#this blog will never be active in regards of writing
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Shadows and Starlight
Azriel x Fem!Reader
Summary: You and Mor return from a long mission on the Continent. Nine Months have passed since your departure and you couldn't wait to reunite with your best friend, a best friend you'd had a crush on for centuries. Only that Azriel wasn't there when you returned home. He would only return on Starfall.
Part 02
Word count: 4.5K
Warnings: A little spice at the end there. But honestly just a little! Otherwise Fluff, Reader being part of the IC!! I have not proof-read it yet.
A/N: Well, hello there! I have never posted writing for this Fandom before, so I truly hope it is enjoyable and finds it's people. Overall, I haven't really been posting on this blog in ages and felt inspired. I would love to write a second part if this is received well. This isn't proofread yet, I will do that eventually, so I apologize for possible errors. Please let me know what you think and feel free to drop into my inbox.
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The night was cool and crisp as you and Mor made your way through the streets of Velaris, the city lights casting a warm glow over the cobblestone streets. Returning to Velaris had been a relief, the mission Rhys had sent you on should have taken no longer than six weeks, lastly spanning nine months that felt like an eternity. What should have been a rather quick trip to the Continent turned out to be far more complicated than anticipated. You were supposed to look into the whereabouts of a magical artifact while Mor should keep up her work as emissary. What you did not take into account whatsoever was the uprising conflict between two of their biggest noble houses, which complicated things. Trust was not easy to come by. Diplomats and Mediators by day and treasure hunters by night. Of course, you also had plenty of time to bask in the sunlight, smothering heat seeping into the marrow of your bones. Even with Mor by your side, there had been moments of homesickness that gnawed at your heart, a longing for the familiar comforts of home that seemed to grow with each passing day.
But now, as you made your way through the streets of Velaris, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. The city was alive with the buzz of activity, its streets bustling with life and energy. Even the stars seemed to shine and twinkle brighter than usually, welcoming you back. It was good to be home. As you stepped into the grand foyer of the House of Wind, you felt a rush of nostalgia wash over you. Albite nine months were nothing for Fae, you had missed this. The scent of fresh bread filled the air, no doubt made by Elain. A soft smile tugged at the corner of your lips at the familiarity, your shoulders relaxing slightly.
Mor wasted no time in making herself comfortable, stomping off to the sitting room and throwing herself onto the chaise with a dramatic sigh. You couldn't help but chuckle at her antics. As she settled into the plush pillows, you perched yourself on the edge of the nearby armchair, your gaze drifting to the flickering flames in the hearth. The crackling fire cast dancing shadows across the room, its warmth a comforting embrace after the long journey home. "So, what is on your mind?" Mor's voice broke through the silence, her eyes fluttering open as she regarded you with a curious expression. You let out a soft sigh, your thoughts drifting back to the tribulations of your time overseas. "It was... intense," you replied, voice tinged with a hint of weariness. "So much happened.” You groaned then. “Cauldron boil me, I really don’t want to fill out that mission report…” Mor nodded in understanding, a sympathetic smile playing on her lips. "I can imagine, me neither" she said, her tone filled with empathy. "But Rhys will not push us. He probably missed us as much as we missed him. It’s been a while after all.”
You smiled gratefully at her words, a sense of relief washing over you. "Yeah, you're right," you agreed, your spirits lifting at the thought of being back in Velaris once more. Back home. You fell into a comfortable silence then, the crackling fire the only sound echoing in the room. But beneath the surface, you felt a restlessness stirring within yourself—a longing to see him, to feel the familiar comfort of his presence. Obviously you missed the entirety of your family wholly. Definitely not thinking about one person more than the others. At least that is what you told yourself.
"I'm going to check on Az," you said suddenly, your voice breaking the silence. "I haven't seen him in a while…" Mor raised an eyebrow inquisitively, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Really now? Here I thought we saw none of them in a while." she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Missing someone, are we?" You felt a blush creeping into your cheeks at Mor's teasing tone, but you brushed it off with a playful roll of your eyes. "Don't be ridiculous," you retorted, though the fluttering in your chest betrayed your true feelings. With a playful wink, Mor waved you off, her attention already drifting back to the warmth of the fire. "Go on then," she said, her voice soft but encouraging. "I'll be here when you get back." And with that, you rose from your seat and made your way to Azriel's room, your heart fluttering with anticipation at the thought of seeing him again after so long. With a sense of anticipation bubbling in your chest, you picked up your pace subconsciously, your steps quick and eager. You had grown so close over the years, so comfortable in each other's company, that knocking on doors had become a formality you rarely bothered with anymore- and even if you usually still found yourself knocking from time to time, you just were too excited.
But as you pushed open the door to Azriel's room, your heart sank at the sight of the empty space before you. The room was quiet and still, save for the faint scent of cedar that lingered in the air—a stark reminder of the Male you had missed so much. Disappointment tugged at your heart as you surveyed the deserted room, your lips curling into a soft frown. It was Starfall in just a few days, you really thought, hoped, he’d be here when you returned. Before you could dwell on your thoughts any longer, a familiar voice broke through the silence, startling you. "So, Y/N, are you finally going to confess your undying love for my brother?" he quipped, his tone laced with amusement. You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of your lips now as you threw yourself into Cassian's awaiting arms. You had missed him, missed all of them, but the absence of Azriel weighed heavily on your heart somehow. After you pull away from your embrace, Cassian offers you a kind smile, his eyes warm with understanding.
"Hey, just so you know, Az has been on a mission for the past few days," The tall Illyrian says gently, his tone filled with reassurance. "But he should be back before Starfall." You feel a surge of relief at the news, your heart fluttering with anticipation at the thought of seeing Azriel again. You waited nine months, you could wait a few more days. "Thank you, Cass," you says sincerely, gratitude shining in your eyes. Then the tall male shifts on his foot, raising an eyebrow in mock offense, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. "Hey now, Y/N, I hope you're not just excited to see Az," he says with a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "I mean, I know I'm not as brooding and mysterious as our Shadowsinger, but a little appreciation for your favorite warrior wouldn't hurt." You roll your eyes again with a grin, shaking your head at Cassian's antics. "Oh, please, Cass. You know you're my second favorite warrior," you quip, your tone teasing as you give him a playful shove. You share a moment of laughter before Cassian's expression turns more serious, his gaze softening as he looks at you with genuine concern. "How was the mission? Everything okay?"
Nodding, your smile faltering slightly as you recall the challenges you faced overseas. "It was... intense, to say the least. But we made it back in one piece, thanks to Mor and her quick thinking."
Cassian nods in understanding, his expression reflecting his relief. "Well, I'm glad you're both safe. We'll have to celebrate your return properly, once you've had a chance to rest." Humming you find yourself relaxing into the familiar warmth of his company. You nod in agreement then. “Yeah, Rhys always has something up his sleeve for Starfall,” you say, voice tinged with anticipation. “I can only imagine what he has planned for this year.” Both of you fall into comfortable silence for a moment. Only when a yawn claws itself up your throat and past your lips does Cassian speak again. “Does Rhys know you’re back?” His gaze is gentle in the way he looks at you, it was easy to tell that the oaf missed you just as much.
Stretching your tired muscles slightly, you nod hastily. "Yeah, you should have seen his face when he came barging into the kitchen and saw us drink tea with Feyre." A soft chuckle leaves him then, and you share a knowing grin as you both recall similar situations.
Making your way down the hall, you find Mor fast asleep on the chaise lounge in the sitting room, her features relaxed in slumber. Cassian retrieves a soft blanket from the nearby cupboard and gently drapes it over Mor's sleeping form, his movements gentle and caring.
You settle into the chairs nearby, he joins you, and the two of you engage in light conversation, catching up on the latest developments with Nesta and the Valkyrie. You share stories and anecdotes, laughter punctuating the quiet of the night as you relish in each other's company. Eventually, exhaustion catches up with you, and you bid Cassian goodnight before retreating to your own chambers for some much-needed rest.
As you settle into bed, your mind can't help but wander towards Azriel. Despite the exhaustion weighing heavy on your limbs, thoughts of him linger at the forefront of your mind, like whispers in the darkness. You can't help but wonder how he's been faring on his mission, what trials and tribulations he's faced in your absence. A pang of guilt tugs at your heart as you realize that you hadn't even sent word of your return, leaving him in the dark about your whereabouts. Closing your eyes, you try to push aside the worry and uncertainty that gnaws at your thoughts, focusing instead on the memory of his warm smile and steady presence. You find solace in the thought of seeing him again, of being reunited with the friend who has always been a steady anchor in your life. With a soft sigh, you let the rhythmic sound of your breathing lull you into a state of calm, allowing yourself to drift into a restless sleep filled with dreams of starlit skies and whispered promises. And as sleep claims you, you hold onto the hope that tomorrow will bring with it the long-awaited reunion you've been yearning for.
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The next days pass in a blur, the absence of Azriel weighing heavily on your heart despite the moments of joy spent with your family. You find solace in the familiar routines of daily life, in the laughter and chatter of your loved ones gathered together in the warmth of the House of Wind.
Mornings are filled with shared meals and lively conversation, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the aroma of freshly baked pastries. On the day before Starfall you find yourself amidst the hustle and bustle of daily life in Velaris, as you join Feyre, Mor, and Nesta for a day of dress shopping. The air is filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked goods, adding to the festive atmosphere of the day.
As you weave through the throngs of people, your eyes alight on a quaint boutique you’re all too familiar with, nestled between two bustling shops. Its windows are adorned with elegant gowns in every shade of the rainbow, their silken fabrics shimmering in the sunlight.
With a shared glance and a knowing smile, you make your way inside, greeted by the tinkling of bells and the warm smile of the shopkeeper. The interior of the boutique is a veritable treasure trove of fashion, with racks of dresses in every style and design imaginable. As you browse through the racks, your eyes are drawn to a stunning gown in a shade of deep midnight blue, its bodice adorned with delicate lace and sparkling sequins. It catches the light in such a way that it seems to shimmer and dance with every movement, and you can't help but feel drawn to it.
Feyre picks up a flowing gown in a shade of pale lavender, holding it up against herself with a thoughtful expression. "What do you think?" she asks, turning to you and the others for their opinion. Mor nods approvingly, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "It's lovely, Feyre. You would look stunning in that." Nesta, ever the pragmatist, arches an eyebrow skeptically. "It's a bit too... ethereal for my taste," she remarks dryly. "But if it makes you happy, then go for it." You can't help but chuckle at Nesta's blunt honesty, knowing that she speaks from a place of genuine concern for her sister's happiness. "I think it's beautiful, Feyre," you offer, a warm smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "But ultimately, it's up to you." Feyre returns your smile gratefully, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. "Thank you, Y/N," she says softly, her voice filled with warmth. "I think I'll give it a try." As Feyre disappears into the dressing room to try on the gown, Mor turns to you with a glint in her eyes. "So, Y/N, have you found anything that catches your eye?" she asks, her tone teasing.
You shrug nonchalantly, though your heart races at the thought of the dress you had spotted earlier. "Maybe," you reply coyly, a playful smile playing at your lips. "There was one that caught my attention." Nesta raises an eyebrow curiously, her gaze sharpening with interest. "Oh? And what does it look like?" she inquires, her tone betraying her curiosity.
You hesitate for a moment, your cheeks flushing slightly as you recall the details of the dress. "It's... um, it's a deep midnight blue," you begin, your voice trailing off as you struggle to find the right words to describe it.
Mor's eyes light up with mischief as she interrupts, a knowing smirk on her lips. "Sounds like something a certain Shadowsinger would most definitely like," she quips, her voice filled with amusement. You feel your cheeks grow even warmer at Mor's teasing remark, knowing that there is some truth to her words. "Maybe," you mumble, unable to hide the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips.
Before the conversation can continue further, Feyre emerges from the dressing room, the lavender gown flowing around her in a cascade of ethereal beauty. You gasp in awe at the sight of her, your heart swelling with pride and admiration.
"Feyre, you look incredible," you exclaim, your voice filled with genuine awe. "That dress was made for you." Feyre blushes at the compliment, her smile radiant as she twirls in front of the mirror. "Thank you, Y/N" she says warmly, her eyes shining with happiness. "I think I've found my dress." As Feyre twirls in front of the mirror, her radiant smile lighting up the room, Mor and Nesta exchange knowing glances before turning their attention to you.
"Well, Y/N, it's your turn now," Mor says with a playful grin, her eyes sparkling again. "You can't just talk about that mysterious midnight blue dress and not show it to us."
Nesta nods in agreement, her expression curious. "Yes, I'm quite intrigued to see this dress that has caught your eye," she adds, a hint of amusement in her voice. With a nod of determination, you make your way to the dressing room, the anticipation building with each step.
As you slip into the dress, you can't help but marvel at how perfectly it fits, clinging to your curves in all the right places. The fabric is soft against your skin, the deep midnight blue hue shimmering in the light, casting an enchanting glow around you. The bodice of the dress is adorned with delicate lace, the intricate patterns weaving a spellbinding tapestry across your skin. The neckline plunges low, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of skin, while the back dips into a daring V, leaving just enough to the imagination. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the reactions of your companions, before stepping out of the dressing room to reveal yourself to them.
Feyre gasps in awe as she lays eyes on you, her expression filled with admiration. "Wow, Y/N, you look absolutely stunning," she exclaims, her voice filled with genuine wonder.
Mor and Nesta nod in agreement, their eyes wide with astonishment. "That dress was made for you," Mor adds. As you gaze at your reflection in the mirror, a surge of confidence courses through you. It's been so long since you've worn anything other than fighting leathers, and the sensation of silk against your skin is a welcome change. You feel sexy, beautiful, and alive in a way that you haven't in months, the weight of responsibility and duty momentarily lifted from your shoulders. For the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to revel in the simple pleasure of feeling feminine and desirable.
But amidst the rush of excitement and adrenaline, there's a nagging voice in the back of your mind, whispering of doubts and insecurities. What will Azriel think when he sees you like this? Will he be pleased, impressed, or will he merely see you as the same old friend he's always known? You bite your bottom lip nervously at the thought, a flush rising to your cheeks as you imagine his reaction. But deep down, beneath the layers of uncertainty and self-doubt, there's a spark of hope flickering within you, a glimmer of possibility that maybe, just maybe, he'll see you in a new light. That maybe the feelings you had harbored for him for the past two centuries weren’t one-sided.
With a determined shake of your head, you banish the doubts from your mind, focusing instead on the here and now. Tonight, you'll revel in the joy of the moment, surrounded by friends who love and support you unconditionally. And tomorrow, well, tomorrow is another day. "I must say, I almost forgot you had it in you to clean up so nicely."
You roll your eyes playfully at Mor's teasing remark, unable to suppress a laugh at her antics. "Oh, please, Mor," you quip, your tone laced with mock indignation. "You act as if I've been wearing armor for the past century." Feyre chuckles, her eyes dancing with mirth. "Well, you certainly seem to be enjoying yourself in that dress," she remarks with a knowing smile.
Nesta, ever the pragmatist, raises an eyebrow skeptically. "Yes, but can you actually afford it?" she asks dryly, her tone tinged with amusement. You feign offense at Nesta's remark "Of course I can afford it, Nesta," you reply with a playful smirk. "I'll just put it on Rhysand's tab."
The group erupts into laughter at your comment. With a final twirl in front of the mirror, you turn to the shopkeeper with a grin. "I'll take it," you declare confidently, a sense of satisfaction washing over you as you make your purchase. "And put it on Rhysand's tab, of course."
The shopkeeper chuckles at your remark, nodding in agreement as she wraps the dress in delicate tissue paper. "Very well, Miss Y/N" she says with a smile. "I'll be sure to send the bill to the High Lord's estate."
With your new dress in hand and your spirits lifted, you bid farewell to the boutique and make your way back into the bustling streets of Velaris.
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Azriel strolls through the lush gardens of Tarquin's estate, the relentless heat of the Summer Court bearing down on him with an intensity that he finds almost suffocating. Sweat beads on his brow, trickling down his temples as he walks, and he can't help but curse the relentless sun that beats down from above, as if intent on draining him of every last ounce of energy.
He sighs heavily as he reflects on his current predicament, his thoughts drifting to the far-off lands of his homeland where snow, cold, and winter reign supreme. The sweltering heat of the Summer Court is a stark contrast to the familiar chill of the Night Court, and Azriel can't help but wonder if it's possible that he's somehow managed to burn his wings in the sun. But such thoughts are quickly pushed aside as he reminds himself of the task at hand. Everything had gone well with his meeting with Tarquin, and now he simply longs to retire to his chambers and escape the oppressive heat for a few precious hours of rest.
As he continues on his way, Azriel can't help but think about the upcoming Starfall celebration. Tomorrow would mark the end of his short mission in the Summer Court, and he couldn't wait to return home to Velaris. The thought of spending Starfall without Y/N weighs heavily on his mind, and he can't help but feel a pang of longing in his chest at the prospect. Suddenly, a voice breaks through his thoughts, a familiar presence intruding upon his mind with the ease of a whisper on the wind. It's Rhys, reaching out to him.
"Enjoying the summer heat, brother?" Rhys's voice echoes in his mind, a hint of amusement lacing his words. "Remember, not all of us are fortunate enough to have wings to shield us from the sun's rays."
Azriel can't help but snort at Rhys's teasing, the sound reverberating silently within his own mind. "I'd take a blizzard over this heat any day," he replies, his tone dry with sarcasm. "At least in the Winter Court, I wouldn't feel like I'm about to melt into a puddle."
Rhys's laughter fills his mind. "Ah, but where's the fun in that?" he quips "Besides, think of it as a challenge. A test of endurance, if you will."
Azriel shakes his head incredulously at his brother's words, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite himself. "You would find amusement in my suffering, wouldn't you?" he retorts. But Rhys's next words carry a weight of sincerity that catches Azriel off guard. "In all seriousness, Az, you'll be home before you know it," He assures him, his voice filled with warmth and encouragement. "Starfall is just around the corner, and there are loved ones eagerly awaiting your return."
There's a cryptic hint in Rhys's words, a subtle suggestion that Azriel can't quite decipher. He furrows his brows in confusion, his mind racing as he tries to make sense of his brother's words. After all, he's only been gone for a week. Rhys's voice fades from Azriel's mind, leaving him with a sense of calm and reassurance. "Until tomorrow, brother," he murmurs silently.
Azriel retreats for the night, the weight of exhaustion heavy on his shoulders. As he settles into his chambers, a sense of relief washes over him at the thought of returning home tomorrow.
His mind wanders to how he'll spend his first day back in Velaris, imagining the familiar streets and faces that he's missed so dearly the past week. But amidst the anticipation, there's a nagging sense of longing that tugs at his heart. Clasping his scarred hands together, Azriel reaches into the pocket of his bag and pulls out a crumpled piece of parchment. It's a letter from Y/N, the only way they've been able to stay in contact while she's been away on her mission.
He doesn't know why he took the letter with him, but holding it in his hands brings a sense of serenity and comfort. Even though their last exchanged letters had been about a month ago, knowing that Y/N is safe and well brings him a measure of peace.
With a sigh, Azriel unfolds the parchment and reads over her words once more, the familiar handwriting bringing a smile to his lips. He makes a silent promise to himself to write to her as soon as he gets home. But now, as he prepares to return home for the celebration, he can't help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of Y/N missing out. He wonders what she might be doing on Starfall, if she's found a way to make the most of the day despite being apart from their shared family.
Azriel knew how she hadn’t missed a single Starfall since… The heavy feeling of subdued rage settles in the pits of his stomach at the thought of what she endured during those dark years under the Mountain. He wishes he could have been there to protect her, to shield her from the horrors of their captivity.
His thoughts drift to a darker memory then, one that haunts him even now. He remembers her broken body, her spirit shattered and her light dimmed, when she and Rhys returned after Feyre broke the curse. The sight of her lying there, broken and bruised, fills him with a sense of sorrow and rage unlike anything he's ever known. He can still feel the weight of her pain, the echoes of her suffering lingering in the recesses of his mind. In that moment, all he wanted was to take her pain away, to hold her close and mend her broken spirit. Azriel thinks of the first Starfall after they returned from under the mountain, how Y/N had opened up about her grief and trauma for the first time. He can still see the sadness in her eyes, the weight of her pain etched into every line of her face. It was a stark contrast to the joyous celebration unfolding around them, a reminder of the darkness that still lingered. From that day forward, Y/N never missed a single Starfall celebration.
As Azriel drifts off to sleep, frustration gnaws at his insides like a relentless beast. Despite his best efforts to push Y/N from his mind, she lingers there like a haunting specter, her presence weaving through his thoughts and dreams with an undeniable persistence. Rubbing his hand over his face in a futile attempt to banish the memories, Azriel can't help but feel a sense of shame at the intensity of his longing for her. He prides himself on his control, on his ability to keep his emotions in check, but she has a way of unraveling him like no one else.
And then there are the dreams - vivid and all-consuming, they play out like scenes from a forbidden fantasy, leaving Azriel feeling both exhilarated and guilty in their wake. They were friends. Just friends. Best friends, actually. And even though this urge was nothing completely unfamiliar, these thoughts had overtaken him completely as soon as she left.
Again his mind wandered. Asking himself how her lips would feel clashing against his, how she would wrap her arms around his neck, having to crane her neck for a kiss due to their height difference. What she would taste like, what sounds he could coax out of her. How those exact plush lips would feel wrapped around his cock.- A growl leaves him through clenched teeth. His eyebrows pinched as he squeezes his eyes shut, palming himself through his briefs. Confusion etched on his beautiful face then, because he just could not understand. She was his best friend, so why could he not stop thinking about her like this? Thus, so very determined, he decided that this had to change, while simultaneously fisting his heavy cock in one of his hands. "Fuck"
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I hope you enjoyed this little piece of my imagination. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated! Please let me know if you'd like a part 2 :)
#acotar#azriel spymaster#azriel#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x reader#azriel acotar#azriel smut#azriel fluff#fem reader#x reader#imagine#bat boys
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this blog is now archived !! find my MASTERLIST here !!
hi guys, and here’s a long overdue post that i wanted to take the time to make after collecting as many screenshots as i can for a lot of rumors that i think need to be addressed. before i do that, i wanted to apologize to all of my mutuals who ended up wrongfully harassed in their inboxes for simply knowing me—the irony of this issue being about bullying all the while people on this app have been simultaneously being genuinely awful to other writers who have zero involvement has been ridiculous.
i would’ve made this post sooner, but december was very busy—as you all know, i’ve been working with two separate companies for my capstone projects, and i had final presentations with boards to worry about. and then a cruise which was fun, but i was offline. now that i’ve finally had time to enjoy my break and collect my thoughts, i’d like to voice my own side to the discourse i’m sure you’ve all seen posted by @/garoujo, who is now @/gojoath.
first and foremost, i’ve been on tumblr for almost 4 years now, and while i may not have the brightest moments on here (no one will be spot-free in that amount of time), i’d like to think that if i actually went out of my way to vicious or bully people, this would’ve come to people’s attention a lot sooner. i’ve had a relatively large following across all 6 of my blogs in my time here, and while i don’t like to get into the metrics of my blogs, the reason i point this out is because i have willingly started my blog over 6 times. 3 of these were sfw blogs under my nickname tee, another 2 of which were my previous nsfw blogs under a different alias, and saetoru which is the current one, where i finally decided to combine my sfw and nsfw writing into one space. i just wanted to bring that up because i had quite a habit of leaving and restarting blogs before this one, and had i been obsessed with outperforming other writers in terms of follower counts, i would not have left the previous ones as often as i did.
that being said, i’ll also go through a timeline of events and how they’ve snowballed into an issue that is not as one-sided as most of you might think. i’ve been mutuals with emmie since my first blog, and i’d been mutuals with her through most of her blogs as well. we’ve never really had issues until her last blog @/garoujo, which she’d started after deactivating @/atsymu due to discourse regarding racism accusations. the reason why we had a falling out was because i felt that there were a series of odd coincidences that felt slightly purposeful, but i was still questioning whether or not i was looking too deeply into it to actually point any of it out.
admittedly, when i saw her first set of banners, i felt our layouts were a slight bit similar, but i really didn’t mind too much because i had been planning to change my banners anyway because i was bored of them. so i took that as an opportunity to do so. it just so happened that within a day or two of every time i changed my banners, hers would be changed too—i never said i owned the color gray, and i even fully acknowledge that the last two sets of banners, at first glance, wouldn’t be a red flag. because, like i said, i was more uncomfortable with the pattern of coincidences than the actual layouts. then i switched to my instagram theme, and not long after, i noticed her add instagram story visuals to her navi. again, no one ever said instagram was my original idea, and that no one else could use it, but it was an unsettling feeling having the same moot continuously make changes around the same time as you, and changes that are different enough that you can’t exactly point out an issue, but slightly similar enough that you can’t exactly ignore the slight oddness.
coincidentally, the same day, another blog (who i will not name bc they’re not very active anymore and are also not very relevant to this story) made the same theme as me and i was a bit peeved because this same blog is someone who has copied a few other things from me and a handful of other moots, so i made a subpost on my moots-only personal blog at the time. keep in mind, i made this post fully aware that emmie was on this blog because i didn’t intend for that post to seem like it was about her. but she reached out to me, and i explained to her the situation, and i even provided the relevant screenshots to show my points. i still considered her a decently good friend at the time, and even with the slightly off feelings, i was still adamant about brushing them off and considering them coincidences that perhaps i was being a bit too critical of.
it wasn’t until i woke up a few hours later after changing my theme and going to bed that i noticed she’d then fully switched to the insta theme. again, instagram is an app used by millions and, at one point, was a very popular theme used amongst most people on this app. i’m not entitled enough to believe i was the first person to do it, but like i said. there are just off vibes most of us will not help but feel when a series of coincidences continue to happen back to back to back by the same person.
there were, amongst these things, a number of other small touches that made me feel off. most of them i don’t remember by now or have screenshots of, so i won’t bother to go into all of them, but for reference, one example i’d also like to point out that i’d had the phrase “you’ve reached the hanmas” in my inbox when she was still on @/atsymu, and sometime after, her sfw blog @/loveatsu had the phrase “you’ve reached the miyas.” small things like this are not things i make an issue over and am more than capable of brushing aside, but like i have said and will continue to push firmly is that i felt there were multiple instances of emmie, in particular, making small tweaks to her blog shortly after me that made me feel were not all coincidentally similar. the issue was never themes or thinking i am the first or only person to do something a certain way, the issue has always been me countless times feeling that one particular individual is exhibiting a behavior that is persistent and uncomfortable no matter how minuscule the instances may be. maybe they were really just unfortunate coincidences that happened with poor timing, or maybe they weren’t. but i stand by the fact that anyone in my shoes would be valid to question the timing of each of these events over and over again.
i would also like to bring up kinktober (though this happened a while after the rest of what i will get into) because this was the first public discourse that emmie and i got into due to an anon’s claims of similarities between our posts. i had received an anon who told me “i think someone copied your kinktober masterlist” which i answered to ask if they could let me know who. they had come back to say it was garoujo, and i did not reply to the ask, instead, i made a post to vaguely tell the anon that i appreciate them letting me know, but i will just leave it be and continue on with my kinktober regardless of emmie’s mlist. i do think there were some vague similarities, but honestly not enough to really question it, so i figured a confrontation or issue was not necessary. a while later, several moots had messaged me to let me know they had received anonymous asks saying to “block @/garoujo she copied @/sakusins and she’ll copy you too” (or something along those lines, i don’t remember exactly.) i myself was very confused (and upset) by the situation because i did not, and still would not, want to be publicly name-dropped in other people’s inboxes over issues that do not involve them. unfortunately, it led to some not-very-kind asks to both of us, and while i am sorry she had to deal with that, it is not an apology from a sense of culpability. that situation was, and still is, entirely out of my control. i would not have seen the masterlist unless the anon had mentioned it, and i did not take part in having people send asks about her to other writers. especially not in a manner that was pretty much social suicide for me as well.
(this is a poorly made collage i know lol but i hit the picture limit bear with me here.)
i would also like to point out that i am not the only individual who has had issues with emmie and feels she had copied them. although i cannot disclose urls (they have been blocked out for privacy reasons) here are a few conversations i have had with my own mutuals, and i would wager there are more people whom i haven’t talked to who also feel this way. they might be small enough instances that sparking issues over them was not worth it to all of these people, therefore she has never heard from people herself about this issue, but the point does still stand that this claim about emmie is not one i alone make, and is one that i have heard countless times before. her never being approached by these individuals for the sake of peace doesn’t erase that they have been, and are, upset by these events, and it’s a habit that she seems to continually partake in. i would also like to link this post where she has been called out by another writer while she was still atsymu, which was posted while we were still friends. i’ve actually had a discussion with emmie about that post, and at the time, i had quickly skimmed the post and felt it was perhaps a reach, but after my own experiences, i went back to reread the post and considered perhaps there was validity to it, and that this might not be a one time occurrence. plagiarism in manners such as this will always have conflicting opinions, and it is hard to sometimes tell if something is a coincidence, a popular and overused idea, or something that has actually been copied. my point is that a number of people have all felt that perhaps there is a good chance this was not an accident, and please consider that so many instances of people feeling this way might suggest that there is a certain degree of validity to the claim.
at the beginning of all of this, when the masterlist banners had first started bothering me, i was upset, and i chose to vent to an ex-moot of mine who most of you would recognize as munsonsins. abby has deactivated a long while ago, but she’s relevant to this because i had chosen to vent to her at the time, and this is more or less what later caused this situation to escalate. at the time of venting to her, i knew she wasn’t mutuals with emmie because, as you can see, she’d told me as such.
one thing i would like to point out is that there were a handful of people i had vented to about my frustrations with emmie, but one thing i had always been mindful of was ensuring these were a) individuals who i considered close friends and not just random individuals, and b) were not friends or moots with emmie in the event that i accidentally made people who she cared about think lesser of her. had abby been mutuals with emmie, i would not have shared my feelings, and once again, i was not loose-lipped enough to just tell anyone because they’d listen. i told abby in particular because i had felt we were sufficiently close individuals who talked one-on-one and were able to vent to each other. a bit after i vented to her, though, she befriended emmie, which i had no such issues with because abby was/is her own person and is an adult who can interact freely and befriend whoever she wanted/wants to.
not long after that, on the night before eid (this detail is relevant in the future) an ex moot of mine @/kazuwhora reached out to me. if you guys remember, there was a discourse last year that was all over dash about how writers on this app should be open to criticism. a lot of people (including me and kc) were upset by that sentiment—which is still valid. please don’t give constructive criticism to writers without their explicit permission !! but regardless, kc sent me a screenshot of a mutual of mine who had posted their opinion on this discourse, and their point was clearly that while constructive criticism is important in some aspects, writers do not have to be subject to receiving it should they not want to. unfortunately, i felt as if kc misunderstood what this individual was trying to say, and i was trying to explain it to her, but we got into a small argument over how we interpreted the post. i felt some of the things she was saying about this individual were inappropriate, and i had made it clear that i was very fond of this person, and it made me uncomfortable to be having this discussion. regardless of whether she saw my interpretation of the post or not, i wanted to drop the discussion, especially because it was the night before eid. eid is the one holiday i celebrate, and there are traditions i quite enjoy the night before, and i didn’t want them to be spoiled with a poor mood over a silly argument. unfortunately, she wasn’t very willing to drop the topic, and it ended up making me upset. so i posted this screenshot to my moots only personal from the conversation that consisted of my messages only and said, “tonight i had to explain what a debate is.” it was petty, perhaps, but very harmless, seeing as there was no context given and no names/pfps to indicate who the person was.
truthfully, i had vented separately to cat, eris, and abby about this argument because i was friends with the three of them at the time, but needless to say, venting to your friends about arguments is a universal action, and i believe it is something all of us have partaken in.
eventually, i decided to softblock emmie because i felt it would be more comfortable for me on my blog to do so. after a bit, i was informed of a subpost that seemed like it couldn’t be about anyone other than me—to make things clear, emmie subposting me was not my concern. i did not hold it against her because she is more than entitled to have her own feelings and vents on her own blog, but the thing that did concern me was that it seemed slightly evident that she was aware of my feelings when i had never explicitly had a conversation with her. it made me question who would tell her, and as you may have guessed, the only person with whom i had shared my concerns who could also be in contact with emmie was abby.
at the time, eris had also voiced concerns that they had trusted abby with the ending of the plot for the diluc series they were planning, and coincidentally, one of abby’s friends had posted a fic idea eerily similar to their concept, to which abby had been commenting and reblogging more brainstormed ideas under. all of these ideas were very close to the plans eris had for their series plot, and understandably, they felt that it was not a mere coincidence that their entire plot was being brainstormed on dash by a person who was fully aware of their outline. i’d voiced my concerns with believing that abby may have also been sharing things i trusted her with, and as a result we both had made a few vague subposts that we liked from each other—a petty behavior, i will admit, but not something that i think is very out of the norm for a lot of people on this app. sometimes, we all just want to vent out our frustrations, and because we all more or less use tumblr as an outlet, these can sometimes be vaguely taken to dash. it’s not something that is ideally recommended (i’ve learned the hard way) but it’s also ?? not exactly something that only i’m guilty of, or is even a rare behavior. i think to shoot down one person for this behavior is quite frankly hypocritical. again, subposting isn’t a habit i would like to push as mature but it’s something i’d like to point out is very normal in this community, and is not something only i take part in. beyond that, i take to ensuring that whenever i do, i’m not explicitly exposing who i’m talking about in order to keep them out of unnecessary issues.
after this conversation with eris, it kind of solidified in my mind that i did not want to trust abby with any more personal vents, or information, and i had ultimately decided to soft block her too. i had also decided to take the opportunity to softblock kc as well because i figured i might as well just remove individuals who i felt made me uncomfortable. this is, again, my right to do so to curate my own space. not long after, cat, eris, and i had been softblocked/hardblocked by a number of moots, and we were a bit confused, until cat ended up having a conversation with kc. many accusations were made about all three of us, more specifically, about me to kc by abby because the two of them had been discussing that they’d both been softblocked by me recently.
the list of accusations we were told of is as follows:
me, cat, and eris have a “burn book” where we “blacklist people.” it’s important to note that every time this discourse resurfaces (this is now the fourth time), the “burn book” has fundamentally changed in its composition—it has changed from a discord server “burn book”, to a google doc “burn book”, to the current rumor that it was an entire blog that was used as a “burn book.” it is consistently changed to fit whatever narrative is trying to be pushed, and regardless, the rumor itself is entirely untrue and has been addressed multiple times. cat has had a tumblr theme, a collab theme, and a server theme all dedicated to the film mean girls. she simply had a channel that was to share the urls of minors to block for interacting with nsfw works, or people who were anti-dark content—this is something that i have seen in all servers i’ve been in during my time on tumblr, and is not a new concept for many of you either. it’s simply a precaution a lot of servers take to warn writers about potential minors to block, and potential anti-dark content harassers. the name of this channel happened to be “the burn book” because it was a mean girls themed server, so the name just fit. nowhere in this channel were other writers in the community “blacklisted” or spoken negatively of, and here are the screenshots of the channel. this was simply something abby had twisted in order to paint us negatively. here is the link to cat’s post addressing it for proof and explanation (i run out of pictures or i would include them myself.)
abby also claimed that i was using this channel to talk poorly about kc and a handful of other moots. this is also false bc this server had several strangers (as it was cat’s server and i didn’t know all her moots), but it also had several of kc’s mutuals/friends in this server as well. i’m not so dense as to talk poorly about other writers publicly in a server, let alone a server i know has people who are friends with kc
now, this next part, emmie has conveniently painted out to be about me, as i apparently harassed and blacklisted people for liking itto from genshin impact, but i have been playing genshin for over a year on this app, and quite a large number of you are my own followers who see my rambles and my writing and i don’t have to explain that i have never written for itto, nor explicitly expressed an interest in him apart from perhaps one or two posts from back when i did his story quest. i never had, and still to this day, have no interest in the character itto. i’ve skipped his banner, i plan to skip his upcoming banners should they come, and i have never written for him, nor do i plan to write for him. this issue with itto is between eris and another individual, and i do not have the details to this, as i was new friends with eris at the time, and i’m no longer friends with eris as of current time. quite frankly, even if i knew the details, i wouldn’t go out of my way to share them because it has nothing to do with me. plain and simple.
as you can see, there were a number of rumors spread here to kc by abby, and as you can see, all of which led me to seem quite vicious in character. i’ve provided, to the best of my ability, screenshots and receipts of why each of these is quite drastically out of context and far from true to what abby has claimed.
i did in fact, after these events confront abby because i was genuinely appalled by the way she knowingly and purposely twisted things conveniently to villainize me. she expressed that she was upset and paranoid by the subposts that she figured were about her once i’d soft blocked her, so i apologized for the posts. she had conversations with both me and cat about the rumors she’d started, and she also apologized for them to both me and cat.
the rumors that emmie has claimed about me in her post, which she conveniently provided no evidence of, are all rumors that are more or less a result of my differences with abby and kc. unfortunately, despite cat trying her best to explain to kc the falseness of most of these rumors, she didn’t really believe them—which is her business. to each their own. i’m sure if i had been in kc’s shoes and in one night, someone i had considered a friend had been painted to do a series of nasty things behind my back, i also would not know what’s true and untrue, and she is entitled to piecing together what she believes is her truth. what’s not fair, however, is for emmie to have no involvement/understanding of these events apart from a twisted narrative she heard from one person and dog pile them into her claims of my behavior to further paint me as a villain. emmie is more than entitled to have her beliefs on my character based on her own experiences, which she has provided her own evidence of, but simply slapping an “and i heard she also….” does not necessarily make claims true, and is very manipulatively thrown into the post to add a list of things that make my character questionable to further validate her point.
not only this, but she has made a point to openly admit that she and her friends have collectively mocked me for my relationship with my ex-boyfriend, who they have apparently labeled as my “fake” boyfriend that i used to get attention on this app. quite plainly, i get enough attention on my blog that i don’t need a fake boyfriend to amp that up. but furthermore, i am a south asian, muslim individual. my parents are immigrants with very strict religious and cultural beliefs that i feel are very restricting at times, and though i love my family, i struggle with my identity quite a bit as i live in a very western culture that clashes quite a bit with my cultural norms. i do not get to freely explore my sexuality or even romantic life in general, unlike some of you. my parents have been kept in the dark about my relationship because them knowing about it is something that could quite literally create a rift between us, and i find it very insulting and almost suspicious that a white girl is making a mockery of my cultural struggles and my personal life. many of you are either desi or muslim or simply children of strict immigrant parents with quite stubborn traditional views. i’m sure plenty of you understand where i’m coming from when i say that i have to keep my relationship hidden from the majority of the people around me. tumblr is the one place i can anonymously share bits and pieces of my life without worrying about if it will literally cost me my relationship with my parents, so sometimes i may have overshared silly or pointless things, but that is because it’s my own way of being able to express myself and my relationship the way i have always wanted to. apart from that, dragging and making a joke out of someone’s personal life is quite unnecessary in this case. the issue is about tumblr discourse, and i find it very hypocritical that i am being labeled a bully when people, more specifically a white and privileged individual, is plain and simple mocking and poking fun at my personal life and situation that i have no control of. that is my piece on that. whether some of you believe i had a partner or not is not my business, nor do i have to go out of my way to show you evidence of my personal life. what i will say, however, is that there are a handful of close friends i have on this app who are involved in my personal life and have seen evidence of my love life through pictures and private stories on social media. quite frankly, these are the only individuals who i have to justify the validity of my personal life to, and it’s honestly quite violating for someone to stoop to dragging someone’s outside life into issues about tumblr. i extend a very genuine fuck you to every single one of you that have ridiculed my personal relationship and just know that you are extremely bold to consider yourselves above bullying when this is the type of behavior you admit to engaging in. individuals with complex familial relationships, and identity struggles between cultural norms, their ethnicities, and the western world are not your playground to make a joke out of. some of us have very real struggles, such as not being able to pursue careers in favor of arranged marriages, not being able to pursue actual relationships that mean something to us due to a lack of familial approval, being forced to bear children at young ages due to familial pressure, and so on. they are not laughing matters, and are a part of my reality. and before some of you get started—yes, it really is that serious. i have struggled my entire life with having white girls poke fun and tease at my cultural norms, and i refuse to allow another white and privileged individual who already has a record of racially related discourse walk away with once more poking fun at my personal struggles and not be called out for it. i hope you had a good, long, satisfying laugh emmie.
onto my next points based on claims @/anantaru has made about me. the main thing i’d like to really point out here is that anantaru and i have never, not even once, interacted to the extent of my knowledge. they claim that cat and i cannot stand it when people cross us in numbers and that we go through people’s likes in order to find minors and blank blogs to explain all the notes. a) i am very bad at checking for minors and blanks in my own notes, so this is not even a logical approach on my end, but b) this claim is made because cat made this post under the tags of a post going around last year that asked to hear unpopular ficblr opinions.
what cat means to articulate here is that sometimes, when she is scrolling on dash and interacting with moots and their shit/talk-posts, she peeks at profiles she sees in the notes and has happened to catch minors lurking. cat, firstly, has never followed anantaru, so they are not a “victim” to cat glancing at their likes, but secondly, this is not nearly as psychotic as it’s painted out to be. cat is not, and was not, jealous of other blog's notes. quite plainly, she’s not exactly a tiny blog either, and she’s only stumbled upon minors in the talks-posts of moots, including me. shit-posts/talks-posts are easy to notice minors lurking on, and while most people recognize that it’s quite impossible to catch every minor and ageless blog in writing posts with numerous notes, a simple shit-post on dash is more simple, and her unpopular opinion was simply that blogs that grow rapidly need to be better about catching those minors because they are susceptible to having more of them lurking. it’s a really harmless sentiment, and she’s gently reminded me as well on more than one occasion to be more responsible about my habit of being lazy when scouting for minors in my interactions.
this is not out of jealousy, nor is it some sick and twisted habit she has to “explain” why people get more notes than she might get. it’s also out of a place of concern for her own content ?? i myself and plenty of other large blogs reblog from mutuals, and they are well within their right to be concerned that perhaps minors are lurking on our pages and interacting with works we reblog from our mutuals. cat has voiced this concern to me before, also out of goodwill and simple concern for my content, her content, and minors in general. there is simply no need to twist it into her viciously looking down upon large blogs and their notes counts and claiming they’re “only because they don’t block minors.” admittedly, though, i do need to be better about catching minors, and i have always appreciated her trying to keep me in the habit of being responsible about it. more importantly, it was a small passing comment under a post of unpopular opinions, a lot of them were hot takes, and this is hardly a serious one to get so heated over.
i’d also like to point out that anantaru has claimed we blocked them for being a gatekeeper and because we’re jealous of their notes. 💀. a) i am very grateful and very happy with the level of interaction i get on my writing, as more people than i imagine leave me countless comments and reblogs. i have never had an issue with comparing my interaction with that of other writers because i have always been abundantly content with the interaction i get. i have no other comment on this other than cat and i blocked anantaru at the same time because we happened to see a post of theirs reblogged onto our dash that made a joke that we felt was a bit insensitive to/alluded to SA—i’m sure it wasn’t meant to be taken that way, but it made us uncomfortable regardless. while we are both dark content supporters, and i myself have read more than one fic that includes noncon in particular, it doesn’t mean we have to like/enjoy everything related to it and we simply decided to block them. i’m not going to bring this post up bc it’s simply not important. they are an adult who is more than entitled to make jokes on their blog and cat and i do not have to like them !! we simply did what we were well within our rights to do, and that’s blocking them.
there’s more they go on to say about receiving hate asks and that apparently it’s because of our “group of friends.” cat and i don’t have a group of friends. i don’t have any group chats with her besides the one with her boyfriend because i get along with him sometimes as well, and we used to play genshin together a lot when i was in low ar. not that i have to explain my friendships here, but i quite literally do not have a group of people to “send after” anantaru because people are well aware of my close friends, who i text with my personal phone number. i’ve posted silly screenshots of convos on my blog multiple times, and none of these friends overlap because i do not have a “group” of friends, just individual friends who i talk to one on one. cat is not friends with my other friends, and my other friends are not friends with her. there are no inner circles that conspire together to send anyone hate because i “tell them to.” and if there are screenshots of me explicitly encouraging someone to send hate on anon, i would love to see it. if i had sent my anons after anantaru, it would have to be a public post, and i’m sure if there were a post of such nature, it would have been brought to light by now. they have also claimed they were given multiple urls of mine to block. i only have ONE writing blog, @/saetoru, and the only other two that are still up are archived blogs @/hanmine and @/katsuphilia, which are side blogs attached to saetoru and have been inactive for several months. there are however, multiple individuals on this app who also go by the name “tee,” and perhaps we have unfortunately been mixed up as the same person, but the only blog i have is saetoru, so there is no other active blog they have blocked me from that belonged to me and was able to harass them.
not only that, but anantaru has claimed that one person off anon sent them hate with a kaeya url which they insinuate to be me. once again, you are all more than aware of my history of urls, and many of you have all been here to see them. i’ve never once had a kaeya url, nor have i ever been particularly interested in kaeya outside of a small number of posts on a rare occasion. my genshin favorites have always been characters from sumeru and, at one point diluc, and once again i don’t have to ?? explain my selfships to you all ?? but literally, i have nothing to do with a kaeya blog or kaeya account, and im unsure why it’s being thrown into my name. quite frankly, i’m not sure what their moot has told them we have said about them, but the only conversations cat and i have ever had about anantaru was that one about the noncon joke, and that’s it. outside of that, there is literally no evidence of us speaking about this person because it simply doesn’t exist.
i implore you all to, instead of starting public discourse over things you hear, confirm them first. had anantaru reached out to me or cat and expressed that they are upset that we are supposedly spreading false rumors about them gatekeeping, then whatever misunderstanding it might have been could have been cleared. i would like to also point out that it is not above bullying when you simply dump numerous accusations that you have heard through half whispers from moots and provide 0 evidence for them. i am perfectly aware of why emmie may consider herself to have issues with me, but i have never had an encounter with anantaru, and truthfully, i’ve never actually even read their writing before. my main (and pretty much only) experience with them is seeing the joke i saw reblogged onto my dash, and as i stated earlier, the only thing i did for that was block and move one.
and lastly, the other point i’d like to make is that numerous blogs who i have been objectively very kind to have come out to take the opportunity to stomp on my character and reputation. for example, tumblr user @/osaemu, who used to follow me and interact with me quite often. i have always been excited to interact with her because she was really supportive of my gojo writing, and at one point, i had a small area of concern with her using the same exact title as me for a gojo fic. below are screenshots of our conversation regarding the titles.
i am quite confident that this is a very polite interaction, and i was very clear that i didn’t think that her writing elements, including gojo’s parent dynamics and his dynamics with the reader, were copied or even something that i felt she needed to change. i pointed them out as a way of indicating that between these parallels and between the fact that i know she reads my rb! gojo series, i find it difficult to believe that our fic titles being exactly the same is a coincidence, and it made me uncomfortable—my concern was not how she wrote gojo’s parents or his dynamic with reader. i never accused her of stealing ideas that were mine alone to use, all i simply wanted to do was shed light on the fact that based on these parallels, i figured the names being the same was a touch difficult for me to brush aside as a chance similarity. i was very clear to outline that i know these dynamics and themes in writing are generic, and that people can pull inspo from them because i have done the same thing. my only concern was the title, which i politely asked her to change, and she agreed. case closed. i have been, again objectively, quite kind to osaemu, and i had no intentions of blocking her like a moot had suggested because i felt it was a very silly issue to block over since she was very lovely to me.
i did, however, block her because she posted one-paragraph posts with multiple characters tagged. that’s not a crime on her end, and i’m certainly not here to police her posts in the tags, but as me and plenty of other people on this app have voiced multiple times, it is a bit irritating and feels like spam to see posts of these kinds in the tags so i blocked her. this is a very popular opinion and i refuse to be considered problematic for it. i am not here to police what constitutes an appropriate post to tag x reader tags on, and while i have made posts simply sharing my opinion on what i feel should and should not be tagged, osaemu is more than welcome to post whatever she feels she would like to into the tags. i do, however, block anyone who i come across who makes those kinds of posts because i simply don’t like them, and i don’t like seeing them. i don’t owe an explanation for why i block anyone, but seeing as i have been painted as some bitch for doing so, here is my reasoning. quite a lot of people agree on this sentiment, and to each their own, but i don’t enjoy seeing those posts. i did also unblock her at one point, as she mentioned. this is simply because a mutual of mine had voiced that they felt someone had copied the concept of their drabble, and i was helping them word a message to send, so i went back to this exact conversation to look back on what i said because it was a similar situation. as you know, blocking someone hides their dms from your dm list, so i had intended to temporarily unblock her just to see how i worded my message to help formulate a message for a mutual. there were no screenshots sent, i simply wanted to jog my memory of my points, that’s all. i did forget to block her again for a bit but eventually did, and that’s the extent of our interactions. i don’t recall posts telling people that i condone sending anons with death threats like she has claimed, and if she could point out the particular posts i have made where i encourage people to send anon death threats on my behalf, i would be more than happy to clear them up, or address them.
i have admittedly, on a few occasions said in my responses to anon hate itself, the phrase “kys” out of frustration, and there are i’m sure conflicting opinions on that, but i do not regularly use this phrase in my vocabulary. i have been on the receiving end of graphic sexual and violent asks in my inbox regarding me, my teenage sister, and my mother, during my time on here, and sometimes out of frustration i have said less than dignified things, but this is not a constant behavior, and frankly, i think once people make graphic, violent, and inappropriate comments about my 16 year old sister, saying “kys” in response is not the greater of the two evils. it is a tad bit hypocritical to expect benevolence from me to an anonymous hate ask just because there is “another person” at the end of the screen when they have not extended the same sentiment to me.
all of that being said, jumping on the trend to trample on someone while you have the opportunity to because you’re bitter they blocked you is also no better than bullying. apart from blocking osaemu, I have taken careful steps to always be respectful to her due to the very kind comments she’s left on my writing. leaving nice comments on my writing is deeply appreciated and welcome, but that doesn’t mean i have to subject myself to seeing posts i do not want to see on my dash on my phone. i pay for the phone bill, so i will cater my phone to show me what i want to see, and if that includes blocking a few people, i am allowed to do that !! i should not have to apologize for or be crucified for blocking someone and their feelings being hurt over it.
not only this, but several of you have somehow started a rumor that i am 26 or even pushing 30. that’s nowhere close to the truth. i’m 21, soon to be 22, and i have stated multiple times i am an undergraduate college student. of course, there is no timeline to college, and people of all ages complete their undergrad degrees, but i have made it a point to vent about my concerns numerous times that i am very stressed about taking extra classes every semester to compensate for changing my major late because i want to graduate on time. my graduation year is 2024 (as would make sense seeing as i will be 22 years old), and if you don’t believe me, i have celebrated my bday on april 12th of every year this blog has been active. you’re more than welcome to check my archive to see if that’s true, and for further reference, here is a picture i have sent to mods of servers i am in to be accepted. (note that my url used to be hanmas before saetoru.)
although there is no shame in being 26 or pushing 30, the reason why i wanted to address this is that i wanted to point out that yet another rumor has been fiercely pushed on my name and has been believed to be the truth. no one has to walk away from reading this post assuming that i’m a saint and i have never done anything wrong or that i have been faultless in differences i’ve had with other people. but a lot, if not all, of these claims are exaggerated with 0 evidence, and people have just run with claiming them as true. i physically cannot deny a large majority of these rumors with evidence or screenshots because half of them are made by people i have never interacted with or talked to, and i cannot produce evidence for interactions that never happened. i have seen blank, burner blogs post stories of their experiences with me, one in particular that claims i dm’d them to tell them their hanma fic was breathtaking before i harassed them about their theme, boyfriend, and parents. a) i do not dm anyone to compliment their fics because i am simply too shy to do that. i would have only reblogged the fic with comments if i enjoyed it. b) again, there is no evidence on their part, and i cannot dispel this story with evidence of my own because evidence of conversations that never took place does not exist. and c) i would like to think i do not come across as dense enough to attack someone in their dm’s viciously about their boyfriend and parents openly with my account, where they could easily spread the proof around if it had actually happened. i am not responsible for people’s internet literacy, and if people believe every story that is shared with not even a small piece of proof that it took place, i cannot do anything besides simply urge you all to formulate your opinions based on what you see, not based on what you hear.
i would also like to end things off with an apology to all of you—mainly because there was no reason for so many of you to be dragged into something that did not involve you and also because there are very disturbing and important issues going on right now in real-time in the world that are affecting a lot of people. i never want to be involved in something that takes attention off of important discussions such as genocide, and while many of you like to claim i am deflecting, i think it is quite telling that some people have posted nothing about something this important but have made multiple posts regarding discourse. i did not feel it was appropriate at that time to focus on discourse, and i still do not think so, but i wanted to leave off with my own statement.
i would also like to apologize if i have ever come across as unkind during an experience with me; it is never my intention to be that way purposely. i have a habit of being petty sometimes and can be a bit short-tempered, and it’s something i work on. with as large of a following as i have, sometimes it’s better not to say anything at all than say it—however vaguely it might be. i hope some of you who also have larger followings keep that in mind so that you can avoid discourse erupting into something grand scale. please vent to people you trust and be wary of having a habit to subpost. but mainly, please remember that people trusting you with their feelings and troubles is not something you should take pride in spreading. there is nothing to be proud of about sharing people's private socials, urls, and conversations. while i am not always able to keep my temper under wraps, and while i have had my fair share of petty moments, i, to the best of my ability, have always made sure that i don’t come across as intentionally cruel or mean, nor have i purposely broken someone’s trust. sometimes i have retaliated back a bit fiercely, but i stand by the fact that i never purposely chased or drove anyone off, mocked or belittled them, or sent people over to dislike/hate them. i have at times vented to those who i believe are people i can trust, sure—but this is something we as people are all guilty of. there’s no way any of us can hold one person more accountable than others for partaking in closeted conversations that are never meant to get back to people and hurt them.
i genuinely loved, and still love, writing very much, and i have always appreciated every ask, every reblog, and every comment. writing is a hobby i am greatly passionate about, and it’s always a hobby i was very excited to share with people on here because i don’t get to share it with people irl. i don’t willingly tell people irl that i enjoy making elaborate plots about anime characters, and i have always been very excited to share that hobby with you all, whether you are a reader or writer. i’ve read fanfiction for a very long time before i ever decided to try my hand at writing it, and i would never want to knock other people down simply because they “surpassed” me. i enjoy finding writers to read from, especially those who write better than me, because they are where i draw the most inspiration and motivation from. the moots i look up to most are moots who are in my opinion, far stronger writers than me, and moots who i always firmly believe deserve much more reach than i do on their stories because they’re far more fleshed out and in-depth than anything i can produce. and i am proud of them !! and even those of you who feel you are stuck not getting as much reach as you would hope, i am proud also of all of you for picking up a google doc or pen and writing and trying, whether you choose to share it or not. i will always strongly encourage you all to try your hand at writing if you have ever considered it because i have genuinely built such a better sense of self-esteem when being able to incorporate pieces of myself in my stories and express parts of who i am—i think some of you might really enjoy the catharsis that writing brings, and if you ever debate on trying it out, please do !! you might become really passionate about it.
anyway, this post is abysmally long. none of it is to clear my name in hopes that i will be “un-canceled” (LOL) because i have decided saetoru is long overdue to be put to rest. i hope you can all, at the very least, allow other writers some peace and stop harassing them in their inboxes for knowing me (because that is also bullying and very ironic of you), and i hope you all got some sort of understanding of where i am coming from. if you think poorly of me, that’s okay. i have an opinion of myself, and the close people who surround me, that i am confident in, and while i may not have always handled things in the brightest of manners, i am well aware of what my intentions have always been.
i’m deeply grateful to all 41k of you, and thank you for reading my works and allowing me to write for you !! thank you for all the very, very kind asks that i never got a chance to fully answer each one of, and thank you especially for all the supportive comments and love on the writing i’ve posted. they might be silly fics you read once and moved on from, but they’re all pieces of me, my life, and things that are important to me, and as cringe and cheesy as it sounds, it means quite literally everything to me when people read them and take away something from them.
also, as a parting gift, i will be posting the nerd gojo, ex-convict geto, and a marriage rb! gojo fic to my ao3 (also saetoru) for those of you who have been patiently awaiting those wips to enjoy. please (a little more patiently) keep your eyes peeled for those <3 i will no longer be posting or active on saetoru, and in the event that i keep writing, it will be posted on my ao3, so you all will know where to find me !!
so for the last time, i love you my little runts !! wishing you all the best, and goodbye to my lil saetoru bestees.
mwah !!
— tee <3
ps. i also have turned off reblogs for this post and limited replies to people i follow only. a lot of you will jump to say that it’s simply because i am “hiding,” but it is solely because i have said my piece and i intend to move on. thank you and have a lovely day shawtee ✌🏽
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So! I've gotten a host of messages and asks regarding recent disk horse and I wanted to address them as a collective. I know I have anon asks off, I won't share your URLs, but I do want to thank you for asking and clarifying some of the frankly vile things people have been saying about me, my girlfriend, and friends. I value those of you who offered your words of support, and didn't jump to believe screenshots taken out of context and lies written with the utmost confidence and none of the facts. I am a little tired of having my morals questioned and my views conflated with every single person I associate with, but there it goes.
Some questions and answers under the cut. Feel free to continue asking and I'll do my best to answer.
tumblr user cpericardium suspiciously silent on the subject of Gaza: does this mean you support ethnic cleansing???
My reticence when it comes to posting about topics like I/P is because:
-This is a fandom blog intended for lighter topics, except maybe the occasional vent about life stuff, which I usually hide under a cut. I don't have sideblogs. They seem tough to maintain and I don't post nearly enough to justify it. If I were to make one it would be for another fandom or maybe just the freakier bugs. I simply prefer my social media experience to be stress-free.
-Anti-slacktivism. It's a documented thing: posting about an issue makes you feel like you're doing something, you get that little shot of dopamine, so you don't actually go out and do something that effects meaningful change. I'm trying to do less of that. I'm good with the friends and people I follow who choose to post about it and this is a strictly personal belief, but when I engage in activism, it is offline or it is a donation. You're not going to hear about it.
But don't you reblog lgbt and women's rights posts?
Yeah, and that's usually when I want to save a post for one reason or another (e.g. to talk about with someone on discord later). The bottom line is that the main purpose of my blog is not to post political takes or to spread awareness of anything. It is just a collection of my interests (fan stuff, bugs) and hopefully a way to share those interests with like-minded people.
I will state my views clearly for the record: I support Palestine. The ongoing genocide is heartbreaking and so is the violence against protestors. Additionally, I am against antisemitism and the harassment of Jewish people in the name of supporting Palestine. This shouldn't even need to be said.
Is your girlfriend a Zionist?
No.
Does she support Zionists?
No.
Wasn't she in the military?
Yes, years ago.
But the military is evil?
It is. She's extremely hardcore anti-war, does not believe the US should even have an army, and actively PMs strangers on reddit to try to convince them to not make the same mistake. If they're dead set anyway, she gives them detailed advice on how to survive. Because she actually cares about the human cost of war, not the social clout gained from shunning or sneering at people who make wrongheaded choices. I have seen her doing this, seen her seeking to understand their reasons for joining so she can systematically explain—from personal experience!—why they're not going to get any of that out of the army. It is a hell of a lot more effective than bitching them out or writing callout posts or starting whisper campaigns about them. She cannot delete those years of her life no matter how much she regrets them. There is only forward. I think we can all agree on that.
But what about all those things she said. "I regret nothing, I have no qualms, VA nipple money etc."
Well you have to understand that while of generally upright character, she is a bit of a scamp. She believes she fundamentally should not have to explain herself to randos who do not know her, who have never, not once, interacted with her, who are clearly digging for dirt and will twist anything she says no matter how banal. People see what they want to see and they look for evidence to reinforce their preconceptions; they'll go so far as to make alts to join servers, cherry-pick screencaps, crop them, and conveniently fill in the rest of the narrative for curious onlookers. So she decided to exaggerate and amplify and twirl her mustache like a supervillain. Give them a show, as it were.
To be clear, I'm not sold on this strat because it makes her look cartoonishly evil to people who can't understand sarcasm and hyperbole. But her friends and I are aware of her actual beliefs and also that she did not in fact do those things people imagine she did. And isn't that what matters? Real-life harm? Do you even care?
Re: screenshots
She addresses them here.
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i. incandescent glow
summary: have you ever been so alone you spend the day confusing a man in a coma?
pairing: assumed e.m x reader, eventual s.h x reader
warnings: my blog is 18+ MDNI; mutual pining, yearning, miscommunication, poorly-wired idiot signals, vague nineties vibes, asshole-ish rockstar eddie, best friend & store manager steve, drug abuse, comas and hospitals, found family, hop and wayne knocking sense into people, eventual smut, schmaltzy rom-com goodness, mention of thanksgiving, christmas, and new year's holidays
w.c.: 8.2k
a/n: when I say that writing this kicked my ass, I'm tellin' you I had a rough time. @bettyfrommars this flannel-wearing Steve is for you especially! Please enjoy & I hope y'all like it 🥹
series m.list | playlist | currently spinning:
Steve hadn’t planned for his life to amount to this, he’d simply blinked and found himself in a new decade, still rewinding tapes at Family Video. Granted, he’s district manager now and has several stores in the area he’s responsible for.
Meanwhile, Eddie got the hell outta dodge and Corroded Coffin actually made something of themselves. Two albums under their belt and a forth-coming world tour after the holidays, and, more recently, a cover on the Rolling Stone. Ed had called him up once it was all finalized, “Can you fuckin’ believe it man?!”
And, Steve loves Eddie, so he could actually believe it. He tries and fails to keep his jealousy at bay, Ed is one of his best friends for christ sakes. Steve is happy for him, he really is, despite the revolving doors at rehab centers dotting the west coast, late night calls from strangers because Munson passed out in someone’s bathroom again.
He is, after all, Eddie’s emergency contact. Gareth approached him after the second stint at rehab and suggested it, thought it would be the best all things considered. Steve readily agreed and signed the forms, kept his pager on him, and dutifully smoothed things over when Eddie’s benders got a bit too much.
So, he’s rewinding tapes when his pager goes off. He glances at the number and drags the phone across the counter. Nestling the handset between his shoulder and cheek, he punches in the numbers and shoves the tape in a plastic case to be shelved later.
“Hello, this is Hawkins Memorial Hospital. How may I direct your call?” a kind, if perfunctory voice recites. He can hear the hustle and bustle of the hospital waiting room, muted conversations and the ringing of phones.
“Hi, this is Steve Harrington. I received a page from this number regarding Eddie Munson.” Steve eyes the clock, he’s on closing shift by himself already having sent he employees home to celebrate with their families.
“Yes, one moment please.” The receptionist places him on hold, allowing Steve to rewind a couple more tapes and sort them for shelving. “Mr. Harrington?” the line roars back to life, no longer the receptionist, but the doctor in charge of Eddie’s care instead. “Mr. Munson came into the hospital unresponsive but breathing, he was revived by a…” He rattles off a name that Steve has never heard before. “His, fiancée, as I understand it.”
Steve feels the floor sway under his feet.
Eddie.
With a fiancée?
“She’s here now and in a bit of shock, as you can expect. Since you’re his emergency contact, we wanted to alert you of his current state as well as get any contact information for family and friends that need to be made aware.”
“Oh, uh, sure.”
The doctor continues to relay that they’ve elected to place Eddie under a medically induced coma for the time being, to allow his body to flush the drugs from his system before assessing for any further damage.
Steve is transferred to a medical assistant who takes down Wayne and Hopper’s information. He figures between the two men the job will get done, but let’s be real, it’ll be Joyce that activates the phone tree and calls the kids, and he plans to swing by the hospital later that evening once he’s closed up.
Grabbing the stack of tapes and begins to shelve them with a shake of his head. It would be just like Eddie to get engaged and not be fucked to tell anyone. Returning to the counter, he fiddles with the cuffs of his flannel shirt— Robin got it for him the last time she swung through town, insisted that Steve’s wardrobe needed some serious upgrading and all but thrust it upon him.
“It brings out your eyes,” She said, leaning against the wall outside the dressing room. Her worn boots kicked against one another, half of her reflected in the mirror while Steve assessed.
“It’s brown.”
“And gold!” She turns him around to press down the collar and pop the first two buttons of the shirt open. “It’s color theory man, just trust me on this, okay?”
Which is how Steve found himself the new owner of several flannel shirts of varying hues. And boots. When he complained it was all too lumberjack-like, Robin shushed him and continued to flirt with the cute check-out girl.
But that had been months ago. It was coming on Thanksgiving now and his two best friends had been too busy traveling or showing art pieces to even call. He doesn’t mind, not really— well, he tries not to. Steve gets it, people are busy, things to do and people to see.
The remainder of his shift goes by slowly. Kids home from school, families coming in by the dozen. Steve manages to complete a few menial tasks in between customers, throws on Planes, Trains and Automobiles just to have something on in the background.
He’s helping a regular when his pager beeps again, this time flashing Robin’s number. The door dings as they leave and Steve’s already wedged the phone to balance against his shoulder once more as he leans and elbow on the counter.
“Eddie has a fiancée?!” is the thing she screeches down the line. “When the fuck did that happen? Harrington, you’re supposed to keep me aware of these things!”
He signs and scrubs a hand down his face, “I’m his emergency contact, not his guardian.”
“Have you met her? What’s she like?”
“I don’t—”
“I got the first flight out of the city. Which means I had to go to LaGuardia blech,” She makes a gagging sound down the line. “Jonathan’s picking me up now from Indy. Oh my god, is she pretty?” Robin pings between her travel plans and hypothesizing about Eddie’s girl, “I bet she’s a total knock-out, knowing him. How did they meet? D’ya think she’d pose for me?”
“Slow down there, killer.” Steve laughs, “Might want to meet the girl first before propositioning her.”
She huffs a laugh, “You’re right, of course. She’d probably think I’m insane or something. What would I do without you Stevie?”
“Probably scare off more chicks than you already do.”
“Oh, go fuck yourself Harrington.” Robin’s laugh is loud and warm, soothing something in his gut. “I’ll see you tonight, dingus.”
“Sure, stay safe. Call me later, bye.” He places the phone back in its cradle and has half a mind to check the room behind the curtain, just in case some teenagers slipped past without him noticing, but then the phone rings.
“Thank you for calling Family Video, this is Steve. How may I help you?”
“Uh, hi.” A voice says down the line, small and tight. You introduce yourself, quickly followed by, “I’m at the hospital, with, uh Eddie?”
“Oh! Hi, how’s he doing?”
“Good, still in the coma.”
Steve can hear some voices filtering through the mic, loud and familiar.
“So, Hop and Wayne made it? That’s good.”
“Yeah, yeah, Joyce too. The kids are here too, I guess? It’s all a bit overwhelming.”
He huffs a laugh, “Yeah, I can only imagine.” He occupies himself with the slinky on the counter, much preferring to hear your voice than deal with the families that just walked in, ten minutes to close. “You holding up okay?”
An intake of breath, “Mmhm.”
It’s a feeling he knows well.
You’re overwhelmed by all these people you’d never met, on top of the fact that your fiancee is in a coma. Steve feels like shit, having you handle all of that by yourself. If he hadn’t stupidly sent the mid-shift employees home early, he would have been there to help you navigate it all.
“Joyce wants to know if you’re coming by after work. If we should wait for you,” You say after a beat or two of silence, “Or if you’ll just meet us at the house for Thanksgiving tomorrow?”
Steve rolls his neck in an effort to relieve the built-up tension there, bones popping, he rubs a hand at the nape of his neck. “Could you put her on real quick?”
He listens as the phone changes hands and Joyce’s comforting voice intones, “Steve?”
“She’s freaking out.”
“What?”
He sighs, “The fiancée, she sounds like she’s in a bad way.” He checks out the straggling customers, “Don’t wait on my account. I’ll see Ed after I’m done here.”
“Okay, Steve.”
“Does she have a place to stay? I know Rob is crashing with you and Hop—”
Joyce laughs, “We’ll have a full house I suppose. I can put Jonathan on the couch or something, don’t worry about it Steve.”
“Right. Okay.” He gives the final customer a smile and wave as they wish him a happy holiday. “I’ll see you later.”
Hanging up the phone, Steve walks to the door to turn the lock and flip the sign to ‘closed.’ He lingers against the door, resting his forearms against the bar, watching as the snow falls against the dark sky. Wonders how it is that just from the sound of your voice, he felt himself falling not unlike snowflakes outside.
Earlier that day
Turns out, landing the Corroded Coffin interview was not the boon to your career you thought it would be.
Maybe you’d set yourself up for failure. And it didn’t help that you had one big, fat embarrassing crush on a member of the band. Generally, being a fan of the artist coupled with the tendency to romanticize things in your mind only led to disaster.
Or, in your case, attempting to revive the frontman of the aforementioned band on the bathroom floor.
Eddie Munson was unresponsive at your feet, a panoply of pills and baggies scattered across the floor. Having no time to think, you launch into action— checked for breathing and finding none began CPR followed by chest compressions, all while yelling for help.
Gareth is the one to find you, compressing Eddie’s chest with your two hands in between administering two breaths after every 30 counts.
“Call an ambulance!”
You can’t even bring yourself to feel sorry about your tone, harried and frantic, as he stumbles out to call 911. Thankfully, the paramedics are quick. One paramedic asks, “You’re his fiancée?”
Dumbly, you nod, too in shock to register what’s been said. Someone guides you down the steps and into the front of the ambulance strapping you in with a seatbelt. He can’t just die, you reason, not when Corroded is just taking off— a world tour in the new year and a cover story with Rolling Stone.
Your editor would have your head if something were to go wrong. Munson was notoriously picky with interviews and reporters, it was a miracle they’d approved you for the job. Rumor has it that he’d have much preferred Nancy Wheeler, but the board wasn’t keen to bring in a free-lance reporter for the job.
Somehow, this would be your fault.
Arriving at the hospital isn’t any better. Gareth and the other band members stayed behind to call management and see what was to be done about Eddie, and made you promise to call them once you’d arrived at Hawkins Memorial.
Nevermind that you’re alone in a town you’d never stepped foot in before today. And all at Eddie Munson’s behest.
They rushed him off past the swinging double-doors, out of your reach. Stepping to the front desk, you ask the receptionist where the nearest pay-phone is, and she offers you one of the hospital phones instead.
Dialing the number hastily scribbled onto your hand, your fingers brush along the plastic keys listening for the trill of the ring down the line.
“Hi, Gareth? We made it to the hospital, they took him back with a team of doctors and nurses.”
“You didn’t go back with him?”
“It’s family only, I think?” You scratch the back of your neck nervously. “It’s not a big deal, I can stay in the lobby until you get here.”
“Yeah, that’s gonna be a while…”
He goes on to explain that their team has to meet and discuss next steps. The band can’t leave until they’ve done so and their manager asked them to stay put.
“That’s shitty.”
He hums his agreement.
“And I’m just supposed to stay here by myself? I don’t—”
“That’d be great, that is, if you don’t mind,” Gareth interrupts. “They’ll call his emergency contact soon enough. But we’d really appreciate having someone we know there until then.”
“Oh, okay.”
He thanks you for being so cool with all of this and says his goodbyes. With a short smile, you hand the phone back to the receptionist. Heaving a sigh, you drop your head into your hands and lament, “I was gonna marry him.”
Unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s attending nurse overhears you and recalls how the paramedic who brought him in said something about a fiancee. Turning toward you, she places a delicate hand on your back. You jump with a start and look up.
“You’re the fiancée, right?”
“Wh–”
“It’s okay honey, he’s doing fine. I’ll take you back there now.”
Allowing yourself to be guided by the kind nurse as she prattles on about something or other, you wonder how to get yourself out of this. No one was going to buy that Eddie Munson has a secret fiancee. If he was awake, he’d probably laugh you out of the room himself.
But, as it was, they’d placed him in a medically induced coma to let the drugs work their way out of his system. A small miracle, that. The doctor briefs you on his status, all of which flies directly out of your brain, too focused on how small he looks in the bed. Tubes dripping fluids and machines whirring or beeping every so often. Tattoos a stark contrast to the pallor of his skin, a sharp relief against a marble canvas.
A medical assistant approaches you and asks about an emergency contact or the contact information of family and friends.
“I don’t–”
The dazed look in your eye must give something away because the assistant attempts to pat your back comfortingly before saying they’ll check his personal effects.
The nurse, impossibly kind, rests a hand on your shoulder, “Let him hear your voice, honey.”
Her shoes squeak along the tile floor as she leaves. There’s a brief reprieve where you’re left alone with Eddie in the hospital room. The nurse and medical assistant flit in and out occasionally, making notes in his chart here and there. But you’re transfixed by the man in front of you— beautiful and impossibly out of reach. He was even before the interview, you rationalize, but now he’s even more so. It’s bittersweet, almost, makes you want to reach out and hold the hand at his side, silver rings glinting in the fluorescent lights.
“Hi,” You greet. “I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here, huh?” You take the seat closest to him. “Well, I didn’t really get a chance to introduce myself, so here it goes.” Taking a sip from the coffee the nurse left to fortify you, you recite your full name. “And I think you should know your family thinks we’re engaged. Never been engaged before, so this is all very sudden for me.” You huff a laugh and roll your eyes, “Um, what I really came here to tell you was, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“I don’t know what to do,” You continue, a quasi-one sided conversation and therapy session all in one neat package. “I’m just a reporter for the Rolling Stone. And if you were awake, or hell, even if Gareth were here, I wouldn’t be in this mess. Oh, god not that I’m blaming you.” Your hand finds his arm briefly before you jerk back as if stung, “Shit, sorry.”
“This is not how I pictured my life going, to be honest with you. I thought when I did get engaged, I’d at least have the luxury of knowing my fiancé, or y’know them being conscious at least.” You sigh and take another sip of shitty coffee, “Don’t get me wrong, I love my life— I’ve got a great job and apartment, I get to travel and write for a living. It’s definitely not a bad gig.”
“It’s just, I never met anyone I could truly be myself with, y’know? Laugh with, and I mean ugly laugh with a snort and witch cackle. D’ya ever believe in love at first sight? No, probably not, you’re too rock and roll for that. Or have you even seen someone, and you knew that if only that person really knew you, they would…”
Thinking back to your Corroded Coffin research and tabloid perusals, you sigh. “Of course, they would dump the perfect model that they were with and realize that you were the one they wanted to grow old with.” You shake your head, realizing how ridiculous you sound, talking to a man in a coma who probably can’t even hear you. Your voice falls to a hush, “You ever fall in love with someone you’ve never even talked to? Have you ever been so alone you spend the day confusing a man in a coma?”
“No? Me neither.”
There’s the sound of shuffling of feet echoing from the hallway, followed by a relived: “Oh, there he is.”
A voice startles you from the doorway, deep and masculine, albeit out of breath. A tall, broad man steps into the room quickly followed by a shorter woman and a lankier man. The first addresses you, “You must be the fiancée, I’m Jim Hopper.” He holds out his hand in greeting.
You shake his hand, palm engulfed in his larger one.
“This is my wife, Joyce, and that there is Eddie’s uncle Wayne.”
“He’s so pale,” She laments, crossing the room to his bedside. “Oh, my god.”
You nod to each of them, dropping your hand from Hopper’s. He studies you and you feel like squirming under his gaze, he’s still in uniform but sets his hat on a nearby chair. Great, just what you needed, a police chief to sniff you out.
Grabbing your things, you ready yourself to leave. “There’s been a misunderstanding. I should—”
“Nonsense,” Joyce says from opposite of you, she brushes a few strands of hair away from Eddie’s face. “The kids’ll be here soon and they’ll want to meet you.”
Wayne claps a hand to your shoulder, warmly giving it a squeeze.
“The doctor said you found him and gave him CPR until the paramedics arrived?”
“Oh, um, yeah.”
“They say the only reason he was breathing when they brought him in was because of you.” His voice is hoarse, he coughs into his fist and clears his throat. “Thank you, for that.”
“It’s what anyone would’ve done.”
He squeezes your shoulder once more, “Not necessarily,” and moves off to sit in one of the chairs.
“The doctor should be back soon,” You say, sitting beside Wayne. “He said the vital signs and brainwaves were looking good.”
Joyce nods and shoots you a smile, making idle chit-chat while the rest of you wait for the kids to arrive. There was some concern over Wayne and his heart condition, doesn’t take to shocking news too well, as you understand it. But who are these kids, Eddie’s kids? You didn’t recall coming across any mention of a previous wife or children in your research, but there are stranger things for rockstars to get up to than having a secret family you suppose.
It’s only when Wayne nudges you with his foot that you realize Joyce has been calling your name, “Where are you staying?”
“Oh, a hotel for the night.” You say softly, “I have to get back to New York soon.”
“Well, I won’t hear of it.” Joyce says looking to Hopper, “She’ll stay with us, won’t she Jim?”
He looks back at his wife and seeing her steely resolve, he knows better than to argue with her. “Sure, you’ll spend the holiday with us.”
Damn.
“Oh, we should see if we need to wait for Steve,” Joyce notes, just as a gaggle of people walk in. “Hi kids!” She stands quickly to greet them, their names coming too fast for you to keep up. A man and woman about your age bring up the rear, Joyce hugging them in turn.
Quietly, you step out to collect yourself. After taking a few breaths, you spot the medical assistant from earlier and flag him down for the emergency contact information. He scribbles a name and several phone numbers on a scrap of paper, “I would try this one first,” He points to the middle number, “It’s the work line, I think.”
“Great, thank you!”
Entering the room again, Wayne introduces you as Eddie’s fiancee and rescuer, to whoops and hollers. The younger woman lets out a wolf-whistle and drops you a wink, causing the heat to skitter underneath your skin. Making toward the phone, you dial the number and read the name on the paper.
Steve Harrington.
“Thank you for calling Family Video, this is Steve. How may I help you?”
The rich baritone of his voice, strong and deep, brings a quiver to your knees. Stumbling your way through an introduction, you make disastrous small-talk and wave Joyce over. She takes the phone with a smile, pushing you lightly toward the assembled group where the young woman, Robin, takes you under her wing.
“Fiancée, huh?” She asks with a quirked brow, to your noncommittal shrug. “Hmm.” Her eyes sweep toward Eddie, “I think you can do better,” She jokes with a wink.
Wayne drives you from the hospital to the house, graciously stopping by a grocery store along the way because you didn’t want to show up empty-handed. You make quick work of the deserted aisles, grabbing the necessary ingredients for pumpkin and pecan pie. He helps you to load the bags in the back of the truck and softly croons along to Woody Guthrie as he drives along the icy streets.
A comfortable silence sits between you. Wayne Munson is a man of few words, which is fine by you. The less opportunity for talking yourself into a hole, the better. He comes to a stop in front of a two-storey house festooned with Christmas lights. He carries your bags from the truck into the house, promising Joyce that he’ll be back tomorrow for Thanksgiving. Joyce rolls her eyes fondly and turns back toward the kitchen, leaving the pair of you in the entryway.
You rock back on your heels uncomfortably. Before you can make your escape, Wayne’s hand falls to your shoulder again kneading gently. You glance up to find his watery eyes and quiet smile; he pulls you in for a brief hug. “Thank you sweetheart,” He sighs, followed by a sniff, “I don’t know where he’d be without you, or where we’d be for that matter.” Giving you a final squeeze, he releases you and calls out a goodbye to Hopper and Joyce, shutting the front door behind him.
“Hey kid,” Hopper says, leaning against the bannister. “Join me outside for a minute?” He shrugs into his coat and nods toward the front porch. “Lemme grab my smokes, I’ll meet you out there.”
Well, shit.
It takes everything in you to not give in and pace along the icy boards of the porch as you wait. He’s figured you out, you know he has, and now he’s going to kick you out and you’ll have to call a cab and get back to the hotel before booking it to the airport first thing tomorrow.
“I know you and Munson aren’t involved, kid.” Hopper shuts the front door with a soft click, “Heard you back at the hospital talking to him.”
Your blood goes cold and you know there’s no way you can spin yourself out of this one. “I know, I know and I’m so sorry. It just all happened so fast and Wayne has that heart thing—” Your voice is choked and tight as you try to explain.
“Hey, slow down, take a breath. This isn’t the end of the world.”
“I’ll tell them, I just—”
He shakes his head and lets out a sigh, “Let me level with you,” He brushes off the snow and ice from the top step and invites you to sit down beside him. “God knows what that boy did to earn your attention, cause I certainly can’t make heads or tails of it.” He lights up a cigarette and offers one to you, “No? Can’t say I blame you, it’s a bad habit.” He takes a long drag in thought, leaving you to stew in your guilt. “What I’m trying to say is this: whatever you did, it brought him back. Eddie’s here and breathing because of you, so, in a way, we have him back because of you.”
You stay silent, knowing that whatever Hopper just shared with you is important. The guilt doesn’t leave you, not entirely, but this gruff lawman confiding in you does lodge something loose from the knot in your chest. And when he throws his arm over your shoulders to draw you to his side, you can’t help the watery smile that makes its way across your face.
He smells like your dad, the same blend of tobacco, leather, and spice. It’s been far too long since you’ve indulged in the memory of him, so you allow yourself the weakness, just this once.
And you let Hopper lead you back inside his loud and warmly lit home where Joyce greets you with a plate for dinner and promises to help you bake the pies for tomorrow.
Steve is dead on his feet when he arrives at Hop and Joyce’s house. He’d swung by the hospital to check on Eddie and talked with the doctor and nurses. It was all pretty standard— let him dry out and then assess for further damage. His vitals were good and there didn’t appear to be a need for concern at this point. The doctor, of course, recommended a stay in rehab after being discharged from the hospital, which was already suggested by Corroded’s management team.
“You fucking idiot.”
That’s the first thing Steve says to Eddie, quickly followed by:
“When you wake up, I’m gonna kill you myself.”
He doesn’t linger, knowing he’ll be back tomorrow, and the next day until Eddie wakes up. But it’s gone midnight by the time he turns the key at Hop’s place, kicking his boots at the door to rid them of the snow and ice, before toeing them off at the door. They thunk across the hardwood as he carelessly kicks them off, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it on the hooks by the door.
“Sshh, dingus, you’re gonna wake her up!” Robin hisses as her socked feet light down the stairs.
Steve smiles, relieved to see her, before asking, “Wake up who?”
Robin rolls her eyes and gestures to your sleeping form on the sofa. Steve studies you from a few steps up, one hand resting on the wooden bannister while the other pauses mid-air as he unravels his scarf. “Eddie’s fiancée, of course.”
“So, that’s her?”
You’ve turned your back to them, and you’ve curled in ever so slightly on the sofa. One of Joyce’s many blankets covers you, but your socked feet stick out from underneath one corner— dancing penguins.
At least, that’s what Steve thinks are on your socks. But, he may need to get his eyes checked again.
“What, you haven’t met her?” Robin takes in Steve’s shocked expression, before it softens into something akin to how he goes all moon-eyed at the babes who frequented Scoops Ahoy or Family Video when they were teens as his eyes fall to you once more. “She’s great, you’ll love her. Now c’mon, let’s get you some food.”
“Cereal?”
She snorts at that, “Not my cereal. You took the toy surprise last time!”
Safely ensconced in the kitchen, Robin and Steve catch up in between bites of sugary cereal. She regales him with how valiantly Jonathan tried to get you to take his room upstairs for your stay and how stubbornly you’d refused, insisting you’d be fine on the couch.
“I was right,” Robin says, some milk dribbling from her mouth as she chews. “Total knock-out and smart. Dunno how Munson managed it.”
“Oh y’know, the Munson charm probably.”
She hums in thought, setting her empty bowl in the sink. “Why d’you think he didn’t tell us?”
“Maybe he wanted it to be a surprise?”
“Fuck, what if he knocked her up?!”
Steve’s eyes blow wide at that thought. “Uh,” He says, astutely, “I don’t think that’s the case.”
“Yeah,” Robin hops down from her perch on the counter. “But how do we know?”
“You could ask her.”
She punches him in the arm, “You don’t just ask women if they’re pregnant Steve, geeze.”
He shrugs and slurps the sugary milk from the bowl before setting it alongside Robin’s. He licks his lips and crosses his arms in thought. Steve hadn’t considered the rather obvious conclusion that his rockstar best friend had inadvertently knocked someone up. Considering the groupies and types that flocked to Eddie, it was a long time coming.
If that’s what the case may be.
As it stands, it’s nearly two in the morning and Steve is exhausted. Thankfully, Family Video is closed for the holiday tomorrow, but he knows that in a few hours everyone is going to tramping around the house and generally being a nuisance. And he really doesn’t wanna drive clear across town to his place.
Steve pauses on the stairs, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest. Robin clears the landing and calls to him from the guest room, “C’mon dingus, I haven’t got all night.”
With a shake of his head, he climbs the stairs mindful not to linger too long on the creaky boards. He settles in sharing a bed with Robin, her icicle feet darting under his calves as he fusses with the blankets. His head hits the pillow, and he’s out like a light.
All you can think as you blearily blink yourself awake, is how everything is so loud. Even when they try to be quiet, scampering across the hall past the living room where you clung to the last vestiges of sleep - it was loud. Strained whispers about breakfast and hospital visits, the opening and closing of doors, Hopper hissing at the kids to “Keep your mouths shut,” and to “Stop chasing each other across the house!”
A man, whom you can only assume is Steve, stumbles down the stairs, sweats swung low on his hips sporting a threadbare t-shirt and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. You’ve never seen a human being with bedhead like that - strands sticking up every which way and the sheer volume it had, my god. Hand falling from his eye, his glasses slot back into place, a pair of simple round frames decked in silver. He stops short at the landing, one hand grasping the wood of the bannister, watching as you set the phone back in its cradle.
“Leaving so soon?”
And that voice - all husky and low from sleep, with a slight rasp to it. It’s amazing you’re not reduced to a puddle on the floor at this point. He stretches slowly, like an animal would, a hushed groan falling from his lips. You swallow the lump in your throat and drag your eyes from the sliver of skin exposed at his hip.
“No, just talking to Wayne.” You offer meekly, voice rusty from disuse, “He’s on his way over for an early morning hospital run.”
“Mmm,” Steve nods, “That’s not a bad idea.” He turns the corner from the stairs and stands beside you in the entryway. “I don’t think we’ve officially met,” He says, offering his hand to shake. “I’m Steve.”
“Nice to meet you.” You shake hands and introduce yourself. His hand is large and warm, the contact of your skin against his sending a shiver down your spine.
“That’s a pretty name,” He smiles at you, beginning to wake up a bit more. “So, you’re the fiancée.”
“Yup.”
“Huh.” He looks you up and down, clucks his tongue and departs, making his way toward the kitchen.
Once there, all hell breaks loose. Joyce and Hop are manning the stove and counter, flipping pancakes and shovelling eggs onto plates and all but throwing them at the kids. Wedged into the breakfast nook are Dustin, Lucas, and Mike while El, Max, Robin, and Jonathan commandeer the table in the kitchen.
“Mornin’ family.” Steve greets, bee-lining for the coffeemaker. Blessedly, there’s a fresh pot brewing in the percolator while he scavenges for a mug.
Mumbled versions of “Morning Steve,” sound out from the peanut gallery between bites of food and sips of coffee or orange juice. Joyce sets a plate in front of him on the counter and ruffles his hair, “Morning kiddo.”
Hop sighs from the stove, turning the dial of the burner to ‘Off’ before intoning, “The kitchen is officially closed, you gremlins.”
Steve chuckles as he removes the coffeepot and gives a generous pour into the ‘World’s Best Dad’ mug El made many moons ago. He’s not sure of your preferred cream-to-sugar ratio, so he decides to go without and trots out of the kitchen.
He sees the front door close at the end of the hall and quickens his step not wanting to miss you. Spying a pair of slides from god knows who, he slips them on and pulls the door open. Wayne’s old pickup is idling in the driveway as you step into the cab, feet unsteady and the newly formed ice of the drive. Wayne nods to Steve in greeting as he walks toward the house, while Steve waves in return.
“Careful,” He says as a hand comes to rest at your back.
Tossing a ‘thanks’ over your shoulder, you settle into the seat with a click of the seatbelt. “Did you need something?” You ask, breath forming puffs of vapor in the morning light.
“Well, uh,” Steve begins, ducking his head and gesturing to the mug in his hand. “The coffee’s not too great over there at the hospital.” He hands you the mug through the open door.
“Oh, thank you.”
He leans against the car, face level with yours. One fist at the roof of the cab while his opposite arm braces against the open door. A lock of hair falls into his face, and he’s so attractive that it’s stupid. “So, uh, y-you’re comin’ back, right? You’ll come back?”
You glance to him, unsure of why he’s so concerned with your whereabouts. “Yeah, we’re just checking in. We’ll be back soon.”
Steve nods at your confirmation, pushing off of the truck to stand at his full height. His hands slide to his hips, fingers just beneath the band of the sweatpants as he slowly arches his back, hips bobbing toward you. And you don’t know whether to maintain eye contact with him or focus on the looming proximity of his crotch.
“Oh boy,” He exhales, looking off into the distance. “What a day.”
Your eyes dart away when he looks to you once more, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “Well, thank you.” You hold the mug up and take a tentative sip, “Good goddamn,” You whisper in disbelief.
“It’s good, right?” You nod and take another sip as he smiles, “I had a dream about you last night.” He tugs at the band of his sweats while your eyes cut to his.
“What?”
“Yeah,” He leans against the truck again, face closer to yours and arms resting against the roof of the cab. “I ended up havin’ a dream about you.”
“W-what was I doing?” You stammer out, as the sound of crushed snow and ice underfoot signals Wayne’s return.
“Well–” Steve starts to say before he’s cut off by Wayne’s, “Y’ready, sweetheart?”
You nod and clear your throat uncomfortably.
“You comin’?” Wayne asks Steve before he closes the passenger door.
“Later.” He turns to leave as Wayne settles into the driver’s seat but before you can pull out of the driveway, “Oh, y’know, you gotta make sure to bring back the mug because it’s Hop’s favorite.”
You stare back at him blankly.
“Or he’ll kill ya.”
“Okay,” You breathe watching as he makes his way back to the house, Adidas slides flopping through the snow.
Returning from the hospital an hour or so later, with plans to bring a few plates over for Eddie’s attending doctor and nurses, you nearly breeze past Steve sitting on the staircase with a mug of coffee and paper in hand.
“Hey,” You greet, toeing off your boots and shrugging out of your coat. “Wayne’s coming back for later, just had to grab some things from his place.”
He’s changed out of his sweats and done something to tame his hair. You can hear Joyce frantically corralling the kids in the kitchen, something about Mass and how she refuses to be late again. Steve shakes his head and drinks his coffee, ready and waiting to cart Robin, Dustin, and Max over to Our Lady of Perpetual Mercy for the Thanksgiving Mass.
But it would seem that no one warned you about Mass last night, which would explain the deer in headlights look you’re sporting now. Steve stands from his perch on the stairs, turning to yell at Robin, “Our Lady may have perpetual mercy, but I don’t and you’re really pushing it today Rob!”
When he turns back, you’re no longer in the entryway. The kitchen door swings as if someone just passed through, and he can hear your voice over the chatter from the kids. Joyce is rattling off instructions and times for food to be cooked and you’re diligently taking notes on the whiteboard attached to the fridge. Your handwriting is neat, and a bit slanted, giving it an effortless look. Capping the marker, you let it swing from the string on the fridge.
“Think that about does it,” You assure Joyce, gesturing to the lone velcro roller in her hair. “I’ll have everything ready by the time you get back.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with?” She asks, unraveling the roller and setting it on the windowsill above the sink. “I’m sure Robin has something you could borrow.”
Steve catches your eye roll and snorts into his mug. Your eyes cut to him, silently admonishing his outburst. He shakes his head and sets the mug on the counter, seeing Hop’s mug he loaned you earlier already on the drying rack.
“I don’t want to be a bother,” You kindly brush her off, “Besides, you’ll want to get going soon and I would just hold you up.”
“And the hotel is dropping off your luggage later?”
You nod, tying on an apron and moving to wash your hands. “Yeah, I spoke with the concierge this morning.”
“I wish you’d just sleep in Jonathan’s old room,” Joyce tuts, “He can go on the couch, he’s used to it.”
“Mom, I already offered—”
You laugh and raise your hand, “It’s fine Joyce, I’m already an imposition as it is. The last thing I’d want to do is put him out.”
Steve watches as you blend in with the family, how easily you soothe Joyce and her worries, banter with the kids, and crack jokes with Hop. It’s easy to see why Eddie could fall for someone like you. He just wishes he could find someone like that— easy going and kind, someone who fits in like a missing puzzle piece.
But maybe it’s too perfect.
Now there’s some food for thought.
A loud honk from Hop’s Bronco jars him from his musings. Steve claps his hands together, rallying the troops, “Okay, who’s with me?” Dustin, Lucas, and Max jump up from the table and gather their coats, scurrying out to the beemer. Robin takes the stairs two at a time, struggling to shrug into her coat. “Look alive, sunshine!”
Goodbyes ring out as you follow them to the porch, watching as they clamber into their cars. You wave as they pull out of the drive, Joyce rolling down the window for a final reminder about the dinner rolls. With good humor, you nod and give her a thumbs up as the Bronco drives onto the street.
The church parking lot is packed by the time they arrive. Steve drops off Robin and the kids before peeling out to find a parking spot, while Hop leaves the Bronco in the drop-off lane in front. Mass has already begun when Steve enters the chapel, quickly he slips in alongside Hop and Joyce at the family pew.
“We pray that the Lord’s healing presence will be felt by those who are sick and by their families. Especially Robert Newby, Barbara Holland, and Edward Munson. We pray to the Lord,” The priest intones from the lectern.
“Lord hear our prayer.”
Steve stands in between Hopper and Robin, waiting for the priest to move it along.
“O, God, you call us to live as one family. Save us from…”
Finally, they sit. Half-paying attention to the priest, Steve turns to Hop and asks, “So, who’s this fiancée?”
“She’s Eddie’s girl, she’s family now.”
“You’d think if Eddie were getting married, he would have announced it in the Times.”
Hop turns to him, “We read the Indianapolis Star.”
And the congregants say, “Amen.”
“If she’s family, why isn’t she at Mass with us?”
Hop snorts, “That’s rich, comin’ from you, kid.”
“I like Mass better in Latin,” Wayne pipes up from his seat next to Joyce, “It’s nicer when you don’t know what they’re sayin’.”
“D’ya think about what I said the other night?”
“Nope.”
“Steve, come on.” Hop stands with the rest of the congregation, “You’ve got the instinct for it, and gettin’ through the Academy is a breeze.”
“I told you,” Steve says following suit, “I don’t wanna be a cop for chrissakes.”
“Stop swearing,” Joyce hisses, “We’re in Mass.”
“But there is something I’d like to talk to you about.”
“Well, you can talk about it later,” Joyce reminds them.
“Talk about it now,” Robin says leaning toward Steve conspiratorially, “He can’t kill you in church.”
“Will you please pipe down?” An exasperated parishioner asks from the pew behind them.
Hop scoffs and slowly turns around, “Hey, be nice, pal. We’re in church.”
“You’re disrupting the Mass!” He hisses back.
“Yeah? And who made you the Pope?”
“Jim!” Joyce hisses, nudging with an elbow.
“Now how did Argyle get to be a lector?” Wayne asks, “He took over Ed’s gig with Reefer Rick after he moved to LA with the band.”
Steve and Hopper snort, Robin tries and fails to repress her laughter. Down past Wayne, Dustin and Mike are a few seconds from a slap fight while Max and El whisper in between fits of giggles. Joyce sighs deeply.
And the congregation says, “Amen.”
Cooking Thanksgiving lunch goes off without a hitch. Everything was ready, as you promised, by the time they’d returned from Mass and you’d caught the tail end of Joyce’s scolding: “We will try to behave as a civilized family might—”
The kitchen door swung open to reveal Hopper and Joyce both stopping short at the sight of you washing dishes.
“H-how did you—” Joyce’s mouth opens and closes, struck dumb at the sight of gleaming dishes in the drying rack and the dishwasher already running.
“Oh, hi,” You toss over your shoulder, “The dining room table is set, I was just cleaning up in here.”
Steve and Robin file in soon after, bickering about something or other. They’re talking fast and cutting each other off, but it doesn’t deter their conversation.
“Why do you keep singling me out?” Steve balks, throwing his coat on the back of a nearby chair.
“Well, if you hadn’t been pestering Hop throughout Mass we might’ve—”
“And I can’t even defend myself?”
“Forget it,” Hop cuts in with a warning tone, “And I know you gave her my mug, Harrington.”
“Oh, did you need it?” Your hand flies to the cabinet above the coffeemaker, a fresh pot already brewed. “It’s all washed and ready to go.”
Dustin enters shortly after, “Let’s just vote Steve off the island,” and thumps him on the chest in passing.
“Yeah,” Hop agrees.
Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair, “Well, I’m ashamed of all of you.”
“Oh, there’s some news,” Max mutters sarcastically, leaning against the fridge.
Steve’s eyes fall to Lucas, “Even you Sinclair.”
Lucas throws up his hands in exasperation, “I didn’t even do anything!”
“Okay, enough.” Joyce says cutting through the nonsense. “It’s Thanksgiving, we’re going to eat lunch without any of this bickering. And then, with any luck, you lot will pass out watching the game and I can finally get some goddamn peace.”
Everyone has the decency to look mildly embarrassed, that is until:
“No swearing.”
Steve punches Robin in the arm, “Can it.”
The room descends into guffaws and fits of laughter shortly thereafter. Joyce eventually herds everyone into the dining room, Robin pours the drinks while Hop carves the turkey. Everyone helps themselves to the various sides— dinner rolls, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce, stuffing, and roasted veggies. Wayne arrives with cornbread fresh from the oven and some vanilla ice cream to go with the pies for dessert.
The candles are lit casting a warm glow around the room, illuminating smiling faces. And it’s nice. Nice to belong, if only temporarily, to a big family that loves hard. Growing up, it had been only you and your dad. And after his death, that left only you. You had missed it, all of it— the inside jokes, sibling taunts, half-assed scolding followed by a cheeky wink, and that effortless touch.
It was second nature, how freely they expressed their affection for one another. Steve roping Dustin into a half-nelson for a noogie, Jonathan and Will kicking eachother under the table, El and Max communicating in half-formed sentences and wild gesticulations, Joyce, Hop, and Wayne sharing long-suffering sighs.
“Hey,” Robin says, nudging you with her elbow after refilling your wine glass. “I’m thankful for you.” Her voice is soft, like she’s sharing a secret. Cheeks tinged with a flush from the wine, she smiles at you and raises her glass. “I’d like to propose a toast,” She announced to the group, “To our newest addition and guardian angel, cheers!”
The sentiment is echoed across the table, calls of your name and ‘here, here.’ And it’s so kind that your heart could burst. You sip your wine and swallow around the lump in your throat. Going back to your meal, you can’t help but feel like you’re being watched, observed. Glancing up, you catch Steve looking at you from across the table.
The flicker of golden light against his face does little to ease the knot in your chest. His hair is slightly disheveled, a lock falling across his face wrought loose from his fingers combing through it. His eyes appear more green than hazel in the light, studying you from behind wire frames. Your pulse kicks up under his scrutiny, and he looks at you as if you’ll unravel right then and there.
Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe it was the years of tropical vacations instead of celebrating holidays with friends and family that made you forget that, actually, families are complicated and any recollection of pleasant holiday celebrations spent with your dad were a figment of your own nostalgia-tinted imagination and the promise of skiing the next day.
For a moment, shame creeps upon you like a thief in the night. You tear yourself from Steve's gaze, not noticing the concerned furrow of his brows as you hastily stand and offer to clear some plates from the table. Sweeping out of the room and nudging the kitchen door open with your hip. He absentmindedly swirls the remaining wine in his glass and blows out a puff of air.
Ever the detective, it takes Hopper all of two seconds to ascertain that Steve did something to hasten your departure from the table. Seeing as the punk is pointedly not looking his way, Hopper lobs a dinner role at Steve, grazing his cheek only to land on his plate sending the cutlery clattering. He jerks upright, setting the glass on the table, “What the–”
“That’s enough,” Hop warns with cool detachment and a knowing look in his eye. He nods toward the kitchen, “Now, go make nice.”
Everything is still mostly out of your control in the kitchen, precisely because you don’t know where anything should go and having a knot in your chest as hard as a rock does little to help matters. But Steve silently rescues you by beginning to unload the dishwasher and Robin starts a thirty minute tale of increasing ridiculousness and by the time the attention turns back to you, you are slightly less hysteric and better able to answer El’s kind questions.
You swallow a twist of guilt and a bigger twist of gratitude. You feel some anxiety brimming in your stomach and nod, giving El a strained smile.
Something knocks against your shoulder. The warm scent of cedar and musk invading your senses— Steve.
“Your shoulders are up near your ears,” he observes.
You sigh at that, trying to roll out the tension, but not quite managing to. Par for the course, with your indeterminate stay in Hawkins looming in the air and stretching far across the foreseeable future.
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington angst#fic: tbsg#Spotify
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alright, i'm gonna address this ask once and then just not respond to anything else, even the asks supporting me bc im a little exhausted and on the verge of losing motivation so i dont wanna trigger it by going back and forth with people. yet this does not mean i dont deeply appreciate everyone's sweet messages. means the world to me to know you all have my back like this, so thank you so much 🤍
once and for all: this is fiction. fiction, meant for adults hence the MDNI/18+ in my bio, basically plastered all over my blog.
every character ive created so far is just that. a character. and i need some of you guys to understand that this is what (fan)fiction is about. the smoking, the family trauma, the lack of self awareness, their sexual activities and coping mechanisms, everything regarding and about my characters was created by me and most of the time intentionally.
one thing that also needs to be clear is that you can't just run around policing grown people in their asks talking about such significant issues and throwing around accusations like that because not only is it deeply offensive but it's also very, very dangerous. you misunderstood my post and assumed i'd use sex and sexual intimacy to have him make up for his wrongdoings when that is NOT what i said at all. just please be careful the next time because i understand where you came from but i did not deserve that.
what i also wanna address is the part with me having "impressionable readers" because this is very important to me as a smut writer.
i have set clear boundaries that i do not want any minors on my blog, point blank. now, we all know they're still around. is that my responsibility? no. am i supposed to give a fuck about people who are apparently old enough to consciously read trigger/content warnings and continue to read my work? fuck no. is it my job to educate those impressionable people that they shouldn't read smth if they can't differentiate fiction from reality. NO.
that's all im gonna say to this because yes, there are impressionable readers out there but that is NOT my responsibility.
im tired of people constantly policing me and the things i write when im a grown woman who knows exactly what she's doing. if you hate CH!sunghoon so much and are so uncomfortable with his progress, then don't read it.
saying this for everyone yet again:
if you do NOT like a writer's work, you do NOT have to READ it.
this is tumblr. i write things for FUN. i publish them for you guys to read for FREE. i dont owe anybody shit. im so, so sorry if this makes some of you angry or upset now but at the end of the day it's the truth. this is my blog and my writing and i will do whatever the fuck i want and unfortunately you have no choice but to live with it.
i appreciate constructive criticism but i will not and never in the future let anyone be so mean to me and accuse me of things when you usually just see and read and hear what you want and make up your own version of the story when it's so, so far away from the truth.
pls do not attack the nonie bc i know this is the result of a misunderstanding but it was a good opportunity for me to address the whole impressionable reader situation.
if you can't differentiate fiction from reality that's your problem, stop making it mine.
thank you so much for everything, nothing but love 🧸🩷🎀
#also not to be that bitch but y'all let people write full on (pseudo) incest fics about real people including lacking consent and very#questionable kinks but nobody says a thing#my male lead is a fucking asshole who has yet to grovel and i get shit thrown at me left and right#; rambles
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Hi! I've recently gotten into homestuck and I've read quite a bit of it, as well as other people's blogs analyzing and criticizing the media. I've heard a Lot about Dave's arc being centered around internal homophobia and toxic masculinity, so it surprised me to hear taht you disagreed! I was wondering why you think that, and what are your thoughts on what his arc actually is? I know you don't like writing about the alpha/beta kids, so feel free to ignore this ask completely if you want. Thank you, I hope you have a great day!
Hello, Anon! I'm glad you've been having fun with Homestuck lately!! Despite its many flaws, it is a deeply compelling piece of fiction, and I'm always glad to see new eyes on it and new voices being added to the analytical sphere. To answer your question...
Personally, I have never seen what people are talking about with regards to Dave's whole character arc surrounding overcoming Internalized Homophobia and Toxic Masculinity. These are fundamentally not what his arc is about, and this is never what his arc has ever been about. I'd honestly never seen that analytical lens until after DaveKat rose into prominence (mostly due to Post-Canon's heavy featuring of the pairing), and I feel as if these things are related. It is easier to make easy-to-stomach, shippy angst out of addressing your own personal shortcomings than what Dave's arc is actually about. No shade intended. This is because...
Dave's character arc is, and always has been, about Recovering from Childhood Abuse.
This is the conflict we are made aware of in his introduction, and it's a theme that persists all throughout the story. We meet Dave as a 13 year old boy suffering some pretty extreme abuse at the hands of Bro- Physically, Mentally, Emotionally, and Sexually. Dave's home life is such an active threat that he struggles to even admit to himself that it is abuse in the first place- that's an admission that takes a level of vulnerability that he just could not afford, and it's something he's only left to truly unpack during the Meteor Arc.
I have a couple major problems with the "Toxic Masculinity and Internalized Homophobia" takes.
Firstly, Toxic Masculinity is not inherent to any expression of Masculinity. The only Toxically Masculine trait we see that's applicable to Dave is that he struggles deeply with vulnerability and sincerity in his emotions. However... These don't really have anything to do with what his views on what a man is or should be. They have everything to do with the fact that he was abused by someone who punishes any display of weakness, because Bro excused his abuse with it being "Training".
Secondly... Dave is Bisexual. Even if the process of Dave struggling to accept being attracted to men was a major point in the story, it would not be called Internalized Homophobia. It would be called Internalized Biphobia, because Dave is canonically Bisexual, not Gay. We have seen Dave be attracted to more women than men, and attraction to both genders was present simultaneously. It was not Compulsory Heterosexuality. If it was, it'd be actually written into the story. Bisexual people exist. This is not a Homophobic argument to make; I am literally a Gay man.
It's anthropologically fascinating how this take arose... Basically out of nowhere from my perspective, especially considering how all of Dave's most iconic dramatic lines have something to do with him having to sort through his own abuse.
Does no one remember the rooftop scene between Dave and Dirk, where Dave starts telling Dirk all about the horrible way that Bro raised him, and how deeply it affected him?
If not, I'm posting the most striking part of it here.
[Homestuck, page 7749.]
... So, yeah, no. Dave's character arc is not about "Overcoming Toxic Masculinity and Internalized Homophobia". It's about Abuse. Dave is an Abuse Victim. Point blank period.
Any trait even loosely attributable to the ideas of Toxic Masculinity and Internalized Homophobia are a consequence of how he was raised, and how he was abused. This does not mean that this is what his character arc is about. That just means that's included within his character arc. It's a way to show growth, not a way to define his arc in its entirety. That is legitimately not how character writing works. To claim such would be to express a remarkable amount of Tunnel Vision.
Inclusion does not equate to Totality. There is a bigger picture, and that bigger picture is Abuse Recovery.
#homestuck#homestuck meta#homestuck analysis#homestuck fandom#beta kids#beta guardians#dave strider#bro strider#cw abuse#cw child harm#dave.pdf#nekro.pdf#nekro.sms
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Blog Event: Two Ravens (?) at the Writing Desk
Introductory story here!
“My, I see you’re diligently writing away once again! Today’s story must be a fascinating one. What is it about, I wonder?”
“Don’t be so nosy, Uncle… This isn’t for you to read.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, of course I would never partake in such an unscrupulous activity!! As your guardian and esteemed headmaster of Night Raven College, I am volunteering my proofreading services to better my students’ writing abilities!
"Oh, how very gracious of me!"
This will run very similarly to the Jade blog takeover, Raven Redux, and the Rollo at the Writing Desk events, if you’re familiar with any of those!
For the next three days, the inbox will be accepting interactions for our dear NRC headmaster, Dire Crowley! Tell him to do his job, ask for an update on his search to send you home, request time off or extra monthly allowance, etc.
You can send in asks for Crowley as yourself (a reader)/as Yuu. Just try to avoid bringing up a ton of unique information (such as detailed backstories) which may interfere with generalizing your Yuu to most/all other Yuus!
You can also send in asks as any canon TWST character.
I know we all love bullying Crowley every now and again, but let's take care to not let it get out of hand! No physical violence or insults, please. Let's try to make him feel welcome and not detested!
I understand that a certain... theory... regarding Crowley is very popular right now. Please know that I can only respond to so many of these interactions and it's possible I may not do them all.
Writing requests outside of those for Crowley interactions are not being accepted at this time.
All other blog rules are still relevant. That means no OCs, no NSFW, avoidance of certain triggering topics, etc.
This event will run concurrent with another upcoming blog event—more news on that soon.
#Two Ravens at the Writing Desk#twst#twisted wonderland#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#blog event#Dire Crowley#notes from the writing raven#announcement#twst interactions#twisted wonderland interactions#twst writing requests#twisted wonderland writing requests
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requesting rules and masterlist 🍒
🍒 welcome
requests are CLOSED
IMPORTANT DISCLAIMERS:
🍒 queers-gambit is generally NSFW, an 18+ blog, and requests minors DO NOT interact
🍒 queers-gambit DOES NOT consent for any original content to be posted, copied, printed, translated, or uploaded to any other platform
🍒 queers-gambit has DISCONTINUED all taglists and begs you not to ask to be tagged in anything
❗️ please review all rules before submitting requests
❗️ currently not accepting sequel requests
your requests are all welcomed and encouraged!
please be aware i reserve the right to reject / refuse certain requests if it contains potentially triggering content, or if i very simply feel as if i cannot write your request.
i am not perfect and while i do try to take pride in my writing abilities, there might come a request i cannot connect to - and therefore, cannot do the writing justice.
in laymen's terms: i will sit on your request until i can make up my mind on whether i CAN or CANNOT write it.
• do not send your requests more than once! it's a surefire way to get me to reject the idea!
• AGAIN - please DO NOT ask to be tagged in anything!
🍒 i reserve the right to add to this list at any time 🍒
please take note of the following, as they will NOT be considered upon ANY circumstance -
• regression - the return to a former or less developed state.
• writing for real people - characters only!
• writing smut / abuse / explicit injury / s*xual assault for any character under the age of 18.
• writing r*pe / dubcon / s*xual assault / any relating content.
• never thought i'd have to put this - incest! INCLUDES step-family dynamics ❗️ this does, however, exclude Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon characters - within reason. i am still not a big fan of writing incest - to any degree.
NO - i will not be listing which fandoms i write for. you're better off making a request and allowing me to reject the idea for simply not "being in" the fandom.
🦋🤍🧸 emoji anon list — active & open
important note:
cisgender female [both biological and identifying female] for all "female!reader" or "wife!reader" writings.
Stranger Things masterlist
featuring: Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Billy Hargrove, Max Mayfield, + more.
watch on Netflix
read here
Peaky Blinders masterlist
featuring: Tommy Shelby
watch on BBC or Netflix
read here
Harry Potter masterlist
featuring: Draco Malfoy
watch on your own DVD's, or stream occasionally on HBO and / or Peacock
read here
House of the Dragon masterlist
featuring: Princes Daemon and Aemond Targaryen
watch on HBO
read here
HBO's The Last of Us masterlist
featuring: Joel Miller
watch on HBO
read here
FX's The Bear masterlist
featuring: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto
watch on FX and / or Hulu
read here
The Marvel Cinematic Universe [ MCU ] masterlist
featuring: James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes
watch on Disney+
read here
Bullet Train masterlist
featuring: Tangerine
watch on Netflix
read here
Saltburn masterlist
featuring: Felix Catton
watch on Amazon Prime / Prime Video
read here
The Last Kingdom - no masterlist
Now and at the Hour of His Death
any who say, "it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all," were never loved by him.
pairing: Osferth x female!pregnant!wife!reader
word count: 6.1k+
🍒 author's favorite
💔 A N G S T
🥺 hurt 🚫 NO comfort
🎭 drama
🥰 romance
🤰 pregnant reader
👰♀️ wife reader
💍 established relationship
✝️ Lord's name in vain
⚠️ spoilers
🐝 stand-alone / oneshot
🙊 general language and content warning
☠️ character DEATH - tread carefully
🥊 depiction of physical violence and / or aggression
🩸 depiction of injury and blood
💛 requires maturity and caution
read here
collections: a set of fics exploring varying plots of similar tropes using different muses. they are NOT related to one another.
Clingy Baby collection - in progress
fics regarding Reader being labeled clingy in various ways.
featuring so far: Carmy Berzatto, Bucky Barnes, Princes Aemond and Daemon Targaryen, Joel Miller
browse masterlist here
The Truth Will Out collection - being drafted / not promised / not published
fics regarding...
featuring so far:
To Be Announced
Nights Like This collection - being drafted / not promised / not published
fics regarding...
featuring so far:
To Be Announced
Designated Destination collection - being drafted / not promised / not published
fics regarding...
featuring:
this collection uses ONE muse in varying destination wedding events
To Be Announced
#masterlist#queers-gambit#stranger things masterlist#stranger things x reader#stranger things#peaky blinders masterlist#peaky blinders x reader#peaky blinders#harry potter masterlist#harry potter x reader#draco malfoy x reader#harry potter#house of the dragon masterlist#house of the dragon x reader#hotd x reader#hotd#house of the dragon#the last of us masterlist#the last of us x reader#the last of us#hbo the last of us#the last of us hbo#tlou#tlou hbo#hbo tlou#the bear fx#fx the bear#the bear masterlist#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto imagine
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HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS. ( a. h )
pairing ! ━━ aki hayakawa x fem! reader
cw ! ━━ minors/ageless blogs do not interact. reader is black + thick coded but you don’t have to imagine it that way. basically boyfriend!aki who is very soft for his princess we luv him for that <3 lots of fluff and like…introspective moments? suggestive themes. descriptions of smoking.
word count ! ━━ 3.7k
notes ! ━━ this is an expanded version of this ask & the art used came from this post. ive been wanting to write this for a while, but ive been putting it off bc i wanted to start/work on other things and wasn’t sure if this would even be any good. but the akirot has fermented and here we are <3 i love writing soft love scenarios (i’ve been a sucker for them lately) so this is what this is. i hope y’all enjoy ! REBLOGS ARE HEAVILY APPRECIATED!
AKI HAYAKAWA WAS A. . . PERSONAL MAN. he cherished every little thing that he was blessed with very profoundly, and held them close to his heart, where they would be safe within its hardened, cold exterior. he protects these things— these emotions, these ideas, these people—with all his might, because he knew very well, maybe even better than anyone, that tomorrow was never promised.
he values the things he’s received even on a subconscious level, where he doesn’t actively realize that’s what it is: him caring to such an uncanny extent. it was like that with the first cigarettes he ever received from himeno, it was the same regarding his friendship with denji and power—
and it was ultimately the case with you. especially with you, matter of fact.
this explains why the two of you were pressed up against each other in a yearning embrace. aki had comfortably sandwiched you in between the wall and his firm body, while just a few feet away was the front door, where his devil-like subordinates waited outside.
he was very personal about you and the relationship you shared with him, the trust and the genuine connection that tethered both your hearts and souls to one another. he didn’t even want mere glances from the likes of denji and power to taint this special thing he held so tenderly in his big, calloused hands. their teasing of aki being “so whipped” for you fell on deaf ears the moment his closed your door with his foot and his fingers came in contact with your skin.
it wasn’t exactly a lie, he supposed.
the kiss was drawn out. longing, and wistful. it was slow enough for you to savor hints of every delicacy that clung to the walls of his mouth, and he did the same to you, low sounds of pleasure threatening to escape his throat. you tasted the spearing blanket of peppermint that coated the other flurry of flavors on aki’s lips and tongue, like the stale aroma of the cigarettes he smoked an hour ago, and the tangy cocktail he drank with his meal. and you loved it.
the dark-haired male sensually swiped his tongue across your bottom lip, effectively licking off most of the lip gloss you wore. gently, he tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth, before letting the pink muscle slither in between the barrier known as your lips; you tasted the gloss that you’ve been wearing all night.
you whined into his mouth when aki tugged at your bottom lip again— a little firmer and more yearning this time—and you followed his movements, perfectly in sync with one another. you melted into his taut chest when one of the hands that held onto your waist slipped past the material of your long, fitted cardigan and found its way under your ribbed tank top. his hands felt like ice against your warm skin and caused you to shudder at his touch. his palms gently squeezed and unclenched at your fleshy sides as a way to ground you back to him.
after what felt like an eternity, the rest of the world around you completely muted, aki finally pulled away from the kiss, his forehead dipped slightly to your height and rested against yours. your breathing patterns became harmonized with each other’s after a few seconds.
this. . . moments like these were precious to aki. it was personal to him, and it was all his.
“fuck. . . . . i’ve been wanting to kiss you like that since the moment we picked you up earlier” he confessed in a breathy voice. it was almost unusual to hear your boyfriend be so forward or use expletives so casually—he was usually such a composed man— but you found his words arousing, and you bit your lip to contain the giggle that wanted to escape. perhaps it was that fruity alcoholic beverage he drank, and the four subsequent glasses he consumed afterwards that made him so. . . so—
another chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth pulled you out of your thoughts. and then another a little farther down. then a third and fourth back on your lips. you couldn’t help the loving smile that morphed onto your face, finding his affections extremely endearing.
letting your fingers ascend from his shoulders to the back of his neck, your french tipped fingers numbly scratched at the back of his head. the dull sensation on his scalp was almost relaxing, but it also made his heartbeat continuously skip several beats. if aki were a cat, he swore he would have purred.
“hmm, aren’t you too cute?” you cooed teasingly, earning you a faux irritated roll of his eyes from him. “but don’t you have to get up early for work tomorrow? you and others should get going, it’s getting late.”
your boyfriend let his eyes flutter close, inhaled deeply, and threw his hand back to exhale, a soft groan getting caught in the mix.
“yeah, i do . . . . but i’d honestly rather not go back with those two. working with them is one thing but living with them on top of it is something else entirely. they’re complete pigs, it’s disgusting. and having them in my personal space feels like hell every day.”
you chuckled airily at his childlike complaints, while allowing your other hand to shift to cup his face. “i totally understand. it can be hard, but just take it one day at a time, okay? and be patient with them.” you put extra emphasis on the word patience because you knew how aki could get if provoked enough.
the devil hunter groaned again, letting his head hang until it fully rested on your shoulder. he still wasn’t fond of denji and power being placed under his care or being in his space, but he didn’t mind you in his. matter fact, it’s something he’d grow to crave more and more as the days went by. it was unbecoming for a man like him, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care all that much.
“now go! denji and power are waiting for you,” your voice trailed off and morphed into a more sing-song tone, which aki didn’t find amusing. but still, he sucked it up and stood at his full height with a heavy sigh.
“fine.” if you squinted hard enough, it almost looked like he was pouting. “gimme a kiss first.” he mumbled with a titled head, trailing his hands up and down your waist.
your chest tightened in glee when his already deep voice grew darker, just a little heavier, that you could feel it’s weight on your waist where his hands rested; you were obsessed with his voice, especially when it was unable to conceal his obvious desire for you. happily obliging to his request, the both of you leaned in for a sweet peck, the noise of your lips softly smacking and then finally separating tugging a rare smile at aki’s lips. just as you were about to pull away, aki’s ample hands immediately grabbed the back of your neck and held it in place so you couldn’t move.
“wait, one more baby” his grumbled again, his tone thicker than before. how could you deny him when he looked at you like that and asked so nicely? so, you gave what he (and you) both wanted.
“mmm just— just one more. this is the last one, i promise.”
it was, in fact, not the last one. he’d say ‘one more’ five more times (and you’d give in every single time) before you had to literally pry him off. as you ushered him towards the door, with his hand on the doorknob, he assured you in a soft voice that he’ll come to see you the following weekend, because this week was supposedly going to be very busy for him.
“i’ll see you soon, alright? stay safe. call me if you need anything.” he planted one final, gentle kiss on your forehead. it was his own personal way of saying ‘i love you’.
maybe he’ll work up the courage to actually say those three weighty words one day. a part of him wanted that day to be sooner rather than later.
“you’re the one who needs to be careful, out here killing devils and shit everyday. but anyway, i’ll see ya later, handsome.”
your subtle compliment made aki’s body stiffen for a moment, and you were able to see his ears redden in real time as he exited your apartment.
the fond contentment that surrounded the sword-wielding hunter was snatched away from him the moment the door closed behind his heels, and the crisp, cold air embraced his figure.
denji and power immediately flooded his ears with questions, ones he didn’t care enough to answer. they were too personal for him. as far as he was concerned, they didn’t need to know what went on in his relationship. like second nature, his face returned to its naturally stoic state, and he pulled out a second cigarette and lit it as he walked away from the two devils, who were still pestering him with obscene inquiries.
in that instance, he once again left his beating heart in human form behind on the ninth story of the apartment complex.
one could assume this might have been why aki hayakawa was so frigid all the time. the warmth of your love, of your being in itself that set fire to the blood in his veins, was pulled away from his grasp, causing his skin to harden and freeze in solitude and indifference. it ultimately contributed to overall icy personality, which seemed to be more steely than usual. each time his thoughts pondered on your tasteful figure —even for a moment— or the memory of your honeyed voice kissed his mind’s ear, he would have to stifle of groan of longing and annoyance, because instead of being in your bed, cradling you in his strong grasp, he had to be out here instead: his suit stained with the blood of some repulsive devil creature, dealing with all these. . . people, he thought in vague disdain, and dreading the paperwork he’d have to fill out for makima.
the week seemed to have weights on its feet, with the way it dragged on day after day, ever so slowly. it was too slow for aki and work, as well as his eccentric roommates, were driving him up the wall.
aki’s skin grew too cold, it resembled too much like solid ice, where if you came to close in its vicinity, its frost would bite you. he had been without the warmth of his heart for too long.
this realization would soon lead the dark-haired male to sneak out of his own house in the dead of night, an unfathomable gravitational force deep within his being pulled him to the little slice of heaven in this hell he had to live in everyday: to you.
aki understood the impulsivity and recklessness of his actions and was well aware of the risks of walking around alone at night, knowing that there could be devils lurking literally anywhere. he didn’t care though; nothing else mattered when you were involved. he also knew that he really should be in bed, resting so he can be ready for another grueling day at his job tomorrow.
but he just couldn’t seem to drift off into a dreamless slumber that his body so desperately wanted. not when you lingered and danced in the forefront of his subconscious.
it was an ungodly hour, most likely past two a.m., and lucky for aki, you were awake to feel the buzz of your phone in your palms. your closed laptop laid idle on the desk next to your bed, feeling the crushing weight of an assignment you were dreading lifted off your shoulders as soon as you pressed the submit button. now, you were currently going through your ‘watch later’ compilation on youtube, slowly but surely making your way through the list.
that’s when you saw the notification from your boyfriend drop down from the top of the screen. reflexively, your heartbeat quickened, and your finger twitched as you read his rather straightforward text.
you up? if you are, come unlock the door for me
it’s a marvel how he seemed to know that you were awake at this hour. for all he knew, you could have been fast asleep, enjoying your ride to dreamland.
but you supposed that just proved how attuned your man was to you. it was frightening sometimes, like he knew you better than yourself.
and it would make sense for someone to be in tune with such an important organ more than anything else because of course, it was the one that gave them life and one wouldn’t be able to effectively survive without it.
aki’s began to drown in the sea of his own thoughts, he didn’t even realize that the door was already open, and you stood there waiting for him. your soft spoke snapped him out of the daze he was in. you couldn’t stop the faint, cheeky grin that pulled at your facial muscles the longer you stared at your lover.
if aki leaned close enough and looked hard enough, he might be able to see the hearts in your pupils. something about him coming here in the dead of night— randomly, no less — felt so adolescent. it felt like the two of you were some starstruck lovers in high school that couldn’t stay away from the other for too long. and something about the fact made your body temperature increase.
you noticed that aki’s hair wasn’t tied up in its usual top-knot style. it cascaded freely in dark waved across his face, acting as a shadowy curtain over his lashes. the onyx stud earring’s he always wore glimmered in the refraction of the singular light that hung over their heads in the hallway. his katana was slung lifelessly across his back on top of the black hoodie he wore.
aki’s face was mainly expressionless as he stared back at you, and yet, he still managed to look effortlessly beautiful.
you’d never know that thoughtful stare could prove to be too much for him sometimes. the man found himself quickly tearing his gaze from yours after a few seconds, deciding that your eggshell white painted toes and silver anklet were far more interesting. and they were, because they were so pretty looking. everything about you was so pretty.
he opened his mouth a little to say something, but then immediately closed it again, swallowing whatever thoughts he was going to share. concern briefly flickered in your brow at the minimal action. “aki? is.... everything okay?” you asked him carefully, knowing that he wasn’t the type to wear his heart on his sleeve or open about anything so easily.
he would need to warm up first to do that.
aki took several moments to reply, and in the silence, his feet took control of the rest of his body and took a step forward. then another, and then another, until he had your back up against the wall, just like the other night. your breath slightly hitched at the memory, your chests brushing against one another.
“. . . everything’s fine. those two just. . . can be so fucking loud sometimes, even when they’re sleeping. can’t stand it.” his voice was rough and full of complaints, but his hands were gentle, finding their way back home on the flesh of your waist, and used it as leverage to pull your hips against his. you could feel the heat of his crotch on yours/
“one of these days, i’m actually going to kill them in their sleep and dump their bodies on the street.” and there it was again, that dip in volume that made his voice sound more like a sensual rumble in this throat. you started to wonder if he was aware of it or not.
the flicker of his intensifying gaze from your eyes to your lips seemed to be the catalyst in the two of your moving your faces closer together. both of you were so close he could feel the air escaping from your mouth when you let out a chuckle. “so dramatic. so...you came all the way here, because they were snoring too loud?” your eyes were lidded now, teasing him with faux offense embedded in your tone as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
aki all but hummed, not caring enough to reply at the moment, because he now became too busy pressing a much-anticipated kiss on your lips. this time, it was saccharine. it was eager, bordering on desperate. but most of all, it was warm. aki sighed and groaned into your mouth, relishing in the warmth of being here with you, in your house, in your arms, thawing the cold barrier that surrounded his veins.
as the kiss grew more fervent ━ one of his hands gliding up the valley of your breast to comfortably latch onto your throat, and your hand that was clasp took root in his soft hair, giving it a little tug ━ neither he, nor you, could suppress the shudder that crawled up your spines.
the need to properly breath soon became too overwhelming, and soon enough the both of you pulled away from one other, panting softly into each other’s mouth, him resting his forehead on yours.
“yeah...” he spoke slowly, trying to remember the question before the two of you kissed; his head was still fuzzy from the sheer euphoria of it all. “they’re....too loud. anyway, let’s go to bed, baby. ‘m tired.”
with one final peck on your lips, he slipped out of your loose grasp and padded his way to your room, with you following after him. you plopped on your bed and got comfortable as you watched your boyfriend maneuver back and forth between your room and bathroom as if he lived here. it felt very...domestic and you had to bite back the grin that wanted to pull at your lips and contain your giddiness.
as you connected your phone to its charger and set it on the nightstand, aki’s taller frame climbed into bed next to you. his clothing was reduced to his boxers and t-shirt, presumably wearing it under the hoodie he arrived in. instinctively, your bodies were pulled towards each other underneath the blankets: your head against the crook of aki’s neck and one hand on his chest, while his lanky, muscled arm was draped across your back, his palms rubbing miscellaneous patterns along your sides and thigh.
“you mind if i smoke a little before we sleep?” he broke the silence that filled your bedroom, remembering to be courteous whenever he came over.
you hummed sleepily, not realizing your own exhaustion as soon as you snuggled up against your boyfriend. “mmm, g‘head, baby. just open the window when you do....don’t want the smell to linger.”
it was amusing to aki that while gave him permission to get up satisfy his smoker habit, you still you nuzzled yourself against him, holding him close like he was your own personal teddy bear. chuckling softly, he slithered out of your grasp and out of the comfort of your bed to grab the pack of smokes and his lighter that were in his hoodie pocket.
remembering that you kept an ashtray in one of the drawers━ just for him; his heart pounded at the thought━ he placed it on the nightstand, and like second nature, pulled a pale white cigarette from its container with his teeth. with a few flicks of his black lighter ━one, two, three ━ the orange flame he’d come to be very well acquainted with sprang out from its plastic cage and kissed the end of his cigarette. wispy, white tendrils of smoke escaped from the end of the cigarette and idly floated into the atmosphere. inhaling and exhaling, as if he were breathing regularly, aki rested his back against the headrest of the bed, and blew out the toxic fumes, letting excesses of smoke lazily dribble past his lips.
the man’s dark, cerulean eyes drowsily shifted from the blank ceiling to your now sleeping form next to him. he took comfort in the way your body gently rose and fell, and the way your facial muscles relaxed into complete bliss, not having a care in the world.
the veiny hand that wasn’t holding the cigarette came to gently stroke the apple of your cheeks, then shifted so he could stroke your soft lips with the pad of his thumb. even in your sleep, you sensed his touch and leaned into his rugged palm. his chest ached and stomach churned watching you do that and God you were just so cute. so pretty and so soft and all his. every time he saw you, he liked the sound of that more and more.
this moment, it was comparable to a husband and wife sharing a bed. the thought made his cheeks and neck burn, almost causing him to choke on the smoke he was inhaling. aki wished all his days could end like this. he wished every day could begin and end like this, until the end of time.
after a few more minutes, aki snuffed out the cigarette on the ash tray next to him, got up to brush his teeth and gargle mouthwash for a second time this evening, and climbed into bed with finality. pulling your figure into his once more. his now warm hand glided up and down the canvas of your spine, and both of your legs became entangled with each other.
this particular thing, his relationship with you, was very personal to aki hayakawa, indeed. he cherished it admittedly more than his own job and he wanted to show you, as well as tell you, how much you meant to him everyday for the rest of his life.
that’s probably why he placed one last tender kiss on your forehead before letting slumber take over, and against your skin he mumbled something that had been weighing heavy on his chest and his mind for longer than he realized.
“i... i love you, princess. sweet dreams.”
aki closed his eyes before he realized your own eye that had peeled open at his thick, sleepy voice, suppressing a dreamy smile at his love confession.
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#sailewhoremoon#sosa’s filez 💭#i hope yall noticed all the allusions to aki being cold / the reader 'warming him up' bc shes his heart in human form#and how that connects to his personality━#ahem anyway#aki 🖤#chainsaw man#csm fics#csm x reader#chainsaw man x black fem reader#csm x black reader#black fem reader#aki hayakawa x fem reader#thank GOD i got this fic out ive been wanting to publish this all week#fluff🥰#!mdni#do y’all think my writing is like…bad or not well rounded#idek it’s just a thought
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Hello! First of all, I love your blog so much, you give off such warm, positive vibes :)
I wanted to ask if you would explain your head canons regarding Basti and Thorsten's sexualities a bit more? I've seen you refer to them as gay/bi respectively quite often and I would love to hear your reasonings and explanations behind that. (Not at all because I disagree, I'm just obsessed with the two of them and I think you'll have some very interesting takes on the topc!)
If you don't want to just ignore me :)
Hi! and thank you for this lovely ask, it put a really big smile on my face!! you're so kind! 😌 and OOHHHH do I have headcanons about Thorsten’s and Sebastian’s sexuality, I hope you’re ready!! 🔥 (I prefer making lists rather than writing articles, so I hope this still reads well enough)
schwuler Thorsten <3
It would be so easy to say that Thorsten is straight because he had a wife and a daughter back in Hamburg, but people who claim that aren't watching the show right. Here's why I think that a reading of him as a gay man is so so so so valid:
Susanne and Lilli: There are many ways to fit his late wife and daughter into this headcanon, so take your pick: He genuinely didn't know he was gay and started a family. He was in denial and started a family anyway. He was well aware of his homosexuality and maybe this was a mutual arrangement between him and Susanne. It was purely superficial.
(lack of) interest in women: Once Thorsten is in Stuttgart, he literally never shows any interest in any woman whatsoever (much to the dismay of his neighbour) and I do not remember him flirting with any woman ever. Also when asked about women, he literally answers, "Keine Ahnung, ich bin da kein Spezialist." A fortuneteller read his hand once and said: "Sie sind ein lebenslang Suchender. Besonders Frauen sind Ihnen ein ewiges Rätsel." and Thorsten replies, "Jetzt wird es vielleicht doch etwas zu persönlich." Hm. . . So Thorsten is sb who still hasn't found himself? And women are a mystery to him? Hm, gay. Also: Another relationship with a woman, much less so marriage, is so far off his radar that he proposed to Sebastian to start a "Alters WG".
often presumed gay: It is almost a running gag that people assume Thorsten is gay (except that the possibility of a gay Thorsten should not be the punchline). Julian Siebert in "Grabenkämpfe" assumes that Thorsten is gay. His boss while undercover in "Freigang" assumes that he's gay: "Bist du schwul oder warum sind hier keine Weiber?" Thorsten replies, "Schwul.", which the boss plays off as a joke.
casual, yet serious about queerness and other queer people: This is particularly striking in comparison to Sebastian because Thorsten seems so #woke about everything. He understands subtle and not so subtle nods and hints from other queer people but does not make a fuss about them and immediately recognizes queerness (as opposed to Sebastian): Once again "Grabenkämpfe," where Thorsten never jokes about Julian Siebert's obvious interest in him. Also in "Hart an der Grenze" Basti treats them playing a gay couple as a fun joke while Thorsten is very much not amused - and there is just sth in the way he treats the topic so seriously that makes it seem as if it real to him. In "Anne und der Tod" they interrogate clients and stand in front of an old man who has pictures of him and another man on his shelf and wall, and while Sebastian very innocently asks whether that's his brother or son, Thorsten's behavior suggests that he caught on instantly that the old man is in fact gay and that those are photos of him and his late partner.
actively against homophobia: When an old man makes a homophobic remark at him and Sebastian, he immediately grabs Sebastians hand to make that man uncomfortable and as a big fuck you and a way of saying, "Yeah people are queer, get over it, old man!!"
never denying, never clarifying: As much as men flirt with him or people assume he's gay, Thorsten never denies it and never clarifies that he is, in fact, heterosexual. Never! Best example is (once again) "Grabenkämpfe" when his neighbour spots Thorsten at a gay bar with another man and says that at least now she knows why he didn't have time for her - and Thorsten does not get defensive and screams sth like, "I'm not gay, I'm here for a case!", he just lets it slide. And remember when the Freigang boss derogatorily asked Thorsten whether he's gay but then later it seems that Thorsten had sex with a woman, to which the boss replies "Na egal, bin ja froh, dass du nicht schwul bist."? Thorsten once again does not outright say, "Genau, bin ich nicht." but instead replies, "Ich weiß." and looks sad and angry at this blatant portrayal of homophobia.
love confession: In "Die Nacht der Kommissare" Thorsten confesses his love to Sebastian while on drugs with a loud and clear "Sebastian? Ich liebe dich." He continues to confess his love to other men in that episode, but this "Ich liebe dich" feels very different, very sincere and from the heart. I like to read this scene as both a platonic and a romantic love confession.
There is probably so much more, but this is just from the top of my head. Moving on!
bi Basti <3
Sebastian is bi because it Just. Makes. Sense.!!!!!
the rise and fall of the Bootz family: I need to start with Julia and the kids because Sebastian is introduced as a happy, young family man who has basically achieved everything, both in his private life and career. His life as a husband and father is basically too perfect when we meet him, and of course it does crumble more and more into pieces with every new episode. We soon see tension in his and Julia's marriage, ultimately leading to their divorce and Sebastian's never-talked-about problem with alcohol and his separation anxiety. I encourage everyone to watch all the eps until "Spiel auf Zeit" as if Sebastian is falling out of love with Julia and in love with Thorsten (. . .is it possible to love two people at once? Good question, Sebastian).
Felix Klare supremacy: Even Felix Klare himself thought that Tatort was lacking diversity in terms of presentation of women and gay people back in 2013 and he advocated for becoming the first gay Tatort duo. Aber Richy wollte nicht. Tja.
bi in another universe: In "Tödliche Tarnung" we learn that Sebastian and Julia were once close to breaking up and Basti wonders how different his life could have been: "Julia, hast du dir schon mal überlegt, wie unser Leben verlaufen wäre, wenn, naja, wenn wir uns damals getrennt hätten?" Cue "Scherbenhaufen": When he is about to go undercover, he has to come up with a backstory for his character. And what does he do? Completely remove a wife and kids out of the picture and then says, "Ehrlich gesagt, ich hab sie dann mit meinem besten Freund betrogen." Kinda bi to make up a scenario in which he gets to be with Thorsten instead of Julia, if you ask me. And he looks so happy about it, too.
weird about queerness: Sebastian has always been weird about political correctness, and to me this reads as a defense mechanism, as a way to distance himself from queerness and treat it as sth "not concerning me". And yes, I do headcanon Basti as having serious internalized homophobia, why do you ask? I have yet to form proper thoughts about Basti's uncharacteristic compassion towards the gay man who has just lost his lover in "Vergebung", it feels so personally affected. What we can nevertheless witness, though, is some personal growth in that Sebastian is more comfortable with and knowledgable about queerness.
heteronormative worldview / hetcomp: Sebastian literally doesn't know that bisexuality exists. When he hears of married men (yes, there have been three such storylines. . . THREE!!!!) who had a secret lover on the side, he always assumes they were gay and never once considers bisexuality. Looping back to the Bootz marriage&divorce as well as the countless "secretly gay married men" trope, Basti is literally describing his life in "Vergebung" without acknowledging the parallels.
flirting with Thorsten: Of course, any straight man can flirt with his friends, but the way Sebastian does it is so "haha just joking!!! . . . unless 👀"-coded. First the pretend gay couple at the adoption agency, then another pretend gay couple in the waiting room, then the queer undercover persona plot twist. And look how flustered he gets when he gets flirted with.
honorable mentions: bi lighting, bi sitting, bi bi bi music.
Again, there is most definitely more and everyone is free to add on to my thoughts! 😌✌️
bonus: Are Thorsten and Sebastian in love? 👀
Yes, and as of February 2024 there are 32 episodes to prove it. Thank you for reading! 🫶
#tatort stuttgart#tatort#sebastian bootz#thorsten lannert#bi basti#schwuler thorsten#this took me literal hours but I enjoyed it immensely#can you tell I miss writing term papers?? yeah#once again I feel really honored about getting this ask so thank you 😌#mehly asks#mehl stuff#detectivesergeanthelene
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Bane in my Bones
Pair: Toji x Reader x Nanami
Warning: Spice is nice. Toxic Drama. Toxic Family Issues. Fluff at the end. Smut included.
A/N: Sorry for not writing this series. I should’ve have done it sooner, but there are times when I feel like I don’t want to do anything at all, and yet I feel guilty about not writing the series that I promised here on my blog MONTHS AGO. I should’ve been better, and that I wish for my love writing will return, but I was afraid my love of writing will never come back, at all. Even if I do wish it, even if I do write, I’m still afraid it won’t return, or that I’ll be forever guilty about this whole ordeal. And I’m so happy that I get to see animated version of Toji Fushiguro in Jujutsu Kaisen!!! Thanks to the animated Toji, I now have the inspiration. Here’s chapter 2–the moment for Toji’s fangirls all been waiting for. And there’s a special guest in this series—so I decided to make as a love triangle. Hope you enjoy.
CHAPTER 2
BETTING ONE'S LIKE IS NO JOKE
Toji hadn't been doing well with his current money on his bank account. Despite having the normalcy of a stable job, he desired for a quicker earnings. His life was at stake, low budget, low upgrade and low treatment from the great Zenin family. Nothing has ever come good from a Zenin clan. Everyone thought they're prestigiously intelligent and exuded with grace and wisdom. If only Toji could see how they truly are.
In the midday, he was making another bet for boat racing, he bet on boat 7, which is his favorite number. Anyone who chose number 4 is stupid. 4 is considered related to the word 'death' and bad luck. No hotels or apartments are contained with the numbers 4.
Duration of the boat race, Toji watched until he grew bored and ordered some salty snacks to eat up his boredom. Nothing was enough. But his wallet is empty, and his credit card has been declined.
Nothing was easy anymore. Especially the economy has struck disaster.
This morning, he had found a random woman sleeping in his bed, which made him pissed off at the last night's activities and kicked her out with no mercy. He hates being called as "Daddy". It's already grating enough for him for his memories to randomly conjure up in his head whenever he's busy.
Daddy this, Daddy that. He's not their father, and doesn't have a son.
Not that he's debating if he had one or not.
Boat number 7 broke down in the middle of the race and sank along the racer. Frustrated, Toji crumpled the paper and tossed it carelessly onto the ground.
"Betting on something stupid is stupid," a voice said behind Toji.
The man in a black suit and clean haircut, blew a smoke from a cigarette, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"Shui Kong," Toji said, groaning. "What do you want?'
"Got bored with teaching students? I'm surprised you survived that college life for so long. I thought you'd bail out on the first day."
"Fuck off, I'm trying to watch the boat race," Toji grunted.
"The race is over, though," Shui said, smirking at Toji's displeased face. "Anyway, it's not the only reason why I'm here."
"Oh, do tell, but first buy me a box of yakisoba," Toji said, disinterested.
"It's regarding to your family," his companion informed.
"The great Zenin family, yada, yada, yada," Toji's hand waved. "I don't care about what they say. Their words always came from their shitty asses. Go buy the yakisoba; I'll pay you back later."
"With what money? You spent the last of the money on boat racing and a snack."
"Tch," Toji disgruntled. "Go, say whatever you say."
Shui cleared his throat. "It's rather urgent. Your father wants to see you."
"Again, I know what he's going to say. He's going to say that I'm the most disappointing son ever existed in his eyes. Thank god I'm adopted."
"This is about your son, Megumi," Shui mentioned. "He'll be taking over the clan in the near future. Your adopted father will kick you out the moment Megumi reach his potential on becoming an heir to his fortune."
"He never shared a slight of money," Toji groaned.
"He doesn't, which is why I'll be making a proposition--without letting them know, of course. This might be involve with hefty sum of fortune."
Toji's eyes snapped wide open. "I mean," Shui resumed, "if you still want to mope about the Zenin family, chances are your future is going to be bleak. Though I will say that rumor has it your not-so blood brother, is taking over the company in the future. Meaning, your last role to fill is not to become an obedient man, but becoming a family man in your adopted father's stead."
"Toji's teeth gritted. "That fucking bastard." Meeting Shui's twinkled eyes, Toji leaned back at his seat. "So, what kind of deal you want me to do? It better be worth it."
~~~
Reaching to your sanctuary, the weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. Spotting you son asleep on his bed, clutching the sketcbook in hand and a pencil on the floor.
You tucked your son in with a blanket sheet, recently washed from laundry--contained in endless stacks of one clothing after another, then there's the bed sheets and pillow cases. None of which are helping you to get started since your college days have been nothing but torture.
Endless studies and notes in your major courses has been hell for your body and mind. This is the only time you'll be able to recharge is when coming home seeing your precious son, spritely and benign, something that you've never gifted with since born. Anything your son does, you support is fully needed, and needed badly. Not children should face their struggles and dreams alone without a proper kindness and support.
He has made drawings, already at a young age, he's curious and experiment with colors and art brushes and pencils alike. Each day, he drew something on a little piece of a sketchbook you bought. But since he wants his creativity to be expanded, you gathered a big sketchbook and a coloring book for him to fill with joy. The days of him occupying his thoughts, whether on painting or sketching, his mind has kept in occupying thoughts, a happy distraction. One day, he decided to fill an empty page of you and him, and despite the family picture is lacking, your son drew a picture what considered to be a tall man beside him.
Your heart race each time your son asks you about the whereabouts of his unknown father. Truth be told, it's better left unsaid.
Tucking his sketchbook aside on a desk lamp, you turned off the lights after you gave him a goodnight kiss on the forehead.
Stepping out from the room, you prepare to make a cup of green tea and heat a frozen bread pizza in the microwave, then set it on the oven, ticking as the toaster heats up. You sat back down at the dining chair, not bothering to do the assignments to hand in for decent grade.
If only you could drop out from Professor Fushiguro's class. He has been nothing but a condescending soul seeping to you as the girls are there to kiss his ass. They didn't bother to consider that Professor Toj could possibly be married or have a girlfriend. He must have hidden it for a reason, however, you felt as if Toji would ever commit to a person that make themselves appear as a burden to him, maybe that's why he didn't mind girls throwing themselves at him.
Both parties are pathetic.
Thank God you reached home where are no typical noises of squealing that you can't stand. As you head lulled back down on the dining table, forehead pressing against the cold surface, you wonder if it's all worth it. It maybe all worth for your son's sake, your son's future, but, at the very moment, you felt stupid to choose a course that is somehow difficult for you to catch up due to your boredom and the ability to misunderstand the lecture--taking the wrong notes or missing the important ones, and somehow your grades went downhill.
At this moment, you wanted nothing more but to sleep.
"Forget to turn off the toaster," a voice said.
As you didn't open your eyes, lulling to deep sleep, the alarm went off. Not the toaster, your phone.
You woke up with fright, shutting the alarm off. You decided to take a day off from your early reminders.
"Miss (y/n)," a sornous voice called.
You said nothing.
"Miss (y/n)," a man voice's became louder and bolder.
Thinking it was Professor Toji, you sat up straight with wakeful eyes, but it turns out to be a dream.
The doorbell rang.
And with that, you set of running to unlock the doors without peeping through the peep hole, revealing a tall man with cheekbones is as fine as a blade.
"Nanami," you greeted, hugging him.
His hug returned quite awkwardly. Knowing he's not a people-person, you still managed to greet him with a friendly smile.
Beckoning to enter, the smell of pizza has caught Nanami's attention. He rushed into the kitchen and coughed.
Your pizza is over burnt. So he turned on the vents to blow the burning smell away as he opened the kitchen window.
Nanami, who turned your pizza bread off from the toaster.
"Thank god my kitchen isn't on fire," you said in relief, your back slouching, your arm propped over the chair frame.
"I take it that you aren't okay with anything's happening right now?' Nanami poured himself a cup of fresh tea
You sighed. "Yeah, it's been a real bother. I don't even want to go tomorrow. Ever since I attend college, I thought it would be good for the sake of my son, but it turns I've been pathetic. I can't even do anything right."
"You'll get the hang of it," Nanami said calmly, sipping.
"It's not office work," you said, exhausted. "I just want a good life. That' why I took upon educating myself, but this one..."
Nanami stopped lifting his cup halfway. "This one?"
You shook your head. "Nothing. Everyone has been a real bother. Everyone is easily distracted, which makes me easily distracted and overwhelmed."
"Why not take online classes?'
"Online classes is another thing. I just don't trust internet that much. Besides, I don't want to coop myself up in one room. I have to get out to meet new people, maybe something to take my mind off of. I just don't want to do another mistake. So what have you been up to?"
Nanami drank his tea. "Nothing much. Just work, and more co-workers being dumbasses as ever."
"You mean like Gojo?'
"Not that kind of dumbass," he answered.
"Is the co-worker loud and obnoxious?"
"Guess you could say that," he said, tossing your burnt pizza out in the trash bin.
"You and me both."
Then silence prevailed. No exchanged looks, no sudden drop of noise. Nothing. Just the AC rumbling.
"I hope you're doing okay," you began. "I mean, I've seen you of not having a decent sleep. Your eyes says it all."
"I'm doing fine," he denied.
You scoffed. "Liar. Come sit down, I'll prepare something for you. You know, Daichi would be happy to see you if he's awake."
"Where is he now?'
"Sleeping. He kept busy with his drawings! He's my little Michelangelo! Ah, if you could see how far he has gotten with drawings. Everything is perfect. My little Daichi is gifted. I bought more sketchbooks and coloring pencils for him to try if he's up for a challenge, but he settled his experimentations on color pencils sooner than I thought."
Nanami chortled. "You really love your son, don't you?'
"Why not? A mother's love should NEVER suffocates a child with their selfish and hypocritical ideals that make the child hates the mother. My mom does a terrible job of being one. She said to me, "When you have a child, you should control EVERYTHING at what your child says and does, and how the child feels and opinions. She's such a fucking annoyance."
“You didn’t stay,” he concluded.
"I didn't," you said, sipping a second refill. "That's why I got up and left from that household. There's nothing for me there. And I don't want Daichi to be in their life. I just want them to be out of Daichi's sight. He'll cry if he meets them, but I made sure I won't let it happen. Same thing goes with my dad and my relatives, and even my “saintly” sister who's way better at everything than me. I mean, who the hell do they think they are?"
"A mother's love cannot be bested by someone's boasting in accomplishments," Nanami said. "Nor does the ignorance of a family tradition."
"I don't want to become like them," you said, reminding yourself. "Or end up saying the hurtful words to Daichi the way my so-called family did. What they did to me was at its worst, and I feel as if I'm not doing good enough. They thought of me as a threat...just because I think and feel different from the rest of them. Even if they didn't accept me, why can't they just leave me alone, instead of interfere at every personal choices I make for myself? They could've just ignore me, pretend I don't exist so that I could leave without them remembering me. Even now, my family wants me to reconnect with them, but I refused. I didn't want to be open to them, I didn't want to give the closure they wanted. I changed my phone number, my address, my surname, everything. I just hope that they...they don't..."
Tears fell down, your sobs grew louder. You couldn't help it.
Large hands placed on your back, massaging your shoulder blades, circling them. When you're at your worst, nobody was there for you. Your dad mocked your cries, calling your voice 'ugly', then your mom's denial of claiming rude words against you, and your sister's cold-heartedness whenever you see her, she doesn't want to look up to see your "disgusting" face. That's why she moved out with her friends.
There is one point where you wanted to become deaf, so that they couldn't hear what they say and how they said it, with their actions as a contradiction.
You couldn't handle it anymore. You just wanted to start a new life with newfound family.
"(y/n)," Nanami cooed, his mouth leaning towards at the back of your ear shell. "The pain will be over soon. You've done well as a young mother."
Your heart jumped.
What you didn't expect was the subtle kiss he placed on your ear shell.
"Nanami--" The hot tea spilled onto his uniform. Nanami sighed with alert.
"Oh no, I'm so sorry, Nanami. I'll go get some ice!"
Nanami reached for your wrist as you tried to run past him in the kitchen to fetch the ice from the freezer.
"Nanami?"
He said nothing but darting his unreadable eyes onto yours. With your stilled body, your dry throat scrunched up more, bobbing with anxiety. The AC resumed on making the thrumming noise from the roof.
"It'll leave a scar if you don't heal the burns hurry," you reminded, though whispered.
Heart pounded against your rib cage. Your hands coated in sweat. This has never happened to you before. Before Daichi, you suggested and insisted the idea of romance comes from books, but since Daichi is born in your stomach, reality hits too hard for you to handle. Not even your family's unnecessary commentary of how you become heavy and zombie-like, more stale looking and less bless with glow. In nine months, your dear family predetermine for you to be as a punching bag at every chance they get as their way of outlet of their horrible life.
Thank god your dearest friend, your most trusted friend, Nanami, bailed you out of the situation.
But what you felt for him, is he really a friend to begin with?
"What is it, Nanami?" Your face reddened, your quiet voice squeaked with concern.
Without given a warning, Nanami grasped your other arm before he pulled you in for an enticing kiss. Slipping his tongue to your opening, his arms encircled around your dainty body, pulling you closer even when the gap space is closed. Your hands suddenly have a mind of its own; slithered and ran down on Nanami's back, the boiling touch of his dousing office shirt entangled to yours
"(y/n)," he moaned, suddenly shoving you apart for him to discard his office suit off. However, his pants are intact, leaving your hands seizing and undo the belt. Nanami stopped you, plucking your neckline, trailing down on your engorged nipple with his nibbling kisses on the thin straps of your pastel pink tank top.
"I don't mind being as Daichi's Father," Nanami said, chuckling. "But," he said, inching his face closer to yours. "I don't mind you calling me. Wherever you go, whenever you need help, I'll always be there at your side, especially when I’m busy.”
Your sobs are about to appear again. You tried not to show it again, afraid of getting sick and tired by him.
"Nanami..." is all you could utter.
"Say "Yes, Daddy," he murmured.
Your heart bounced.
His fingers hooked your chin and lifted up to meet his commanding look in his cryptic gaze. "Say, "Yes, Daddy."
"Yes...Yes..."
Nanami stayed quiet, eyes coaxing you.
"Yes, Daddy," you whimpered.
With a slight smirk on his face, his face plunged in for another kiss. His hands roamed freely on your body, flowing with soft cotton nightgown. He took off his working glasses before implying a passionate kiss for the third time. Tucking his left hand in your night gown's skirt, his fingers hooked the lined fabric of your panties and slipped the undergarment downwards to your thighs, then your knees. Knowing what he was implying, your pussy is smothered in heat. By the time your pants came undone, he caught the material, stopping.
His phone had ring.
Groaning in frustration, Nanami took the call, but didn't let you go with the other hand.
"Nanami speaking. What is it this time?"
With a ragged breath, your head leaned in against his right breast, your hand pressed against the center of his chest, his heart pounding loudly as it can. It seems like you aren't the only one who's dealing with excitement.
"Fine, I'll be there. Just give a moment or two...It doesn't where I am. I'll be there." Then clicked his phone shut, his other hand attached to your waist again, his forehead pressed against yours.
"Work?' you uttered.
Nanami hummed.
"You don't have to go if you don't want to," you suggested, rubbing his back. "I'll make the futon in my bedroom."
Nanami shook his head, leaning his head back to give a longing gaze at you. "If I didn't leave, how will I be able to give Daichi's future career in art and your dreams of gaining a life you deserve away from your family, by becoming as a truest moment of your happiest self?"
"I'll find a job. That's why I'm here, to start over."
Nanami's hand tucked into your long hair. "It doesn't have to be that way. I can help you, just like I've always been. You don't have to worry about your life anymore."
Your brows scrunched. "What are you saying?'
"Once I get back, please let me know of your answer."
"Wha--"
Nanami wore his doused suit and fetched his things before approaching the entrance door. Chasing after him by the grab on his forearm, Nanami turned and gave you a longing kiss. "Will you please be my wife?"
"Nanami..."
He gave a peck on your cheek, then your eyelids, and his lips finally landing onto your mouth. "Daddy's going to take care of you better than before. Wait for me, my sweet (y/n)," he said, then left, disappear from your sight, leaving you breathless at the previous events unfolded.
Taglist: @galactict3a @colored-tr-panels
#fanfic#fanfiction#x reader#toji x reader#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro#jjk toji#smut#fluff#angst#anime fanfic#anime#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu toji#jujutsu sorcerer#nanami x reader#nanami kento#jujustu kaisen#jjk#kento nanami#nanami kento x reader#nanami smut#ao3 fanfic#ao3#ao3feed#ao3 writer
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So, I haven't posted anything regarding the Noah Schnapp situation on my blog before. I speak up for Palestine and I speak against Zionism on a daily on my socials and in my community. However, as a mostly anonymous Stranger Things blog, I always felt a little off about suddenly posting about the genocide of an entire group of people amongst fanart and fan posts (personally for me it'd feel incredibly performative).
However, coming online today to find out about Noah Schnapp's most recent stunt–for lack of a better term–has been incredibly upsetting. So, I'd like to take the time to state outwardly on my blog that I do not support Noah Schnapp, at all. Every word he's said, every post he's interacted with, regarding the genocide makes me physically ill. Anyone who still supports him despite the words he's said and the harm he's done, please do not interact with my blog.
Do I still ship Byler? Yes. Stranger Things has been my special interest for nearly 7 years and I love the show and its characters with my entire being. I will continue to post and write about the show and Byler. However, I do not condone anything Noah Schnapp says or does and I never, ever will. Will Byers as a character is not Noah Schnapp; I will only ever post of Will, never anything supportive regarding Noah himself. Additionally, I definitely understand all the people I see on here declaring they're taking breaks (indefinite or otherwise) from the fandom/Byler. I wish all of y'all who make that choice the absolute best. I know many fans want Will to be recast, but due to the fact multiple others involved with Stranger Things are Zionists, I doubt it will happen. Pirate season 5, if you can. It's better to not support Netflix with your money anyway.
Free Palestine, antizionism is NOT antisemitism. Continue to learn, continue to research, continue to offer help and support in any way you possibly can. Check in with your Palestinian, Arab, and Jewish friends and neighbors. Do not stand complicit when faced with genocide. Do not be the type of person people 70 years from now will look back on and wonder why you didn't take a stand against genocide.
Edit just to say: I'm not posting this for any brownie points nor do I feel the need to prove my activism. If you feel the need to prove your activism, then maybe your activism isn't as genuine as you like to think it is. I just wanted to make my stance clear so that it cannot be misinterpreted. Please make sure to listen to Palestinian voices.
#i hope someday he learns#but he'll never be able to undo the damage he has caused#i'm honestly thinking of incorporating the other fandoms I enjoy into my blog tbh#palestine#free palestine#free gaza#noah schnapp#fuck noah schnapp#anti zionisim#will byers is not noah schnapp#byler#< target audience#dziban's rambles
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"creation took 7 days; now watch me fuck it all up in one night"
canon divergent adam (+ side of abel ) / haz.b.in h.o.tel
21 + / mid-low activity / private
ordained and entertained by skeu
here are some cool people 😎 : @deathinfeathers , @voxistem , @lilitophidian , @cast-you-dxwn , @multipalz , @atomeyes + @sainticidal , @arachn0philia , @drraphaelmd
about // playlist // active headcanon // rules [beneath]
Caard-Esque:
Blog is 21+ for content concerns and mun is 25+ (an old) and will not interact with minors on this blog. minors should technically not follow me here either ~ so, don'tttttt...do that? thanks! if i catch you, you're yeeted to the shadow realm.
Do not follow this blog if you are sensitive to the sensitive topics related to this particular genre. I tag with "content word cw" for the extra wild stuff, but that's about it. adam literally has the highest swear/slur count in the show and he's only in 3 episodes, so be aware of that.
I tend to be private/selective as i get fairly overwhelmed with too much activity. i really get into plots though, and i'll spam the dash with some silly original dick chauvinism from time to time when ive fed my inner gremlins past midnight. That said, I do get easily overwhelmed when I'm following too many people and multi muse blogs in particular can exacerbate this feeling, so if I do not follow back - I might just not be in a good place to atm or I just don't see possible interactions btw our characters. It's nothing personal! ^^
This is a mutuals only interaction blog for my sanity (anons being fine). if i can see plots happening between us, i'll likely follow. but i get overwhelmed easily so please don't take it personally if i don't follow back or follow back right away.
I am not exclusive, but I prioritize my plotted threads and may have some mains/activity based off that as far as my main verse goes. But I will never be fully exclusive and i enjoy exploring different character dynamics. Also multiship is fine, but I am not exclusively here to ship or write suggestive content. My muses have always and will always require plotting and scene chemistry for me to consider writing ship material. In the case I do reblog shippy prompts still feel free to send in ofc! I'll see if I can make it work or not.
If I don't get a follow back within a week or two, if blogs i follow go inactive for up to 6-7 weeks, or if there's just no attempt on either of our ends to connect for an indefinite amount of time - i'll occasionally go through my list and soft block to clean things up. if we ever want to give it a go in the future, the option is there for us to re-follow and resume! i have in the past been made to feel like im walking on egg shells in rpcs regarding these matters and id rather avoid it here...im just here to chill, write and leave weird surprises in dms.
This post/my rules and conditions are subject to change based on what I get up to on here.
#//o hi just making a trash gremlin to be rude on-#//extremely work in progress- subject to change based on canon development#hazbin hotel rp#helluva boss rp
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I assume you got hate for that L&D ask? I'm sorry that was done. Feel better soon. Maybe say less next time.
i appreciate your kind words, thank you. however, while i'm sure you had the best intention with this, i don't think i will 'say less'. this is my blog, my space, and as long as i'm not actually causing harm to anyone or anything along that line, i think i'm allowed to have some degree of freedom regarding saying what i like/dislike and setting my boundaries. i'm sorry, but i'm not an influencer, nor a public figure who has the responsibility to spread positivity and be a role model to you all. i try as much as i can, of course, but that's not the purpose of this blog. i'm just a human being who needed an outlet for writing and wanted to connect with like-minded people.
what part was not 'right'? that i expressed, in my own blog, how i didn't want to try out a game because one of the reasons is i find the graphics of the fictional characters off-putting, when asked? that i likened a fictional game art style to a different franchise and objects you see all the time in adult site ads? that i never said anything about the people who do like the game and told them "i'm happy you found a game you like"? that i never, not even once, went to other people's posts or blog who posted that game's content to ruin their fun like a bastard? that i actively chose to use tumblr's filter instead? that even if the filter didn't work, i chose to scroll and ignore instead of bitching about it?
pray tell, what did i do wrong? why should i say less? since when am i not allowed to dislike things?
and a public psa ー i'm sorry, but bluntly speaking, if you take an affront when I expressed MY own opinion, WHEN PROMPTED, WITHIN MY OWN SPACE (and god forbid you retaliate like that anon(s?) by spamming me to shut the fuck up and kill myself), then that's really not my problem. it's an art direction, for god's sake. i adore zhongli, who gets memed and made fun of as a cockroach all the time; you don't see me screaming at people to stop.
learn that people may not like the things you like. learn to agree to disagree. learn to treat others as fellow human beings with likes and dislikes. learn to separate fiction from reality.
and seriously, if you're annoyed with my rambles or 'babblings' or the interactions with my friends, tumblr has a filter and block function. it's just a simple google away. give some peace to your own mind.
#minors dni#rin answers#rin is having tea with: daydreams-and-wonder#and to clarify. i'm not mad at you daydreams-and-wonder!!#i truly appreciate the well wishes#but i had to get this out of my system because it's just so ridiculous that this is happening imo#cw vent in following tags#then again#excluding my actual friends. out of 8.5k of people following me i wonder if even one percent of you actually think of me as a human being#and not just a blob in your phone who churns out somewhat decent content every now and then#or some sentient hybrid between a journal or twitter you could just go anytime to feed your need for validation and attention one sidedly#or an entertaining monkey you put on a stage to watch just for the fun of it only to 'cancel' the moment i 'slip up'#maybe it's my pms. maybe i'm just stressed rn. or maybe it's long time coming#but i'm not just tired anymore. i'm getting disgusted of this treatment
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about me: a writeblr re-re-re-introduction
Hello! My old pinned post is officially over a year old and makes me cringe whenever I'm on my blog, so it's time to freshen things up again!
me
I'm Teri, I'm smack dab in the middle of my 20s and figuring out life. My writing is pretty exclusively original stuff, a lot of novels and a lot of fantasy, but I play around with various genres in short stories. Sort of a jack-of-all-trades in regards to hobbies - aside from writing, there's anything from baking to drawing with my ancient art tablet to cross-stitch to playing music to rambling around the patch of woods near my house to watching long-form D&D let's plays.
my goals
I recognize that every time I post something like this, it's with the intention of finally becoming as active on writeblr as I was during the pandemic. I also recognize I've never quite managed that.
So here are some more general goals to get me through 2024:
Finish my 2nd draft of Beyond Alder Creek
Write as cringey and brutally honest as I never allowed myself to as a teenager.
Speaking of, a large reading/writing goal of mine is to go back through every NaNo draft I've ever written (I've participated since 2011). So aside from just reading that and likely turning it into a whole spectacle on here for people's amusement, generally just survive reading through the writing from 8th grade. Stay tuned for more on that in the coming weeks lol
Finally, I have a general goal every year of reaching 100K words, between writing and editing and the like, but I'd happily be a little looser with that goal if it meant getting through others.
And now, without further ado:
my writing
Before I get specifically into WIPs, a general overview of the kind of writing you can expect from me:
As I said, I'm a fantasy nerd. I love worldbuilding, both on a large scale (nations and cultures and political relationships) and a small scale (a magic shop in an otherwise contemporary setting).
There's not a lot of romance in my writing, but there Are a lot of transformational relationships and codependency. Friendships, siblings, guardians, general ride-or-dies.
Thought experiments. I've been trying to catch and indulge more in my 'wait, what if?' ideas. Sometimes, that's fun little snippets of silly ideas, sometimes it's a majorly emotionally heavy scene for a story I'll never write. Sometimes, it's coming up with ideas to 'combine genres'. It's all about expanding the range.
wips*
Beyond Alder Creek /// draft 2 /// tag: bac
Winnie Pewitt has never believed in the fae. That is, until her little brother disappears, and she stumbles upon a faerie ring on the edge of town. Inside, a man seemingly carved from gold suggests that he knows who took the boy. With everyone else around their hometown accepting her brother's fate as certainty, Winnie takes it upon herself to craft the perfect deal and enter the realm of the fae with her new companion in tow.
The Lies in the Legend /// draft 1 /// tag: litl
The fictional autobiography of an elven noblewoman who rose rapidly in station and influence from an unremarkable youth to a diplomatic powerhouse. Spanning centuries during the prime of her life, Lady Ghislaine Agassi charts the course of her career and reputation, and highlights the dangers of making myths out of our idols.
*Though these are my primary WIPs, I have a page that covers various other WIPs and projects that I've brought up over the past few years.
I think that about covers everything! As always, I can't make any promises about how the year will wind up and where it takes us. But I will say, I've actually been writing recently, and yk I'm just gonna ride that high.
And for fun, here's some random facts about me:
fun facts
I have degrees in psychology and music!
I've lived across three continents, but currently live in upstate New York for whatever reason lol
The animals I've ridden on the back of include: horse, pony, elephant, and ostrich. The horse was my least favorite. By far.
I got diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes a couple months after Covid landed stateside (in May 2020) and am Always ready to talk someone's ear off about it.
The first story I ever wrote was on PowerPoint and was about war breaking out between humans and aliens that had taken refuge on Earth after their planet was destroyed. I was 8. There was a Lot of Clipart involved.
I've never been published, but I once secretly planned out, wrote, edited, and self-printed a couple copies of a novel about my best friends and our college apartment. They received it for Christmas last year and loved it (or at least were kind enough to tell me they did)!
#writeblr introduction#writeblr#writeblr intro#writers on tumblr#writing#hello once again friends#here is my annual promise to be different this year and actually talk about writing#we'll see how long it lasts this go round!#teritalks
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I just wanted to say as someone who has stumbled across your blog and has read your Wednesday wips and posts about anything topgun related that your thought process and consideration of mav and ice, specifically their political beliefs and relationships with their own identities, is honestly so impressive and cool. You have brought such realism and life to these characters which is just so refreshing to see. idk i just wanted to express how cool and awesome i think that is
Because of the thought into these characters does it make it difficult to like them or understand them if you have differing opinions from them? for me personally i feel like if i were to ever actually have a convo with ice or mav regarding identity politics i would actually start to lose my mind (like how one feels when your dad or fun uncle talks for too long at thanksgiving dinner). If it does make them difficult to like, does that make it difficult for you to write them sometimes?
oh yeah! i think, my ice i really empathize with & really love & really could get along with, once he grows out of the sexism of his teens & twenties, but my maverick drives me crazy. someone sent in an ask a while ago that was like “WHY is cyclone simpson your one true love??” And it’s because i too would absolutely hate maverick & hate working with him lol. people who are overly cocky & un-self-aware & a bit self-centered make me CRAZY. (narrator voice: compacflt is a hypocrite as all these things also apply to compacflt.)
Politically… It’s difficult to say. no one really wants to hear the intricacies of one person’s political journey, which is why i won’t give you mine, but suffice to say—since the start of the russian invasion of Ukraine, and my semi-concerted effort to learn more about the political landscape of modern warfare, my own personal beliefs have shifted a whole bunch. definitely aided in that shift by my top gun fic project that specifically aims to understand the conservative straight-passing male mindset as it relates to military matters… there are many end goals to a project like mine, but one end product is a filter you can take away and hold up in front of your eyes and see the world through it. When writing from the eyes of a conservative straight (passing) white man, your priorities totally shift. I had to write from the perspective of someone who doesn’t care about identity politics. Because they don’t! A core tenet of conservatism is very proudly not caring about that stuff, and being very annoyed when people (usually left-of-centers) make that stuff very visible and want you to care about it! “Don’t shove it in my face,” etc., etc. Don’t force me to care about this taboo, private thing I really don’t care about. It violates my freedoms, or whatever, to be forced to care—or even bear witness to—stuff that i don’t care about. Etc. And then, to be nominally a part of that community that you really, really don’t care about, and then to be told that you have to care about it because of your publicity… people asking you to be proud of something that has had a negative connotation for much of your entire life… that’s not a transformation that happens easily.
Jesus, I could write an essay about this. I have, several times by now in responses to asks over my blog. But there is so much that I could talk about. I think… I really worry that some of my writing falls into the first of the below categories:
I really try not to romanticize conservatism in my writing—I tried to show that ice and mav’s happiness is the price they pay for their conservatism. They’re actively choosing to be unhappy—but because they prioritize their honor over everything, due to EXTERNAL PRESSURES they cannot control, and which I think are often ignored in the fandom space for one reason or another. The fact of the matter is, in 99% of IPs, characters prioritize something other than their sexualities. It’s never Maverick’s personal identity that is at stake in either Top Gun or Top Gun: Maverick, because he has built himself so impermeably masculine that there are no grounds upon which to question his personal identity. He just isn’t thinking about it. He’s thinking about how to get into Charlie’s pants, how to win the Top Gun trophy, how to uphold his promise to Goose, et cetera. If he’s fucking guys on the side, it’s because he wants to and because hes maverick and he does what he wants without thinking about it—that’s the whole point of his character, from a story-construction standpoint. That’s his archetype. He’s a renegade maverick superstar who is both thoughtlessly brilliant and thoughtlessly dangerous. He’s thoughtless. His priorities are to survive and to look cool doing it, and that’s it. He is a savant in the Naval Air Force, where honor is your lifeblood, who feels he has been dishonored by his own family name, and who willingly joined the conservative post-Vietnam Navy right when/after Ronald Reagan was elected President, and who wears cowboy boots and who disrespects women to their faces, and who is eager to get into altercations with Soviet-Chinese-DPRK-X-second-world-country-coded-but-EXPLICITLY-Soviet-manufactured-Mikoyan-Gurevich-MiG-28s(-F-5s-painted-black)… I’m sorry. In my opinion, the conservatism is baked into him as a character. I find it extremely difficult to separate him from his conservatism, because in some ways his patriotic conservatism is his raison d’etre. IMO if you take that away from him, he ceases to exist.
Same thing with Ice and his unwillingness to openly rebel or go against the grain. That is his whole reason to exist in the story at all. I know that I’m saying this in a fandom space where the whole point is to change characters & put them in different situations (fanfic) but… in kind of a perverse self aware way, as in I know I sound ridiculous and pretentious, i guess i don’t really understand an impulse to change the core tenets of a character irreparably in fanworks. We are shown that ice always goes by the books in TG. Then we are shown that he achieves the fruits of that labor (four stars) in TGM. So he is rewarded for never rebelling, whereas Maverick, who always rebels (but NEVER in a way that challenges his personal identity), has stagnated in the ranks at full-bird O-6. And that’s Ice’s character. That’s what he’s there for in the story—he’s a tool to show us the value system of rank and prestige you earn by following the rules of the Navy. Why take that away from him? That’s his priority! Canonically, that’s his priority and reason for existence! And historically the way to achieve that priority is through conservatism.
And you ask me if it’s hard to like my ice and mav. Yes, but that’s not my choice. The movie already did that for me. They are not, I’m sorry, likable people. I am not a straight white conservative male writing about straight white conservative men to validate my own beliefs—I’m a queer AFAB person of color writing about straight white conservative men because I want to understand the limits of their conservatism. What they do and do not care about, and what it takes to make them care. And from what we are shown in TG… ice and mav would not care about ME. At all. And they would not want to be forced to care about me. Ice’s casual careless dismissiveness… “the plaque for the alternates is down in the ladies’ room…” mav following Charlie into the bathroom… turning the key in the ignition and driving away while pretending not to hear her… “what?? i can’t hear you! 🙉” … they do not care. They have no desire to care.
Again. Maybe I subscribe to a very very old-school and labored and pretentious ideology when it comes to writing… I know a lot of people write just to have fun. I do not. I wish i could, but I don’t. And when you’re not writing to have fun, you don’t have to like the characters you’re writing about. They’re nothing more than tools at your disposal to get your point across more effectively. No, I don’t like them! Of course not! My ice is cruel and cowardly and careless and hypocritical and subservient and weak, and my mav is demanding and dangerous and dismissive and oblivious and so, so, so unbelievably bitter.
And that’s what my story needed, to get my point across. So, shrug. My point was my priority. I don’t care too much about the characters themselves.
Re: icemav & identity politics. Part of hopefully selling this story is the attempt at empathy for the conservative male, to bring this discussion back to the top. Why write fiction at all if you’re not going to write about people different from you, and why write about people different from you if you don’t want to understand them? So… part of trying to understand them was to understand and have empathy for this shift in priorities. Conservative guys do not want to care about labels, or sexual orientations, or, God forbid, discussion of their gender identities. I can kind of see Ice tolerating it by the end… but, there are limits. Again, it’s supposed to be private. I think he’d chafe against getting labeled gay—he wouldn’t want to be called the first gay compacflt, or SECNAV, etc. He can’t say, “i slept with like a hundred fifty women before I even MET the ONLY man ive ever slept with,” because that’s like intensely private personal information!! No one deserves that information, but people still want to call him gay, even though in his head he really is not!!!! Again—from the conservative perspective, it’s a public imposition of left-wing, overly sexualized, too-neat labels and politics onto an area of life that has typically been kept private and respectable—I don’t agree with the conservatism, but I can at least empathize with it. Pre-Maverick’s death (pre-coming to terms with it), it would’ve been shameful & embarrassing to him; but even after coming to terms with it, it’s still not something he “takes pride” in. I think he thinks of it like this—most people aren’t proud of being straight. Like, it’s weird if you are. Same thing with being proud of being white, etc. Why be excessively proud of things you have no control over? Why not take pride in your ACTIONS—for instance, his career that he has actively sacrificed so much of his pride for? I can really empathize with that thought. I don’t necessarily agree, but I get it, especially in his professional circumstances, where he has so much to be professionally proud of, and yet people keep wanting him to publicly care about this private part of him he has no control over and can’t change.
Maverick though. I think he’d be actively hostile about talking about it in public. He Does Not Care. he does not want to care. It’s all an insult. They call him the first openly gay Ace cause he’s married to another man— “okay, but, like, I’m not. Stop calling me that. Neither of us are. Oh my god we have slept with so many women. Stop calling us that.” Ok then what do you want us, the press corps, to call you? First openly bisexual Ace? “No that’s worse!! That’s a word some teenager made up and doesn’t mean anything!! I’m sixty years old stop asking me to talk about this stuff im too old.” What do you have to say to LGBT kids who want to go into the navy? “😎👍 there’s a place for you etc etc. Let’s go back to talking about all the planes I shot down.” Maverick does what he wants without thinking about it. That’s the core tenet of his character. Very conservative. Don’t ask him to care too much.
Idk. No I don’t like them. But I understand them, if that makes sense. Like their conservative anti-label logic does make emotional sense to me. So that’s part of what I took away from this project, for better or worse… probably worse: I understand why conservatives don’t like the modern over-publicity of sexuality. They don’t care and they don’t want to care. And because they are small-C conservative, my ice and mav still don’t care lol. So, yeah. It doesn’t make them hard to write, because thats why I wanted to write them in the first place.
#what does it say about me that i put myself in their shoes & understand their position#i don’t agree with it but I understand it#the annoyance and the bad optics and the over labeling of hard-to-label sexuality#being a gay republican has got to be the seventh circle of hell#note my ice and mav are not republicans#but also note my story would not change even one bit if they were#i don’t LIKE gay republicans because they’re republicans. but i can empathize with them cause that’s gotta fucking blow.#normie median biden voter ice#now I think if a kid came up to maverick at an airshow and was like…#sir im trans and I think I want to go into the navy to fly & you’re my hero…#he’d freak out like ‘omg that means so much to me actually thanks!! it might be difficult for u i won’t lie but we need more people who#can overcome adversity…omg let me set you up with this admiral i know… yes yes yes…’#he doesn’t like the conceptual discussions but he likes the people if that makes sense#& he really likes people massaging his ego#i find them incredibly annoying. but that’s what character development is for. if u start out liking ur characters ur doing smth wrong#& if they weren’t incredibly annoying then i wouldn’t have a story to write.#pete maverick mitchell#tom iceman kazansky#icemav#top gun#top gun maverick#asks#edts notes#**obvious disclaimer this is just my interpretation!!!**
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