#what it lacks in not including some classics it makes up for in just how consistently good the ports on it seem compared to the competition | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

s-4pphics · 1 year

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scent of the pine. 1 (e.w.)

omg i finally wrote something who woulda thought gosh golly damn hey yall whos gay around here

wc;cw: 9.6k mmmm, sistersbestfriend!ellie, guitarist/producer!ellie, violinist!oc, so many time skips and theyre not even done yet omg, queer duh, all ocs r black coded<3, mentions of underage smoking/drinking(nics n weed obv), partying, making out, blood(it’s fake but still), all tlou kids appear including *gasp* cat, lots of ocs theyre gonna thrive in later chaps, depression, anxiety, disassociation, crack(it’s not all bad yall laugh a little!!), mentions of therapy, uh yeah just alot of sad and drama, smut in later chaps🤭🤭

You have always been surrounded by music.

When you were born, your mother quieted your screams with song, holding you close to her chest and gently whispering words of affection and love into your ears while your three-year-old sister jumped in celebration for new life.

When you were two, your mother gave you your first ever violin toy. Your sister had taken a large interest in the flute at age four, saying that the whistling noises sounded like birdies! and she wanted to give you the same exposure. It could have been sheer luck or her maternal instincts, but you quickly became attached to it. It was small and inexpensive and hardly sounded like a violin, but its bright lights and animated face near the scratched, poorly painted F-holes entranced you like no other. You couldn’t stop fiddling with the red, blue, and green buttons across the body, and every time it played the same robotic instrumental, you waved your arms around with the biggest smile on your face, like you could fly away from elation. Your sister would sometimes jump in and blow into her months old pink recorder while the instrumental played from your toy, imagining you were a part of a world-renowned orchestra: the musical harmony between the two of you brought your mother joy.

When you turned three, your mom and sister invited over some of her friends to help make cupcakes topped with musical notes for your special day. You sat on the couch with your favorite toy in hand as the instrumental played, jumping up and down on the cushion from pure excitement. Your sister’s friends kept you entertained while your mother prepared dinner, banging together pots and pans with wooden spoons and dancing, imagining them as drums. All four of them made you laugh with jokes, sang to you—one of them even played a song on one of her miniature, bright green guitars— and allowed you to experience some of the joys of life through symphonic expression.

When you were four, your mother noticed differences in your behavior. She noted that you and your sister were polar opposites: she was outspoken, unapologetic, and animated, while you were shy, polite, and timid. You hardly ever spoke unless spoken to, and though no one around you judged you for it, your mother often wondered what went on in your head. Despite your lack of communication, she never doubted the fire inside you: she saw it in your eyes whenever you watched footage of some of the most famous names in the classical world play their hearts out. When you were five, she signed you up for violin lessons.

When your big sister turned eight, she and her friends' released screams of excitement when she revealed her very first flute. She jumped in excitement, —mostly out of relief that she wouldn't have to berate you and your mom with the shrilling bleats of her old, pink recorder— shrieking about how she and her friends should start a band as soon as possible.“How the hell would a trumpet player fit in a rock band, you idiot?” You remembered your sister's best friend, Ellie, saying quietly so your mother wouldn’t hear from the kitchen, earning a playful shove from Jesse, your next-door neighbor. The dark-haired girl, Dina—who lived two houses down and had a large obsession with slapping her mother’s keyboard in the middle of the night—bursted into a fit of giggles while pointing at the young boy, making him blush.

You were always very observant of your sister's friends. You didn’t have many opportunities to make some of your own due to your incessant need to isolate, so you managed with what you had. They intrigued you: they were loud, lively, and exuberant. They never shied away from demonstrating their talents to you or your mom, especially the green-eyed, auburn-haired girl that almost always had her father’s black acoustic guitar strapped around her small frame on the three-block walk to your house. You remembered when she brought the guitar to school to play for the other students during lunch time, which landed her in after-school detention after she scolded one of her teachers for confiscating it, claiming that they were “limiting creative expression” and telling them to “screw themselves”.

When Ellie’s father, Joel, came to pick up your sister's friends from her party, Ellie jokingly pinched your side and threw you a quick see ya, squirt! while her and her two friends laughed and waved their way out of your front door. Your face ran hot as you watched them—her—leave. You didn’t get to reply before they ran down your porch in a heap of giggles. Watch the road, nuggets! I don’t have life insurance! You remembered Joel calling out to them as they sprinted across the street.

When you turned eight years old, your mother gave you your very first authentic violin and bow, the black case wrapped in glittery, floral paper. As usual, your sister and her friends grabbed and shook your shoulders out of excitement and anticipation of seeing you play since they never have, which you politely declined. You have always shied away from revealing your natural talent due to your scalding fear of embarrassment, resulting in only your mother and violin teacher knowing your abilities. You blushed as your sister, Jesse, and Dina pressed on, pleading that you play at least a couple of chords for them, causing Ellie to playfully come to your defense with a high-spirited squeal of she’s shy, you heathens! leave her be before I kick all your asses!

From that moment on, you always looked up to Ellie and her comfortability with herself. You never thought that you would meet someone more confident than your sister, but Ellie had her beat for miles. Regardless of where she was or what she did, she moved with a confidence that you only dreamt of having at that age. You wanted so desperately to mimic her, but that annoying voice of doubt never failed to remind you of your place. You made sure your light was dimmed, always.

When your sister was twelve, she began to take music very seriously. She went from two flute sessions a week to five, only to return home and play some more. She’d even performed in some of her school's recitals (she vomited across the stage during her first performance, but a victory is a victory). You watched your mother scold her about not completing her homework as she stood practicing in the living room while you silently ate your dinner, which led to her half-heartedly completing her assignments with a frown on her face. Over the next year and a half, your sister's scolding started to get more intense as her grades dropped. She was never much of a scholar, but she never let her grades slip under as much as they had then. Although her music teacher was sending her home with nothing but praises after every lesson, your mom often received letters in the mail from your sister's school saying that her performance was concerning. You’d heard your mother reprimand her countless times, saying you’re not going to survive high school like this! look at what you’re doing! while your sister claimed I know exactly what I’m doing, I want to be better! I’m following my dreams! why aren’t you proud of me? They had exchanged more harsh words until you heard your sister's door slam shut and your mothers silently resigned to her room in defeat.

You heard your sister’s cries through your shared wall for a while, until a gentle voice—Ellie’s, you recognized—consoled her and told her to calm down until her whimpers silenced. You knew she had a habit of secretly climbing up into your sister's window to hang out when your mom didn’t allow company over, but you didn’t know that she also always showed up when your sister needed another source of comfort. You slowly got up and left your room, silently walking down the hall until you reached your sister's door. You wanted to knock and see if she was okay, but before you could do so, the door opened and out walked Ellie, clad in her usual dark jeans and T-shirt, bracelets covering her wrists in mass, and dirty, scuffed chucks and socks in hand. She jumped slightly when she witnessed someone waiting behind the door, but instantly relaxed when she realized it was you.

“Hey, squirt. Why are you creepin’ behind the door like that?” She whispered with a small chuckle, gently shutting your sister’s door.

“Sorry.” You whispered back. “I heard her crying and I wanted to check on her. How is she?”

“She’ll be fine. She got a headache and fell asleep. I was just tucking her in, don’t worry.” She gently said, looking down at you. “I was just about to head out. Mind lockin’ the front door for me?”

“Why don’t you just leave out the window again?”

She snorted before she asked, “Dude, do you know how hard it is to climb down that rickety ass ladder you guys have outside? I almost broke my neck climbing down that thing in that storm last month.”

You quietly laughed alongside her while she bent down to put her socks back on. “What are you doing up anyway? It’s late and you have class tomorrow.”

“So do you.” You said, raising an accusatory brow at her. “Plus, I'm not tired, I’m bored.”

“I’m not tired”, she said mockingly. “What do you wanna do right now?”

“Don’t you have to be home soon?”

She waited a second before a mischievous smirk creeped on her face, “Yeah, but who cares. C’mon.”

She grabbed your wrist before quickly pulling you back into your room and gently shutting the door behind you. She took note of your room: pink and purple everything. Your walls were drenched in white and pink stripes with giant, iridescent, butterfly stickers, your bedspread had small specks of glitter sprinkled across it, which shimmered from your pink and green fairy lamp. You had a small tv propped up on your dresser, which was covered in fairy and Disney princess stickers, at the front of your room. She couldn’t help but snicker at the mountain of plushies that crowded your bed and nightstand. However, she halted when she noticed a small glass case that held two violins with their bows. She recognized the first one: a gift from your mother on your eighth birthday that had lost some shine, and another, much glossier and more tuned than the latter. It looked barely used. A small burst of joy exploded in her chest at the thought of you playing even though she had never seen it. She was happy to know that your love for music still lived.

“Your room’s cute, dude, it’s making my skin crawl like crazy, holy fuck,” she said with a soft laugh, leaning back against your door.

“Don’t make fun of me, you freakin' metalhead! It’s pretty in here and I like it,” you said begrudgingly, “Your room's scary!”

She let out a loud laugh before she acknowledged your glass-guarded instruments, “You still play?”

She nodded towards your protected instruments. You nodded from your bed and excitedly said, “Yeah, come sit! I never had a slumber party before!”

You spent the night quietly watching Peter Pan, gossiping about how in love you were with him and how you wished you could fly. Ellie silently watched you talk with curious, wide eyes as you went on tangent after tangent. You talked about movies you loved and boys you liked (which she playfully gagged at), and music you liked to listen to when you were sad, and she internalized all of it. She had never seen this side of you before, but she was so intrigued that she didn’t notice her own intensity in her own eyes. You just kept going and going before you abruptly stopped, the brightness in your eyes dimming slightly as you looked at her.

“Sorry for talking a lot,” you said, embarrassed. “Am I annoying?”

“‘Course not, squirt,” she said confused, but immediately. “Why the hell would you think that?”

You didn’t say anything, but her affirmation reignited the fire in your eyes as your rambles started up again. She let you talk until you sloppily fell asleep across your pillows and plushies, tv still quietly playing in the background. She gently got up from her position, careful not to wake you, pulled your blankets over your frame, and stealthily left through your sister’s window. She made her way back home, envisioning you playing your violin for her one day.

Ellie became the person that you turned to whenever you needed reassurance. She’d never failed at making you feel acknowledged and seen and heard.

Age thirteen was the first time you anticipated the summer. Middle school had been a very disconnected period for you, and though many of your peers had experienced a sense of helplessness through these trine times of adolescence, yours was slowly overtaking your ability to feel excitement for anything. You had become so detached to the world around you and that annoying, discouraging voice had only spurred on your distance. This dark state that you entered caused you to separate from everyone, including your own family. Your last day of eighth grade was the giddiest you had felt in a long time, and you couldn’t wait to get back to your place of solitude—home.

Your sister entered her element in high school. Much to your mother’s delight, she was able to find a balance between fulfilling her dreams as a musical prodigy while staying afloat academically.

You had been attending your violin lessons for eight years, and though you were blessed with your musical perception, —according to your teacher—you never played in front of an audience. Though your teacher was eager to put you in the children’s orchestra that he trained, your mother did not want to push you into something you weren’t ready for, so she'd always decline politely.

In July, Dina invited you and your sister over to a pool party. Her parents were going to be out for the weekend, and she thought that it’d be the perfect time to be reckless. When you and your sister walked in with your towels and snacks in hand, she greeted you both with an excited squeal, beckoning you both to the backyard. Ellie, Dina’s older sister, Talia, and a few older girls that you didn’t recognize, were already in the water, splashing and laughing.

“Look who just arrived, cunts! My babies, my angels, the lights of my life— “

“Ay, shut the fuck up!” the blonde-haired girl yelled with a grin, causing Dina to flip her off and the others to laugh.

You modestly held your folded towel in your hand, smiling at their interaction. Your sister had already discarded her towel, shorts, and flip flops on a random beach chair before she cannonballed into the pool, causing everyone to swear and splash her. Dina then jumped in right behind her with a shout. They all blended so well, and you curled into yourself. Maybe you should go—

“Get over here, squirt! It’s hot as fuck out here,” Ellie shouted out with a smile, before a girl in a black bikini playfully jumped on her back, planting a light kiss on her shoulder. Something unfamiliar panged in your chest, but you nodded and slipped off your flip flops before making your way over to the pool stairs, slowly submerging yourself into the water.

“You’re still calling her squirt like she’s four, cut it out already,” Dina called out with a snort before she addressed you.

“I’m not sure if your sister ever mentioned anything about these losers but they’re some friends from school, that’s Cat, Abby, and Riley,” she said and pointed them out, “and they’re really fucking annoying—

“Shut the hell up before I drown you,” said Abby with a straight face.

“Yeah, keep talking to me like that— “

“ANYWAYS,” Ellie interrupted, “We missed you kid, where ya been?”

“Just at home, nothing crazy. I’m glad to finally be out, though.” I think I’m depressed, please don’t notice.

“She’s lying, I nearly had to drag her ass outta bed by her feet to detangle her hair this morning,” your sister corrected with an over dramatic eye roll.

“I’m just tired,” you said meekly. “School was hard these past two weeks.”

“I bet it was! Literally no one ever talks about how crazy middle school is! I damn near backflipped off the stage at our promotion,” Riley commented with a head shake, making Abby aggressively nod her head in agreement.

As the side conversations continued, your attention was overtaken by Ellie, who had moved to the opposite side of the pool to whisper something into the short-haired girl’s—Cat, who hasn’t acknowledged you yet—ear, which made her giggle and half-heartedly push Ellie away. The green-eyed girl didn’t budge, wrapping her arms around the girl's waist, pulling her closer and, much to your surprise, planting a quick kiss on her cheek. Cat had a tight grip on Ellie’s olive-green rash guard as she held her and shared soft whispers that you wished you heard. Was that her girlfriend? you thought. You knew Ellie liked girls due to her almost two-year long crush on Riley, which she confided in you and your sister about when she was fourteen. She had wildly knocked on your sister’s window in the middle of the night with a tear-stained face, frantically pacing and claiming that something was wrong with her.

Why the fuck do I want to kiss her and hold her hand whenever I see her?

This is bad, this is really really bad, guys, something’s wrong!

What do I do, how do I stop this!

You had never seen her so defeated, and her wet cheeks and scared eyes made your chest hurt with a sharp stab. Your sister had pulled her into a tight hug and quietly hummed a tune in her ear to soothe her sobs, while you gently rubbed her back and told her that she was going to be okay. She ended up staying the night, dozing off while holding one of your sister’s stuffed animals close to her chest while the two of you held her from both sides. You and your sister hadn’t slept in the same bed since she was six.

As the party slowly died down and Talia, who snuck away to her room much earlier, beckoned everyone inside with a get outta the pool you freaks! you’re gonna prune! from the back door, you all resigned inside to rinse off and change clothes before heading to the living room to watch a scary movie. You silently smacked on your sour gummy worms on the lone lounge chair as you watched Abby, Riley, and your sister cower behind pillows to block the screen while Dina snored loudly, while Cat and Ellie snuggled on a lounge chair. She had her chin propped up on the dark-haired girl’s head to see the screen while she rubbed her back.

As the film progressed, you saw the couple making small movements out of the corner of your eye. Cat began to subtly plant soft kisses on her cheek, neck, and shoulder, causing the auburn-haired girl to smirk, moving her head to the side to give her more access. You saw Ellie pull her girlfriend’s shirt up slightly, rubbing the exposed skin on her hip. You seemed to be the only one who noticed as the girls on the other couch squealed at another jump scare. Ellie and her girlfriend shared a more intense kiss, and you saw a glistening tongue poke out. That made you avert your gaze and you blushed, embarrassed that you were catching such an intimate moment. You quickly got up with a quick excuse of I gotta pee, making your way to the bathroom down the hall. Your face was boiling, and your heart pounded in your chest as you soaked your hands with icy water before wiping them down your face, that voice in the back of your head asking what the fuck your problem was.

You slowly looked up at your reflection in the mirror to center yourself, but your vision started to blur, and hands began to shake. You tried to take deep breaths; you tried you tried you tried but the air left your lungs as quickly as it entered.

Breathe, breathe breathebreathebreathe—

You jumped at the soft knock on the bathroom door, and you ripped it open without hesitation, revealing a concerned Ellie, Dina, and sibling, reaching out and asking if you were okay. How long were you there? You couldn’t speak or breathe or see so you swiftly shook your head no nonono—

Ellie and your sister guided you back to the living room and onto the couch. Ellie squatted down to your eye level, grabbing your face in her warm hands while your sister rubbed your back and Dina held your hand. The other girls’ expressions had been pulled down in concern as they watched your smaller frame tremble.

“Hey squirt, can you do me a favor? Can you breathe with me?”

“Cmon, deep breath in and hold it with me, follow me okay?” Ellie instructed. Your mimicked breaths were choked and broken, but she nodded her head at you in encouragement anyway, gently whispering a that’s it every time you shakily exhaled.

All the girls remained silent but attentive, allowing Ellie to control the situation. Riley had even gone to the kitchen to snag you a glass of water that she set on the coffee table. You tried to match Ellie’s breaths with yours, holding, in and out, holding, in and out, and you eventually calmed down. There was silence for a few minutes before Dina spoke.

“How do you feel, hun? You okay to talk now?” she asked softly while gently caressing your hand. You didn’t know how to answer, so you meekly nodded your head yes.

“Tell us what’s been going on with you. You’ve been so… MIA lately,” your friend noted, cringing slightly at her choice of words.

“I… I don’t know what’s wrong, I don’t know what… what’s happening to me—

“Shh, it’s alright, we’re gonna handle it, just try to relax for now. We’re leaving in a little, anyway,” your sister comforted. You felt Ellie’s calloused fingers gently rub your knee soothingly. You just wanted to lay down.

After some more hugs and forehead smooches from Dina, you and your sister packed up your things and headed home. You weren’t aware, but Ellie met your sister’s eyes with an intense gaze, quietly instructing her before you both left, (“You need to watch her tonight, do you understand? You watch her until tomorrow and you tell your mom what happened the second you get a chance”) which she immediately agreed to.

Your sister had held your hand tightly as you both made your way to your front porch. Your sister pulled out her semiquaver keychain, unlocking the door and quietly trudged inside. Your home was dark, meaning that your mother had already been in bed. Your sister hadn’t released the tight grip of your hand the entire trek upstairs. She opened her bedroom door, silently pulling you inside and made her way over to her dresser. She gave you a giant T-shirt to change into as she put her bonnet on. You both brushed your teeth and washed your face before heading over to her bed. You laid down facing each other, tucked under the blankets. You both looked at each other in silence, but she broke it.

“I want you to tell me why that happened, no bullshit.”

You didn’t reply. You were tired.

“Please tell me what’s wrong.” She pressed on. You noted the desperation in her eyes. Your heart was hurting.

Silence.

Her eyes shut in defeat before she turned her back to you. Your eyes burned into the worn shirt she wore. Just say it, the voice in your head screamed at you, tell her how worthless you are!

Silence.

And then an exhale.

“I think I need to talk to someone.”

You did not expect the rest of your summer to be filled with therapy sessions and journal entries. When your sister told your mother about the events of that night, much to your dismay, she immediately made some phone calls and scheduled sessions twice a week. You had to pause your violin sessions for a few weeks, and you missed it, but you knew this was more important. Your mother expressed her remorse for not paying closer attention to your behavior. Your distance, your lack of energy, your reluctance to speak, your silence—God, your silence. You were screaming without a word. She felt that she’d failed you, and she wanted to do as much as she could to reignite that light in your eyes.

You hadn’t looked forward to these meetings in the beginning, but you soon grew to like your therapist. Even though your feelings were confusing and unfamiliar to you, she was in no rush to get answers out of you. She allowed you to speak at your own pace and listened to every minor detail. She concluded that your self-doubt has bubbled over into anxiety: she recommended you journaling. She wanted you to document one thing that you loved about yourself everyday (“It can be anything: appearance, personality, talents. Whatever you wish. Just make sure you mean it”).

And so, you did.

The next month flew by, the last bits of summer slowly easing into fall, and you were going to start your first year of high school. Your mother and sister had noticed a slight change in your behavior during your break: you started eating dinner with them instead of in your room, asked how their day went, what their week looked like. Your sister would ramble about how stressed she was for her last year but also how excited she was to perform with the school’s orchestra at the December recital and, for the first time in what felt like forever, you rambled back. Your mother had listened from the kitchen as you two gossiped, argued, and even planned to play music together in the future. Her heart swelled. You also started hanging out with Dina, Ellie, Jesse, and your sister a lot more: one night, you followed them back to Joel and Ellie’s garage to watch them freestyle on some of his used instruments. Jesse, who babbled to you about his new love for drumming, demonstrated some techniques he had adapted from Joel on his old drum set while your sister nodded her head along to the beats he made. Dina was already improvising on their brand new sixty-one key keyboard, headphones on to tune out the noise the four of you were making. Ellie, who had stepped away to answer her girlfriend’s call, had her father’s bright green, electric bullet mustang strapped around her chest. She noticed you staring and sent you a thumbs up, you giving one back. She sent you a wink and a smile before turning away to continue her conversation. Your heartbeat increased.

Ellie had become much more attentive after that night at the party. She had always been protective of you, but her desire to talk to you increased tenfold. She would text you fried memes in the middle of the night or leave voice memos about how her dad was helping her customize his old electric guitar. She chattered about wanting to record the entire process for all of you to see.

i feel like if i help my dad with anything he’ll wring my neck :| he’s so particular abt instruments it’s annoying

that sucks :( but at least he cares!! he’s just passionate and wants u to play the best.

he gave it to ME tho. the guitar is mine now!! i should have some input on how it looks be on my side!!! >:/

i am!! just be patient with him. ur gonna be shredding w it soon enough :D

And she also never failed to check in on you for more serious matters, either. She never pressed for information, not wanting to overstep, but she always ensured that you had a safe space to discuss anything you wanted with her. After some of your meetings, you would already have a text from her asking how your session went and what you learned. You would send her voice memos about some of your therapist’s pointers about communication and how you were trying to improve that skill for your family, especially your mom. She also provided some advice about what helped her regain her footing in conversation, joking that no one could ever get me to shut the hell up at the end of the day! that’s for damn sure.

Ellie wasn’t aware, but you started writing about her in your journal, as well. Small, little excerpts of what you liked about her and how she made you feel. How caring she was. How she made your heart beat fast whenever she was around. How strong she felt when she pulled you in for a tight hug while whispering about how she missed you—

Oh.

You were helpless… and gay.

It was late into November. You were fourteen and elated.

Not only had you slowly eased back into music, but you had friends. That you made on your own. You knew that your sister and her friends didn’t want to drag you along everywhere they went, both on and off campus, so you began to explore other paths by yourself. Swiftly after the school year started, you joined the campus orchestra, and while you were terrified, you were excited. Impassioned. Hopeful.

There were all types of groups that passed through the practice room. Students of all grades hung out, ate, and studied there: you were shocked at the number of students that lounged in the designated nerd hotspot during their free time. This is nothing like the movies, you had thought. You noted that the room was not as busy on Thursdays during lunch, and you thought it would be a good time to tune out the outside world and throw yourself into music again. One Thursday, you walked in on a group of juniors whispering and giggling about something you couldn’t hear. You looked around and noticed one of the girls from your biology class—Arya, you remembered—pushed off into a corner by herself, on her knees and hurriedly shoving her things into her backpack. She looked upset.

She looked sad.

The juniors had been talking about her.

You had your violin case and lunch in hand as you slowly made your way past the juniors and in front of her. You noticed her tear-stained cheeks shining under the white light of the room as you got closer. You softly greeted her, making her jump and eyes harden.

“Hey, Arya, you alright?” You whispered, squatting down to her level.

“What do you think,” She whispered back harshly, continuing to shove her books into her pack. “Does it look like I’m alright? If you’re here to laugh you can honestly fuck off.”

You’d flinched at her tone but pressed on. “I didn’t walk all the way here to laugh at you. Let's go somewhere else, we can eat together, if you want!”

You could tell she had questioned your enthusiasm. She looked at you skeptically before looking behind you, at the juniors, and then back at you. You didn’t budge. She slowly rose to her feet, swung her backpack over her shoulder, grabbed her instrument case from the floor—hm, clarinet— and softly nodded. You both leaving caused the juniors to laugh harder.

You didn’t care.

You and Arya have done everything together since that day. She was eager to introduce you to her two friends, Starr and Kris, who you clicked with immediately. The second they sat you down, they raged about how much they hated the writers of Vampire Diaries due to how they treated Kat Graham, how they joked about hating talented people like you and Arya, what they wanted their future weddings to look like (Kris and her Pinterest boards), and you laughed.

You were calm.

You were happy.

Your first year of high school flew by.

Your sister earned her flute solo at the December recital, earning a standing ovation from the audience of students and parents. You and your mother screamed the loudest for her.

At Dina’s eighteenth birthday party, you, Ellie, and your sister walked in on her and Jesse tonguing each other down in the kitchen. Ellie let out a hardy laugh of are you fuckers serious! right in front of my salad? while your sister fell to the floor in hysterics. You had shielded your eyes.

April came around and so did prom season. Your sister said that she had been anticipating the event since seventh grade and you, your mom, and Dina were dragged along to her fitting. She had texted Ellie to come, but she swiftly declined, claiming that she couldn’t hide my fat dick in a dress! love you tho! buy me an elf bar? :3

You missed her so much.

On the evening of prom, your sister, Dina, Jesse, and Ellie all pitched in to rent a limo. Your sister, gorgeous as always, was draped in a strapless, floral gown that cinched her waist and bloomed at her hips and her twists were pinned up to show her neckline and back. Dina wore a flowy, black dress with a leg slit. Ellie and Jesse were dressed to a T in classic black suits, him in loafers and her in beat up Vans with her usual messy, low bun.

Your parents had all met at Joel’s house for pictures and semi-alcoholic drinks. You were touching up your sister’s makeup at Ellie’s desk in her room when you felt too familiar hands pinch your sides with a soft, hey squirt. You jumped, almost mussing up your sister’s liner, causing her to kick the hell out of Ellie’s calf. She feigned an ache before hitting her mint elf bar, blowing it away from both of your faces.

“Don’t fucking play with me right now bitch, I mean it, this is serious business,” your sister had said to her.

“Oh shut the hell up, it’s three hours of musty people dancing, it’s not that serious,” Ellie said before turning to you, “Check your sister, dude.”

“El, please shut up,” you said to her. “Just hold still, I'm almost done, god you’re both annoying!”

You worked as quickly as you could, slightly smudging the liner on her waterline until you were satisfied, “…aaaand done. Tell me how it looks right quick.”

She inspected her appearance, pressing on her baby hairs before turning and giving you a fat smooch, “Thank you baby! It’s perfect, now move, I gotta piss before we go.”

Your sister jumped up from Ellie’s chair, holding her dress up while flipping her off and lightly sprinting down the hall to the bathroom, which left you both giggling.

A bored Ellie had made her way over to her bed while you worked, laid out across it, silently puffing on her nic before saying, “I don’t know how you deal with her sometimes.”

“Me neither, honestly,” you replied, smiling. “Where’s Cat?”

“Somewhere being annoying. We had an argument last night.”

“Yikes, sorry I asked.”

She sat up before shrugging, beckoning you to sit next to her in the bed, “You’re good. She felt a way about my promposal. She went off about me not putting that much effort into the sign I made and waiting until the last minute to ask. It was petty.”

You snorted with a head shake as you watched her breathe menthol out her nose.

“Don’t laugh at my shortcomings! Wait ‘til you get a boyfriend, he’s gonna forget about prom too! It’s dumb.”

You froze. Boyfriend. Boyfriend? You laughed sheepishly with another shake of your head. She noticed your reaction before you could even reply. She smirked in acknowledgement.

“… or partner. Your partner might forget.” She quietly corrected with a sly grin.

“If you say anything I’ll strangle you and burn your corpse.”

“Oh my fucking god, did you forget that I lived in the closet for almost five years straight?! You’re fine.”

She took another puff before asking, “Anybody steal your heart yet?”

“Please be serious, I haven’t even had my first kiss yet. How do you even talk to girls without dying?” You said with a pout.

She almost fell over as she giggled. “You talk to girls like you talk to everyone else, you’re gonna charm them regardless. Trust me.”

You felt your face heat up at the subtle compliment, but you gave her an eye roll and light shove before your sister came trucking down the hallway with her heels in hand. She shrieked out a limo’s here! before flying down the stairs. Ellie took one more long puff of her pale green vape before tucking it into her jacket pocket, wrapping her arms around your smaller frame as she guided you downstairs.

She smelled like mint menthol and pine trees. You loved how she smelled.

Summer came, and you’d fully accepted your big, fat crush on Ellie.

Your journal had been riddled with doodles of her name surrounded by hearts and sparkles, written words of affection through poetry, more hearts and sparkles. You couldn’t stop thinking about her: everything that she said, everything she did, did something to you. But you didn’t know that the fluttering in your chest whenever she was around would be short lived.

Your sister had spent her eighteenth birthday at Cat’s family lake house. As much as you wanted to be a fly on the wall and watch your sister go crazy, you had to settle with viewing her private story from your warm bed on Friday night. It was a mess: she had posted multiple snaps of Ellie, Dina, Jesse, and herself taking shot after shot, chug after chug, until she posted a photo of Jesse’s head hanging out of a second story window with Dina’s hand on his back and Ellie cheesing wide with her two thumbs up, nic in hand. Her next snap, however, made your smile drop from your face.

The footage was a close—too close—up shot of Ellie and Cat making out against the wall. Ellie had her girlfriend trapped between her and the wood, both hands cradling her face as she dominated the kiss. She was grinding her hips up to meet the dark-haired girl’s, pressing her body further into the wall. Ellie then dropped her hands to her girlfriend’s hips, grabbing her short dress in her larger hands to pull her even closer. You barely noticed due to the shakiness of the camera, but you saw the pink glisten of your good friend's tongue swiping up into her girl's mouth before the snap ended.

You'd nearly dropped your phone on your face.

The clip had been hilarious out of context: the loud booming of clap clap clap that ass bitch, shake that cameltoe, lemme see them pussy lips! with your sister screaming and shaking like crazy in the background, Jesse behind the couple hurling his guts out of a window, and his concerned girlfriend pouting with a turquoise bong and lighter in her hand. Anyone would’ve found it comedic gold, but you?

Your stomach had twisted uncomfortably, not only from jealousy, but from a burning, swirling heat.

You dropped your phone on your bed and sat up as angry tears blurred your vision. You knew her and her girlfriend had been on and off for a while now, so why did it affect you so deeply to see them together? How stupid could you be? you thought she wanted you after all this time? a voice that you hadn’t heard in a while said to you. You’d recognized that tremor in your hands and pick-up of your heart, and you knew that you couldn’t be alone tonight. You sent a quick SOS text to your friends in the group chat, desperately seeking comfort. Arya, ever the angel, was the first to respond with a quick and simple omw rn, stealing her brother’s car keys to pick up Kris and Starr and flew straight to your house.

The girls held you while you sobbed, gently shushing you and encouraging you to take deep breaths.

Breathe with me, squirt, there ya go.

You wished that voice didn’t sound so much like hers.

Your sister and her friends had returned home Sunday night, hungover and exhausted like hell. You hadn’t moved from your bed all weekend, and you hadn’t wanted to get up to help her drag her bags in. You immediately recognized the laughter that came from downstairs, and your heart shook painfully in your chest. Their voices were muffled due to your door being shut, but you heard a cheerful I’ll go get her leave your sister’s mouth before the sound of her rushed footsteps flooded the quiet hallway.

You quickly flipped over so your back faced the door, your blanket thrown over your body as you pretended to sleep.

You heard your door open, some shuffling, before it was gently shut again. You listened to your sister shuffle back downstairs and you heard a faint she’s slumped…. tomorrow or something…

Their chatter and laughter continued into the night while you moped in your room. Your phone had pinged around eleven, a pop-up of sleep well, squirt:3 on your home screen.

You turned your phone off and threw it on your nightstand, shutting your eyes, praying for sleep to come.

You dreamt of green and pine trees.

You had begun your sophomore year, and your friends had been a good distraction from the inner turmoil of your heart. During the last bits of your vacation, Ellie had been texting you non-stop, eager to play you the completed version of a song she’d been working on for the past five months. She’d even finished customizing her father’s passed down electric guitar: you only knew because you frequently checked her Instagram, despite the ache you felt in your chest when you saw the posts of her and her girlfriend doing cute couple shit. Her guitar had been airbrushed raven black with silver strings, and a detailed white and green skull that she painted on the body. She’d sent you and your sister the entire video of her creation as promised, but you'd only replied with a dry thumbs up emoji. Her suspicions were correct: something serious was going on with you.

After your sister’s birthday weekend in July, Ellie texted you multiple times to come help her and Dina mix a song and watch movies, but you politely declined saying that you were busy and maybe another time :)! It technically wasn’t a lie: your sister came to your defense when she asked where you were, saying that your trigonometry grade had dropped significantly after your first test, and you were desperate to get it up before your mother noticed. She had accepted that excuse for the first two weeks, but after your sixth reply of busy :( rain check? she got agitated.

She started pressing your sister about your attitude after the first month without your knowledge, but she swiftly got brushed off with a dude, she's studying at her friend's house, can you relax and pack this bowl for me please?

Ellie laid in her bed after her hotbox with her friends, confused as to why you were acting so stiff with her so suddenly. Whenever she came over to your house, you locked yourself in your room and didn’t come out to greet her for whatever reason. She had been this close to marching to your house and kicking your bedroom door down herself before she received a notification that you had updated your private story. She clicked it, and played a video of one of your friends with a flyswatter in hand yelling about how she was a world-renowned mosquito killer until the bug started flying around the unfamiliar room. Multiple shrieks, including yours, were heard before the video abruptly ended.

Ellie swiped up on your story with a quick LOOOOOOL, but she wasn’t laughing. I guess she really was busy doing something, she thought. She felt bad for assuming that you had been purposefully avoiding her, but she was not used to you being unavailable. She was a clingy high, sue her.

She clicked her phone off and hoped she would see you soon.

Ellie’s eighteenth birthday had been two weeks away.

Her birthday never felt like her own; Her dad had always made a big deal about the celebration. He spent hours blowing up balloons for her eleventh, baking cupcakes(even though he nearly burned their entire house down) for her fourteenth, and bragged to the cashier at the vinyl shop about how much of an old soul his baby girl was(“Oh this isn’t for me, my daughter is obsessed with the oldies, I really rubbed off on her, she’s turning sixteen tomorrow and I wanna surprise her!”). She’d never complained, though. She’d never say, but she loved seeing him happy more than anything in the world.

However, her attitude towards her eighteenth birthday had been different. She was eager to celebrate her transition into adulthood with the people she loved the most. She knew that she wanted a slasher themed party with blood and gore everywhere. Her inner horror movie fan had been gasping for water for years, and she was finally going to quench her thirst.

Call her Jason.

You and your sister were arguing about who would dress up as Scream.

Ellie had given your sister an invitation to her big eighteenth, and although you were reluctant about going, your guilt had slowly been gnawing at you. The last message that Ellie sent you was almost three weeks ago: a simple miss u, which you left unread. You thought it was strange how no one acknowledged the tension between the two of you, but you hardly understood it yourself, and you began to feel remorseful.

You owed her an apology, and you planned to do it tonight.

“You’re not dressing up as Scream, bitch, I’m sorry! I got you this Jack the Ripper cape, try it on.” she said as she threw the cape and top hat on your bed.

“Jack the Ripper was racist, fact— “

“Most serial killers are! It’s for aesthetic purposes only! There’s no such thing as a moral compass on Halloween.”

You stared at her with a blank expression, before she resigned, retrieving the fit, “Ugh, fine, go as one of the most iconic slashers in film history, see if I give a damn.”

“Waaaaaa, you mad.” You said with a laugh.

She yelled back a DUH! as she marched down the hall and into the bathroom to change. Your mom wasn’t supportive of the slasher costume party, but she stood no chance against your sister’s persuasive pout and googly eyes.

An hour later, you both were dressed with your gifts in hand as your mother locked the door behind you. You couldn’t begin to imagine the reaction of your neighbors if they peeped out of their windows since Halloween wasn’t for another two weeks. They better not call the fucking cops, that's all I know! your sister shouted out into the quiet neighborhood before you shushed her.

Despite the anxiety in the pit of your stomach, you were eager to see Ellie. You and your sister had pitched in to get custom-made, embroidered guitar pics as her gift: you were hoping that she liked them.

It wasn’t long before you made it onto the Miller residence. Your sister scaled the stairs of their front porch like it was a mountain before banging on the door. It shot open seconds later and revealed Dina, dressed as Freddy Krueger, and Jesse as… Saw.

That mask always made an uncomfortable shiver go down your spine.

They both pulled you and your sister into tight hugs before pulling you further inside to shut the door. The entire downstairs area was lit with red LED lights with faux cobwebs spread across the kitchen and living room walls. You and your sister almost slipped on the fake blood that was splattered all over the wooden floor. There was a giant bowl of tooth-rotting chocolate and a bag of sour gummies on the counter, right next to the multitude of Jason figurines. There was also eerie music playing from Ellie’s speaker near the TV.

You couldn’t believe you had a crush on this loser.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD IM SO FUCKING EXCITED THIS IS GOING TO BE SO MUCH FUN HOLY SHIT— “

Your sister, then Dina, had already been trucking back up the stairs, as they released excited squeals, which only ignited more excited squeals from other voices you barely recognized.

Jesse threw his arms around you as he pulled you inside.

“Bro, where the fuck have you been, I haven’t seen you in ages!” He said, voice muffled under his mask and over the bass from the speakers.

“I know, I’m sorry, school is crazy right now, but I’m here now,” you said with a smile and just as muffled, walking over to the counter to rip open the sour gummy bag. “Are we supposed to be upstairs or something?”

“Nah, Cat and Riley, you remember Riley, are finishing up their costumes. They really went all out with the decor though, I was impressed.”

Your smile fell at the mention of her girlfriend, and you immediately knew that you weren’t going to have fun. You lifted your mask up to shove candied worms into your mouth in attempts to center yourself.

After ten minutes of ravishing the tart candies on the kitchen barstool, you heard quick, heavy footsteps descend the stairs.

You turned to see Ellie, Abby, Dina, Riley, Cat, and your sister descend the stairs, jumping excitedly at your get-up, laughing at your mask. You barely had the chance to stand from your seat and greet everyone before Ellie pushed past them to pull you into a rib-cracking hug. You could hardly move to return the gesture.

“I missed you so much, squirt, holy shit,” she whispered into your ear. You would’ve dropped to your knees if it wasn’t for her grip. “Where have you been, are you doing okay?”

She pulled back slightly to look at your face while both your masks were atop your heads, and you got a good look at her freckled appearance. Her hair was styled in a half bun with multicolored bobby pins holding her bangs back. She was wearing light makeup: her nose and cheeks were gently highlighted, her under eyes had a dark red tinted liner that was smudged with purpose, and she shaved a slit into her eyebrow. She had on a black T-shirt that had been cut and ripped in some parts, black, ripped jeans, and an oversized, dark olive-green flannel. The sleeves were rolled up and you damn near fainted at the subtle lines of an unfinished tattoo peeking out. She also had a plastic version of Jason’s large, bloody machete secured through the belt loop of her jeans.

Holy shit.

Your face was burning hot from how close her face was to yours. “Hi El, I’m fine, happy birthday,” you said quietly, half chewing the worms in your mouth.

You turned to grab her small, wrapped gift box off the counter, softly shoving it into her chest in attempts to distract her from pressing about your whereabouts, and though you noticed her eyebrows pull down in concern, she grabbed the box from your hands before replying a gentle thank you.

Your sister slapped Ellie on the back, breaking up the moment, begging to change the music genre before dragging her to the living room to unlock her phone.

I can’t shake ass to this shit, bitch! Change it now!

I NEED A ONE DANCE, GOT A HENNESSY IN MY HAND—

It was almost eleven. Everyone had migrated to the living room after Ellie finally turned off her summoning demons :0 playlist and allowed your sister to shuffle Spotify’s Top 40 from 2016. After Riley skipped every non-Rihanna song for the first thirty minutes, Abby snatched the phone from her hands and put Drake on. They both were on top of the couch, screaming into wooden spoons like they were microphones while Jesse, Dina, and your sister jokingly popped their backs.

You had fallen back onto a lounge chair to catch your breath from the rigorous jumping you were doing, watching them all sing their lungs out.

You had the opportunity to briefly speak to Abby, who dressed up as a bloody Esther, during Riley’s incessant song-skipping since you never had the chance to genuinely talk to her. She excitedly told you about how she and Riley had been best friends since fifth grade and they both met Ellie in middle school. She cringed when she reminisced on the memory of Ellie giving Riley a glitter-riddled macaroni card for Valentine’s Day in seventh grade. Abby and Riley both graduated a year before your sister and friends did and were sophomores at Boston University, her pursuing her hockey career and Riley studying neuroscience.

The shrilling screams of Dina, Abby, and your sister when Single Ladies blasted through the speakers made you jump in your seat before you got up and made your way into the kitchen for water (and more gummies). Babe you’re not single! you heard Jesse yell to Dina.

You stood at the counter chomping on the sweets, contemplating when would be the best time to speak to Ellie one-on-one. You'd seen her escape onto the back patio, probably to smoke, you thought. You had never been confrontational, and you didn’t want to say something you regretted like hi ellie i’ve been in love with you for years i’m so sorry for ignoring you and iloveyouiloveyou—

Yeah, you’d probably leave with a black eye from her girlfriend if you did that. Just say you're sorry, don’t be selfish, don’t ruin her birthday, don’t ruin her relationship, you thought. now or never.

After your mental pep talk, you took a sip from your glass and shoved a handful of the candies in your mouth as a center. You made your way to the back door and onto the patio. Hot ass mask, you thought before ripping it off your head and tossing it onto the glass patio table.

What you weren’t expecting to see was Cat and Ellie already outside having a conversation, and from where you were standing, it looked intense.

“Why the fuck are you mad about me hugging her when I haven’t seen her in ages?”

And you froze.

“Ellie, if you can’t see that she has the biggest crush on you then you're actually delusional,” Cat spat back at her. “And that wasn’t just a regular hug either! You should’ve seen her face when you grabbed her, it looked like she was about to drop to her knees and propose!”

They couldn’t see you from where you stood and it would’ve been in your best interest to flee before you passed out from embarrassment and loathing, but your feet had been glued to the ground and you were forced to listen to their harsh exchange.

“First off, watch your mouth, I’m not fucking delusional,” the birthday girl heatedly said back. “And no she didn’t! And even if she did it doesn’t fucking matter. She's a fucking kid!”

And you’d felt your heart plummet to your feet.

The remainder of the candies in your mouth felt like sandpaper and you couldn’t swallow. You felt the all too familiar tremors of your hands start to pick up.

“Listen,” you heard her tone soften. “I’m in love with you, okay? I love you, and I don’t want to be with anyone else. I don’t think about being with anyone else.”

The sharp gasp you sucked in made both heads turn towards you in shock, and your teary eyes locked with wide, green ones.

You wanted to fall through the floor and die.

Cat scoffed and shook her head as if to say see what I mean before she puffed on her—Ellie’s—vape.

Ellie’s call of your name snapped you out of your stupor, your feet moving before your brain could tell them to, clumsily shuffling your way back into your heartbreaker’s home, sliding the door shut with a loud slam.

Everyone who’d been dancing jumped at the sound, turning to take in your ruffled state as their energetic smiles slowly dropped in concern.

“What’s the matter, honey?” Dina said gently over the still loud music.

Your sister called your name out with worry in her voice. You looked into her eyes with a head shake before you choked out a reply.

“Can we… I wanna leave, please, now.”

a/n: heyyyy lol so yeah thats that ig. if anyone even reads or sees this fic plss be nice to me ive never written anything like this b4. idk how long this will be but its def gonna be long,,, lots of ground 2 cover w this universe this game is everything 2 me and so is ellie so ye bye lolz

read pt 2 here :D

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 9 months

Text

Hobie Brown & Non-Conventional Relationships

How to Write Hobie in Non-Conventional Relationships - & How I incorporate it into my own writing

{Non-Conventional Relationship Abbreviated as NCR}

This is Part 2 - Check out Part 1 here if you want! Hobie Brown is unconventional is every way - and he likes it that way. From his music to his views, Hobie is always ready to challenge the norm - choosing to look for healthier, kinder, and freer alternatives.

And that extends to his romantic relationships too.

I talked HERE about Non-Conventional Relationships, the lack of them in fics, what they could look like for Hobie, and how they're a reflection of his values - including his feminism.

In that one, I wanted to talk about why Hobie needs Non-Conventional Relationships, and I analyzed why NCRs are so scarce within the Hobie fandom (hint: it's sexism). I also spoke about how I purposely designed my Spidersona - DiscoSpider Diane - with subversion of a sexist trope in mind, and how we as a fandom can write healthier 'Y/N's.

But I also wanted to talk about - and give clear examples of how a NCR might work for Hobie, and how to write it in fanfiction.

This is a Writer's Guide to writing Hobie Brown in NCRs, and writing 'Y/N's that challenge the norm. As well as how I apply these tips directly in my own writing with Hobie.

[I offer tips and writing advice as well as the ways I use these tips in my writing. I touch on alternative forms of affection, intimacy, polyamory, independence, and labels] Heads Up!! This post is LONG and Detailed. At the end, I have a full deep dive and analysis of my Spidersona DiscoSpider Diane, Hobie, and their NCR - feel free to pass on that if you want or check it out if you're curious or want an example :)

I hope someone out there finds this helpful or at the very least, entertaining! With that said,

Let's Begin~~~~~~~~

Hobie Brown & Affection:

Showing and valuing alternative forms of affection can be a great foundation for Non-Conventional Relationships. There's a wide array of ways to express affection in a relationship - ranging from full on playfulness and messing with each other - to being romantic but only in private. And anywhere in between. In order to challenge stereotypical romance, here's where we can start.

First things first: Cut the generic pet names One of the most common things across all Hobie fics, are generic pet-names. It's hard to find a fic without one 'luv', 'darlin', or 'sweetheart'. And it makes sense, it romantic - and a classic way to show affection. But it can be easy to use these terms as a crutch to infuse romance into dialogue. A good way to diverge from this convention is by dropping the generic pet-names all together. By abandoning words like 'luv' and 'darlin' we're forcing ourselves to find more personal terms for him to call his partner. Hobie calls Gwen and Miles personalized pet-names, and this can extend to his partner too. These names can be personal - When writing OCs, you can use things like inside jokes, a shortened version of their name, or some form of rhyming slang. Having something happen within the story that Hobie pulls a nickname from is also a great idea, or having him call them by a defining trait or something tongue in cheek. [Like if your character is known for being a bit gloomy, have him call them sunshine. If they sing, he can call them songbird, etc.] When writing xReaders, you can subvert typically 'negative' terms into loving and playful names. For example, if the !Reader is portrayed as shy, he may loving call her Mouse Whisper. If they're hotheaded, he may just call them 'hot-head'. But by having personalized pet-names, the reader is shown that Hobie and them have history and past connections that Hobie finds meaningful.

Annoyance can be affection too I talked about this HERE We all love attention from our partners - some just seek it out in different ways. Annoying ways. And I can see Hobie being one to do this - Adorable, but annoying ways. Playfulness is a great way to substitute romance in NCR. We all know those relationships where they love messing with each other or pissing each other off. Having inside jokes about each other, or teasing in a way only the other person is allowed to. It's never mean, but in a way, a form of intimacy. And when romances are written like this, it shows that the two know each other well, down to the smallest things that make them tick. They know each other well, and have a clear soft spot for each other when one starts bugging the other and the other doesn't snap (lol). When writing, you can give them small pet peeves that Hobie may do to irk them. When writing OCs, Hobie can give them nicknames that irk them. Or point out things that annoy them. Maybe he likes a food they hate, and eats it in front of them all the time. It's all in good fun, and shows the two aren't shy around each other. You can also have them bring up embarrassing stories of each other, to show they're close and spend a lot of time together. When writing xReaders, you can have him popping up at the worst times, hanging off of the reader, and overall trying to distract them from what they're doing. He could also play light pranks to mess with the reader - and vice versa - always making sure to end it with a hug and a laugh. At the end of the day, it's all about getting their partners attention and playing around with them. And talking about that -

Touch as a Love Language: Don't be afraid of playfighting Some IRL couples playfight. And it can be adorable. If the pestering goes to far, then the reader finally has to give him all their attention - and they can playfight him. Which is what he wants, their attention. This is something that can be done with both OCs and xReaders - and if they're a Spider-person EVEN BETTER. Don't be afraid to have Hobie pick the reader up, having the reader jump on his back, or punch his arm lightly. Having them wrestle for something, and it can turn into cuddling. The character can jump on his back playfighting, and doom - Hobie's running and it's a sudden piggyback ride.

While on the topic of Love Languages: Laughter as a Love Language Laughter can be a HUGE love language. In addition to annoying their partner, some people aim to making their partner laugh whenever they can. Whether this be making jokes, or doing things they think are hilarious. Not only is is super playful - but it shows that they're close and know each other well. They know what they other think is funny, what's sure to get a laugh, and most importantly, when their partner needs it the most. It shows that they care about their partner's happiness, and they want to bait it out them every way they can - even if that means making themselves look silly from time to time again. This is one of my favorite tools when writing NCRs and it works for both OCs and xReader.

If really want to challenge yourself and show a new form of romance: Abandon 'I love you.' Ever heard of Han Solo and Princess Leia? The whole "I love you." - "I know." trope? Saying 'I love you' is of course one of the easiest ways to show love - but when we abandon it, we can find cuter and more personal things to replace it. In doing this we begin to show a NCR relationship that openly challenges romance. By doing away with 'I love you's in favor something personal, we're showing that their feelings go beyond 'love' into something more personal and intimate to them. They can still be madly in love and not say it - it can be completely unspoken cause they both know. And so, they don't take it too seriously. When writing OCs, you can replace the phrase completely, substituting it with a repeated phrase on both sides. "I hate you" also works as a playful subversion. When writing xReaders, you can have the other side not respond the usual way - "I love you." - "Uh-huh." Or you can have them not say it at all. And have it completely but clearly emotionally implied.

Hobie Brown & PDA:

Hobie is a natural touchy guy. He likes standing close to people, leaning over them and putting his hands on their shoulders. So by having him display limited romantic PDA with his partner, and treating them no different than anyone else, you're challenging the norm and forcing yourself to write other ways.

Prioritize Privacy Hobie is often (or rather only) characterized as a very open person with his relationship, openly kissing, making out, and touching his partner. And this is very typical of a romantic relationship. If you'd like to write a NCR you can try to challenge this. Hobie is from a police state, a world where surveillance is prevalent and freedom is limited. Plus he's a rockstar - people get nosey. And don't even get me start on The Society snooping. You can reflect this by having him prioritize privacy - either out of survival instinct, or just personal preference. Hobie keeping his relationship a secret, or simply not mentioning it, allows a freedom not often see in traditional relationships. By doing this, the relationship can develop naturally without typical pressures or outside influence - whether dangerous or Society wise. The two are allowed to take it as slow - or as fast as they want, without worrying about anyone else getting in the way. And with Hobie being a guy who likes to share often, him keeping one small thing to himself can be special. This can be used for both OCs and xReaders.

Keep Kisses in Private Stealing kisses can be extremely cute, and saving them for private can make them 10x more intimate. Plus this is another one that can be used by both OCs and xReaders. By saving kisses for private moments, those rare instances automatically become more intimate. And by having them restrain themselves, when they do finally get to be alone it can feel romantic (not just sexual). By having them save their kisses for only them, they become more special to Hobie and his partner. They may choose to not kiss at all in public and leave it at that or try to steal kisses when they can - or even substitute a different form of intimacy in place of kisses. Ever see that couple that one of them will walk by the other, and one person will put their hand in the other's for a moment as they pass by before letting go? Like that. Cheek kisses can also be a good substitute for public. Plus in the rare times they do kiss in front of someone, you can save it for super emotional or heated moments (or moments like parties, bars, etc - those are always fun. The gang finding out the two of you have been dating a year after you both get drunk at a party and make-out? Love it.)

Or you can take it over the top - and make it openly committed and intimate, but label-less. Having a partner he kisses, hugs and lives with but does not refer to as his girlfriend also challenges norms of possessiveness - bonus points if they're poly (which I'll touch on in a second). By having him clearly involved with someone, and seriously committed but having it between them can be a NCR. The character doesn't have to be his girlfriend or boyfriend. That can simply be 'his person' or 'the one'. Or he's 'seeing somebody' - or 'with them'. He's not outright saying they're dating, but yeah - they're solidly involved. They may have a kid together, sleep in the same bed, or say 'I love you', but by both parties rejecting labels, they're openly denying people an inside look to their relationship. Are they together? What's that got to do with you?

Or have them be 'life partners' aka - marriage without marriage. This one may be easier to develop for OCs, but can be done for xReaders too. Have them openly express interest in being each other's life long partners. Have them speak as if they're married, even if they aren't. By verbalizing this connection, they don't need rings or a wedding certificate to speak to them, because they openly say it as a form of PDA. Having them believe in soulmates, or 'other halfs' takes the 'caring boyfriend' trope and pushes it into something far more intimate and personal. This could include things like matching tattoos, sharing a home together, wearing things of each other's in place of a ring, etc.

Hobie, Labels, and Polymory (Open Relationships)

Every single fic I've seen of Hobie assumes both parties are monogamous. Let's challenge that.

Do away with the idea of Hobie and jealousy It's unrealistic for his character. Hobie is openly supportive, non-possessive, and EXTREMELY confident. Jealousy is an attribute that feeds off of insecurity first, and sexist tropes of possession second - the idea of having no one touch 'your' partner. Any partner Hobie has isn't his - no one belongs to any one. They can be with whoever and do whatever they want when he's not there. So long as he sees his a priority in your life, he'll be there. Let's just hope the OTHER guy is okay with that (and not extremely intimidated by how perfect Hobie is). This applies to both OCs and xReaders.

Open the relationship - and keep it honest The priority when writing this is honesty - because Hobie values it A LOT. And I cannot stress this more. If his partner is honest with him, and genuinely makes an effort to make him a priority, then Hobie is happy. Hobie himself may not choose to have multiple partners, but by having option on the table and having his partner exercise that shows a huge degree of maturity, communication, and freedom. By having a partner who can openly pursue romance outside of Hobie, but still chooses Hobie as their primary partner, their relationship becomes a lot freer, but still just as close - if not stronger. Sure they've got options, and sometimes they may have flings, but at the end of the day, there's no one they connect more with than each other. Better with OCs, but can be done with xReaders.

Let his partner have the last say Hobie can't be a player if he's not the one calling the shots. Have a xReader or OC that is openly outspoken about what they want and the label they're interested in. (even if thats 'unlabeled) Have the reader be the one who doesn't want to make it official, or on the inverse, have them insist that either they make it official or else they'll stop seeing them. And have them stand their ground. Do not have them budge or waiver or second-guess. Have them leave the ball in Hobie's court - and sort it out for himself. By doing this you're giving them a sense of agency and independence outside of him, and inverts the sexist expectation that men be the ones who define the relationship.

In the words of Coi Leray "Cause Girls is Players too." Kick slut-shaming in the teeth. Where are all the city girls? Directly challenge sexist tropes that are prevalent in the Hobie fandom, by writing a female character who is openly and sexually liberated, knows her worth, and knows how to handle her feelings. Have her be the one seeing multiple people, have him be the one to pass the guy on the way out. Its not more shameful when the character does it. If you want to make Hobie a player who can run game - acknowledge that some girls run game too. And many girls can call that shit from a mile away. Having a character who has multiple partners, but slowly finds themself falling for Hobie in specific is an interesting dymanic. It forces you to show a woman's sexuality in a different and positive light, one not connected to her lust for a specific man. And it forces you to challenge the idea of 'fast girls' or 'groupies'. Ever seen 'She's Gotta Have It' by Spike Lee? That. And you can have her other partners acting as a contrast to Hobie. If she starts realling her other partner really ain't shit - Hobie starts looking a lot better. And let me just say - this doesn't have to cause drama. Having Hobie and the character both be polyamorous, only to connect with each other and laugh about their other escapades can be CUTE. And neither are threatened, because they know it's all in good fun, and they know they've got their partner on lock.

Find alternative labels Take 'boyfriend and girlfriend' off the table and get creative. They can be life partners, or Best Friends with Benefits (who are genuinely friends, stay that way and are not just thinly vieled romantic tension), or the xReader/OC can simply 'his girl' or 'his guy'. By doing this, you're able to put a label on it, without taking it serious at all. It signals that there is something there and they know it, and they don't need normal terms to define it. Good for both OCs and xReaders.

Hobie & Gender Roles

Chivalry is dead. Romance your boyfriend to death.

I spoke in the last post of about Hobie's feminism and his understanding of the patriarchy and the way it works. And I think Hobie would work to openly defy gender roles in his relationship. Here's are some tips to do that.

Have the xReader or OC initiate the romance Have them confidently ask him out. Have your OC or xReader be the one to approach him at a party and hit on him. Just by doing so, you're putting your characters in a situation that subverts gender roles - where the many is typically the one to approach his mate. It shows confidence on the part of the xReader/OC and let's them step outside the traditional trope of a passive feminine partner.

Have them initiate touch/affection as well Have them touch him first, or wrap their arms around him. Have them kiss his neck (if they can reach lol). Instead of having a shy and quiet xReader who only accepts compliments from Hobie - have them openly and boldly compliment him. A girl who openly loves her partner/boyfriend and yeah- she's gonna talk about him cause she can. Have them call him pet-names first. And show Hobie enjoying it or feeling comforted by it. In doing so, you're allowing him to show a softer side that is also absent in a lot of fics. Plus you're breaking the trope of once again, the partner just passive accepting Hobie's affection without active reciprocation.

Actively show Hobie being comforted and taken care of - not just when he's in crisis Have the character ask if he's okay - in the way a couple will look at each other and be like "You good?" even when nothings going on. Have the character be the one to ask if he's eaten. Don't only do this when he's about to emotionally crack, or when he's physically beat up. Do it on the daily. Men shouldn't have to break before their emotional needs are addressed. So often in fics Hobie is seen as the perfect protector who never gets tired - and then there's no mention of him ever taking care of himself in any way. That's now how this works. Hobie is community based. That means he looks after the people he care about. If the character cares about him, they have them go out of their way to show it - the same way he does. The xReader/OCs can hold him while he's crying or make him go to sleep when he's up all night. They can hear him out when he's annoyed with Miguel, and help him when he's feeling not 100% too. SO many fics are about the reader NEEDing Hobie for some often asinine reason. Sometimes Hobie needs his partner too.

________________________________________________

HI HI! If you've read this far, thank you so much! I really appreciate it and would love to hear your thoughts! The next part is centered around my spidersona Disco-Spider Diane, her relationship with Hobie, and how I incorporate all this into their dynamic. This part is LONG and detailed (I'm unhinged) so I don't blame you if you wanna peace out now! If you do peace out, thanks again! - here's a photo of Hobie for the road!

_______________________________________________________ Now let's talk about Lil Miss Disco and her Boo Thang

DiscoSpider Diane and Hobie -

How I write a Non-Conventional Relationship For more info you can check out Diane's Character Sheet here and her tag here

I spoke briefly in my last post about Hobie, feminism, and how subverting sexist tropes contributed to her characterization - so this time I just want to give an overview of how that translates to a NCR - and how that can be shown clearly in writing.

Hopefully this will give some ideas or at the very least, I can ramble about Diane lol Diane & Hobie - A Basic Overview

[You can check out Diane's Character Sheet here!][And check out her tag for more art & writing here!]

I don't have a word for what Diane and Hobie are supposed to be, and that's intentional.

They aren't dating. Because they don't go on traditional dates - they just hang a lot. They're not boyfriend and girlfriend because that's rigid in it's confines. Even partners can be a bit of a stretch. I wanted to write them instead as two people who care about each other and make an effort to be in each other's lives. They're the other's largest emotional support and cheerleader - and their emotional reactions take focus over the romantic ones.

Diane and Hobie have a Non-Conventional Romance because they're in an emotional relationship rather than a romantic one. There is romance there - but the same way a romantic relationship isn't a 'sexual relationship' because sex is involved - an emotional relationship does not become entirely romantic once romance is involved.

Their emotional relationship is very committed, but their romantic relationship is extremely casual. Here are some ways I show that.

DiscoPunk & Affection:

Diane and Hobie do not use typical pet-names. Instead, Hobie is more likely to call Diane 'Daiquiri' - a nickname left over from the first time they've met. It's an embarrassing memory for Diane - and a story Hobie loves to tell. But by calling her Daiquiri, he's sending the reminder that he thinks about the night they met often and remembers it well. Including the 4 Daiquiris she made him buy her. He also calls her Clover - as she's one of his 'Lucky Charms'. Diane is the same, preferring to call Hobie by his name - or over the top names like 'pookie', 'honeybun', or 'hot stuff'. Though the most common she'll default to is 'babe', though she will only do this will they're completely alone. Hobie openly annoys Diane and she lets him. Diane is easy to mess with, easy to sneak up on and easy to confuse (sorry girl). It's easy for him to make her jump if he's too quiet, and despite being fairly outgoing, Disco gets embarrassed easily. Sharing constant silly stories, calling her embarrassing nicknames and ruffling her perfectly manicure hair, are go to ways to piss her off. And you can usually tell when she asks "Am I playing with you? Does it look like I'm playing right now??" In turn, Diane does her 'groupie act', which involves running up and hugging him hard as hell, jumping on his back, or talking about how cute he is in a baby voice while pinching his cheeks. They playfight A LOT. Hobie is known to come up behind Diane, lovingly slipping his arms around her waist. He lifts her up - and then tries to bodyslam her. He's holding her like he's about to do a judo flip and Diane is shoving at him telling him to cut it out. In turn, Diane likes to run at him from a far and jump on his back, and she's known to punch his shoulder if he gets too cheeky with the jokes. (Thank god they both have Spider Strength). And while they may not be quick to cuddle or hold each other in public - if Hobie is asking for it they WILL wrestle, and with matched strength, they don't stop until someone (usually Jess) tells them to cut it out. And Laughter is one of their biggest Love Languages. Hobie LOVES making Diane laugh - mainly because it's such a spectacle. Diane will scream and cry in laughter, doubled over so hard she has to sit down or leave the room. And for Hobie, it's easy to do this, so he does it whenever's the most inappropriate. Him dancing is a HUGE way because it brings Diane to tears almost instantly, without fail. She begs him to stop cause she can't breathe - she's laughing so hard. Hobie refuses and keeps dancing, just to mess with her. On the inverse, when Diane does it, most of the time she doesn't mean to. Diane is clever, but she's blunt and a little.. easy to confuse. And when she blurts something out or asks a question that sounds a bit ridiculous, Hobie can't help but laugh. Like when she saw Peter B. unmasked for the first time, and immediately asked him "Wait, why are you white?" Hobie will almost away burst into laughter, which is usually followed by Diane going "Whatttt? What did I say? Why are you laughing at me :(' Everytime she does this she is completely serious, which Hobie finds even funnier. If she's confused, he'll try to explain it to her, and he never teases her for it. It's just that Hobie chooses his words very carefully, and Diane says exactly what comes to mind.

They very rarely say 'I love you' and only do it in private. Usually, they'll only say this when one of them is going through it, the other just did something awesome, or they're alone and in a good mood. It reserved for moments of intimacy or spontaneity. With a relationship that is so playful, the two of them would probably think that saying it outright is a bit too sappy and plain. Instead, they substitute it by asking the other if they love them -

If Hobie does something for Diane, instead of Diane saying "I love you", Hobie will be the one to say "Don't you love me?" If Diane does something for Hobie, instead of him saying "I love you", he can swap it with "You must love me." (Usually the other person may say "I do" or an equally loving "Shut up.")

DiscoPunk & PDA:

They prioritize privacy. They don't label themselves - to anybody, even close friends. They let people make their own assumptions because it doesn't matter anyway. Plus with Diane being very committed to her place in the Spider Society, it's preferable to just keep it between them. Hobie doesn't really care either way. But the less people bothering him and asking questions, the better.

Diane and Hobie never kiss in front of other people. Save for a few exceptions. Despite being very physically and playfully affectionate, Hobie and Diane choose to keep most of their PDA completely private - and they're more likely to link arms than hold hands. When it comes to kissing, the two saves it for behind closed doors, or hidden spots in HQ. With relationships between Spider-people being prohibited at HQ, it's just easier that way - and the both of them prefer it. This even extends to close friends, including Pavi and Gwen. They may dramatically kiss the other's cheek to annoy them, making kissy sounds and grabbing each other's faced - and on occasion Hobie may give Diane a forehead kiss (she's tall enough to do this). They may cuddle in front of others too, but that's about it. But kisses in specific are just for them. Wasn't a conscious choice, but they like it that way. There's two exceptions though: 1) Shortly after meeting Hobie, Gwen ran into Hobie and Diane kissing at a hidden spot on campus. Nothing heated, but kissing. Diane felt her looking and seemed very disturbed and uncomfortable she had seen. Gwen left quickly, and although Hobie assured Diane that Gwen was okay, the two of them didn't meet until a later date, and Diane seemed a bit embarrassed.

2) Parties. After shows and while drinking Hobie and Diane are completely fine making out in public and showing full PDA. Why? Because they have the cover of the 'groupie act' and they can argue that they were drunk and were only messing around or even say they straight up don't remember. Their terms of commitment are unique. Neither Hobie (in my little universe) nor Diane believe in soulmates. But they do consider themselves 'committed', but they're not life-partners either. They don't care if they'll be together forever. The idea is nice, but it's not their focus. If they wanna spend their lives together, they can start but showing up for each up daily, rather than wearing rings daily.

DiscoPunk, Labels, and Polyamory:

Diane and Hobie are in an open relationship. Since they've never officially asked each other out, monogamy hasn't really been on the table ever. And both are fine and comfortable with this. Because they're great at minding their own business. Who's the girl leaving houseboat when Diane comes through? Who cares - but if touched the makeup Diane left on his bathroom counter, she'll be sending her an invoice and an angry letter. This is equal on both sides.

Diane is without a doubt more active, and more prone to one-night stands (she has a kink for guitarists) rather than full on relationships. Maybe it's the fact that having Hobie in the picture is intimidating as fuck to most guys.

Hobie also has his share - though he usually finds himself in flings and short relationships - going more for romance than sex. In fact, Hobie was with Diane for the duration of his relationship with his Felicia Hardy.

Naturally, Felicia and Diane knew about each other - though they hadn't met. Diane was fine with this and at most would ask how Felicia was doing. Felicia however really wanted to meet Diane. Like dying to meet her. So she found out Hobie's secret identity and just - turned up at one of his shows. Diane was...understandably confused. She was nice, but confused. Asked Hobie later like "Why's she here. Nothing wrong with it but like forreal why is she here?" and he's like "IDK I aint invite her m8 she always does this." Eventually the two got to know each other and although Hobie isn't with Felicia anymore (it's messy), her and Diane are still close friends.

Hobie perfers to let Diane have the last say when it comes to labels.

He's fairly unbothered. What's he gonna do - tell her he has to be her boyfriend? Or brush her off and still expect her to be there? Nah, Labels are the last thing he's worried about. And that's because he's fine with all of them. So long as they're clear. If avoided labels, and demanded to be label-less, that was still caring about labels.

This is where there's conflict - and instead of most fanfics in which the conflict is coming from him - in their case it's coming from her. Diane avoids commitment, terrified of the threat it could cause to the multiverse and Hobie's universe in specific. She's drank the society Kool-Aid so to speak, and will dance around the topic. Hobie has on occasion mentioned monogamy between them being a good option, but when directly approached, Diane will try to dance around the topic - mainly afraid of what Jess and especially Miguel will do if she falls out of line.

This, along with canon events, are the only things that can get them to actually argue - and it can sometimes decend into screaming matches (more about the Society rather than their relationship). They try to avoid bringing it up. But Diane is still paranoid and avoids it.

They use alternative labels instead. For sake of implicity, if you ask them directly "What is x to you?" Hobie will either say "Diane's my bird." or "Why do you want to know - You interested in me or her?" He may also say 'The Old Ball n' Chain' (mocking boomer humor) or simply say "That's Daiquiri."

Diane will most likely say "He's my little boo thang." She may also call him her 'hubby', or say 'I'm his biggest fan.'

WE'RE ALMOST DONE I PROMISE

Finally, DiscoPunk & Gender Roles

I wrote in the last post about how feminism and inverting the sexist trope of 'groupie' contributed a lot to Diane and her behavior towards Hobie. This can mostly be seen here:

Diane initiated the romance. Diane has always been Hobie's groupie, and outspoken in her affection for him. She thinks the girls hiding how much they like Hobie is silly - He KNOWS he's hot. Why not come out and say it - hype him up. Diane is also a way bigger flirt than Hobie - and I really wanted to write the two of them this way, because so much of the time Hobie is the one flirting, usually on a passive OC or xReader that simply passively accepts.

It's rare in dialogue that someone outright points out how hot Hobie is. So Diane does it. She was fine with being like "You're so hot it's distracting and that's not a joke. :) "

Diane usually initiates touch. Hobie rarely wraps his arms around her (unless he's doing that stupid judo shit she hates), but Diane does it to him all the time. She's tall enough on her skates that if she holds him by the waist from behind, she can see clearly over his shoulders. And it's not unusual to see Diane's eyes peek over Hobie's shoulder when you're talking to him. She's not listening, she's just there.

In turn, Hobie accepts this touch very much like the way an xReader would. He's usually the one intiating and offering touch, but when Diane does it him, he finds it comforting to be on the receiving side.

And I usually see this/show this as him softening into her touch, complimenting her for it, or baiting her into cuddling (like plopping down on her on the couch)

They supplement this a lot with closeness. Hobie and Diane always seem to be shoulder to shoulder, whispering inside jokes into each other's ears and trying not to crack up. Most often, Hobie with hput his arm around her shoulder, or if she's in her skates - a hand on her waist to steady her. Not that she needs it. Their relationship is mainly and largely emotional. And that's the basis of it. Hobie was the one who recruited Diane, and has been there for all of her canon events since, seeing her in her most venerable states.

Diane is dedicated to canon - and letting Miguel write her life for her - and although she finds herself conflicted and cornered by the Society, Hobie wants to be there for her always. And he'll be along for the ride as long as she'll have him. Diane in turn, tries her best to be positive when they're both from worlds where things can get really negative. No matter how much he tries to hide it, the constant battles and brutality with the police of his home world wears on him - and he's aware that he's different than most other Spider-people. He's killed before. Usually, he lets it out through his music and when it isn't that - it's through anger and protest. But like Hobie, Diane is a huge supporter of radical happiness. If you can think of Hobie's music as a call to arms, Diane's music is a love song to the sweeter brighter things in life. Diane was raised by The Black Panthers, and she knows just as well as he does what the brutality and pain of oppression can feel like. She has her feet firmly on the ground and her head happily in the clouds.

If anything, Diane is a person of comfort and escapism for Hobie. A reminder of the sweet life that he's fighting for. Diane lives completely free, free of labels and limits - even while living under the thumb of the Society. And she tries to remind Hobie what freedom feels like, when he gets tired of fighting every now and again _________________________________________________

In this way their emotional connection is mutual.

More than anything, I wanted Hobie and Diane to be emotional rocks to each other, before romantic partners. I didn't mean to write it that way (in my head), but it kinda ended up that way.

So often in the Hobie fandom we see the extremes of either Completely Detached Hobie - who sleeps around and wants nothing to do with labels - or Completely Committed Hobie - who is madly in love with his partner in a traditional sense. And in their relationship, I hoped to challenge that. By writing a Hobie than didn't care either way, or went with the flow. A Hobie that was just as thoughtful in his relationships as he was in his friendships. Instead, I wanted to shift the focus to Diane and making it about her choice. By having the woman be the one to define the relationship, the story can now focus on an internal struggle. And seeing his partner being the one to struggle with labels - whereas he's made peace with them.

And by having their affection shift more into playful - that was just because I think it's really funny. Hobie's a little shit.

All of this allows Diane and Hobie's relationship to be something based on mutal care and admiration for each other - rather than lust and clear-cut commitment.

They're able to be independent people, with independent lives and beliefs, while still being a large part of the other's life. They're able to excecise freedom in their situation, while still having an underlying conflict or struggle driving their story.

Hobie and Diane deeply care about and love each other, multiverse be damned. And even if they may not always see eye-to-eye, they're willing to put that aside if it means they have a chance at a peaceful future together - no matter what universe they're in.

They're not conventional, but they're in love. Cause I said so.

___________________________________________

So uh....yeah. That's how I incorporated Non-Conventional Relationships into my uhhh..deeply complex mental world that isn't written down yet besides glimpses in comics I make in photoshop.

If anyone read this far I will genuinely be so surprised, cause I literally just wrote an essay about their entire relationship lol

I feel like I could type anything down here and be safe cause it's hidden in a cattacomb full of TEXT like lemme just-

(I laughed at the second one til i crrriieeeddddd bro thats so foul)

But if you did read this all, thank you SO SO SO MUCH! As you can probably tell, I think about this a lot. And these characters mean a lot to me so I love sharing them when I can. I hope this helped someone and someone finds it helpful or at least entertaining! You rock <3

Writing this is normal, well-adjusted behavior. Cringe is dead.

Stream Diane and Hobie's album 'BackAlleyJazzLettuce' aka their Funk-Rock fusion ship playlist

Now take this photo of Hobie Kissy Kissy Face and get off my property.

Bye.

437 notes · View notes

bokutosmochi · 7 months

Text

kinktober day six: cybersex!

I WANNA GET FREAKY ON CAMERA ♡ GOJO SATORU

fem!reader x gojo satoru

ingredients: what's a girl gonna do when she misses her boyfriend who's a continent away?

what's it: smut

allergen warning/s: satoru talks to your pussy, fingering, mutual masturbation, cybersex

sugar level: 2.9k

regulars: @ventdavi154 @deobiforever @sugusshi @angelshub

parlor's note: inspired by this fanart by the amazing @/3aem

p.s: the guitar solo referenced at the end is in the song i don't wanna be me by the band type o negative. i recommend checking out that song, or at least that solo. it's so good and definitely one of my favorites.

bon appetit!

the only reason why you're here is because you were peer pressured to go.

most of the time, you would totally be down to attend parties your friends hosted, but you haven't been feeling like yourself lately. gojo was assigned to a three month long mission overseas and you were missing him dearly. funnily enough, that was also the reason why you were forced to go.

"c'mon, it's halloween." shoko rolled her eyes at you. "you can't not go just because gojo isn't here. besides, you clearly need a pick me up. you can't just lay around your bed, eating ice cream and sniffing his shirts that you wear forever." she gave you a pointed look. in defiance, you rolled your eyes, crossed your arms against your chest and gazed elsewhere, not caring about how childish it may have seemed.

you had no idea how she found out your daily activities since satoru has been gone. perhaps searching around your house for secret cameras that she planted would be a good idea. regardless, you sounded pretty pathetic when she put it like that, but still. were you not allowed to miss your boyfriend?

if that wasn't enough, shoko still had more to add. "plus, didn't you already buy a costume?"

and that's how you ended up in your current situation.

you could see how much effort shoko put into the party. her house, usually decorated with a minimalistic and classy aesthetic in mind, was home to countless realistic cobwebs and fake spiders all over the little items she had, like her clock and picture frames. there was also something dripping down the walls, though you couldn't tell whether it was supposed to be blood or some form of slime because of the red lighting that came from the few jack o'lanterns scattered around the house. the lack of proper lighting gave the room an eerie feel, and the scented candle that smells of burning leaves did not help. it was expertly made, including the songs that played. the playlist included songs from bands like bauhaus, siouxsie and the banshees, and lebanon hanover, then halloween classics like thriller and monster mash.

you're dressed in a less than appropriate black dress with red details which satoru chose. it's a bit plain by itself, but you added a corset that pushed your tits together nicely. the outfit's paired with black red bottom heels, gothic necklaces, and a makeup look that tied everything together.

"you're supposed to be here having fun, not moping around the snack table." shoko nudged you with her hip making you huff at her. "i'm allowed to miss my boyfriend." you said stubbornly. "he's been gone for almost three months now, we haven't spent that much time apart until, well, now." you looked at her with a sad look in your eyes that conveyed everything that you were feeling.

thankfully, it made her sigh in defeat, seemingly understanding what you're currently feeling. "ugh, fine, fine whatever." she waved it off. "just stop looking at me like a kicked puppy and try to have fun or something." she walked away.

a part of you felt guilty. after all, she was trying to make you feel better when you obviously aren't doing the best, but at the same time, she's been tugging you along to do different activities to keep your mind off of gojo's absence for so long now.

you're tired and you really just wanna be whiney and act like a lovestruck teenage girl.

thankfully for you, you didn't have much time to dwell on the feelings of guilt because you got a new notification on your phone -- satoru sent you a photo.

you really couldn't open it fast enough. with how you're missing him, you'd be thankful for anything he sends you, be it a photo of what he's having for dinner, a puppy he saw in the streets, a restaurant that piqued his interest, or a photo of him.

you cannot lie, you did heavily prefer the message being a picture of him. nothing could have prepared you for what you saw when you opened it.

nothing could compare to the sight before you. not a photo of the finest michelin star dish, not a photo of a puppy that's your favorite breed, not a unique looking restaurant, because it's satoru.

his face is turned from the camera, but it's definitely satoru. his soft white hair is the most obvious reason why you think so, plus why would he send you a sexy photo of another man. aside from that, you've spend hours tracing over the muscles of his back, his biceps, and even more hours grasping at the flesh, digging your nails into it as he fucked you.

you wonder if he knows you miss him, or if he misses you and the reason why he sent that wasn't to tease you and show off what you can't have, but to get a reaction out of you so you can set up a video call with him.

a gut feeling tells you that it's probably both. he knows what kind of reaction he can get out of you from flexing those muscles.

whatever the answer may be, the truth remains: you can feel the slick forming between your folds and there's a familiar ache between your thighs.

you quickly run to one of shoko's guest bedrooms. thankfully, because of your training as a jujutsu sorcerer, you're able to get there in record time without bumping into anyone in the process.

you look at yourself in the mirror there, fixing strands of hair that has been messed up in your haste as well as straightening out your clothing before setting yourself down on the available bed and clicking on the video call button on your phone.

and like you've expected, satoru accepts it without a second to spare, as if he's waited by the phone after spending the photo, waiting for your flustered call. he has a knowing smirk on his face, one you know all too well.

"hey there, baby." he drawls. "wasn't expecting to see you here this late."

"satoru," it comes out as a breathless gasp that was not caused by the running. "i've missed you so much." you wriggle on the bed, getting comfortable.

his answering smile was cocky, but you spot the hint of warmth in his eyes and longing in the way his smile is bigger than it usually is. he doesn't have to say it verbally, he's missed you too.

"aww, did you, pretty girl? 'm sorry for leaving you alone for so long." he coos at you. "i promise i'll be there in a week, kay?"

he transfers the phone from one hand to the other, but while doing so, he lowers the camera view a bit, giving you a heart-stopping peek of his abs, something he definitely meant to do to rile you up some more, as if your brain wasn't going a hundred miles an hour right this second.

you rub your thighs together to give you that friction that you so desperately need. "that's not enough though." your voice comes out painfully needy and you know satoru isn't going to let you live that down anytime soon. the moment he gets home and gets his fill of you - even before that, maybe - he'll hold it over your head for the coming months -- and knowing satoru, it's not a long shot to say the coming years. he'll keep on blabbering something or other about "remember that time i had to go on a really long mission and you were whining to me on the phone about how much you needed me?" but you couldn't care less right now. he would be right, you need him so bad.

"aw, does my sweet angel need me? 'm sorry, baby, but i just can't be there right now." he explains like you didn't know that already. "tell you what though, if you ask me politely, maybe i'll find a way to help you out a bit, then make it up to you when i get home, yeah?"

"please 'toru?" you pout at the camera and flash him your puppy eyes. you know that those will work already, but wanted to do more so that's what you did. you subtly pushed your boobs together, internally thanking shoko for forcing you to go to this party because if not, you wouldn't be wearing this dress satoru loved so much. "i need you so bad. can you please help me out?"

"that's a sweet girl." you see him look down and hiss. the camera moves a bit too and you wonder if it's caused by him freeing his dick from his gray sweatpants.

"i want you to play with yourself for me." he states. "start with pulling the neckline of that dress down and letting me see those tits." he breathed. you hear wet sounds from his side and now you know he's already jerking off to you.

you changed your position, getting on your knees and using the pillow you were using so you'd have something to rest your phone on. when that was stable, you did what he asked of you.

you let yourself get into the moment first, caressing the skin around your neck, your collarbones first, humming at the sensual feeling, louder than usual so satoru would hear you clearly before your hands moved to the straps of your dress and pulled it down.

the clothing was quite tight so you still had to pull it down to expose your lacey bra, but satoru didn't mind. as much as he wanted to see your body, he did love that tight dress on you, cursing whoever assigned this mission to him because he wasn't able to be with you right this moment. he adored seeing the quality fabric hug the shape of your body, adored seeing your silhouette.

next to come off what your bra, and you made a show of that too, albeit a short one because satoru was so loud through the speaker of your phone. to say your neediness increased tenfold would be an understatement.

"there you go," gojo said as he watched your boobs bounce out of the shed undergarment. his gaze was fixed on your body. the lust was pouring out of his intense blue eyes. "play with them for me, baby."

you took your hands and squished your boobs together once more, gave them a final squeeze, then paid more attention to your nipples, erect from your arousal. you rolled them between your fingers, noticing that every time your eyes fluttered shut while you pinched them, satoru would let a particularly loud whimper.

but "it's not enough, toru, wan' more." you whispered. it was something he agreed with, murmuring a small "yeah," under his breath.

"i want you to spread your legs for me, baby." he waited for you to adjust before saying anything else.

you could feel the beads of sweat forming on your forehead, but couldn't be bothered to wipe them away. you changed the way you sat, now sitting on your ass, planting your feet firmly on the bed while your knees were raised so satoru would have an unobscured view of your pussy when your legs are spread.

you lifted the skirt of the dress up and over your legs until it's bunched up at your waist, letting satoru see your crotch and the patch of wetness on your panties.

the view made him curse under his breath.

"touch your thighs, yeah, just like that." even the simplest touch had your eyes rolling to the back of your head. it's been such a long time since you've been touched like this, and that fact paired with satoru's breathy voice and the slick sound of him tugging on his dick was a combination that could make you come untouched.

your hips started to move back and forth though there was nothing there that could ease the ache between your thighs. his praises of good girl, and you're doing so well for me, baby had your cunt pulsing against the cloth of your underwear. "'toru, more, please." your not want, but need was palpable through the way your voice cracked at the last words. "need it 'toru, please, fuck."

"write my name over those pretty little panties, baby."

little did you know, he was so close to coming. even closer than you were. he knew he couldn't come though, not yet. he'll bring you to the brink of pleasure first so you can do it together. it's the least he can do after leaving you along for so long, so he slows down his movements.

he didn't plan to start touching himself so early on. he wanted to start doing it at the same time you sank your fingers into your pussy, but he couldn't help himself after seeing you in that pretty dress he picked out. upon seeing that dress on the rack for the first time, he already knew you would look gorgeous in it. he thinks that you can wear a garbage bag and he'd still be itching to put his hands all over you, but god, did you look absolutely irresistible in that versace dress. and to think that you discouraged him from buying it at first because of the price.

it's worth every single yen.

it took everything in him to not speed the motions of his hands up when he saw you spell out g-o-j-o s-a-t-o-r-u along with a couple of hearts on the crotch of your already wet panties. he constantly had to repeat "slow down, slow down, slow down," in his head before he completely loses focus.

he decides that it's enough teasing, at least for today when you're both so desperate for one another.

to you, his next words are like a life line.

"take your panties off, baby. show me that pussy i love so much."

you breathe out a sigh of relief and delight and it seems like you can't take the lacey undergarment fast enough. you toss it somewhere in the room, too intoxicated by satoru's presence to care where it lands or if you'll still be able to find it later.

"there she is." he moans, gazing at your cunt. "missed my girl so much. look at how wet she is, bet she missed me too, huh?" his eyes flash to your face for a second, before returning to your pussy.

"missed you so much." you replied, touching yourself without needing instructions from satoru.

you started with your clit, drawing gentle circles on it with your index finger, then slowly pushing your middle and ring finger inside you.

you and satoru moaned each other's names at the same time for the first time in what feels like forever.

your digits moved fast inside you, pushing in and out of your gummy walls at such a pace where you could hear the wetness and feel little splatters of the sticky liquid coating your thighs.

"fuck, you're so wet." satoru hisses, and you don't hesitate to tell him the truth. "it's all for you 'toru," you whine, throwing your head back with your back arched. you imagine that it's his fingers inside of you instead of yours despite the way he can stretch you out in a way that your fingers never could.

"satoru," he was addicted with the way you said his name; like it's the sweetest prayer that could cleanse you of all your sins.

the coil in your belly winds and winds, continues to get tighter with every stroke of your finger. it clouds your brain, letting you forget about every single thought you could ever have, like how there's a party right outside the door and shoko, armed with the key, can walk in at any moment. the only thing on your mind is the way that satoru sounds as he fucks his fist, pretending that it was you, and the way your fingers feel as they pleasure you.

it's so overwhelming, the way you feel. you can't even hold yourself up anymore, having to scoot up the bed so you can lay against the headrest while one of your hands stroke your clit and the other thrusts in and out of you.

you're shaking now, as you address satoru once more. "'toru, 'm close. s' fuckin' close. can i come? please. fuck! ah-need it so, so bad." you're almost at the brink of tears as you plead at him.

"go ahead sweetheart, i'm right behind you."

thankfully for you, the sound of an electric guitar solo drowns out the sound of you screaming satoru's name, and you make no noise other than pants as you struggle to catch your breath.

satoru recovers a few seconds before you do.

"fuck," he runs a hand through his sweat slicked hair. "we need to do that again."

"no," you disagree with him, but too tired to glare. "i don't wanna go three months without you again."

"this was so hot though, baby. i'd pay good money to hear you beg like that again."

i get: reblog

you get: a personalized gojo selfie

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nartml · 20 days

Text

To Pimp a Butterfly and 1989: a rant

Listen here, three things about me are that I'm a) white as snow, b) Greek, c) still a minor.

What does this mean? It means that I obviously wasn't raised with hip-hop, and I got into Kendrick Lamar's music pretty late.

As in, early this year.

I've known of him for some time, and the moment I found out he had a Pulitzer prize at some point in late-ish 2023, I decided I had to sit my ass down and pull out Spotify.

Now, as an avid reader of both fanfiction (ao3 raised me) and books [I feel the immense need to clarify that I don't associate myself with mainstream booktok. Capitalism's consumerism has overrun that shit and all I see are the same 20 books being recycled and recommended (a substantial amount of those are Colleen Hoover and her variants). Tropes and spice* are officially the defining factors of whether a book is worth it (*your porn addiction ain't cute) and quantity is heavily prioritized at the expense of quality. Also, diversity who?], I was, for a lack of a better word, hyped.

A Pulitzer prize is nothing to scoff at in general, more so in music, more so in hip-hop.

(Edit: Upon quick reflection, I realize that putting emphasis on hip-hop can come across as coded.

I am in no way, shape, or form trying to undermine hip-hop or say that it's somehow less 'sophisticated' than, for example, classical music. I'm very aware of the amount of skill and technique one needs to write a masterful hip-hop album, and I'm not doubting that there are hip-hop artists out there who are also incredibly deserving of such a prize. I meant it in the sense that I've unfortunately never heard of another hip-hop artist who won a Pulitzer before, which is quite telling.)

That's some huge shit, and I'd be a fool not to be intrigued.

Admittedly, I didn't get on that immediately. For a while I procrastinated, because I wasn't in the mood to hyper-fixate on anything new just yet.

Which of course meant I ended up forgetting about it for a few months, because of course I did.

But then I came across a TikTok that talked about how it was insane that '1989' won the Grammy when To Pimp a Butterfly was right there.

Now, a fourth thing about me is that I don't fuck with Taylor Swift.

And a fifth thing about me is that I'm not baseless in anything that I do, say or feel, and that includes annoyance.

Her immature understanding of activism and feminism leaves a bad taste in my mouth. The way she built up her fan base around this portrayal of her as a relatable girl's girl, her refusal to accept criticism, and always making a victim out of herself (even now when she's in her thirties and is a fucking billionaire) while never using her position of power and privilege for good are all reasons that serve to fuel my dispassionate dislike.

And before any Swifties get on my ass, no, I don't think that "But she's a singer! Why are you expecting so much out of her, she isn't even qualified to speak on XYZ—" is a good enough excuse.

She has always been rich, and now she's a billionaire. There are no ethical billionaires, and that includes her.

Fame is influence is power. Uncle Ben said it all: With great power comes great responsibility.

And let me tell you, I don't see her owning up to that responsibility, especially after all that talk about how she supports women, supports the LGBTQ community, and supports the BLM movement. Has she ever actually put her abundant money where her mouth is?

I've never seen her speak about anything that doesn't immediately concern her.

Don't get me wrong. She's not the only celebrity like this out there. I'm sure there are worse cases. I know it for a fact.

To wrap this segment up before I get even more sidetracked, I'll outright state that I don't hate her, because hating her would by definition mean that I, in some way, actually care about her, and that just sounds exhausting.

Best way to describe me is indifferent, leaning towards distasteful.

She's annoying.

And that's how I feel about both her as a person and her as an artist.

I'm not denying her talent, nor her impact on the industry, nor the fact that she does have good songs that even I like.

A select few, of course, but still.

Apart from those...what? Ten songs? I have never, ever been able to listen to any other song of her's all the way through.

I get bored. They do nothing for me. They sound empty. Hollow. Plastic. Repetitive.

Her lyrics, that are praised by fans for being deep and complex, sound pretty surface level to me.

Not all of them. But I'm a sucker for analysis. A literature nerd. Greek is my native language. I can tell when something's deep and when something wants to be deep.

(Not necessarily including Folklore and Evermore in that category. Her storytelling ability is actually great.)

Her music largely sounds like it wants to be deep.

Most recent example being her latest release, The Tortured Poets Department.

Anyway, back to Kendrick.

My initial plan was to listen to 'DAMN.' first, because that's what he won the Pulitzer for in the first place.

There was a change of plans after that TikTok.

I decided to compare the opening tacks.

I put on Welcome to New York, and predictably, I felt nothing.

The rhythm is dance-y, I suppose. But there's nothing substantial about it. There's nothing exciting about it.

The lyrics are juvenile, and I get it, it's a pop song and she was in her twenties.

Nobody is expecting Shakespeare (no matter how much you scream or kick your feet, the only reason Shakespeare couldn't write Taylor Swift is because he's in another league entirely) or Odysseus Elytis. Nobody is expecting mind-blowing lyricism.

But it's the opening track to an apparently Grammy-worthy album. The very least I'd expect from it would be some additional levels of artistry.

Am I being harsh? Probably. Do I care? No.

Disappointed but unsurprised, I put on Wesley's Theory.

I ascended within the first minute.

Don't get it twisted, I barely understood shit.

Not only am I white, I am also entirely removed from America and its culture as a whole. I don't know what's going on there in y'all's daily lives.

And this was baby's first proper introduction to hip-hop as a whole.

My untrained, white-ass ear barely caught two references. I got what the gist of the song was about, and that's about it.

I had to look up analyses of the track to fully grasp what Kendrick was on about, and even then, there was obviously still a disconnect.

And I expected all of that.

I didn't expect to get hooked on that song within the first listen.

I swear to fuck, the beat is addictive. I swear to fuck, even when I was fighting to understand what the lyrics were referencing, I was having the time of my life.

Even I, an amateur in every sense of the word, could tell that there was depth and there was quality and there was intentional meaning in every line of that song.

It didn't matter that I couldn't understand it. It mattered that I knew it was there. Not because someone told me that was the case. But because it was audible.

I listened to the next track. And the one after that. And the one after that. I had listened to all of the tracks, before I knew it.

And the evident permeance of quality, of substance, carried on throughout the whole album.

It had exactly the type of lyricism I'd expect a Grammy-worthy album to have. It had exactly the amount of artistry I expected a Grammy-worthy album to have.

Even better, it had all the ingredients I expected a timeless album to have.

The poetry Taylor Swift fans insist hides in her discography, I found in plain sight within Kendrick Lamar's.

After meticulously reading the lyrics, I watched video essay after video essay, searched for analysis after analysis on this album, each time understanding the meanings behind it a little better.

Needless to say that the Grammy's are rigged and I love Kendrick Lamar.

Hip-hop is gorgeous.

#tpab #to pimp a butterfly #kendrick lamar #he's awesome #hip hop #1989 #taylor swift #just to be safe #anti taylor swift

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bulkhummus · 2 months

Note

Hey!! I’m curious, in what ways do you think wtnv sucks? I’m not necessarily disagreeing but I can’t think of anything tbh and your tag made me start wondering

Hi!

No piece of media is perfect, and expecting it to be is unfair to the creator, and unrealistic of the consumer. Being able to consciously understand the ways in which something you love also has flaws is a healthy way of engaging with the things you enjoy without succumbing to the all-or-nothing mentality of being able to enjoy, well, anything!

I love wtnv, obviously, it's about 90% of my blog, and I have listened to it for a very long time. I respect the creators (including the actors) for what they have accomplished.

However, there are a few things about wtnv that I as a listener and long-time fan have recognized as, lets call them, potential critiques. Sucks is too strong a word because I’m not focusing on specific instances where they have messed up (and they have, people make mistakes). This isn’t a list where I tell you specific things— but rather I just explain to you some thoughts I have about the show. This is, by no means, a complete or solitary list, or even an ‘accurate’ one. This is just my own opinion and you're welcome to disagree.

Consistency

I do not have the expectation of wtnv having continuity. I never once have, due to the nature of what it is, what it's about, and how it's written. I don't care if facts change. Cecil is an unreliable narrator. Timelines shatter and splinter off regularly in the show. Time doesn't work right for most of the podcast. The Cecil we listen to currently is not the same Cecil we were introduced to. Writers make mistakes when shows have been on for over a decade. etc etc etc. Instead, I use the word consistency.

The show lacks consistency in story telling. This is its strength! WTNV was a podcast made by a small group of people that skyrocketed in popularity very quickly. It was a passion project. It was a bunch of think pieces where the writers got to explore different styles of writing, different characters, and their thoughts and feelings on current events in real life. That’s what it was built on. It was recorded in a coat closet on a shitty mic and then suddenly it became a livelihood with a massive following. So, the show lacks consistency in story telling, which to me has always been the joy of it, because of its freedom to do as it pleases. A lot of ‘plot’ would happen and we’d leave on a cliffhanger, and in classic Night Vale fashion, it’d be like 4 months before you heard about it again. However.

WTNV was introduced as a serial podcast where the only consistency was that they'd upload twice a month. With the introduction of mini-arcs, and later longer arcs (such as STREX, the DOW, or UOWII) the writers introduced the expectation of continuity. The story would build over the course of several episodes and resolve in some type of way. This requires more planning and greater attention to detail than episodes that are one-off or ongoing by the nature of what the show initially was. My issue here is that they have given themselves the problem of continuity given how they write longer arcs now — but they just don’t seem to fact check or communicate with one another when it comes to these arcs that span several episodes or rely upon info from older episodes. Now, the show often feels like its fighting between what it wants to focus on, and how it focuses on it and I am left sensing this inconsistency that I once used to enjoy. Which brings me to my next point.

Understanding A World

WTNV is a show about a fictional town, told by an unreliable narrator in the form of a radio show. When the show started, I felt it understood that very well. New characters were introduced as callers, or interviews on local news, ad reads, and even Cecil playing his voicemail on air. It operates under a VAUGE set of rules (but rules nonetheless) that this was a radio show.

There have been several instances, more recently, where I feel as if the show forgets that Cecil is a radio host and the story is told through his perspective about 90% of the time. It is that exciting 10% where we gain insight to the same stories from different characters giving us new information.

For example, having Carlos and Janet go back and forth at one another in the finale of the UOWII arc completely casts aside Cecil's perspective as the narrator, and as having control over the story. Cecil hated Janet. it would have been more amusing and in character for him to have ad libbed whatever Janet said and only play Carlos' parts -- only for her to burst into his live studio outraged that he wasn't fairly reporting and THEN tell her side of the story after wrestling the mic away from him.

My issue here is that, more recently, it feels as if they forget that operating under rules, or constraints, in story telling, actually helps them be more creative in how information gets delivered to the listener.

I think how they use their patreon needs a massive overhaul too but thats a different post. Which brings me to my next point.

Hand Holding

They are good writers. They are capable of balancing humor and horror in a way that enhances both. I have felt gutted, I have felt hopeful, and I have felt absolutely feral after certain episodes because they have good ideas and can write well!

So it becomes really frustrating when they just tell me a bunch of stuff without it being reflected in the show, or they don’t trust themselves as writers. I get it. Not every episode can be their best, but there have been several instances recently, in moments where it really counts, where I am just being told what's going on instead of it going on. I’m being told why things are happening instead of listening to them happen, and often I feel they forget they are writing something to be performed. They don’t need to explain all of their metaphors or explain what the point of a characters actions are. The audience is not stupid and things don’t always need to be spelled out. Which brings me to my next point.

Writing for an Audience

All creators have to work off of in terms of how well something is doing is fan engagement, especially in a smaller project like this. However, they have an audience that varies in ages of 11-45 given how long this show has been running for. Go to a live show you will see what I mean. How do you write for an audience who is that diverse in age? Should you have to? Is it bad engagement to not think about your audience? Sometimes something a 30 year old understands, a 11 year old may not. Not for any other reason but time and lived experience. Theres things 30 year olds forget about being 11! That’s how it works.

And while this is less of a problem they may have, it’s something I noticed about the reception of different episodes by fans. The second to last live show I went to I had the enjoyment of listening to two 13/14 year olds sitting behind me offering their vastly different perspectives on some recent episodes, especially given the fact that I heard one of them say they had only just started listening after listening to the first 100 episodes summary. Which brings me to my next point.

Duration

Everything I have said previously comes back to the duration of the show. I think its impressive that its been running for over a decade with consistency. And they should! In a perfect world, WTNV would run forever because of how much I love it. I love this show and I don’t want it to end. HOWEVER. If the quality of something begins to degrade because there is not enough time dedicated to it and the creators no longer find it engaging and exciting then I’d want it to come to an end. They’re people. They want to work on new things. I respect that! And I’d be heartbroken if the show faded out or ended in a rushed manner in an unsatisfying way because they decided on a whim they don’t want to make it anymore.

I think it is a disservice to the work, effort and history of the show for them to create a 100 episode summary and tell people to start there. Idc. “But Bulk people might not want to listen to 10 years worth of podcasting—“ Babes the show is 245 episodes long. They’re like 25 min a pop not including ads. It’s a bimonthly show. Buckle up and settle down. The creators should take pride in their work, and how long the shows been on for, and be encouraging people to start from the beginning. Let people experience for the first time what many people fell in love with. Why on EARTH would you tell people to NOT start at the beginning? To me, as a long time fan, it feels like the creators don’t have faith or pride in their work.

I’m not saying they don’t dedicate time to their show of 10 years, because how could I know that, but, when they don’t fact check (because now there is the precedent of continuity, especially with newer fans, because they chose to write more serially) and they tell fans its ok to not start at episode 1, and they are advertising other projects on WTNV episodes where fans call them out for not fact checking and and and— where does that lead me as a fan? It sometimes makes me feel like they don’t care about what they’re making anymore.

I also think that this show has become a means of income for them. And it has. They have a patreon now, they do shows, they sell merch. What was once a passion project for them is now a product. People who pay for something demand a better quality— thats like almost universally true. And people who are newer fans, and don’t understand what podcasting was like a decade ago, who don’t know what WTNV was like a decade ago, don’t have that background knowledge of what the show was built up on and created as (ie. A bunch of experimentations, think pieces, and whacky one-offs as previously mentioned).

Because they’re telling fans not to listen to the first 100 episodes and focusing on more serial story telling. Am I making sense? It’s all connected and I feel like I’m making sense.

Conclusion

I love WTNV but, in my opinion, it was never meant to be what fans often demand it to be, and the creators sometimes have to respond to. What I fell in love with it for is often the things I see people criticize it for. It’s this story that sort of does what it wants, when it wants, because that’s how it started. It’s grown into something else now, which all things do over time, and I just hope they don’t grow it into something it is not if they aren’t careful. The show was is deeply unserious but also really interesting and exciting and chilling and worth the time spent, despite the ways it may be imperfect. Perfectly imperfect, if you will (wink wink).

You don’t have to agree with what I’ve said here, and maybe none of it reads true for you, because I really am just speculating and offering thoughts, and thats fine! I’d never tell someone their viewing of the show is wrong, but I do think it’s good to stop and think about your favorite pieces of media like this. Anyways thats why it sucks or whatever

#wtnv #ask tag #anon

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olderthannetfic · 3 months

Note

I understand that cheekily calling classics fanfic is a misnomer because, yeah, on a technical level, the concept of fanfiction arose in modern parlance thanks to IP laws which didn't exist back when telling stories based on other people's stories was just how storytelling worked--however, when someone is mocking fanfic by poking at its lack of originality, the comparison is relevant and warranted. If the thing that makes fanfic 'lesser' than Officially Published Works is the fact that it's based on the ideas, characters, worlds, plots, and concepts of those that came before, then the fact that a lot of Officially Published Works are likewise 'unoriginal' is relevant, and that includes (most) Arthuriana and The Odyssey and Dante's Inferno and etc etc.

Shakespeare's Richard III and Julius Ceasar were Historical RPF (among others, he did like eight plays based on historical figures lmfao). So is The Crown. The Scarlet Pimpernel is fix-it fic of the Reign of Terror, and it also kick-started the entire superhero genre (you can thank the Baroness Orczy for Batman's existence). Back in the day, writers could look at some story that someone else came up with, say 'hey, wow, that's pretty cool, I'm gonna rewrite this, stick in these bits too, and do it my way' and no one could say shit about it. That's what separates modern fanfic from the landscape of literary canon Back In The Day, but pointing out that if something were being created today in the modern literary landscape it'd be going on ao3 with a set of fandom/genre tags is relevant to the general 'fanfic is dumb and stupid because it lacks originality' argument.

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misguidedasgardian · 9 months

Text

I need to (10)

... Calm down

MASTERLIST

Summary: Emotions are running high

Pairings: Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cursing, modern au, underage drinking in some countries, fluff, young adults hornyness, sexual tension. Reader and Cregan... hear things... Might miss some warnings

Wordcount: 2.9 k

Notes: Very mild chapter, I included a classic trope for this one jeje, i’m committed with the romcom/telenovela type jeje

Sceptics would say that there is no such thing as a friendship between a man and a woman

That the mere beginning of said “friendly” relationship was built in a mutual interest for one another, a carnal interest, and as such, there was no thing as a friendship

And right now…

In your “friendship” with Cregan

You had to agree

He couldn’t stop looking at you, as you were both in photography class

He had agreed to give you space, he had, and you had said you wanted to be just friends, but the thing is, you didn't want just to be friends

You liked him

Aemond had left the state, you knew as much, and he hasn't posted your nude pictures, so, you figured you were safe, for now

This was your home now and even though he had tried to… taint it, he was not going to be able to, you were not going to let him.

You were home, nobody could hurt you here

You even got an emergency visit to the school’s therapist, and then another the following week, and then another, you were in a good track, it's been only a week and yet, you felt better

The definitive and messy breakup.

The colossal break up, the atomic break up

But you were calm again, with the certainty that you were not going to see Aemond in the near future

That you were finally free

That you were pursuing your dreams

With only one look to the therapist you felt like you just survived a catastrophe, but that’s the thing, you survived it, this was the calm after the storm

And the damage wasn’t so bad

Because you are still here, in your college, with your friends… your Cregan friend

Now you had a taste for Dornish coffee with cinnamon

“Oh wow, but look at this picture…!”, admired the professor, you looked up and there it was, your face, for everyone to see, projected on the wall, looking straight at the camera, your lips opened just a bit, a coy look on your eyes, looking over your shoulder, the plastic curtains drew diagonal lines over your face, and Cregan had turn it to a black and white picture

You couldn’t believe was you were seeing

That couldn’t be your face

The texture, the feelings in it, the color, or rather, lack thereof

“...You can see the passion! the connection between photographer and subject, this is… something else…”, yours and Cregan’s eyes connected, “this is the ultimate portrait, an ode to a muse…”

Can he see across the darkened classroom how nervous you were? Did he really…?, No…

He finally changed the photo, but now there was the one you took of him

“And this one, is the ultimate love poem”, he continued criticising your photo, “so sweet, tender, honest…”

The professor got carried away when he was showing the photo you took of Cregan, he looked back at you, marvelled with a wide smile on his face

You looked down, ashamed, nervous

How the hell were you supposed to be friends with a man you wanted to taste cinnamon coffee from?

. . .

You were walking back to your dorm, Cregan insisting in accompanying you

“How are the classes going?”, he asked softly

“Bananas”, you answered, “the midterms are coming and for many are written exams but for me are models, and huge project sheets”, you said apologetically

“That is a lot of work, the ADA is famous for it”, he said with a smile

“Business administration is no cake either”, you said back

“No it isn’t”, he chuckled, “maybe we can all support each other, do some sort of study night, I have to execute a business plan, and I would like some help too”

“Oh what is it about?”, you asked

“Well, first I have to make the plan for the midterm”, he laughed, “and then execute it in the summer”

“Oh, really? you have to make your own business?”, you asked, amazed

“For starters, yes”

“So cool, have you given it a thought about what you’d like it to be?”

“I’d like to implement a plan on saving a dying business with a bunch of growth opportunity”

“Thats sounds incredible”, you said with a smile, “if it includes a remodel of some sort let me know”

“Totally, we’d make a good team”

The walk back to the dorms was short, just across the park, and you were starting to get close, you saw a bunch of people gathered by the entrance

“But when will it be fixed?”, you heard

“It's freezing!”, said another. You and Cregan shared concern looks

“We are trying the best we can”

“We can’t sleep in there”

When she saw you approaching, Sara walked towards you with a frown on her face

“What’s going on?”, you asked

“The thousand year old boiler finally exploded!”, she growled

“It didn’t explode!”, you heard someone said

“It’s fucking freezing!”, she continued, “we can’t sleep in there”

“Shit!”, you cursed

“Well girls, grab your things, you are coming with me”, Cregan said simply, you looked at him, alarmed

“Really?”, you asked, “Are you sure?”

“Of course, I'm not going to let you freeze!”, he said with a smirk, “besides, that is what friends do…”, was he teasing you? yes he was

Cregan even walked you up to the room, and in a bag you took the essentials, and in a backpack what you were going to need for tomorrow, Sara did the same thing

It was freezing, the kind of that stuck into your clothes, you could actually see your breath inside those stoney walls

The walk was fun, talking about your next midterms and exams, and as soon as you got home, Jace was there

“DUDE THERE YOU ARE! WHY YOU TOOK SO LONG? DID THEY FINALLY SHOW THE PICTURE? SHE REALIZES THAT YOU LIKE HER SO MUCH SO YOU TWO F-…”, Jace showed up in the corner and got quiet when he saw you standing there

“Hey creeper”, you whispered

“Oh, the girls are here!”, he said with a weird smile, Cregan was petrified

“They are”, he said

“The boiler exploded”, whispered Sara with a teasing smile, “roomie”, she teased

“Great, let’s eat”, he muttered

“I’m gonna, cook us pasta”, you declared, “I trust you have the basics?”

“YOUR FAMOUS PASTA?”, asked Jace, “IT'S MYTHICAL!”

“We haven’t eaten it in a while haven’t we?”, you giggled

“What is this pasta?”, asked Cregan

“Pasta with mystery sauce”, chuckled Jace, is going to be awesome

“You just let me do what I have to do”, you said mysteriously, you dropped your bags near the couch and then you went to the kitchen, is the least you could do for the boys to let you stay

You loved eating pasta and is the only thing you learned to cook when you were little, when sometimes your godmother had meetings or small trips

Jace would come to your house, you had nannies and a maid in the house, so you were with more people, but still, you learned how to cook the basics

You were putting a whole package of pasta in the boiling water when Sara sneaked into the kitchen

“I’m sleeping with Jace”, said Sara

“What? fuck no!”, you said back

“Yeah, I think I wanna fuck him”, she whispered

“NO!”, you said, “we have to sleep together, like last time”

“I don’t wanna”, she said with a sneaky smile, “Jace doesn’t dare to make the first move so I’m gonna”, she continued, “I’m gonna fuck him”

“More power to you, but I don’t… Cregan is going to think that is weird”

“Believe me he isn’t”, she said, “Jace is talking to him right now”

“It is weird though”, you continued, “Are you and Jace going to… date?”

“We don’t know yet”, she whispered, “we have been sexting since forever”

“Sara…”

“Do me a solid, I NEED to get laid”, she continued

“Promise me is not a rouse for me and Crehan to get together”

“Look, it is a golden opportunity, but I really, REALLY want to fuck your best friend”

“STOP SAYING FUCK!”, you muttered

“I really want to… Ride Jacaerys until his wheels fall off”, you slapped your forehead

“Promise me you are thinking this through…”, you whispered

“I promise”, she said, and then you smiled wickedly

“Mmmm somebody is getting laid tonight”, you teased

“It’s cool, right?”, she asked, her face changed from one second to another, now she looked concerned, worried.

“What do you mean?”, you asked her back

“He is your best friend”, she said quietly

“Yes! that’s why I want you to get together already!”, you mocked, “if you trust me to get with your brother I trust you to get with mine”, she hugged you and you hugged her back

The boys had gotten a University subsidized apartment, there were a couple of building around campus for this purpose, it was, small but comfortable, in a “butterfly” shape, it had two rooms of the same size, shared bathroom, and a kitchen with an open space to the livingroom and diningroom

You had talked to Sara about getting one next year, together, you were excited

“I need to make the sauce”, you giggled

“I’ll leave you to it”, she said excitedly walking out of the kitchen, “boys! set the fucking table!”, she demanded

Soon you were all sitting on the table, munching on the pasta you had made

Jace moaned dramatically

“FUCK! This is even better than the last time”, he said

“Well, I’ve perfected my recipe”, you teased

“This is hands down the best pasta I’ve ever had”, approved Cregan

The truth is you hadn't made it in a while, Aemond didn’t like it

“Next year, I’m gonna ask you to make this at least once a week!”, begged Sara, you chuckled

While Jace and Sara where sitting on the couch… very cozy… you just came out of the bathroom and were intercepted by Cregan

“I put your things in my room”, he said softly

“Great”, oh you were nervous

“I can take the couch if you want”

“You don’t have to”, you said softly, “If someone should take the couch is me”

“No possible way”, he said, “besides, this is what friends do”

“Is it?”, you teased

“Yes”, he chuckled

“If this is awkward I can sleep on the couch”, he insisted, “I don’t want you to think we… have… to do something”

“I trust you”, you said quietly, “I know you don’t make assumptions”,

“What kind of friend would I be if I was trying to get into your pants incessantly?”, he asked quietly, gently. You laughed

This was awkward

You thought, as you laid on the bed next to Cregan, you had placed a pillow in the middle of your heads, you didn’t trust yourself, you wanted him, you did, and even though you asked him for a friendship right the same day Aemond tried to explode your world… now two weeks later you were not so sure anymore

You wanted him

And it didn’t help that you were hearing… noises… sexual noises from way across the apartment

Jace and Sara’s noises

“I’m gonna…”, he muttered, signaling to the TV

“PLEASE”, you begged. The sounds from the television immediately drowned out the… other sounds, Cregan started changing the channels, looking for something to watch, until he found a good ol’ slasher movie

“Perfect”, he said, looking over at you, you smiled

“These are my comfort movies”, you giggled

“Of course they are”, he chuckled darkly, “alongside Unsolved mysteries”

“I put them to fall asleep sometimes”, you laughed, he laughed wholeheartedly

You watched the movie for a while in silence, but it was a classic, you had seen a bunch of times, and apparently, Cregan did too, as he started getting bored pretty quickly, moving restlessly on the bed

“Well, if we are friends, we should know things about one another…”, muttered Cregan, looking over the pillow. You giggled, but you wanted to humor him

“Alright, ask away, what would you want to know?”, you asked him

“Well, I already know how you take your coffee, so how about, what’s your favorite color?”

“Really?” you teased

“Answer the question”, he said, smiling widely at you

“Well, it’s purple”, you said, “what’s yours?”

“Mmm very regal, mine’s grey”

“Boring”

“But not like half white half black grey, but… the greenish grey, like the colour of old stones of the Literature department”

“Oh yeah, well, that’s cool I admit it”

“What’s your favourite animal?”, you giggled, but gave him an answer, “oh, cool”

“What’s yours?”, you asked back

“The wolf”

“Uh so cool, and very patriotic”

“Very funny”, he teased back

You turned, accommodating to look at him he did the same, now you were just looking at each other, smiling

“I’m sorry”, you whispered

“Why?”, he asked

“For cancelling our date”, you continued, “I was not ok after my ex boyfriend payed me a visit”

“Wait, he was here?”, he asked, “the one who…”

“Cheated on me with my teacher, yes”, you whispered, “he was here two weeks ago”

“What happened?”

“He wanted me back…”, you confessed

“Do you still have feelings for him?”, is that fear? what you saw in his eyes

“No… but he wanted to blackmail me into getting back together…”

“With what…? What does he have on you?”, he got serious all of a sudden, you laughed

“Relax…”, you giggled, “I didn’t committed any crimes, I just…”, now you were concerned, “Well, we were together forever and… sometimes when we were apart, I missed him, and I was horny, and underage and I… send him pictures”, you said, evading his eyes

“He threatened to… release those pictures?”, he asked, concern washing on his face

“He implied it”, you said after a long sigh

“That’s a felony, if he does something we can sue his ass”

“Yes, he hasn't though, not yet anyways”, you said, “he said some nasty things, made me realise who he really was, someone I couldn’t possibly be with, but, everything got scrambled back up again, me running away, we didn’t really broke up, but, this time it is for good, we are not getting back together, ever”, you said surely

“Like the great Margaery Tyrell said”, he teased, you giggled at him

“Yeah”, you admit, “but that day, I was fucked up, he said some nasty things… and… I got scared, he managed to get in my head, like he always does”

“And now?”, he asked

“Now that he is away, I've come to think about what he said… I’m out of his spell, I know he said those things, and aren’t true, so now I’m better”, you sentenced

“You don’t ever have to be scared…” he said gently, “I’m here, Jace, Sara, we are all here for you”

“Thank you”, you whispered

“Next time I see him, I will beat his ass”, he continued, “show him some northern hospitality”

“That is the opposite of Northern hospitality!”, you complained, He laughed

“I know!”, he laughed back, and then he got serious, “remember the girl that interrupted us the other night?”

“Yeah”

“She is my ex”, he told you, and you nodded, you had thought about that possibility, “she went to study to the White Harbor, we are both from here, know each other since we were little, and… we thought we could make it work, distance and all, but… she… started dating someone else and practically ghosted me, for months, broke with me over text”

“I’m so sorry”, you whispered

“I did my mourning too”, he said with a shy smile

“We are in a good track then”, you laughed

“We are”, he chuckled, you felt his gaze on you, is heated gaze, fuck, you needed him, you wanted him, did he wanted you too?

When your eyes connected, you realised it

Yes he did

You had placed your hand over the pillow that separated you two, and he did the same, grabbing it softly

“I’ll wait for you”, he whispered

“Thank you”, you said back, “I won't be long”, he smiled widely, his beautiful eyes twinkling. You intertwined your fingers, feeling electric currents flying all over your body

You fell asleep like that, holding hands.

The very next morning, you all woke up pretty early, you needed to get to class

WHen you got out of Cregan’s room, Jace was already making breakfast

“Hey” you said with a warning in your voice, it was weird looking at him after… hearing things

“Good morning”, he said with a wicked grin, “Sara is still asleep”

“It was haunting, jace”, you accused with a traumatised look on your face

“Not my fault you and Cregan didn’t make noises of your own…”, and then he smirked, “or did you?”

“No, we did nothing”, you said back, “because our ears were bleeding”, Jace chuckled, “please, ask Sara for a real date”

“I will”, he said with a smile, “relax”

“I’m relaxed”

“You need to get laid”

“Fuck you”

“Want to have breakfast?”, he asked

“I don’t know, did you wash your hands?”, Jace chuckled

“Yes I did”

“Than yes”, you whispered

“You heard about that party next weekend?”, he asked when Cregan walked back into the kitchen

“Just a party in the frat house”

“We have those?”, you asked

“Well, they call themselves that, they are the guys from the football team”, said Jace

“Why don’t you both live there too?”

“They never take freshmen, and… they are fucking animals”

“Yeah living there is not that fun… partying there though…”, Cregan hissed, “that is indeed evry entertaining”

“Can us girls go?”, you asked

“You are girls, so the answer is yes”, mocked Jace

“Great, so after the second heaviest week of our semester, we party”, you said with a wide smile

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twisted-lover-boys · 1 year

Note

Henlooo!!can I request Wednesday like s/o with the dorm leaders?male or gn,up to you(⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

Thank you and have a nice day!

Dorm Leaders With A Wednesday Addams Boyfriend

{not proof-read}

Addams family!!!! Man it has been forever since I watched them so I’ll do my best!

This took me forever my god—

==================================

🌹🦁🐙🦂👑💀🐲🌹🦁🐙🦂👑💀🐲

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Riddle knew his boyfriend was considered weird what with their dark color palette, dark interests, and seeming lack of emotion but he never really thought about it when he fell in love with you

Speaking of, your weirder interests included cryptic stories of monsters and myths, watching murder mysteries, and gothic tales of ghosts and atrocities. Riddle does not enjoy your interests and would rather not dive deep in with you but he’s not one to judge others on their interests

However, your more calmer interests include music. Riddle very much loves listening to you especially since you enjoy playing with your cello, fencing as you were very good at it and Riddle enjoys watching you on his free time, and writing although your stories were on the dark side.

Riddle knows his boyfriend isn’t very good with physical affection and always asks or give little hints which you usually pick up on very fast but he never goes over short hugs and hand holding. Your ways of affection usually some in ways of personalized gifts and quality time, which Riddle absolutely enjoys

Riddle gets very defensive when someone insults you or tries to call you weird. He knows you don’t care but he’d be remiss if he let you take those insults lying down

He knows that no matter how protective he is of you, he can never match your scary reputation which easily makes others retract their words on the dorm leader

No matter how weird other may think you are or how scary you can be, Riddle loves you very dearly and could never imagine a better boyfriend than you

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Leona doesn’t know how he always gets involved with weird people, his boyfriend being the biggest one but he’d be a damn liar if he said I didn’t fall head first for you

Honestly, he can’t understand your love of horror stories and gothic tales of murder but he doesn’t mind your interest in cryptics as he’s heard his fair share of cryptics in his home land

Your less-weirder interests include classical music, especially your cello which Leona wouldn’t mind listening to, fencing and he loves watching you kick butt, and writing just please don’t ask him to spell check he will fall asleep

Leona knows you’re not good with physical affection which he doesn’t mind but he always asks before he touches you. Your ways of affection were simple, such as handmade gifts and just spending quality time together which he is more than happy with

Leona isn’t one to let you take insults lying down, especially when it’s some student stepping out of line. Although you say you don’t care, he does and refuses to let you be slandered

However, he knows you can be just as protective him when it comes to someone trying to challenge him. He knows just how scary you can be so he’s not trying to jump in and stop you. Rather, he’s laughing from afar

No matter how weird you may seem or how troublesome Leona says you can be, he really does love you and wouldn’t trade that for anything

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Azul has always been around people that many considered weird and his boyfriend was no different…but he never really cared. Who’s to say what’s weird and what isn’t?

Your love of cryptics and horror really send chills up Azul’s spine and your gothic tales cause him to shiver in both the wrong and right ways. Of course, he’s not one to judge. They’re your interests and you can dive as deep as you want into them…just don’t bring him along

In contrast, your love of music and your mastery of the cello is something he can relate to as he is a classical musician as well he plays the piano shut up and your love of writing, although the tales are very grim. Your skills in fencing really stick out amongst your other interests but he’d be a liar is he said you weren’t good

You’re both touch starved messes one of you more than the other so touching is very hard for either of you but, when it happens, you don’t let go. However, your form of affection usually comes in the forms of gifts and quality time, which is still able to make Azul’s heart stop

Azul is already blackmailing anyone who tries to call you weird or call you out in general. Even though you’ve said that you don’t care what people think, he does and he refuses to let someone bad mouth his boyfriend

However, he knows how protective you can be over him. Your stoic, scary demeanor is enough to make someone stop their trash talk and, honestly, that makes him happy

Azul is one love sick octopus for you and, no matter what anyone says or thinks, you’ll always be a sweet and caring boyfriend to him

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Kalim never really cared if people though his boyfriend was weird or scary because he doesn’t see them like that. You’re his loving boyfriend so why would others thoughts get in the way of that?

Kalim can’t really enjoy your love of cryptics, horror, and gothic tales and he feels bad. Even though you tell him that it’s okay that he doesn’t like them, that he doesn’t have to force himself to like your interests because you’re his boyfriend, but he can’t help it

However, he enjoys your musical talent, especially with the cello, he enjoys watching you write even if he doesn’t like the tale itself, and enjoys watching you fence

He knows you’re not good with physical affection and he tends to forget when he always goes for your hands or for hugs and you unknowingly flinch, but he’s more than content with your handmade gifts and the sheer amount of quality time you spend together

Kalim doesn’t really like it when people try to insult you by calling you awful names. You’ve told him that you don’t care about what they say but he does and he doesn’t want you to hear those things

Kalim knows that you can be scarily protective of him whenever someone tries to be mean to him. He may not recognize when someone is trying to be rude but you certainly can

Kalim is a love sick fool for his boyfriend and, honestly, you don’t mind and neither does he

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Vil doesn’t really care if his boyfriend is weird or not since he’s always surrounded by people he considers weird himself so why would he call his boyfriend that?

Your love of horror and cryptic tales is not one he is fond of but, surprisingly, he doesn’t mind your love of gothic tales or aesthetics. In fact, your wardrobe is tailored to such an aesthetic, all thanks to Vil

Your other interests are also ones he doesn’t mind. Your love of music and your mastery of the cello, your love of writing, and your skills in fencing. He loves listening to you play and loves watching you fence as he finds it entertaining

Both you and Vil are not very good with physical affection, opting for thoughtful or handmade gifts and quality time to show your love for each other and you know what? It works

Vil will never, ever, EVER let anyone bad mouth you. It doesn’t matter if you don’t care about what people say he refuses to let alone bring down you, your image, or your reputation

On the opposite side, you make sure no one bad mouths. Again, he may not care about what people say but you’re not about to let anyone get away with it

Anyone would be a fool to think that Vil doesn’t love you because he absolutely does and he wouldn’t trade your relationship for anything

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Idia was absolutely scared of his boyfriend when he first met him but now he’s just numb to his stoic and scary demeanor

Honestly, Idia would probably share your likes of cryptics and gothic tales solely because there’s a possibility he consumes anime like that. However, he doesn’t share the same energy you have for horror but he will watch it with you if he wants to

Idia may not like the same music as you but he considers your classical cello playing nice background music. He kind of lets you to your own thing with writing and likes watching you fence through the security cams

You’re both not great with physical affection but neither of you minds. Since you both like to show your affection through gifts and quality time, you both couldn’t be more content

Idia is more than ready to defend your name if someone tries to say negative things about you. He is ready to throw hands…just not in public. Man is only strong behind a screen or in a position of power—

However, you’re ready to spill blood if anyone tries to say anything negative about Idia to your face. Honestly, it both scares and flatters the dorm head

Idia genuinely doesn’t care what others think. You’re his boyfriend and that’s that, nothing more nothing less

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Malleus doesn’t really understand why people think his boyfriend is weird but it’s probably because someone could compare him to a love sick dog

Malleus shares some of your interests but for very different reasons. Cryptics, horror, and gothic tales he find interesting because of their history and appeal while you like them because of how dark they are

On the opposite side, you both play classical music together, you on cello and Malleus on violin, sharing short stories that you wrote, and watching you fence which Malleus finds amusing

Physical affection between you two is non existent because Malleus doesn’t really know where to start because he’s touch starved while you’re just generally uncomfortable with it. However, gift giving and quality time is perfect for you

Malleus knows you don’t need his protection but he would never let you take an insult laying down, no matter how many times you say you don’t care what people say about you

You know that Malleus doesn’t need your protection but you’d never let anyone get away with an insult to your boyfriend, no matter how many times he says their comments are insignificant to him

You’re both a scary power couple that is so madly in love it’s like watching a romcom in real life—

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🌹🦁🐙🦂👑💀🐲🌹🦁🐙🦂👑💀🐲

==================================

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littlesparklight · 2 months

Text

A (not exhaustive) inventory of Astyanax's death and survival.

In the Little Iliad, Neoptolemos is the killer. In the Iliou Persis, Odysseus is the killer.

In the Trojan Women we don't actually know who does the deed, "merely" that Odysseus is singled out as the (major) voice who argued for his death. As Andrew Erskine in Troy Between Greece and Rome points out (referencing another academic as well), given the lack of detail in what's left to us, Odysseus might well have been involved in Astyanax's death in the Little Iliad as well, in the same role he has in here in the Trojan Women.

Seneca (Troades) follows Euripides in the public deliberation and has Odysseus being present for Astyanax's death, but he has Astyanax leap voluntarily. (Excuse me, WTF.)

Quintus of Smyrna, in his Posthomerica, has the killing be done by "the Greeks". Not just the deliberation like in the Trojan Women, but "they" seized him and tossed him from the wall. Whether intended or not, it makes it read a little like a mob scene. (edited to add this, because I'd forgotten to check.)

Tryphiodoros, in the Taking of Ilios, has it again be Odysseus.

So what we get is that even when Odysseus isn't actively the hand that commits the deed, he's the (first? major? leading?) voice in claiming it "needs" to be done. For the ~safety of Greece~, of course.

So, now we come to myths and stories of Astyanax's survival. It's mostly here the "not exhaustive" disclaimer applies. For a lot of the Medieval sources (where this idea flourishes) I can't double check if they say anything about who/how Astyanax survives.

With that said; the Medieval manuscripts aren't the earliest ideas of Astyanax's survival!

One is late Classical or earlier; Dionysios of Halikarnassos reports of the Ilians (that is, the Anatolian Greeks of the "modern" Ilion/Troy, built somewhere after ~1000 BC) had a founding legend that involved Astyanax and Askanios. Given that Astyanax can approach his cousin after being released by Neoptolemos, presumably Neoptolemos didn't kill Astyanax but rather take him along into slavery with his mother and Helenos.

I'll just include this screencap from Troy Between Greece and Rome for the next bit since it's easier:

On to the Medieval sources; the absolute earliest appearances of Astyanax here is as the founder of the Franks, now named Francion/Francus. French Wikipedia has a note to an author that says that Astyanax's survival was effected by (unnamed in the text and note) Medieval authors by the Greeks softening up and ending up not killing Asyanax because of his beauty.

Next is the "Andromache swaps Astyanax for another child and the Greeks (more like Odysseus) is tricked and kills the substitute". It has several appearances/uses, but the earliest (at least by the list in Wikipedia) seems to be Boiardo's Orlando Innamorato (1495).

While being unable to, like, check if anyone is named as the rescuer in some of these (Wiki also has an unsourced mention of Talthybios), in general we seem to land on either Neoptolemos or, in later stories, Andromache herself. I wouldn't think Neoptolemos ends up not killing Astyanax out of the goodness of his heart, more as a way to control Andromache, but there it is either way. Odysseus is only ever an obstacle to be worked around, which isn't odd given how often he is either the killer, or, maybe far more important, the voice to argue that Astyanax need to die. Not so odd he'd then be construed in later stories as the character to be specifically tricked by the child-swap.

I'll put the sources under the cut!

(For the Little Iliad) Scholiast on Lycophr. Alex., 1268: "Then the bright son of bold Achilles led the wife of Hector to the hollow ships; but her son he snatched from the bosom of his rich-haired nurse and seized him by the foot and cast him from a tower. So when he had fallen bloody death and hard fate seized on Astyanax. And Neoptolemus chose out Andromache, Hector's well-girded wife, and the chiefs of all the Achaeans gave her to him to hold requiting him with a welcome prize. And he put Aeneas, the famous son of horse-taming Anchises, on board his sea-faring ships, a prize surpassing those of all the Danaans."

(For the Sack of Ilion/Ilioupersis) The Greeks, after burning the city, sacrifice Polyxena at the tomb of Achilles: Odysseus murders Astyanax; Neoptolemus takes Andromache as his prize, and the remaining spoils are divided.

(Note 136 to Apllodorus' Library, trans. Frazer) Compare Arctinus, Ilii Persis, summarized by Proclus, in Epicorum Graecorum Fragmenta, ed. G. Kinkel, p. 50; Eur. Tro. 719-739, Eur. Tro. 1133-1135; Eur. And. 8-11; Paus. 10.26.9; Quintus Smyrnaeus, Posthomerica xiii.251-257; Tryphiodorus, Excidium Ilii 644-646; Tzetzes, Scholiast on Lycophron 1263; Scholiast on Eur. Andr. 10; Ov. Met. 13.415-417; Hyginus, Fab. 109; Seneca, Troades 524ff., 1063ff. While ancient writers generally agree that Astyanax was killed by being thrown from a tower at or after the sack of Troy, they differ as to the agent of his death. Arctinus, as reported by Proclus, says merely that he was killed by Ulysses. Tryphiodorus reports that he was hurled by Ulysses from a high tower. On the other hand, Lesches in the Little Iliad said that it was Neoptolemus who snatched Astyanax from his mother's lap and cast him down from the battlements (Tzetzes and Paus. 10.26.9). According to Euripides and Seneca, the murder of the child was not perpetrated in hot blood during the sack of Troy but was deliberately executed after the capture of the city in pursuance of a decree passed by the Greeks in a regular assembly. This seems to have been the version followed by Apollodorus, who apparently regarded the death of Astyanax as a sacrifice, like the slaughter of Polyxena on the grave of Achilles. But the killing of Astyanax was not thus viewed by our other ancient authorities, unless we except Seneca, who describes how Astyanax leaped voluntarily from the wall while Ulysses was reciting the words of the soothsayer Calchas and invoking the cruel gods to attend the rite.

(Trojan Women, Euripides) Talthybius You that once were the wife of Hector, bravest of the Phrygians, [710] do not hate me, for I am not a willing messenger. The Danaids and sons of Pelops both command—

Andromache What is it? your prelude bodes evil news.

[…]

Talthybius They mean to slay your son; there is my hateful message to you.

Andromache [720] Oh me! this is worse tidings than my forced marriage.

Talthybius So spoke Odysseus to the assembled Hellenes, and his word prevails.

Andromache Oh, once again alas! there is no measure in the woes I bear.

Talthybius He said they should not rear so brave a father's son.

(Dionysios of Halikarnassos; Ant. Rom. 1. 47. 5–6) Aineias . . . sent Askanios, the eldest of his sons, with some of the allies, mainly Phrygians, to the land called Daskylitis, where the Askanian lake is, since his son had been invited by the inhabitants to rule over them. Askanios did not dwell there for long. When Skamandrios and the other descendants of Hektor approached him after Neoptolemos had released them from Greece, he went to Troy and restored them to their ancestral kingdom.

#the iliad #trojan war #astyanax #odysseus #andromache of troy #neoptolemus #greek myth thoughts

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emeraldspiral · 10 months

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So from what I understand, the initial pitch for Invader Zim was that the main source of comedy was Zim thinking posing as an elementary school student was the best use of his time as a spy and making leaps of logic based on his lack of cultural knowledge. And we did certainly see stuff like that happen in the show, but I think over time there was a shift to more episodes focusing on the Zim/Dib rivalry or things going on in space that didn’t feature the skool setting at all or didn’t revolve around cultural misunderstandings to drive the plot. IDK if they did more of that in the comics, but here’s some ideas I feel were missed opportunities. Not including anything obvious like “skool dance” episode, or “forced to work with Dib on a project”.

1 - An episode that’s just Zim and Dib narrating short stories they wrote for a creative writing assignment. It might be low-hanging fruit for them to both write the same story of a real incident between them from either of their perspectives, or a self-insert wish-fulfillment fantasy about defeating one another. I kinda like the idea of Dib writing the kind of story he himself would enjoy, like a noir-style detective story with a supernatural twist or gothic horror ghost story. Zim would just copy a story told to him by GIR, which itself is a mangled retelling of something that happened on TV that neither of them actually understand, but no matter how ridiculous and nonsensical the plot was he’d read it like it was Shakespeare.

2 - Similarly, an episode that’s just Zim giving an oral presentation on a historical figure or event, but he gets a ton of stuff wrong due to misinterpretation, or mixing up factual sources with like, a historical fantasy. Like if he read TF2 lore and told the class that stairs were invented by Abraham Lincoln.

3 - Zim gets an exam/report card back and finds out he’s performing poorly, which makes him question whether he’s learned anything at all from all the time he’s spent gathering intel. He decides to put his plans for conquest on hold to spend more time studying, except he’s not studying anything actually assigned by the skool and nothing he learns is on his next test or useful for conquering the humans.

4 - Alternatively, Zim is warned that because of all his absences and poor performance he’s at risk of being expelled. Dib mocks him for it at the first, but then decides he’d rather not have to worry about what Zim’s getting up to all day while he’s stuck in class, so he decides to help Zim break into the server room for the skool’s computer system so they can change his report card, but because this is Zimworld the security system is ridiculously over-the-top and the stakes are a like a Die Hard movie.

5 - The skool needs a team to represent for an academic decathlon. Zim signs up because he wants to show off his superior intellect and Dib joins the team to keep an eye on him (and prove his superior intellect). Zim and Dib are the math and science experts while their other teammates specialize in different subjects but everyone except Zim at least knows enough about the other subjects to mostly get the answers right if they’re forced to answer something outside their specialty. Unfortunately all the questions Zim and Dib know the answers to go to their less science-minded teammates and they get stuck with all the insane questions about skinning moose and other lectures from Ms. Bitters that they didn’t pay attention to.

Either that, or they keep getting quizzed about pop culture trivia they don’t know because they don’t keep up with mainstream television. Zim ends up getting a question right that wins the game however because he remembered it from some insufferable show GIR watches constantly and everyone treats him like a fucking genius for it. Dib meanwhile is treated like an idiot for getting all the stupid pop-culture questions wrong.

6 - The class has to read some classic lit out loud and Zim’s over-the-top dramatic narration leads to him being asked to audition for the skool play. Zim scores the lead role and gets way too into method acting. To the point where Dib can’t even tell if he legitimately thinks he’s the character or if he’s just doing it to mess with him.

7 - Zim joins a skool club and quickly usurps the club’s leadership and rules over the other members with an iron fist, twisting it from its original purpose into just being a club dedicated to serving his whims/messing with Dib. It all falls apart for some stupid reason like one member leaving and forcing the club to dissolve because it didn’t have enough members or some forms not being filled out correctly or budget issues forcing a bunch of clubs to shut down. Meanwhile, Dib tries to start a paranormal club but can’t get any members and gets kicked out of every other club he joins for trying to steer it away from whatever its original purpose was to make it about the paranormal.

8 - Baseball/team sports episode. Zim and Dib are both actually pretty decent so their team begrudgingly puts up with them. They let their rivalry get in the way at first and don’t pay any attention to the skool’s rival team talking trash about their skool. Even when it turns into an 80s cliche where the skool will actually be closed if they don’t win the game they don’t care because it is a shit skool and if it closes they’ll just go somewhere else. It’s only when one of the rival team members interrupts Zim and Dib in the middle of their own little pissing contest that they finally get their act together and start strategizing with the rest of their team. They win and finally get a taste of what it’s like to be appreciated momentarily for carrying the team until everyone else finds out their shitty skool is staying open because of them.

9 - Some Yu-Gi-Oh/Magic-type card game becomes really popular and Zim decides to get into it to blend in and find a way to exploit it to gain power over the humans. Dib naturally gets in on it too and they get way too serious about it. It either becomes an over-the-top parody of Yu-Gi-Oh and its hyper-realistic holograms and battle arenas that turn card games into genuine life-threatening experiences for participants and audiences alike, or it satirizes the satanic panic by having some kind of reveal that all the cards are actually possessed by real supernatural spirits and the games are part of some nefarious third party antagonist’s plot to overrun the world with demons or something.

#invader zim

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gimmethosedaddymilkers · 5 months

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Just a Crush

Okay this one was requested by the lovely @mrsarthurmorgan7 who asked for more Chubby Arthur and Chubby reader, which OF COURSE I'm gonna write that's my favorite kind.

This one is a request for a shy chubby female reader who has a huge crush on Arthur and he knows about it which he jokes with her, not to be mean of course, he would never.

The request was for modern, so that's the route we're going, no one worry though, there will be some 1899 Arthur coming soon >:)

Warnings: Fluff, teasing, obviously we have to have some NSFW jokes in there, but nothing TOO bad, don't panic.

Gif is from Pinterest, still mad at Tumblr >:(

You HATED this.

Okay, well you didn't really hate it.

But you HATED it.

Arthur was such...you couldn't sit here and say that he was an ass, he wasn't, not in the slightest. In fact he was the opposite, but he always seemed to tease you, and it was AWFUL.

He knew exactly what made your face red and that's part of the reason why you were 100% sure that he KNEW how you felt about him.

You HATED it because you could never tell if he meant the words he said or if he was just playing around.

What's worse was that you could barely form coherent sentences around him.

You'd never seen such an attractive man before. Arthur was MASSIVE. For a lack of better words, he was huge.

A little on the chubby side, but it just made him a hundred times more attractive in your eyes.

His chest was meaty, arms were huge, both biceps and forearms, and his thighs too.

He was an absolute unit of a man and if he REALLY wanted to he could cause some serious damage.

Hell you knew that he could.

His family and your family have been friends for generations, you grew up with the man and even as a teenager he was a big guy, you'd watched him swing an axe and cut wood for your mother when your father had been too busy to do it.

It was easy for him, like slicing butter.

He was farm strong. Chubby with a little bit of belly but strong enough that his back, chest and arms were defined, it was the best body type but it did nothing to help you when it came to talking to him.

Today was no different than any other day.

Your family was having a cookout for the Fourth of July. So of course Arthur's family was there too.

You'd done your best to avoid him, your family had a swimming pool, and with the heat everyone had a swimsuit on, including you.

You had made the dumb decision of trying to wear a two piece rather than what you're comfortable with, a one piece.

Being chubbier you hated how the two piece looked on you, and the idea was initially to try and get your confidence up rather than down, but once Arthur and his family had shown up that idea flew right out of your mind.

Suddenly you felt completely exposed and you felt entirely too chubby to be wearing what you were, and you knew for a damn fact if Arthur saw you he'd immediately make fun of you.

You couldn't bare the idea, not when you were dressed like this. He'd be shirtless too, if he was planning on swimming and you knew that wouldn't help you focus either.

So, you sat in the corner of your parent's yard, in a swing that had been there for god knows how long, trying to make sure you were the least noticeable person there.

You'd been doing a rather fantastic job, quietly covering your stomach with crossed arms over it, until Arthur does in fact spot you out of the corner of his eyes.

He begins to head towards you, that classic smirk on his face and to your horror, he is in fact wearing nothing but his swim trunks.

You do your best to pretend that it wasn't a big deal for him to come your way.

"Well, well, well, what are you doin' all the way over here little Darlin'? Hidin' from the rest of us are ya?"

He chuckles, that southern charm rolling off his tongue easily, reaching your ears like some kind of liquid gold.

"Just...sitting Arthur."

You mumble, your arms instinctively tightening over your stomach, not wanting him to see it.

"Mhm...is that right?"

He smiles and takes a seat on the swing next to you, even without touching you, you can feel the heat radiating off of him.

"So, what's my biggest supporter been up to?"

You scoff and roll your eyes, but the red color that fills your cheeks doesn't help you portray the annoyance you wanted to.

"I am NOT your biggest supporter."

"Aw c'mon Princess..."

Arthur smirks and he puts a finger under your chin, making you look at him.

"I got you wrapped around my fingers, you can't sit here and pretend I don't...you ain't very good at lyin'."

You frown and sigh, managing to look away.

You can hear Arthur chuckle again, a happy sound, and he gently shoves your shoulder.

"Never gets old, that color in your face."

"Shut up Arthur, don't you have someone else to bother?"

"Now why would I go do that when you're my favorite?"

You try to remain annoyed and angry but you can't help but laugh and smile.

"Alright...okay."

"See, now stop bein' grumpy and talk to me, I haven't seen ya in a while."

"We hung out last week Arthur. At the bar?"

"Oh yeah...You ever give that one fella a call?"

You snort.

"Hell no."

"And why not? He liked ya!"

"Cause I didn't like him."

"Cause you didn't like him, or cause you liked someone else?"

He questions, wiggling his eyebrows at you, that stupid smirk on his face.

"I hate you."

"No ya don't. If anythin' I think it's the opposite, I think you love me."

"Shut up Arthur."

He nudges you, that smile on his face.

"C'monn....let's have some fun, okay? It's a party ain't it? Lets swim!"

"Oh...no, Arthur-"

"No, c'mon."

He stands and grabs your hand, which sends even more color into your face, and he pulls you up off the swing, dragging you towards the pool.

"Arthur-"

"Please? C'mon...We ain't too old to be havin' fun just yet. I'll even get John in here."

"Arthur -"

"You look great."

He stops walking and looks at you. Something in his eyes tells you he means that. It's not another one of his jokes.

"If that's what you're worried about. You look fantastic. I saw you coverin' your stomach earlier...You ain't got nothin' to hide. You look good, ain't no one gonna make fun of you, and if they do I'll take care of it, okay? Now, will you please go swimmin' with me?"

"....Alright, okay."

He smiles brightly at you and continues to lead the way to the pool, saying quick hellos to those he passes and finally he reaches the pool.

He stops at the edge before getting in and waits until you join him.

He looks at the pool, then at you and suddenly you feel his arm on your back just moments before you're shoved into the pool.

You swim up and cough a moment, then point up at him as he stands there, laughing.

"You son of a bitch-" You try to sound threatening but the giggle in your voice is all to evident.

He leans down a little as you swim to the edge.

"You mad at me Sweetheart?"

You smile at him, doing your best to look sweet.

"No, not at all."

You smile again, and then you grab onto the pocket of his swim trunks and yank as hard as you can, pulling him into the water with you.

You laugh loudly as Arthur comes careening into the water, splashing everywhere as he goes under.

Once he comes up, spitting out water, he gives you a look of astonishment before he again gives that smirk you know all to well.

"Oho...you're in for it now Darlin'!"

He swims towards you, and splashes you, sending a large wave of water your way with his arm.

You scoff and send a wave back.

He laughs and the splashing between the two of you continue.

You can't help but laugh and smile as the two of you do this, ignoring the rest of the party, as far as you were aware, it was just the two of you, and no one else.

Eventually Arthur takes the initiative, and ducks underwater as you send a splash his way.

You furrow your brow, confused for a moment, only to feel large hands on your thighs as you're hoisted upwards out of the water.

You look down with wide eyes at Arthur as he looks up at you where you now sit upon his shoulders, his hands on the outer edges of your thighs.

He snorts and turns, taking you with him, looking out towards the party.

"Which of you fools wants to play chicken with Y/N and I?"

He calls, smacking your thigh slightly.

"C'monnnn not all of ya are...chicken are ya?"

He offers a loud laugh and makes a chicken noise, jumping from left to right in the water.

You feel yourself falling and instinctually you clench your thighs in an attempt to stay upright rather than plummet into the water.

Arthur looks up at you as he does and he snickers.

"Mmm...You havin' a bit of a reaction up there are ya Princess? Can't say its the first time I've had a woman's thighs around my head like that."

"Shut up!"

He snorts and again pats your thigh before opening his mouth to call out again, just as John and Abigail rush over and climb into the pool.

John's smirk is nearly malicious as he nears.

"It's my time to shine here Morgan, I'll knock you both over and if I win this, I'm never letting it go-"

"Oh horse shit, I weigh more than you alone, me and Y/N both could knock you and Abigail over in a matter of seconds."

John scoffs and motions for Abigail to come over. The two take a second and manage to get Abigail on his shoulders.

"Havin' fun up here Y/N?" Abigail asks, a smile on her face.

"As much as I can I suppose-"

You answer, still attempting to keep your balance.

"You ready!?"

Arthur asks.

"I guess so!"

The four of you take a moment to start and then finally John and Arthur move towards one another, looking up at you and Abigail as the both of you fight to stay up.

Abigail is strong, even though she's smaller than you, and it's quite a fight for you to win.

She shoves you and you shove back, her arms and yours a tangled mess as each of you do your best to knock the other over.

Finally, after what feels like forever, and with both John and Arthur cheering the two of you on, you manage to push Abigail over, landing both her and John in the pool with a loud splash.

You smile and cheer, and Arthur does too, he shrugs you off his shoulders, though it's done in such a smooth way that he manages to catch you in his arm, bringing you to his side.

He briefly kisses your cheek a wide grin on his face.

"You did it!"

He smiles at you and watches as you look up at him in awe, your eyes wide and your jaw slack as your gently press your hand to your cheek where he'd kissed you.

He tilts his head, almost like a curious dog, and raises an eyebrow.

"Y/N? You alright there? Looks like you short circuited." He chuckles.

"Did you just kiss me?"

"What? That? Yeah, sorry I just kinda did it, didn't mean to upset ya-"

"You just...did it?"

"Yeah, didn't really think about it much-"

You look at him and after a moment he seems to recognize what it is that you're getting at.

He looks at you for a moment, then suddenly he makes a decision.

Why is he teasing you so much? Why is he sitting here pretending that you're the only one who has feelings for the other when in reality he feels the same for you? Why is he doing that to himself when the two of you could easily be a couple?

Well...He knew why, it was fun to see that face of yours go all red when he was smug about it all, but...why didn't he just go for it?

He cared for you, you cared for him, and how long had this unspoken thing been there between the two of you?

Wasn't it about time that ONE of you did something about it?

He looks at you a moment longer, and then before you can register what it is that's happening, his large hands are cupping your face and his lips are pressed to yours, kissing you fully.

You're stunned, your eyes wide, but after only a moment you fall into the kiss, pressing your hands to his chest and bringing yourself closer to him.

At the moment the sound of both your family and his, including John and Abigail, all cheering, as if they had been waiting years, fades away and it's just the two of you.

When he pulls away he smiles down at you, and for once he's the one with a red face.

"That one I did think about."

"You know...I hate you."

"You don't."

"...I don't."

You chuckle and keep your hands where they are, looking at him.

"I hope you know I've wanted that for the longest time."

He chuckles, a hand going around your waist.

"Can't say I haven't...I ain't much of a liar."

"Bullshit."

"Alright I am, but I wouldn't shit you, you're my favorite turd."

"Ew Arthur-"