small, giddy smile worked up your face in spite of your exhaustion— he had waited for you, after all.

Suddenly, your senses were overwhelmed with what felt like a golden tornado; it was none other than a very worried puppy-boy, his metaphorical ears drooping as he panicked over what were probably minor injuries. It felt nice to have him worry about you, you had to admit.

“Your arms- oh, gosh.” His hands brush lightly over the bandages over your arms, finding their way up to cradle your face gingerly. “What happened? Who did this to you?”

Perhaps it was your head injury, or maybe it was the rush of excitement upon seeing him, but your head suddenly felt quite light upon your shoulders. I’m happy you waited for me, a small, selfish part of you wanted to say.

But you wouldn’t- couldn’t muster the courage to say it.

“Hi, Thoma.” Against your better judgement, your head only leaned further into the warmth of his palm. “-‘s been a long day for me.”

“I never would have guessed.” His face was all creased with worry, but still Thoma tried to put on a smile— for your sake or his own, you would never know. “Are- are you okay? How do you feel right now?”

Perfect, you almost said aloud. Thoma had waited for you and was now worried about you, though you much preferred it when he smiled; you were happy that he cared enough about you to do all of these things, even if it was only out of the kindness of his heart. How could you explain to him that you felt so happy that it was going to your head, swirling in a trance of rapturous delight that left you dizzy and your feet unsteady as you slowly inched closer to him— ah, did the world always seem to be so slanted?

The last thing you remembered was being surrounded in soft, delicious warmth, and the sound of Thoma’s panicked voice fading into darkness.

You came to your senses with your pounding head resting on something warm and sturdy, the faint smell of laundry soap in the one working nostril that you had left.

“Are you awake?”

In the faint light, Thoma’s green eyes peered at you with concern, his bangs sweeping forward till they barely touched the crown of your head. For a split-second, you wished you could pass out again.

Bolting upright, you glanced around to find yourself outside the bakery where you usually met up with Thoma. Seated on a bench next to said puppy-boy who had presumably waited for you to wake up… while resting your head on his shoulder, no less. And for some reason Thoma had changed out of his uniform, wearing a slim black t-shirt instead of the usual white polo that was required by your school.

You weren’t sure if you were supposed to be delighted or to despair at your situation.

“Wha- where?!” One hand jerked up to check the bandages wrapped around your head; some of them had fallen loose, tumbling around your neck like some sort of tacky necklace, while an unfamiliar white shirt was draped over you like a makeshift blanket. You probably looked like a cross between a toilet-papered house and a fashionable mummy, but that wasn’t the issue at hand here.

The two answers that you needed to know right now were number one: how you got to the bakery when you last remembered being at school, and number two: how and why you ended up snuggled into Thoma’s shoulder like- like— your face burned like an oven just thinking about it.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.” Oblivious to your internal conflict, the reason for your confusion fumbled with his backpack zipper. “I have a first-aid kit here, hold on… nope, not it." He dug even further, a tiny frown on his face as he searched for the elusive item.

The sky was already dark and the stars were out, which meant Thoma had to have been here for quite a while— no, no, no, you were probably hallucinating. There was no way you could have passed out for that long in front of the person you liked… right?

Your eyes roved wildly as you took in your surroundings, searching for a sign that you were dreaming. The light from the store-front window looked a little too surreal, the trees just a bit too unrealistic; you desperately wanted to believe that you did not just embarass yourself to the point of considering moving to a new country and faking a new identity.

(But then again, you weren’t sure that you were capable of dreaming up the expression that the bakery owner wore as she waved hello from behind the counter— the face of a die-hard shipper watching their favourite couple interact was something you could only find in reality. And the shirt that now lay in your lap felt a little too real to be something you dreamt.)

"That’s not it either… oh!” Thoma pulled out a tiny white box with a triumphant grin, the sight nearly sending you back into the realm of unconsciousness. Seriously, just how many gigawatts did his smile have…?

“Did- did you find it?” You managed to choke out, your tongue lying thick and heavy in your mouth.

“Sure did! Which means it’s time to get down to the real business at hand." His smile suddenly became more sinister, the sort of expression that nurses wore after saying the vaccination wouldn't hurt that much (and it always, always hurt like a torture device from the Middle Ages); the very sight sent chills running down your spine. “Turn your face here so I can see it in the light.”

What did you ever do to deserve this?

There were currently two things that you did not want to do, one of which was to make eye-contact with Thoma, and the other was to endure another session of poking and prodding at your injuries. Unfortunately, the puppy-traitor had decided to do both of those. Hooray.

“What are you, a nurse?”

“An unlicensed one, but I can rise to the occasion if need be. Now let me see your wounds.”

“Don’ wanna,” You lisped, wincing as a particularly annoying cut on your lip stung in protest— it seemed that some of your wounds had reopened on the journey here.

“Now, please.” There was his serious, no-nonsense tone of voice that was reserved only for the most stubborn of people.

Begrudgingly you moved your head two centimetres, causing the puppy-nurse to sigh loudly. Gently, a pair of warm hands cupped your face, turning your head till you were staring him eye-to-eye— oh, great heavens.

“It’s not as bad as I thought, but I think some of the bandages need to be changed.” He leaned in and tugged the wad of bloody tissue out of your nose; fervently, you prayed that the rush of blood to your head wouldn't end in another nosebleed spewing all over Thoma. Did he seriously have no concept of personal space?

In response to your unspoken question, the puppy-boy turned nurse only shuffled closer and half-knelt on the bench to get a better angle of your injuries, tilting your head upwards to look at him as he poured ointment on a cotton ball. Apparently he had never heard of the alien custom of personal space, much to your downfall.

"…You know, the nurse already treated me." You mumbled, if only to at least attempt to maintain a shred of your dignity.

"No offense to her, but she didn't do a very good job of it." Thoma replied with a disappointed shake of his head, leaning even closer to inspect the cuts on your face (oh, of course he had to do that when you were already light-headed as it was). "...Do you mind me asking how you got these?"

There it was.

The cold, heavy weight of anxiety from earlier settled into your stomach; Thoma, with his eyes filled with shame and disappointment. His warm voice now cold and distant to you, saying, ‘I don’t want to hang around people like you.’

What if Panda-Eyes was right? What if he really thought that you were beneath him and he was just being nice to you because it was convenient? Somehow, somewhere down the line, Thoma had become someone important enough to you for you to worry about such things.

For a moment you remained frozen stiff, debating on whether not to tell him the truth— and that’s when a sunset-hued memory came to mind.

“You’re nervous that they won’t like you, you’re afraid of showing the uglier parts of yourself to them, but you want to stay with them more than anything else— even if they end up seeing what you’re trying to hide.”

Oh, why did you have to remember that sentence now?

You sighed and bit back a string of grouchy complaints, all of which were directed towards Thoma and how he had corrupted you to actually be honest with your feelings instead of bottling them up and never talking about them again. Take responsibility, you insolently adorable puppy-boy.

Well, you supposed that he would just have to take responsibility by shouldering the burden of hearing you out.

"Do you want the bad news or not-so-bad news first?"

"Um…” He hesitated, fumbling for the disinfectant bottle in his kit. “Bad news first?"

“…I may or may not have gotten into a fight.” You mumbled quickly, hanging your head in shame; your head bumped against Thoma’s torso, but you didn’t care anymore. Anything would do, just as long as you didn’t meet his gaze.

Thoma remains silent for a moment or two, his hands lowering to his side. "…Is that what happened?"

Cicadas hummed in the distance, their voices filling the silence where people dared not speak. The evening breeze tugged at your crumpled uniform and blew gentle chills down your spine, as if to remind you of the cold pit that weighed itself down in your stomach.

This is where he'll leave, you told yourself. This is the part where he'll throw a fit and get angry and yell at me. It's what happened to all those other people— he'll hate me forever and never speak to me again.

If it could happen to those other people who were worthy of love and romance, then how much more you?

“Hey, eyes on me.” A sturdy hand tilts your face upwards, and once again you find yourself helpless before Thoma’s emerald-green gaze. There was no malice, no disappointment— nothing but concern showing in those eyes that you could get lost in to never be found. “I can’t disinfect your wounds if you look down.”

That was all he said. No more, no less.

You remained silent as Thoma wiped dried blood away with cotton soaked in alcohol and dressed your wounds. He didn’t blow up at you, nor did he walk away in disgust; he just waited till you were ready to speak, just as he always did.

“…You’re not mad about it?”

“Hey, if someone as non-confrontational as you got into a fight, then there has to be a reason why.” His mouth quirked upward in a small smile as he daubed ointment on a scratch near your eye. “You avoided me the first few times I tried talking to you, and that was just normal conversation. How much more physical confrontation?”

Internally you cringed; so he had noticed you were avoiding him.

(But at the same time, it made you happy that he had noticed. It sort of made you feel like he considered you important enough to notice the lack of your presence.)

“So,” Thoma continued, smoothing a tiny adhesive bandage over the scratch. “If that’s the bad news, what’s the not-so-bad news?”

“Well, uh… it’s not really news.” You searched for the right words, praying that your voice wouldn’t fail you now. “It- I thought I at least owed you an explanation. To tell you how it happened… and all.”

So you explained everything to Thoma, from beginning to end; how you resigned yourself to your fate early on and instead chose to give counseling to people who asked, the sheer volume of admirers that he had which made you give it up. The way you had planned to wait for him today, only to get confronted by an angry bull-headed girl. You told him of the things she said and how it made you so angry, though you didn’t exactly understand why, and how you got scared that he would distance himself from you once he found out. You even told him about her panda eyes and the chunk of hair that you’d accidentally yanked out.

You had never talked this much in your life before, but somehow the words kept spilling out. Oddly enough, it was just easier to use your voice when Thoma was around.

All the while, Thoma listened patiently— even as you occasionally winced from the sting of antiseptic, even when he had to blow gently on a cut for you to calm down. Only when you had finally worn out and slumped back against the bench did Thoma act, taking your hand and tracing circles in your palm with his thumb.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply, a sad look in his eyes.

“Don’t be sorry.” You replied, your head swimming from all the talking you did. “As you said, I’m not the type to be confrontational. But for you...” Pausing, you eyed your bruised and scuffed knuckles, now clad in soft white bandages thanks to Thoma's nursing.

"...I’d do it again.”

“You really don’t have to pay any mind to what they say about me…”

“Shh, be quiet and enjoy the moment while it lasts. I'm not saying that again.”

“Yes, boss.”

Somehow, your exhaustion had removed any filter that you had whatsoever, leaving you with a strange sense of recklessness (in hindsight, it was probably the effect of taking a glancing blow to the head.) All the things that you’d bottled up were bubbling up like champagne, threatening to overflow with honesty at any minute.

(No, you were not going to confess. You still had some common sense in you to clamp your feelings down before it slipped loose.)

“I really meant what I said earlier, by the way. About the whole confrontational, I’d-do-it-again thing…” Suddenly you realised how embarassing it sounded once you said it aloud.

Thoma chuckled faintly, continuing to trace circles in the palm of your hand. “I know.”

“Thanks for looking after me when I passed out. And thanks for treating my wounds.” You hesitated, fiddling with the hem of your shirt with your free hand. “…Thank you for listening to me, too.”

Thoma smiled gently and leaned in to whisper something in your ear; suddenly, you were very aware of the pounding of your heart that resonated in your eardrums. What on earth was he going to say that required him to lean so close? You unconsciously held your breath, waiting for him to speak…

Only for him to dramatically stage-whisper, “For you, I’d do it again.”

“…You shut your mouth before I take that back and fight you instead.”

He took one look at your displeased face and immediately burst into laughter, like the audacious little puppy he was— well, you supposed it was better to have a laughing Thoma than a droopy-eared, pouty one. Though both were equally cute.

“What’s so funny about it, huh?” You fired back, though there was no malice to your tone. “You’re facing a veteran fighter here— you might want to rethink doing that, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” The twinkle of laughter still lingered in his eyes and hovered on his smiling lips, chasing away any traces of doom and gloom that Thoma might have once carried. “I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

“Hoy, I know you’re not taking me seriously right now. Did you forget that I took a couple of punches to the face?”

Thoma laughed and shook his head, giving your hair an affectionate ruffle. “You’re right. Sorry, boss.”

The sudden contact sent an electrical shock down your spine, and internally you seethed. Once again, this puppy-boy is making me act out of character.

In the past, you would never have expected to be reduced to such a state; heart doing jumping-jacks in your throat, your knees weak and palms sweaty all from a trivial gesture like a smile. Just one ridiculously blinding, dentist-approved smile, but it made you want to make sure he stayed happy and joyful for the rest of his life, no matter the cost. Even if you had to deal with a thousand pony-tailed-panda-eyed girls everyday to make it happen.

The stars overhead twinkled knowingly, as if delighting in this turn of events— perhaps the constellations were laughing amongst themselves, knowing that they were witnessing another love-story unfolding. A gust of wind breezed past with a mischievous whistle, sticking its chilly fingers underneath the collar of your uniform and brushing Thoma's bangs back to expose his forehead to the cold.

Perhaps time would be kind enough to freeze in this moment, like a moth trapped in amber, said that small, obnoxious part of yourself.

It seemed as if all of creation had banded together to delight in the beauty before you— the shining starlight that danced in Thoma’s emerald-green eyes, the wind that toyed with his hair of gold. Even in the night the sun was present, flickering in that ever-blinding smile of his; for certain, you knew that the Creator of the young man before you had nodded and smiled in satisfaction upon finishing, saying, ‘It is good.’

“I’m really lucky to have you, you know that?” Thoma’s voice broke the spell he put you under, bringing you back to reality in the blink of an eye.

Your heart reacted faster than your head did, speeding up to run at least a mile a millisecond— him? Lucky to have you?

This was bad— no, this was really, really bad, for both your heart and emotional stability. All of your years of counseling would never have been enough to prepare you for this.

“Thoma…” You grimaced (hey, it was your only defense mechanism for when you were confronted with emotions like these). “I thought I was the one with a head injury, not you.”

“What? I’m just being honest here.”

His honesty was probably going to be the death of you at some point.

“Tch.” You glanced behind you to ensure the bakery owner wasn’t listening; the last thing you wanted was for her to pester you with questions the next time you came to visit. “Why’d you bring that up all of a sudden, anyway?”

“Oh, uh…“ The tips of his ears turned a faint pink in the dim light. “I think it’s always good to tell things like these to the people you care about. Of course, words should always be accompanied with actions, because it wouldn’t do to have empty words without meaning. But what I mean is—”

“Thoma.”

“Right. Back on topic. Anyway, what I meant to say is…” Thoma’s eyes fixed on yours, filled with a sincerity that was unique to only him. “I’m really grateful to have you watching out for me. I can’t thank you enough.”

Thump went your traitorous heart, and it took all of your willpower to prevent yourself from gushing out a confession on the spot. Don’t do that, Thoma, don’t give me hope.

If anything, you should have been the one saying that to Thoma; he was the one to bring you out of your shell like this. It was Thoma who steadfastly waited till you were ready to open up your heart to accept his company, and it was he who had brought so many new, beautiful things into your life. And you… what did you even do for him?

“It’s not everyday that you find someone who’s willing to go against all of their basic principles just to defend you, y’know.” He smiled so easily at you, that soft gentleness that made your rationality go flying off the top of the highest building to splatter into a puddle onto the concrete; once again, your feelings crept to the threshold of your heart and timidly knocked, asking to be let out.

“Well, I…” You started, but alas— the words seemed to falter before they could leave your mouth. “I…”

“Wait.” He cut you off, and in one graceful motion Thoma sweeps his shirt about your shoulders, adjusting it to ensure that it didn’t fall. “It’s cold tonight.”

Internally you heaved a sigh and accepted your fate— it looked like your poor heart wouldn’t get any rest till you were safe inside your house. “How am I supposed to return this to you?”

“Just wash it and bring it to school, I suppose.”

“Only if you promise not to scold me if my way of washing clothes is not up to your standards.”

“Deal.” He agreed, tugging at the collar of the shirt with his usual air of perfectionism. “One more thing, by the way.”

“…What is it?”

Thoma smiled apologetically, that familiar softness in his eyes. “If you hear someone saying nasty things about me, just ignore them.”

Ignore… them?

You didn’t understand why he would ask you to ignore something like that— it didn’t make sense, especially considering how Thoma had just told you that he appreciated you looking out for him. In your eyes it would have been more logical for him to ask you to keep watching out for him, so why would he make such a strange request.

“Why?”

“Their opinions really don’t bother me at all. As long as you know what I’m really like, then whatever they say doesn’t matter.” He released your shirt-collar and brushed off his pants, extending a hand to you with a smile. “Now, shall we go?”

You blinked owlishly at his outstretched hand.

“I’ll walk you home tonight.”

“But-”

“No buts. What if you pass out on the way home?”

Logically speaking, he did have a point— it wouldn’t do to have someone in your physical state walking home alone at this hour. But still you hesitated, torn between not wanting to take up anymore of his time than you already had and the idea of snatching just a few more moments with him.

“We’re not strangers, you know. And for you…” Thoma pauses dramatically, that almost-sly look on his face once again. “…I’d do it—“

“Shut up! I can’t hear you, lalalalalalala—” You clapped your hands over your ears and jumped up from your seat; before you knew it, your legs had carried you up the road, away from the faint sound of his laughter floating up into the heavens like a wish ungranted. “You’re ridiculous!”

“I’ll be taking that as a compliment, if it’s fine with you!”

“Whatever!” Your breath rattled in your lungs as you ran away from Thoma and all the dangerous heart-fluttering that he brought to you, the jittering nerves that only became more agitated upon hearing his laughter.

“Hey, wait for me,” he called out, hauling both of your backpacks onto his shoulders and breaking into a lazy sprint. “It’s not good for you to run like that! Slow down!”

But that night, if you had only turned around, if you had dared to look at your puppy-boy in the face… perhaps you would have discovered a different side to him. For Thoma's face fell when you turned away, a displeased frown clouding his normally sunny expression.

“You’ll never catch me alive!” You yelled in the distance, the bandages wrapped around your arms shining bright in the light of the street-lamps and the distant starlight— Thoma’s jawline only tightened at the sight of those pale bandages, his throat constricting with something dangerously akin to anger. If he had only known sooner…

I’ll definitely make things right, he declared, a silent promise to both you and himself.

Then Thoma shook off his anger and stepped forward with a smile, for he would not allow tomorrow’s troubles to taint today’s time with you— no longer fettered by his burdens, the young man broke into a proper sprint, racing to catch up with you and to follow what his heart knew was righteous.

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bisamwilson · 10 months

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hey sweetheart, how are you? hope you’re doing well and having a wonderful day 🩷💖

for the ask game: 💫 💞 💥 ☯️ 🧿

hello love!!! hope you are too!!! <3

(from this list)

💫: what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback?

oh i ADORE when people leave those long comments that mention/react to specific parts of the fic/chapter that they loved/want to speculate on/etc. like if i get a comment notification email and i see like a block of text or multiple paragraphs it keeps me going for WEEKS afterwards!!! obviously all (positive) comments are appreciated, but those are always my very favorite

💞: what's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language

the characters! i've talked with a-chan about this a bunch recently, actually, especially since i write so many aus, and my general metric for how successful and AU is is if you recognize the characters even though they're in completely different situations. like that's the metric for me if i've written a successful fic, if the characters are believably themselves no matter what situation i've written them in, canon or otherwise (which leads me to another favorite au-specific comment, which is when someone compliments me on characterization or on how i work specific plot points into a ficverse separate from canon!)

there are certain fics however that i wanted to have Certain Vibes™, so in those cases the figurative language was also very important to me (the angel/demon au comes to mind here). and given i was kind of forcibly made editor in chief of my high school paper when i was still a Young Mak, i'm ngl and say grammar isn't also very important to me lmao. i'm always in awe of other people's fics with amazing worldbuilding, but i think that matters to me the least. it's why i love the LOTR movies but the books weren't my favorite. couldn't handle that much worldbuilding (sorry, tolkien)

💥: find your least kudos'd fic - say something wonderful about it.

my least kudos'd fic is it's raining on prom night, which is unsurprising, given it's a samriley prequel to a sambucky au.

i do really love this fic tho! getting to write high school aged sam in sweet puppy love with his childhood best friend was so much fun, and i loved getting to dig deeper into who sam was before we got into the actual au proper. i also really loved the way i wrote this exchange, specifically bc i think i did a pretty good job of establishing the kind of banter, relationship, and history they have despite it being such a short fic that takes place way into their knowing each other (and even dating each other)

“A gift is a nice way of putting it,” Riley replies, laughing. “That flower was half-dead and I’d given it to you specifically because my mama was gonna kill me if I ruined another one of her bouquets and you were the nearest person to me. Also we were five, but if you want to consider that the start of my long game to get you to date me, I’ll accept the status of romantic mastermind.” Sam laughs, grabbing the Swiss army knife out of his pocket that Peggy would kill him for having at a diplomatic event and cutting down a bloom to hand to Riley. “You were some kind of mastermind, all right. Your mama would’ve yelled at anybody else, but I was the new kid and the pastor’s son, so I got a free pass that day. Everybody went home happy, and I accidentally landed myself a troublemaker best friend.” Riley makes sure the partial stem is free of thorns and tucks the rose behind Sam’s ear. “Everybody went home happy except my mama, you mean.” “Well, that’s a given. Her poor roses.”

☯️: how do you think engaging with each other through tumblr, twitter, comments, kudos, creates healthy fandom experiences? How do you deal with that if you're not a social person/experience social anxiety?

this is,,, a complicated question. on the one hand, i've developed some really great fandom friendships i never would have otherwise if i hadn't started writing (i've always been a lurker before now, and while i had some mutuals i was fond of, they were never people i'd seek out for conversation, much less go visit/have them come visit me!) on the other hand, there are some really toxic people in fandom, and publishing your own work opens you up to a lot of vulnerability when those people don't play so nicely, especially when you imbue a lot of yourself into your work through the characters, or your time, or even in some cases your experiences. it also can lead to the trap i found myself falling into last year, which is that since so many of my fandom friends came bc i was writing, i feared i'd lose them all when i stopped writing. obviously this hasn't happened even as my output has slowed dramatically (early 2022 mak would probably be horrified to know i haven't published anything in like five months), but that was a legitimate worry i had, and it was. very bad on my mental health. so it's all about striking that balance of finding friends and community but doing so in a way that like,,, doesn't leave you having anxiety attacks and major bouts of horrible self esteem over your own fics and writing ability at the end of it all

🧿: what steps do you take to not take things personally if a fic doesn't do well, or if your writing/posting/sharing experience isn't going how you'd like it to?

this goes back a lot to my previous answer which is just like. setting those own clear boundaries in my head that this is a hobby that i enjoy doing for myself and also bc i have wonderfully supportive friends, and like at this point i've published enough fics that i'm comfortable telling people off if they're shitty on them, tho thankfully there haven't been many instances (i am, however, forever haunted by an earlier fic i wrote where someone commented something along the lines of "i was kinda hoping [x thing that i didn't write] would happen but of course what you did was good too" and i wasn't confident enough to be like "hey what the fuck. this was kinda rude, friend. go write your own fic????")

basically if the response is negative, then either i learn if there's something to be learned, or if not, i tell them to go eat shit bc i know my value (@ peggy carter thank u for this wonderful piece of wisdom that has gotten me through many years of self doubt), or if the response is just lacking, then i brush it off bc i know that my fics 1) make me happy and 2) make a lot of my friends happy too. even if the fic doesn't do well, if i've just got one person gushing about how much they love it, well, that's someone else in this world i've made happy by doing something i enjoy, and that's enough :)

#thanks for the ask honeybun (yes this is a reference to ur anon from the other day)#livingincolorsagain #writer ask #writer meme #ask game #ask #ask meme

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away-ward · 2 months

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I really don’t understand Alex at all and I genuinely don’t like her . From the first time she was introduced I didn’t like her. If she hadn’t become friends with rika she wouldn’t even be in the books so much . She’d just be wills friend . And I find it so weird how every single time she introduces herself she says “ Alex palmer . I’m wills friend “ like we get bitch you are close . And she was doing too much trying to become friends with banks . And why does Will admire Alex so much ? What about Emory like hellooooo. Idk it bothered me a lot how close will and Alex are . And also the fact that Will does NOT understand Emory at all . Don’t kill me but I think Damon and Emory would’ve made a great couple cause they actually understand each other idk .

I haven’t talked extensively about Alex in a while, so why not now?

I myself was pretty indifferent to Alex at first. She was just there – she was a tool to send a message. It’s one of the most annoying parts of Corrupt, in my opinion. We’re force fed PD’s thoughts on something through their characters, though Alex is a bit easier to swallow than Rika’s spontaneous class speech about the new generation.

In Corrupt, Alex is meant to be a role model for Rika, who wants to break out of this good girl mold she’s been forced into. Alex introduces Rika to the reality that girls can have sex, for a good time and/or for money, and still be a decent person. Girls can also have sex with girls! Novel thought, that is.

It’s through Alex that Rika is able to become a more realized version of herself. She’s opened to new ideas and experiences that she has always been thinking somewhere in the back of her head. Except now she can say them without fear of judgement, all thanks to Alex and Michael.

However, as has been discussed, Corrupt was written without the three follow-ups in mind. Alex’s progression with the group was never planned. But PD loved her and so did fans. There needed to be another reason for Alex to stick around. A common pick-me girl quality is that they can’t be friends with other girls, but this has never been a problem with Rika or Alex. There would have been no problem with Alex just appearing every once in a while, as Rika’s college friend.

This is where is starts to get irritating. In Corrupt, Alex doesn’t really do anything deserving of the horsemen’s favor. Will likes her, but Will likes a lot of girls. He brings her out to Thunder Bay but pays no attention to her (on page). It’s clear that she’s Rika’s friend, not theirs. Now that Rika didn’t need her anymore – other than a neutral friend she occasionally joked about having sex with but never actually engaged with despite the group’s dynamic – what was Alex supposed to do?

PD’s solution is to shift Alex’s mainstay in the group from Rika to Will. In Hideaway, Will is no longer paying Alex for her company. In Kill Switch, she’s his "best friend" to replace Damon. And in Nightfall, she’s his reflection. All the things it would be natural for Alex to do with Rika she now does with Will because Rika doesn’t need her anymore.

To be clear, I don’t think PD planned on Will and Alex becoming as close as they were. I think as PD started getting the sense of Will’s story, it made sense by that point in time, they'd have a strong connection. It also gave PD a chance to satisfy Alex’s fans demanding a HEA, and their own desire to see Alex happy.

When I say I don’t mind Alex’s role in the series, I am specifically talking about her friendship with Will and her role as the group’s gopher. That's not a bad role to have, and if executed well, could have been interesting. What I hate about Alex is that she has a habit of putting people in situations that aren’t always good for them, that they don’t want to be in, and she has plot armor. No character, but especially a side character, should have plot armor. It would be one thing if she crossed the line occasionally but also faced consequences for it. It would be one thing if there were things asked of her that she was never able to fulfill, either because of lack of skill or it made her uncomfortable, or she simply didn't want to. But it never fails, no matter what happens, Alex is perfect.

And perfect characters just aren’t interesting to me.

There is the additional issue that PD loves Alex, and therefore the narrative never implies that Alex can be wrong.

Take Rika for example. She and Michael frequently argue, and while it’s annoying, I can see both sides of their issues, and I’m never told who’s side I should be on. With Alex, the narrative always implies I’m supposed to see her point of view; I’m supposed to be on her side; for all her failings, she’s sympathetic.

Sorry, but I don’t buy it. Never trust a character that’s always right.

But that’s my thoughts. Let’s address some of yours.

She’d just be wills friend

I think it’s interesting how even though she’s been tied to Will, she’s still different. Kai, Damon, and Will sleep around until their love interest enters the scene, but we don’t see any of those girls sticking close. So why does Alex get the exemption. Until Hideaway, she’s not doing anything that make her invaluable to the group. And after that, she basically becomes whatever they need when they need it.

Kai needs a personal shopper? Well good thing Alex is a fashionista.

Rika needs a friend to teach defense classes with? Well good thing Alex has a deep interest in promoting women’s rights. Never mind how she had the time to reach the level that she can teach in less than a year. It’s Alex.

Banks needs a girl to help her get out of her shell, but she doesn’t trust Rika? Well, good thing we have Alex.

Alex’s character was never meant to go anywhere, and if PD didn’t love her so much, she wouldn’t have even been Will’s special friend. She’d be the escort that lives in the build that they occasionally hire to help in some circumstances because she’s discreet.

why does Will admire Alex so much ? What about Emory like hellooooo

My opinion is that Will equally admires both. That’s why Alex knows about Emory before they meet – Will’s already talked her up. But by the time Emory, Alex, and Will are in the same room, Will is already so angry at Emory that his admiration it can’t come through.

The boys like Alex because she acts and thinks like them – she has no shame, doesn’t need any one’s approval, does what she wants, and has a good time doing it. It’s what actually makes her a pick-me girl. If it weren’t for her being so highly feminine, she’d be just one of the guys.

Then, when they understand that she doesn’t come from privilege like them, but built herself up, they give her their respect. And to be clear: it’s admirable that Alex faced the loss of her friends and scholarship. That’s a huge blow, especially at 18, and the fact that she was able to find away to support herself without missing a beat is a feat that should be recognized. It’s everything else about her that I have trouble accepting.

But I’ve said this before and I still believe it, Alex’s success does not diminish Emory’s by any means. Just because Alex can do all that with a smile on her face doesn’t mean that Emory surviving is less noteworthy just because she’s depressed. Likewise, Emory being mean because her life is incredibly difficult doesn’t make her more realistic that Alex. They approached two difficult situations with different methods and both should be recognized for it.

Will just has an easier time with Alex than with Emory. Alex doesn’t challenge his view of the world or his circumstances. Alex doesn’t expect more from him. Alex puts up with his bare minimum effort. There’s comfort and resting, which we all need at time, and then there’s wallowing in self-pity. It’s easier for Will to appreciate Alex’s success because he never wanted to be apart of it. Emory also succeed on her own, but he wanted to be apart of that story and she refused to let him. He’s bitter for sure, but he doesn’t deny that she’s done it.

also the fact that Will does NOT understand Emory at all

I kind of do disagree with this take. Will understands Emory very well. But again, there are times when he’s too clouded by anger to accept her. To me, understanding and accepting are two different things. When Will accepts Emory for who she is, instead of what he tries to convince himself she is, that his understanding really shines.

Don’t kill me but I think Damon and Emory would’ve made a great couple cause they actually understand each other idk .

See, I only see Damon and Emory working under a very specific set of circumstances. But outside of that I think they’re too similar. Yeah, they understand each other because they went though years of abuse, but they both need people who live outside of that world. They’d find comfort in someone who can identify with and validate their experiences, but they also need people who will push them not to live only with that in view. For better or worse, Will and Winter fill that role for them.

But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t read a Damon/Emory fic! I’m so interested in seeing how someone else would make it work.

This is probably a lot more than you were expected. Sorry about that. I just had a few thoughts about Alex dying to get out, and with your message, they refused to stay in any longer. Hope you don't mind!

Thanks for the message. I know my opinions on Alex are a tad bit more relaxed than others, but it's still interesting to see how divisive she is as a character.

#asked and answered 260 #asked and answered #devil's night series #no alex tag

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