#Actually the same is true for a bunch of other characters also

[nostalgebraist]

When you finish writing a big story and you became very close the characters, was there a time after where you were like "i kind of want to revisit these characters again, but i should probably just let the story be, they deserve to rest" Im not talking about wanting to write a sequel, is more about still coming up with fun ideas for them, maybe a little scene or something, but choosing not to do anything with it because it'd feel disrespectful to the ending you gave them?

This doesn't happen to me, no.

The reason is that, once I finish the story, my sense of "being close to the characters" suddenly vanishes. And, although there are rare moments where it (briefly) returns, it mostly stays gone.

I can't remember if I've ever talked about this in detail before, but – when I'm in the process of writing a story, especially near the end, the characters feel "real" to me in a very strong and kind of uncanny way.

I don't actually believe that they exist as independent entities from me (much less sentient ones), but it does almost feel like that's true, when I'm in the thick of the writing process.

I have no trouble intellectually distinguishing fiction from reality, even in the state I'm describing. But my emotional and intuitive relationship with my characters, when I'm in that state, is pretty similar to the one I have with real people I know in real life. And there are a bunch of... uh, mental phenomena?... associated with this that I'm slightly afraid to describe because I worry they'll sound like hallucinations or delusions if I don't add a lot of caveats.

For example, when I'm alone in a room writing (especially if I'm writing in the middle of the night), I sometimes feel like it's not just me in the room, that the character I'm writing about is "there with me," in much the same way I'd be aware of someone real person's presence if I knew they were in the room but didn't happen to be looking in their direction. Or: sometimes I feel like the characters' voices are "flowing through me," that I'm merely taking dictation from them – and will sometimes even think to myself: "man, I'm so grateful that the character is helping me write this part, because if I tried to do it all by myself there's no way I would get it right." And it takes a moment before I realize, wait, no, I am writing it by myself – at least in a literal and physical sense.

Basically if you read this post, and then sort of read between the lines of it under the assumption that I'm downplaying how weird the experience actually is because I'm worried an accurate account would make me sound kind of unhinged... then you will have roughly the right impression of what the writing experience is like for me.

Whatever is going on here, it feels like it's probably on some kind of spectrum that also contains stuff like tulpas, multiple systems, and maybe also the way that children can sometimes get really deeply wrapped up in their imaginary play. I don't know how common this stuff is among writers (maybe it is common but rarely talked about?). It's not something I've experienced anywhere else in life; I don't experience it with other people's fictional characters or stories, or with fantasies I have that aren't associated with a work in progress, and I don't remember ever experiencing it before I started writing fiction as an adult.

Anyway, as I said at the top, the moment I finish writing a story, this phenomenon simply turns off, suddenly and completely. The transition is very noticeable when it happens, and makes me feel something akin to grief or loneliness over the brief span between the moment it starts and the moment it is fully completed – like I've just lost a bunch of close friends at once.

With Almost Nowhere, I remember a very specific feeling – on the evening of the day when I finished writing – that the characters were "departing 'into' the finished book," reverting to a lesser existence as "mere words" rather than "real people," as though they had been plastic toys animated by Terra Ignota's Bridger, and were now turning back into toys again. It made me sad, for a little while, but once they'd fully "lost their reality" I no longer cared, because it was that same sense of reality that made me care, and now it was gone.

So, to finish answering your question: I don't feel an urge to return to my old characters, because it feels intuitively obvious that doing this is impossible. That anything else I wrote about them would be inauthentic, somehow, in a way that the original work wasn't. They were "there," before, but they're "gone," now. This difference is very stark, and very hard to ignore.

(As I noted above, they do sometimes "come back" to me – very rarely, and very briefly, but that is enough for a proof of concept. Perhaps, if I were to try, I could find some way to "bring them back" for longer intervals. But I doubt I will ever try that. I feel a bit afraid of the concept for several reasons – for one thing, the "inauthenticity" I just mentioned squicks me out and I'd prefer not to come too close to it, and I also have a baseline wariness of doing stuff that seems too much like messing around with my own mental health. There's also a "catch-22" involved here, where I don't feel motivated about the characters the way I used to, and that means I'm not even motivated to do things that would generate that motivation. The "target" of the effort won't appeal strongly to me until I've already gone to the trouble of obtaining it, which means the effort doesn't feel justified in the first place.)

[thisisallthehattersfault]

AU where Hualian met and got together some time before Xie Lian's General Hua era, and they ended up properly being able to raise and take care of Banyue and Pei Su.

Also they somehow end up figuring out what's up with Jun Wu, and when Pei Su still ascends, he does so with the knowledge of what Jun Wu is. Instead of killing all those people at Banyue pass for Ban Yue, he's working within heaven against Jun Wu.

I just want a fic that really delves into Pei Ming's relationship with Pei Su, and the realization that he didn't actually know the kid nearly as well as he thought he did. Also, we see in canon that Pei Su seems to respect and look up to Xie Lian more than he does Pei Ming, which is another thing that's never really addressed but could be interesting to explore. And I like the idea of heaven being like "The Ghost City is dangerous and volatile and Hua Cheng is the ultimate evil" and then we cut to Pei Su vising home for a weekend and having to dodge dozens of well-meaning ghost aunties trying to feed him questionable things before he gets to Paradise Manor and is immediately accosted by Hua Cheng because oh, I see, you have the time to run all those errands for Ming Guang but you don't have the time to cALL YOUR FUCKING PARENTS--

[johanna-swann]

I actually have sooo many issues with 911 lately that haven't even got much to do with any ships.

Like. They wrote out almost all of the side characters. Chris is gone, Linda and Sue are gone, Athena's kids are gone (even though Harry just moved in with her and Bobby again? Seriously, where is Harry?), Ravi is gone, Carla is gone. I know the GA maybe don't care that much, casual viewers might not even have noticed that this many characters have just vanished from the show, but in my opinion this is one of the things that give a show running as long as 911 life. Having a big cast is a good thing. Otherwise things are going to get very monotonous very soon.

Actually, that's my second point. They keep repeating storylines! Every season Hen and Karen have to fight a custody battle over one of their kids.

Every season Eddie ends up realising he has a lot of repressed trauma and issues which keep him from leading a healthy happy and free life.

Every season Bathena realise that they have communication issues and they fight about it, but then something traumatic happens and they forgive each other without ever really talking things out.

Every season we are reminded that Maddie's most prominent character trait is "traumatised", the writers just alternatingly bring up Doug again and sometimes the ppd arc.

Every season we see Buck being somewhat restless, looking and searching for something that will bring him true happiness and cycling through love interests that never stick around and each time when you think "oh, there it is, he's getting somewhere now" the writers go "BEEEP! WRONG!" and we start all over again. [This is not just about recent events aka Tommy, the break-up and Buck potentially going back to his 1.0 ways, this also happened in season 6 when he had his "it doesn't matter what other people see in me, I'm enough" revelation only to suddenly be like "omg, Natalia just sees me".]

And Chimney- he had his moment last season with the wedding episode, Kenneth Choi really ate that episode up, but his most prominent character trait is "Maddie's supportive husband". There's really not that much going on with him otherwise.

Another point I briefly touched upon above is consistency. Like Harry moving back in with Athena and Bobby and then just vanishing. Or Gerrard being more like a slightly unfriendly grandpa than an actual antagonist in season 8 when he was still spouting slurs in season 7.

And the timeline! We talked about this before ("last March", Mara's fostering to adoption timeline, Tommy tranferring to harbour "5 years ago"), but the newest "Tommy was actually Abby's Tommy" twist just adds to that. Tommy was with Abby for over 2 years. They were engaged. This was at a time when he was still at the 118. Tommy dated Abby presumably because he was in denial or maybe because he was hiding. In either case, wouldn't his team at least have heard about his fiancée, Abby the dispatcher? Wouldn't that have rung a bell when Buck eventually brought her around only a year or two later? Tommy did talk about his private life at least a little at work, even under Gerrard. It just doesn't make sense. (Not to mention this seems wildly out of character for Tommy who around the same time also said about himself "being single is easier".)

Then there's the pacing. This was a huge issue in season 7. They jumped from one personal soap opera drama to the next without taking any breathers, had almost no procedural in their drama the whole season, still somehow decided to spend one third of the entire season just on the opening disaster and also squeezed in a "Bobby begins for the third time now" episode. But okay, it was a shortened season, there were strikes, they switched networks, they were under a lot of pressure - I'll cut them some slack. At least they set up a bunch of interesting stuff for the following season.

But we're in season 8 now. The renewal was announced very early, they had a lot of time to plan this time. Also they have almost double the episodes they had last season, there's really no need to rush any of the major plots. I am done cutting them slack.

They wanna do a 3 part opening disaster again? Okay fine, you have the time now. I feel like they could've easily done it in 2 episodes (especially 8x02 felt a little "eh"), but okay. Better than the breakneck speed you were going at befo- Oh, what's that? 8x04 flying in with a steel chair. You resolved 70% percent of the plots you set up last season in one single episode with no build up, no emotional pay off and no lasting consequences? And you also squeezed in multiple unrelated calls at the same time? Damn, okay then. Good-bye potentially interesting storylines. Fuck me for being invested I guess. I thought there would at least maybe be some follow up in 8x05, but no.

Now that Halloween episode wasn't bad, it was actually the best episode of this season imo, but instead of following up on previously established conflicts and developments they just hit us with new Wilson family trauma and conflict that was also immediately fixed again. And now 8x06 has speedrun and dumped another storyline that had potential to go to deeper and interesting places. Not gonna talk too much about that though because this post is about the show as a whole, not ships.

And I am not yet convinced that there will be much more to come on the only thing that's left from last season: Eddie's deep dive into his trauma and repression. It's totally possible at this point that being told "you deserve nice things" by a random stranger actually solved all of his problems, it would be very in tone with 911's new style.

What are they even gonna do with the rest of this season? Revisiting the Hotshots set sounds fun, but ultimately inconsequential. You know what's great about a regular old procedural drama with ~20 episodes per season that comes on weekly? You have time. You can let the viewers sit with their emotions and thoughts for a week and keep them engaged by stretching things out a little.

But why should I bother getting emotionally invested in problems the characters are gonna solve within the same episode anyway? Or rather, even if I wanted to, how am I supposed to care if you don't give me the time to develop any feelings about anything that's happening? "Henren lost in court and are now completely forbidden from seeing Mara at all!" Damn, that must be so har- "JUST KIDDING! Ortiz is exposed and everything is perfect again now." Oh. Okay then, I guess.

Bottom line: The characters are all stuck in their own hamster wheels, they keep cutting side characters that could bring a breeze of fresh air (I'm honestly surprised they even kept Josh until now), they rush through all the storylines a such a ridiculous speed that I don't even have time to feel any sort of way about it, they don't even try to keep a consistency or sensible timeline going and they seem to strongly prioritise random funny bits that'll entertain the very casual viewers right now in this moment (tiger call, Billy Boils, Bee-nado, the 'Stache tm, "wait, it's the same Abby?", Gerrard being a fangirl at heart) instead of playing the long game and catering to people who actually pay a little attention to the show.

[On that last remark: I'm not talking about hardcore fans who analyse every single frame here, I mean casual fans who've watched the show on and off again for a while and who may not be involved in fandom but genuinely care about the show.]

I mean. What am I even still doing here? The show is treading water and I end up disappointed more often than not. I'm still holding out a little hope that they actually will do something interesting with Eddie and his sea-monkeys, but I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't.

[moonlit-tulip]

It's often noted, in discussions of the Death Note anime, that it's much weaker than the manga in its rendition of post-timeskip events partly for pacing reasons: the pre-timeskip parts of the anime adapt ~6.5 manga-volumes in 25 episodes, while the post-timeskip parts adapt ~5.5 in 12 episodes, so a lot more important detail-work is lost and the whole thing ends up feeling kind of perfunctory.

Much less often noted as far as I've seen, but nonetheless also true, is that the Death Note anime removes some important characterization-nuance from Light, starting right near the beginning, whose presence elevates the manga to be substantially better than the anime even before the time-skip.

In particular: the Death Note manga is, at its core, a tragedy in classic "character who has everything falls into ruin due to a fatal personal flaw" style. Light is a brilliant student who, in the future ahead of him, has the potential to do practically whatever he wants. He's driven to ruin by the fatal flaw of unwillingness to admit, either to others or to himself, when he's made a mistake. This flaw is an essential piece of his characterization, in the manga. And the anime pretty much entirely skips over it.

As portrayed in the manga, Light's decision to become Kira—which ultimately leads to his downfall—is made in the following way. First, he finds the Death Note, and is led by morbid curiosity to write a name in it, killing someone. Then, still not really believing it, he kills a second person too. At which point it hits him that he's killed two people. And at that point, after a viscerally-horrified breakdown about what he's done, the inability to admit mistakes kicks in, and he proceeds to rewrite his own value-system such that it yields the result that killing those people was actually okay, and in fact morally good. Because the alternative would be for him to acknowledge himself as having made a terrible mistake, and that, more than anything else, is something he's unwilling to do if he can see any other option at all. And then, having convinced himself that those two murders were good, he proceeds to reason that, if they were good, then doing more like them is good; and thus he becomes Kira, leading eventually, far down the line, to his ruin. The anime, by contrast, substantially deemphasizes this flaw of his, portraying him as much more calmly put-together through that series of events and thus making him come across as having been tempted in becoming-Kira-ward directions all along.

Similarly, in the anime, when Light leaks a bunch of information to L about his identity by using non-public information acquired via police channels, he declares that actually this was deliberate as a means of baiting L out so he can kill him, and the anime presents this declaration pretty uncritically. The manga, by contrast, presents it as an extension of that same character-flaw: Light is unwilling to admit to having actually just straightforwardly messed up, and therefore makes up a new plan to view himself to have been following-all-along, thus leading him to take more risks in his game against L going forward and thus, once again, helping him along the path to ruin.

Et cetera.

Compared with the manga, then, the anime's version of Light's characterization ends up less interesting. And, moreover, it introduces a plot hole, when the Yotsuba arc comes around! It makes it much less clear why an amnesiac Light would be so straightforwardly aligned against Kira. In the manga, this is pretty clear: a Light who never killed anyone wouldn't have rewritten his values to consider killing people to be good, and therefore would look at Kira as straightforwardly evil. And, in fact, his amnesiac self has trouble taking the possibility of his having been Kira previously, even as the evidence starts building up, because becoming Kira would be a mistake according to his value-system of the moment, and this leaves him having a very hard time contemplating the possibility of its having in fact happened! Whereas the anime, by deemphasizing Light's big flaw, makes his amnesiac-self's differences from the way he is for most of the story up to that point come across as much more out-of-nowhere, much less narratively well-founded.

So, overall, the people who talk about the Death Note manga as superior to the anime specifically post-timeskip strike me as somewhat understating things. The manga is superior to the anime pre-timeskip, too, via that extra layer of characterization and a resulting improvement both in character-interestingness and in plot-coherence. And thus I consider the manga to be very much the definitive version of Death Note from start to finish, despite the anime's relatively-higher popularity.

[pearlescynt]

݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .☽ fae trap ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖

{ Pairing } - Elf!Felix x Witch.afab!Reader

{ Genre } - Smut, Dark, Fantasy

{ Synopsis } - It is said, that if you ever find yourself inside of a fairy ring. The fae will punish you, by making you dance until you are passing out from exhaustion. But when you find yourself doing a different kind of 'dance' on the ground, in the middle of one, with the most beautiful creature you've ever seen you might add, you wonder; is this truly a punishment?

{ WC } - 7.7k

{ Warnings & Tags } - 18+ MDNI, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, dubcon, aphrodisiac effects, oral (f&m receiving), unprotected sex (piv; do as I say, not as I write & pee after sex!), rough/hard sex, overstimulation, big dick felix, dacryphilia, talk of breeding & mating, talking of mating rituals, please don't touch fly agaric mushrooms, srsly they're toxic and deadly, possible incorrect french usage.

{ Disclaimer } - This work is in no way associated or depicting the actual life of the members of SKZ. It is a fictional piece of work, and I do not own Stray Kids. All works of fiction are loosely inspired by SKZ, and in no way am I saying it is true to their character.

{ A/N } - For the love of all things skz. DO NOT EVER TOUCH FLY AGARIC/AMANITA MUSCARIA MUSHROOMS. THEY ARE TOXIC. DEADLY. This is also probably the darkest thing I've written on this account so far. But it doesn't feel inherently evil to me personally??? But it is enough to warrant a TW! This started off as a birthday oneshot for Felix. I'm starting to think I'm no good at oneshots. This could be left alone, but it could also be a series... I have so many world building thoughts, but idk if I wanna do that. What do you think?

Dusk was approaching as you made your way home from your walk. 

You were blessed to own a cute little home, right on the edge of a beautiful and mysterious forest. Every day you were able to take nature walks, wandering through the treeline, exploring the vegetation. Collecting materials, making sure never to take too much of what the woodland had to offer. And caring for as much as you could, though you knew you were not essential to the survival of wilderness itself. 

That didn't stop you from befriending the little critters who made their home there, or from essentially finding your own second home there. 

You never brought anything with you to permanently invade nature. Instead you wrapped your daily essentials in a little bindle. It usually contained a hearty snack, a book or two, endless vials and jars, your cell, and a small emergency kit. Homemade salves, balms, and tonics included. 

You always had some new shiny objects for your crow friends, making sure to exchange the gifts they left for you at your designated spot. And you always made sure to leave some nuts and seeds for the various rodents who liked to stuff their cheeks. Again, you didn't need to, but they really liked sweet black walnuts and salty peanuts in the shells. Who were you to deny them that treat! 

Some days you brought select crystals with you, cleaning and recharging them in the streams of spring water. Other days you'd use that same water, sealing it in jars and leaving it nearby to make moon water overnight. Those were about the only two things you ever left in the forest, always making sure to come back the next day and retrieve them. 

You always carry a little basket with you too. The forest was abundant in ingredients for many different things. Your favorite is mushrooms and fungi. 

There were many times you'd find a log of an oak tree, fallen over and resting on the ground. A bunch of chicken of the woods growing on it. You'd collect them, taking them home to cook for dinner or other meals.

Other days you'd find lion's mane, and make sure to gather some for your favorite tincture to make and take. It did wonders for your anxiety. 

You were a green witch through and through, and you were raised this way. You drew your energy and essence from nature, always taking little bits of it home. 

Today was no different. Forgoing mushrooms, you instead had bundles of mugwort and a jar full of mulberries in your wicker basket. Wrapped in a little cloth were a bunch of spicebush berries.

You were nearing the last clearing within the woods, your house was about a ten minute walk away at this point. 

The soft moss against your bare feet was grounding, and you were listening to the buzz and crackle of nightlife within the forest. Your white skirt ended at your knees, flaring out. The chiffon is blowing in the cool breeze. It was still tshirt weather, and that's exactly what you wore on top. A fitted one, pale and muted ivy green. You gave up on bras long ago, you were a solitary creature anyways. The friends who did visit never cared about your attire.

You were in your own world, playing a balancing game on a stump and humming to yourself, when flashes of red caught your eye. 

In the clearing, scattered in a broken circle, was fly agaric. 

Your heart fluttered at this rare find. You walk past this clearing daily, and never noticed any of the red mushrooms with white speckles there before. 

Eagerly, you approach. In the back of your mind, warning bells are going off. Thinking back to childhood, of the stories your mom once told you of the fae folk. You'd encountered fairy rings before, but never of this type of mushroom, and never broken ones. Certainly never one so big. You never breached the little white rings in the past, not wanting to mess with entities so possibly mischievous. 

But it would be fine right? This might not even be considered a fairy ring. It was sort of... circle-ish? But not really. There were so many gaps in between them, it wasn't a perfect circle like you'd seen in the past. And these mushrooms were so rare and so powerful, in so many ways. You could feel their energy radiating around you.

You glanced around, searching for any signs of immortal creatures lurking near. You saw and heard nothing, but that would be typical. They never willingly reveal themselves, in fact... You've never seen one. You've never seen any kind of fae folk. It's not that you didn't believe in them, you were sure some form of them existed. Afterall, you practice a form of magick. Your own form, and that exists. 

You were convinced all mythical creatures either exist or had existed, the idea of them couldn't come from nothing. Not when they were in so many stories across all different cultures. 

You paused for a few more moments, really trying to feel any negative energy. There was none, there was never any in your little forest. 

So, tentatively, you took a few steps forward. Then you paused again, waiting for something to pop out. 

Nothing.

You giggled to yourself happily, and then bent down to pluck the mushrooms from the marshy earth. 

They all varied in size, some were large with bulbous caps. Some were shorter, and had flatter caps. Each mushroom, you made sure to pick with a cloth barrier between them and your fingers. These could be deadly if used the wrong way or taken in excess. You had no idea what would happen if you came into direct contact with it, on your bare skin. 

You really should start carrying gloves with you.

You made your way around the broken circle, humming in between giggles, and unconsciously dancing. You were nearly prancing each bare step to the next. 

If you had paid more attention to your mothers tales, you'd realize the consequences of stepping inside a fairy ring were already taking effect.

You were collecting more than you needed now, your basket was overflowing. But still, you didn't want to stop. You felt strangely overcome with merriment. You never felt more at home in these woods than this moment. 

You mindlessly set your basket down, your humming growing in volume. You looked to the sky, as you allowed your body to sway back and forth. Arms stretched out towards the waning moon, coming to life in the dark sky surrounding you. 

Your eyes closed, soaking in the moonlight. And you brought your arms back down, letting them float at your sides as you twirled, and twirled. Your skirt flutters up to reveal your thighs even more, hair whipping in your face. You revelled in the feeling of the squishy dirt beneath your feet. You felt grounded, but as if you were flying all at the same time.

You don't know when your solitude was breached, or if you were ever truly alone in the first place, but you finally noticed his presence when his hands intertwined with yours. 

He was twirling with you, spinning you in circles. 

He was nearly glowing, strawberry colored lips revealing the sweetest smile you'd ever seen. His long, straight white hair framed his face stunningly, tendrils of it outlining his strong jaw line. And his face... so, perfect. He had hundreds of freckles splashed across his cheeks, nose and eyes. Even some scattering up to his hairline, and down to his chin. You'd imagine you could create many constellations with them, like the stars that twinkle in the night sky. He adorned various jewelry, all silver. In his ears, and a cuff across the bridge of his nose. He even wore a gorgeous crown that laid across his forehead as a head piece. It was thin, and wiry, made up of gorgeous silver filigree that shone in the moonlight. You knew that the rings you felt in between your fingers would be silver too. 

He wore all white. You couldn't be sure exactly what his outfit was, but his shirt was a flowing lace up top. Revealing delicate collar bones and toned chest. It was mostly a blur in the midst of his movements. 

Your gasp was delayed, only coming out when he pulled you closer to him. Your hand remains in his, while his arm is wrapped around your waist. You were nearly flush with him, feeling the rest of his chiseled torso against your plush body. But he kept your face at some distance to maintain eye contact. The smile never slipped from his lips. 

He has you captivated, and the two of you don't falter in your melodic movements once. His eyes bore into you, dark and sharp. Yet he exuded a certain softness, and you found yourself lost in the moment. It didn't seem real. 

But it was. 

You were seeing him. In all his glory, ever mysterious and breathtaking. The most handsome man you've ever laid eyes on. 

You were hearing him. He was humming the same tune you were, an old lullaby your mom used to sing to you. His voice was deep, and even, harmonizing with your breathy high pitched voice beautifully. 

You were feeling him. He was touching you, his hand interlocked with yours. His grip around your waist is gentle but possessive. He held you like he didn't want to break you, but knew if he was too loose, you'd go running. 

Though you weren't so sure you would run. 

Your mind was racing. There's no way you could stumble across a perfect stranger, who was immediately dancing with you, so close to the edge of the forest. So close to your house. Maybe this was some sort of hallucination. A side effect of being surrounded by so many toxic mushrooms. 

The mushrooms. 

That was it, it all clicked. Too late did the rest of your mother's words ring in your ears. 

His aura, his energy, his perfect pixie-like features. You noticed the point of his ears now, the glittery sheen to his skin. His smile is full of white pointed teeth, dull now, but you could tell they were once sharper in the past. His slight cat-like eyes, giving them that sharp look even though everything else about him screamed delicate.

Your humming stopped, but his didn't. Your mother's voice is filling your head, and you were repeating the words she once told you so long ago. 

'and if you're caught, the fae folk will punish you. You'll be dancing within the ring until you faint from exhaustion.' you whispered quietly. 

His smile only grew, a glint lighting up his eyes. 

He finally spoke, his chest vibrating against yours, "Wise words, from a magnificent young lady."

He had an accent, you couldn't quite place it. Something between old english and australian. It made you want to melt. 

He started laughing, and you were sure that if he didn't have a grip on you, you would've slid to the ground. 

You've both stopped twirling, but he's still moving you, moving with you. Swaying back and forth. 

"Who are you?" You ask curiously. 

"Who?" He chuckles, "Usually it's 'what are you', that people ask me. Though it's been almost a century since I have revealed myself to a mortal."

A century? Your mouth dries, and you feel something akin to fear course through your veins. But you aren't scared of him for some reason. Wary, suspicious, but not scared. 

"You're different though, you seem to have at least a diminutive amount of knowledge of my realm." 

You want to get angry at that comment. You'd like to consider yourself well informed and educated on all supernatural and magickal subjects. There'd always be more to learn though, and the human brain simply could not grasp it in its entirety. So he wasn't wrong. 

You're still saying nothing, dazed from his presence. So he continues. 

"You were right when you said fae folk." He assures. 

"You're a fairy?" You whisper, wonder dazzling in your voice.

At that he laughs again, and you swear you hear small chimes behind it.

"An elf. I believe that is the universal name humans gave us. Not all fae are fairies, there are others too." 

As he speaks, he lets go of your hand, bringing his fingers up to brush strands of hair from your face. His touch is warm, for some reason that shocks you. 

"Elf." You repeat, not a question, but a statement.

He hums, in agreement and starts to twirl you around again. His hand resting on your cheek, thumb brushing featherlight touches against it. 

You're trying very hard to wrap your head around the entire scenario. You shouldn't be surprised. You've dealt with other worldly things in the past. Spiritual realms are completely different from anything having to do with the fae world though. 

Worry floods through you again once you realize what's happening. 

"Am I being punished?" You lip quivers as you speak, "I-I was just trying to collec-"

He's bringing his head down, his forehead meeting yours. You feel the cold bite of the silver headpiece touching your skin. It's enough to shut you up.

"Shhh, darling. Don't view it as a punishment." 

"I don't want to dance until I pass out." You slowly say, even though your body feels otherwise.

Underneath the initial shock and caution, you still felt that overwhelming happiness. It was borderline euphoric... and strangely arousing. 

Everything happening inside your mind and body right now was so confusing. You were feeling lost, and found yourself clinging to the man--the elf, before you. 

"You pretty creature, don't worry. Danser dans le ronds de sorcières... that's for children." 

French? This being was a riddle. 

"I don't understand." You force out. 

He leans back a bit, so he can look into your eyes and your thighs clench, "We tell the kids, fae and human, that if a mortal is caught within our rings. They dance to exhaustion. The humans carried this myth with them into adulthood, while our kind later learned the truth of these special rings." 

He's still dancing with you, moving your body elegantly to a now imaginary song. Leading you in something reminiscent of a waltz, but you can barely focus on that when his touches are electric against your skin. 

"The truth?" You ask. 

He's dipping you down now, bending with your body as he once again is peering into your eyes. At first you think it's part of the dance. Until your back meets the land that was underneath your feet. The mixture of smells was potent. The scent of damp moss, and semi-sweet foliage filling your nose. 

He hums again, "It was never an entire lie, it always started off with dancing." 

The timbre of his voice was pooling wetness in your panties. You felt beads of sweat forming on your brow, and you were bewildered at how your body was reacting right now. It didn't make sense. 

His body is hovering over you now, his face coming close to yours. His nose is brushing along yours before he speaks again. 

"What better way to set the mood than a passionate dance, and in this case, under the moonlight?"

You whimpered, feeling disoriented and needing his touch. 

"I don't even know your name.", was the only thing you managed to mumble. 

He chuckled, and you felt his breath puff against your lips, "It's unimportant darling, but since you're so... alluring. You can call me Felix... I'd love to hear it rolling off your tongue when I make you cum."

You were mewling at the thought of fucking this mystical being, when you felt his lips against yours.

He was almost lazy in the way he kissed you. Seemingly in no rush at all. And it's not that you were complaining, but you wanted more. So you wrapped your arms around his neck, forcing his body flush with yours. 

He was smiling against your lips now, and you took the opportunity to swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, begging for access. 

"So eager. Patience little dove. You'll get what you desire and more." 

You knew it was absurd to lust after a man--an elf, gods how could you keep forgetting that, that you just met. But your body was burning and it felt like he was your only rescue. 

His hands wandered your body, groping and massaging every inch. 

He had your leg wrapped around him, his hand trailing down the back of your thigh and his lips attached to your neck. He was marking you with what you imagined to be the most beautiful bruises. You were panting at this point, and it felt ridiculous to be this turned on by so little. By a stranger. But it didn't make you want to stop.

His fingers reached the edge of your panties, and you gasped. You felt his smile again, he was enjoying every bit of this. You felt powerless to his strokes against you. Your hips were bucking up, chasing for friction.

His hand gripped your hip tightly, fingers squeezing into your flesh, pinning you further into the dirt. 

You hissed before whining, begging "Please."

"I said be patient." His voice was stern as he spoke against your ear.

It still didn't stop you from squirming beneath him, your mind wasn't registering anything beyond wanting to feel him filling you up. 

He brought his face back to yours, eyes gleaming and the most naughty expression written across it. 

"Fine. As you wish, little dove. But don't forget, I was trying to ease you into this." 

He tore your panties off of you, and his fingers were rubbing against you harshly, sending jolts of pleasure through you. 

"A-aaah!" You were moaning loudly, his movements jarring.

"This is what you wanted darling, isn't it?" He's muttering against your lips now, slipping his fingers into you. 

Your body feels more alive than ever, waves of pleasure washing over you. His fingers skillfully curl inside you, while his thumb works your sensitive bud. Swipe after swipe, eliciting more and more of your arousal onto his hand. 

His kiss is searing, and feels like the only thing currently keeping you anchored to your body. You felt your orgasm building quickly, the band growing tighter and tighter in your stomach. It felt like you'd float away when it snapped. 

You can't contain the lewd noises you're making. Between the moans he's swallowing from your lips, and the loud squelching from between your thighs, it was deafening. Or maybe it was just that your ears were ringing. 

It felt like only seconds later when he brought you over the edge, his movements slowing but never stopping. You're whining, and your legs are trembling but you don't want him to stop. You're nearing over sensitivity and when you close your eyes, you see nothing but stars.

All you can think of are the freckled constellations on his cheek. 

You feel drunk on this moment, and you don't want it to end. It's as if he knows exactly where your mind is when he speaks again.

"You're not done little dove, don't you worry your pretty little head." 

When you open your eyes, and tilt your head up, his shirt and pants are discarded. Revealing a dizzying body. He was lithe yet chiseled. His body is almost dainty, but each muscle is carved in the most irresistible way. His abs were glorious, your eyes trail lower, following the v cut. You notice the faint spattering of a happy trail, and your eyes follow it. 

And fuck.

You've never been one to view someones cock as pretty but... his was. The tip was so swollen and pink, and leaking generous amounts of precum. Faint blue veins prominent along the shaft, and he stood tall and proud. His girth made you wonder if you could handle the stretch. It had been a while since you'd last been intimate. 

He brought his hand, covered in your slick, to his member. Spreading it all over in a mixture with his precum, making it glisten. Your mouth started to water, and your legs spread wider for him. You pulled your skirt completely up, presenting yourself to him. 

His jaw was slack, mouth hung open as he watched you, fist pumping himself slowly. 

"Such a good girl for me darling, aren't you?" He said with that charming smile. 

There was something about the way he looked at you, while doing such a perverse act that had your juices dripping down you. 

Then he was on top of you again, cock sliding into you. Your entire body tensed at the intrusion and you wailed, a mix of pain and pleasure. But it was so satisfying, you couldn't get enough. Your arms wrapped around his neck again, and he was thrusting into you at a brutal pace. 

Your back was digging into the ground, and you started to feel bits of grass and dirt against your skin. You pulled against him, trying to adjust yourself so you could lose yourself in the dance you two were now performing. 

He pulled out of you, and sat back on his knees, that's when you noticed his clothes underneath him. You had no idea he was wearing a cape earlier. It was sprawled out, creating a barrier between him and the ground. 

He picked you up, and positioned you to straddle his lap, facing him. Then he slid back into you, your eyes rolled back, and you let out a filthy moan. 

This position felt more intimate but still desperate, he was reaching deeper into you. The head of his cock pistoning against your g-spot. It felt so good you could cry. 

You were crying, you realized. 

"Shhh, little dove, you're taking it so well. It feels so good, doesn't it?" 

"Yes!" You sob. 

He's wiping the tears from your eyes with his fingers, and smiling at you like you're the most precious thing on this planet. 

"That's right, pretty. So pretty when you cry." He groans out, and his pace grows faster, rougher.

His hand dips down between you, and he's toying with your clit now. In any other circumstance, you'd be embarrassed by the way your body uncontrollably trembles. Your muscles are spasming at his touch. You just couldn't bring yourself to care, he was making you feel too good. 

"Darling," He purred, as he slowed his thrusts and pinched your clit between two fingers, rolling it, "I want you to look me in the eyes when you cum for me, can you do that?" 

You were mewling as you nodded your head frantically, feeling your peak rush towards you. 

At that he started fucking into you harshly, almost painfully, and you were coming undone with a loud cry on top of him. Your body tensed, nails digging into his shoulders, struggling not to throw your head back. His hand that was playing with you, gripped your jaw, smearing your own arousal on your face.

He was making sure you kept your word, maintaining your gaze on his while you clenched around him. Your eyes were fluttering as you tried to keep them open. He was biting his lip, eyebrows scrunched together as he fucked you through your orgasm. Watching your face contorted in pleasure. 

"So tight." He grunted.

You were scratching at him now, nails dragging down his shoulders. And your mouth was hung open in a silent scream, your voice having given up on you. 

It was becoming overwhelming. 

You still didn't want it to stop.

"I know you can take it darling, take it." He growled, gripping both your hips now to steady you.

So you did, until you were limp in his arms, and he was releasing into you with a groan. 

Your head was resting on his shoulder. Sweaty skin sticking to each other, and he was soothing you. Humming and stroking your hair gently. You were breathing heavily, trying to come down from this mind blowing experience. But you weren't descending, not mentally. You were still riding that high, stuck in a lust filled haze. 

He started to roll his hips tantalizingly slow, and you hissed at it, feeling slight pain. Mostly you were shocked he was still hard. 

His chest vibrated while he quietly laughed, "Did you forget the 'more' part, darling. I keep telling you, we're not done yet." 

You whined at the sensation of his gentle movements. 

"Shhh, there there." He's teasing you, "Are we a little sore?"

"Yes." You breathed.

"I can fix that." 

You gasped when he slid out of you, hating the fact that you felt so empty. 

He was positioning you to lay down on his clothes, taking care that no part of you touched the ground. You just let him handle you, molding your pliant body however he wanted it.

His hands were rubbing down your arms, and he was smiling down at you. When you met his eyes, you couldn't explain the exact emotions you were feeling. You'd let this man take your soul if he asked right now. 

He was licking his lips as his hand trailed back to your core. You gasped again, then whined when he dragged his fingers through your swollen folds. His touch was almost massaging, yet sensual. He was touching everywhere, teasingly avoiding your sensitive bud. 

The more he touched you, the more you writhed. And sensing another comment about how you can't be still or patient, you yanked him down to you so you could kiss him. 

You were tired of just laying there, you wanted to start giving. To start touching.

You didn't know where all this stamina came from, but you were determined to use it. You jerked your hips up, leaning more into his touch. 

It wasn't until you reached down to wrap your fingers around his length that he paused his movements. 

He was still slick with your cum. And you used that to give him slow strokes.

He let out a hoarse moan against your lips, before pressing his fingers directly on your clit, rubbing in small circles. He was matching your tempo directly. You whined into the kiss, your hand picking up pace. Pumping him faster now, and he followed your lead. 

Or so you thought, just as you felt your climax starting to build, his fingers were being pulled away. 

He took your hand off him, and then crawled down your body, coming face to face with your core. 

"So pretty, even here darling." 

You were blushing at his words, but you couldn't take your eyes off of his, as he stared at you from between your thighs. 

"Still sore? Let me make it feel better, little dove." 

And you felt his tongue lave through your folds. It was gentle and it felt hot, and it drove you crazy. The flicks of his tongue against your clit were maddening, and you wanted more. 

Your hips started slowly moving against his face, and this time he let you. He lets you roll your hips, and grind against his face. His tongue flattened against you, and you slid your hand into his blindingly white locks. You started grinding against him harshly, losing all sense and control of your body and just focusing on climaxing. 

He let himself be used by you, and as your grip in his hair tightened, so did that feeling in your stomach. You felt another orgasm come over you, and he let you ride it out, quite literally.  

You expected to start feeling spent by now, but you didn't. So before he could climb back up your body to kiss you, you were sitting up and pushing him onto his back.

He landed on it with a thud, puffing out air and looking at you incredulously. 

You let the primal urges take over as you lowered yourself onto your stomach, and took his member in your hand. You licked up the underside of his cock, your eyes never leaving his. He groaned as you watched his eyes roll into the back of his head. 

You placed a soft kiss on the tip, and licked the strings of precum off your lips. 

"Fuck..." He whispered.

"Let me return the favor." You mumbled before you took his tip between your lips.

You let your tongue swirl over it a few times, savoring his taste. He brought his hand down to your face, and pushed your hair back for you. 

You let your tongue run down the underside of his cock, and you sunk your mouth onto him. You had completely engulfed him, and were struggling not to gag. Still, you never intended to stop. 

He was grunting as your head bobbed up and down on him, saliva collecting at the corners of your mouth and dripping down to pool at his pelvis. 

"Making--ah fuck--such a mess for me, darling." He groaned. 

He lets you keep at your own pace for a while longer before he starts thrusting into you. He kept your head in place, and you gagged and tears started running down your cheeks. Each stroke became more and more erratic, until ropes of his hot cum were shooting down your throat. 

He pulled you off of him and you gulped down breaths of air. He was caressing your cheek, swiping a mix of tears, spit and cum from your lips before kissing you. 

That's how you both continued throughout the night. Pleasuring each other, nearly non-stop, under the moonlight. Your mind was fractured, nothing else but him existed inside of it. He'd touched, fondled, massaged, and embraced you, until you could only respond with breathy whispers of his name. 

"Felix..." You sighed, when he was bringing feeling back to your numb legs by massaging them.

"Felix..." You moaned, as he slowly took you as you both laid on your sides.

"Felix..." You screamed as you came undone on top of him, riding him roughly.

He took you in many different positions, and you indulge yourself in each one. When he wasn't fucking you, you were whining in complaint and going down on him. If he wasn't going down on you, he was edging you with his fingers. Your hands never left each other's bodies, always needing connection. You were sure he was just as familiar with your body as you were by this point. 

The exhaustion finally hit when he had you on your back in a mating press. The last thing you remember, is staring up into the twilight sky. Dawn was approaching, the stars were disappearing before your eyes, as the golden glow of the sun started to peek through. 

Your eyes were fluttering as you fought unconsciousness, determined to finish fucking this completely ethereal creature. Felix was barely putting in an effort to fuck you, but he still slid in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace, as if he wanted to keep your orgasm at bay. You both wanted to extend this moment in time, but your body wouldn't have that.

When you finally let go, cumming on his cock for what felt like the hundredth time. That's when your eyes shut and you gave into the exhaustion. 

The familiar scent of nag champa incense filled your nostrils as you started to come to. 

Your bedroom, permanently infused with your favorite scent to burn, that's where you were. The familiar feel of your sheets beneath you, and your heavy comforter confirmed that.  

Your mind still felt a little cloudy as you started to recall how you got to your bed from the forest. 

That's when you feel a body next to you and your eyes shot open.

"Felix?" You croaked, your voice dry and hoarse.

He was laying next to you on his side, in your bed, in your house. 

He had the blankets pulled up to his waist, and was resting his head on his hand. Elbow propped up, so he could see you better. He was shirtless and he wore that same smile on his face, like he was so fond of you.

"Is that still the only thing you can say, little dove?" He whispered teasingly. 

"How- I mean, why-?" You stutter as you attempt to sit up in bed, but your entire body aches. 

You hiss at the burning sensation you felt between your legs. And your legs, gods, you don't think that they've ever felt so sore. 

"Easy darling, you need to rest." He said as he helped you sit up. 

He reached over to his side of the bed and handed you a glass of water, motioning for you to drink. 

You eyed him curiously as you sipped your water, finishing it rather quickly when you realized how thirsty you were. 

"I ran you a bath and kept it hot, when you're ready we should wash you up more." 

"More?" You questioned him.

"I did clean you up last night, I'm not a monster. The bath will help ease your muscles." He chuckled.

"How did you even know where I live?" 

"It's not hard to figure out, we weren't that far from it. Your house is the only one for miles." 

You still felt guarded around him, even after the night you shared. If the stories your mother told you turned out to be partially true, you could only imagine what other lore could turn out to be true. 

Now this mischievous creature knew where you lived, he was in your home.

"I know this is your sacred space little dove, I don't intend to intrude. However, I couldn't exactly leave you in the state you were in. How are you feeling? Is your head a little clearer?" He spoke softly as he brushed his fingers through your hair. 

It is. Almost all of that dazed feeling was gone, you felt more lucid. In that clarity though, a rush of embarrassment hit you. You felt your skin heat up at the more clear memories of last night. 

You were never the type for hookups or one night stands, yet the things you did with this perfect stranger... This perfect magickal stranger... they felt unspeakable. You'd never lost yourself so completely in someone else's presence, much less with your own... sessions. 

You hide your face in your hands and rub at your temples, trying to make sense of this entire situation. Of your own feelings. You didn't exactly regret it or hate it. Something still felt off. Not only was the entire act abnormal in general, and downright questionable. But it was so out of character for you. Did he use... compulsions? Did he have that type of magick?

"Thinking too hard will just exhaust you more." He said.

"Look..." You sigh, as you turn to face him, "I'm a little lost here, I don't know what to make of this all." 

Next thing you know, he's off the bed. He's picking you up in his arms, and you notice you're both still nude. Your face flushes again at that, and you struggle a bit in his arms.

"Be calm darling, I'm just taking you to the tub. We can talk about it all." 

You let him place you in the tub, and then he's sliding in behind you. Slotting you between his legs. He's pulling you back towards him, so you lay against his chest. You both sit like that for a few moments, absorbing the heat from the bath and getting used to each other in a new type of intimate way.

You should be kicking him out of your house. You should be cussing him out. Defending yourself, but why didn't you feel the need to defend yourself against him? Why were you drawn to him? 

When you think about the facts, some would say you were attacked last night. I mean there's a reason the Fae call it a punishment You didn't feel attacked though. You enjoyed yourself, as crazy as that is to say. 

You always knew you were an adventurous soul, but you never thought to this extent. 

How do you come to terms with actually feeling okay with this whole thing, when you knew you shouldn't be?

"You're a witch, right?" He suddenly asks you, breaking your train of thought. 

"I am... though I'm beginning to question the validity of that title, seeing as I have an actual magical creature behind me." You mumble. 

You knew the magick you practiced was real. You could feel it. It's not like you could create fire though, or move things, or transfigure things in front of you. You weren't even sure Felix could do any of that as an elf. You weren't sure of anything anymore. 

You felt like you were entering an existential crisis. Panic was starting to settle within you when you felt his chest vibrate with laughter, it was an oddly soothing sensation that you know you've felt before.

"No, you are. I can sense it, it's in your blood. It took me a while to piece it together, but you are a witch through and through. Sometimes humans don't know of their tie to the magickal world, but I figured... from your altar, among other objects and ingredients I've noticed here, that you knew." 

You hummed, your mother always told you that you were a part of a long line of witches. She raised you heavily within her practice. You never doubted her, but somehow this new revelation made it so much more real. You realize this was opening a whole new aspect in your own practice. A hidden world, seemingly waiting for your return.

"Is that why you came to me? Because you sensed a witch was near?" You questioned him, your hands playing with the water. 

"No, you stepped inside my fairy ring. I have to say I was shocked. I placed it in, what I thought was, an inconspicuous area. I hadn't realized your home was nearby."

"Okay, I'm going to need you to explain." You sighed. 

"Well... you already know what I told you yesterday. The stories you were told, were passed down by your ancestors and other mortals in general. You don't really just dance in fairy rings, that's a small fib we tell the children. As more human children found the rings, when we'd find them dancing. We'd send them off, warning them if they came in again that we would have them dancing until they faint. When our own children wandered into them curiously, we'd tell them the same thing until it became time for them to learn. It's just something stupid the ancestors came up with, I don't know... It does always start out with a courting dance though, but the main reason for them is, inside a fairy ring... you mate. They're essentially a part of an ancient mating ritual."

At that you nearly jumped up to smack him, but he was a step ahead of you. His arms tightened around your body, pinning your arms to your chest. 

"MATING?!" You screamed at him, trying to turn your head and make eye contact, "I don't fucking wan-" 

"Please, calm down little dove. It's not possible for me to actually breed you. That requires an entirely different ritual, one that hasn't been performed in centuries. I'm not even sure anyone would know how to perform it these days..." He trails off. 

"So then why even lay these stupid Fae traps for humans anyways?!" You screech. 

"They're not traps, and they're not meant for humans." He says defensively, and you can hear the pouting in his tone, "Think of it like this. You know how some penguins build big and pretty nests to attract a mate? It's kind of like that. It's a lot to explain in detail, and I had to create one. Now that I'm of age, it's expected of me to find a partner. Even if I don't find the need to." 

"And why do they exist in this realm if they're not meant for us?"

"Well, a long time ago, back when there was only this realm, and there were more Fae than humans, they came across one. That fairy was so angry at the human for intruding on something so intimate of his, and he threatened the human with a punishment. Before any of the other Fae could stop him, he entered the ring. When they both were inside of it, they were overcome with the magic of the ring. The courting dance had started, and no one else was able to enter. The desire for each other grew. In his anger he must've forgotten what the ring's intention was, and was only focused on punishing the human. But he never got that far. They ended up... mating. They never separated from that night, spending their lives together. It was millenia ago. It created an uproar though. Our kinds had never joined before that way."

You sat and listened, calming down a bit as he told you this story.

"There were battles, not an outright war but there might as well have been. They grew to love each other, and they led the winnings of those battles to stay together. They opened the door for Fae and humans to be together, but it has always been frowned upon from both sides."

There was an entire history of this world that you had never known. One that you could never even imagine to be true. But it is. Before your mind let you delve into it though, you thought back to something he said.

"Overcome with magic? These rings hold compulsions over beings?" You questioned hastily, needing to confirm your suspicions. 

"No. It's not like that..." He sighed, "Didn't you feel different last night?" He continues, "The mushrooms release something like a pheromone. An aphrodisiac, to enhance your sexual stamina. Among other mood boosting and energy boosting properties. It starts by uplifting your mood, making you feel the happiest you've ever been. Then you start dancing, your energy building up in preparation for what's to come. It's not until your partner enters that the aphrodisiacs start releasing. But it doesn't just take away your consent like that. Both parties have to be willing... it needs to be mutual. Though that's not to say that's not how every instance turns out. Evil exists in all realms." 

You shivered at his words, trying to process everything. You could clearly remember the primal urges taking over, the need to constantly be filled. It explained that off feeling, why you were acting so out of character. But you couldn't deny that you had wanted it. 

Craved it. 

You never tried to stop it, never wanted to stop it... In fact you initiated it to an extent. 

He started talking again, "That's why I couldn't just leave you there. Especially not in that forest, where other creatures lurk and might find you. I never felt anything dark there, but that doesn't mean it won't come along. I brought you home. I cleaned you up, I made you drink because you were getting dehydrated. I cared for you."

He was loosening his grip around you to rub your shoulders. It made you think back to the skilled massages he gave you last night, in between all of the sex. He made sure to take care of you the whole night it seemed.

"But none of this answers my question from earlier, why not place the rings in your own realm now? Why would any of the Fae place them here?" You asked.

"There are many different reasons..." He mumbled, "Some of them do it because they want to experience sex with a willing human. Some of them do use them as traps for humans, and those Fae are disgraceful, downright evil. Most of those types have been banished from the realm I come from. But some are like me. We try to hide them, from everyone. Because even though we're required to have them, we don't want to use them."

Then you thought back to his previous words, "Wait... 'find your partner' you said? Are we- do we have some sort of bond now?"

The silence was thick in the air. You waited for him to speak, but he didn't, so you turned around in the tub to face him. Your legs spread out on top of his, as you half straddled his lap. 

His eyes stared into yours, expressionless. It was much colder than his usual warm aura, so you grabbed his hand to hold it, and asked again in a softer tone, "Do we?" 

"We don't have to. It's not permanent. Most Fae who get humans within their rings leave them there once they've passed out anyways. Humans don't have the same stamina as we do, even with their boosted energy from the ring. The first woman passed out, that's where the ancestors got their silly tale from." He spoke tightly, like he was debating even revealing this bond at all. 

"I see." You replied, even though you had many more questions and didn't have a full grasp on it all. 

Not much made sense. In a span of hours you found out the true existence of a hidden realm, and these magickal creatures. You met one, you slept with him, then you actually slept with him, and now you bathe with him. You talk with him, as if all of this is a normal day.

It should all unsettle you more than it actually does. You should be freaking out, 100% meltdown level. This is the story of fairy tales, and maybe not a good one. This could be the big bad wolf and you could be little red riding hood. But somehow, you were comfortable in his presence. Comfortable enough to want to spend more time with him. To learn more, about him, his world, and this new bond. 

So you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, giving his lips a small peck. 

"Maybe we could... figure it out together? See what happens next, if you explain more to me, that is." 

His eyes lit up with hope, and his charming smile returned to his face. The thought that you could wake up every day to that smile entered your head quicker than you could blink.

You'd figure something out. You had to. He couldn't leave your life now. Not when it seemed like it was just getting started thanks to him.

Taglist:

@eczlipse @sailor--sun @maisyyyyyy @jupire @prettiichocolateprincess

@meowmeowminnie @joyofbebbanburg @adieu-lisette @sleeping-beau-tay @staytinyluv

@lookitsjess @majorlymismanaged @kpopsstuffs @helloimacalumgirl @bbokarimenu

@bubblepop-stay @mauvemelon @ohhlittlegirl @ang4lheart @spnwinchestersd

@adieu-lisette @loud-minhoe @juwire @anylady-fics @antisocialties

@nebugalaxy @wowitsafemale @irrevocable-exposure

As always, please let me know if you'd like to join the taglist. And if you do, pretty please interact with my fics besides liking (ie; replying/commenting/reblogging). Although I will always appreciate liking as well! Feedback is always cherished! ♡

But again, please be gentle in your criticism! I am but a sensitive soul.

[oh-no-its-bird]

World's worst, most messy naruto time travel au EVER. Where a bunch of people from slightly different dimensions try to time travel to fix their bad endings.

But they all got dumped into their alternate bodies of the past of another slightly different dimension. And they all keep tripping over eachother.

So like. You have Sakura (from the dimension where there was no Kaguya/black zetsu, and Madara + Obito are the final villains)

Tripping over ANBU Sasuke (from a no Uchiha massacre/less bad Uchiha massacre universe where he never left the village and is filled to the brim with the will of fire)

Running into Naruto (from one of those evil konoha universes where the abuse aimed towards him was 100 times worse) who is absoloutley tweaking out in the corner, unsure and unable to comprehend what is (from his perspective) such a good world

Then theyre getting fucking tackled by Obito (from a roll swap dimension where he was team 7's sensei and Kakashi took his place in Akatsuki)

Meanwhile Kakashi from the 'team ro defects from Konoha' au is suddenly a jonin again and debating the merits of just sabotaging Konoha from the inside out

Then you also have Kurama, the only one of them to have gotten their own own new body instead of being dumped into the body of their alt version there (coming from a canon-similar world where Naruto sacrifices himself to give Kurama a body and send him back in time, a-la on the other side, by WideEyedDemon)

While in the distance, Gaara (from a dimension where Suna won the fight against Konoha and team 7 went on the run after the leaf was destroyed) tries to very hard to sabotage the attack he believes will prevail, in order to fulfill his promise to team 7 from that other universe bc they got to be friends

But he's being blocked around every corner by Kankuro and Temari, who came back together from a universe where Gaara was straight up an irredeemable monster who destroyed all of Suna

But also fucking semi-canon accurate housewife Orochimaru from Boruto is like. Around. Just absoloutley fucking it up in his milf era, giving no shits whatsoever. The alien tree people or whatever the hell is going on in boruto ate his world so he has his eyes on the sky.

^ so like. All of that and it just keeps going. U can throw in whoever from wherever, these are just starting points

(The only rule is Jiriya and Tsunade aren't time travelers bc I want them to see milf Orochimaru and scream in terror)

And the whole thing is that very few of them actually share the same bad end, and it's very unclear what the true bad ending of their current world is— bc to be clear, the dimension they ended up does not line up 100% with any one of the newcomers.

(Their current dimension is actually just canon, to be clear. Or at least incredibly canon-ish)

So they're just fucking tripping over eachother right and left, trying to prevent things that may or may not happen (bc some of their bad ends ARE still possible!!)

The inter character relationships would go so insane too. Bc like all of team 7 has been shaken to its core, pretty much.

Naruto wants to burn Konoha to the ground and Sasuke thinks it is hashtag worth fighting for.

Sakura is dealing from the whiplash of ehats basically a sasuke/naruto roleswap, and also thinks Obito is the irredeemable root of all evil.

Meanwhile, Obito is crying bc his kids don't recognize him

Obito, seeing his students so changed and then noting that Kakashi is so chill, gets his hopes up that maybe this is a loyal Konoha Kakashi...

But NOPE he's not, he's fully checked out of Konoha and has attachments to like. Team ro + Sasuke.

Tho he'd also be super fucked up to see Obito too, it must be said

Then Kakashi originally defected from Konoha in his universe bc Orochimaru told him ab the "truth" of his fathers suicide (and then he walked in on Danzo trying to kill Shisui lmao) And actually did join Orochimaru in sound afterwords, so.

Kakashi is rocking up to sound trying to confirm if shits similar in this universe and Orochimaru is going "a free copy cat Kakashi?? Don't mind if I do <3" and offering him a room there (which he might just accept)

Kakashi spying for Orochimaru....

The sand sibs are also having THE worst time ever. Gaara is trying so hard to be good and show he's changed but Temari and Kankuro are even more convinced of his irredeemable evil soul or whatever than they were in canon. They saw him rip Suna apart !!!

Gaara is also SO stressed about the chunin exam attack (fast approaching) bc hes convinced it will prevail and his future friends will be rendered homeless and hunted for sport again

Meanwhile also: Orochimaru totally fucking forgot about that and isn't. Actually interested anymore. So.

I have more thoughts but, like usual, I fucking clicked post too soon (these last bits are edits, oops) so I'll leave it here for now before someone reblogs the incomplete version

[forgan-forge]

I had surgery a couple days ago, and as a whump writer, I, of course, had to take notes.

So, here’s a bullet list of my experience, for writing purposes or otherwise. I, for one, love putting my characters in hospitals. Also good notes for anxiety about upcoming surgeries, I guess.

Happy writing, my fellow angst-enthusiasts!

Pre-Op:

No eating for 8 hours before the surgery, no drinking for 2-3.

They make you sanitize yourself with chlorhexidine wipes, and they give you a very bad-tasting mouthwash. I had to swab my nose, too, with antiseptic. They make you take everything off and change into a gown. No piercings, either. The chlorhexidine kinda makes your skin yellow. It’s kinda sticky, too.

A bunch of questions when you get back to pre-op, like what meds you’re on, confirming what surgery you’re having and why, what you ate and when you ate it. (Same for drinking.) This gets repeated a lot between different nurses and the anesthesiologist.

They start an IV line early, pretty much as soon as you’re in the bed, mine was attached to fluids which dripped while I was waiting to be wheeled back.

They give a relaxative through IV right before wheeling you back to the operating room. Sometimes they’ll give nausea medicines, too.

Equipment:

5 ECG leads on chest and abdomen.

Heart moniter on index finger.

Blood pressure cuff, usually on the arm opposite of the IV. It’s sometimes set on a timer, other times they’ll activate it manually.

They put a nasal cannula with oxygen in your nose, it’s kind of annoying and the air coming through it is dry and cool. In most cases, they’ll intubate you while under, and you’ll wake up with a sore throat. Other times, a mask is used. I’ve had all three (I think)

In the OR:

They wheel you back on your bed.

They move you (or in most cases, you move yourself) from the bed to the operating table. After the operation is done, they move you back onto the bed because you’ll still be unconscious.

There are huge lights above the operating table, and they look threatening, but by the time you’re back there, you’ll be so out-of-it you probably won’t care.

Most anesthesiologists will ask you to count down from 100 or 10. You’re usually out after 3 counts.

Recovery:

You wake up in the recovery wing, I woke up twice before actually waking up for good. Nurse will attend to you once you’re conscious.

Most patients wake up shortly after anesthesia is stopped.

For all my surgeries, I woke up confused and unsure if the surgery already happened or not. It’s like time traveling. You won’t really know where you are, the first thing I registered was the nasal cannula and the blankets stacked on top of me.

Really groggy when waking up.

Limbs feel really heavy and awkward to move, I stumbled around a lot.

Some dizziness and general uncoordination.

They ask you what you want to drink, I chose Sprite, but they offered juice and water.

They had to wheelchair me out, which I assume is true for most outpatient procedures.

Most modern anesthesia effects wear off in about an hour (but it really depends on your metabolism)

You’ll probably want to sleep the rest of the day, and depending on what pain meds you’re on, you’ll be high whilst taking them.

Someone has to be with you for the first 24 to 48 hours.

Depending on where the procedure was, the skin there will be yellow/orange where they applied iodine. Showering unattended is probably not a good idea for the first day.

Nausea is a common side effect of anesthesia.

Some other notes for anesthesia: it’s like, really weird. They basically paralyze your entire body, and you don’t dream while under. While some people describe general anesthesia effects as a sort-of high, I don’t really think it equates. I was just really confused, I remember having to undress in front of a nurse and I didn’t really care because my brain wasn’t quite working. Honestly, I don’t remember much from the rest of that day. Your passage of time is kinda fucked, the drive home always feels like a blink. I guess it feels more like being drunk, at least for the type I was on. If I was on pain meds, I’m sure it would’ve been different.

Another note: emergency or urgent operations obviously differ, especially if the patient is unconscious. Assessment is a lot quicker, and stabilization is needed before surgery. Diagnostics are needed right after assessment, rather than scheduled pre-surgery for elective operations. Stabilization may occur immediately after assessment, and sterilization is done in the OR. If a patient is incoherent, family is contacted for consent and info. You’ll either go to the PACU or ICU depending on your condition. (Source: I write angst. A lot of angst. Also, I’ve actually had an urgent surgery. It’s a long story. I don’t go near playgrounds anymore.)

[noellefan101]

Staying on Campus During Winter Break, Twisted Wonderland-Pt 2

Reader cant go home to their family during winter break, and seems a little down in the dumps when their boyfriend talks about what they'll do at home themselves. What would he do to fix their now sad s/o? (+ some headcanons for the character, some with reader in mind)

Characters: Sebek, Idia, Ruggie, Kalim, Leona and Ace(all seperate) x Reader(gn)

saw someone else write smt like this and got ideas for it myself :> Original post

Part 1

Warnings: Reader is not yuu/mc, either your family lives too far away or are occupied, maybe they're real shitty you choose. reader is usually the same grade as the character, very ooc. gn reader

Sebek

If he sees you down he'll immediately assume someone dare harm you, so please deal with that first.

Although after finding out about your predicament, he'll resume to, uhhh, doing Sebek things. Like yelling to "comfort" you, while frantically texting his parents to request permission for your stay.

He would not usually have wanted you to meet his family like that, preferring more traditional ways, but he'll set that aside for a moment in an effort to comfort his beloved.

In the rare chance that his parents don't allow your stay, he'll call you every hour to ensure you're doing alright. Although he won't actually admit that's why he's calling.

And it absolutely isn't because he misses your voice, no matter how little time has passed since the last time he called. What a preposterous assumption.

"HUMAN! THIS IS FOOLISH, YOU SHOULD NOT FEEL SAD OVER SUCH TRVIAL MATTERS! WHY? WEL-WELL BECAUSE *cough* because you may stay with me and my family instead... if you'd like to that is, so you won't have to stay at campus.."

(he hates his ears, because they aren't like the other fae. But he has 100% tried to mold something around his ears to make them pointed, like that fake skin or just clay.)

Idia

He does NOT wanna go home, and is so happy he now has an excuse to stay with you instead of being put to work at STYX. Although he can see why you'd be bummed out, cuz yeah NRC sucks.

Yes, he loves his parents and all, but he can't deal with all the side quests he gets whenever he just exists. And there's no way he brings you to STYX when he'll just get quizzed 24/7 as well.

Also sees no reason for you to be sad about it, but understands how horrible it is to stay at school when you just want to relax back home.

Idia will try his best to comfort you, but might just leave that to Ortho and suggest some games to play with him to distract you. He has a whole list of things he thinks you'll enjoy, plus some of your favorite snacks.

You'll be staying in his room for most of the winter break, playing games and watching anime with him and Ortho while chatting about lots of stupid things.

"Y-Yeah you're uhh welcome, or whatever. Now theres this anime that just came out, and uuhh you kinda promised me you'd watch something with me. It should cheer you up too.. ew thats so corny."

(Despite calling a bunch of stuff 'outdated crap' when it comes to not so modern technology, he definitely keeps and looks for old cd's for his favorite games and maybe some songs. like a true dweeb.)

Ruggie

Ears down, sad eyes, frown and tears in the corner of his eyes... that's what you'll be looking at for the next five minutes when you told Ruggie about your predicament.

But that doesn't mean he's taking you home with him, no, it's precisely because he can't that he's devastated. I mean he could, but that would be such a bad idea and you'd have it worse than at NRC. And he'd like to prepare you for that, since he doesn't want to experience that without being a good street smartie.

It's just now he also has to debate whether to stay with you or go home to gramma and the other hyenas back in the slums... He loves you a lot and trusts that you will be fully safe at campus, so he chooses to go home for the break as previously planned.

Please call him whenever you get endangered of any sort, does no matter if you just fell and got a scratch. Call. Him. He needs to now his partner is alright, and would rather not get back only then knowing you got hurt.

"Hello? Aah, Sweetcakes! You ok? Did something happen? ...Hey I'm busy you know.. come on, when i said you could call me i was talking about when you're in danger, not this. No i like when you talk it's not that. What, you flustered now? shhishishi"

(has a handmade plush thats in absolute dismay and screaming to be put down. its made from rags that couldnt be worn anymore and put to new use by his grandmother. leona has given it looks many times, being disgusted by its existence whenever he spots it. ruggie is just too attached to let it go though.)

Kalim

You should really have told him sooner, and he would have properly invited you to the scalding sands with him. But that doesn't mean you aren't coming home with him no. It'll just be more like staying at your boyfriends house, and not as if you were at a super expensive hotel.

Because yeah, he loves sharing a room with you, but you would probably have had your own apartment sized room to stay in, had you talked to him earlier.

Yet you didn't do that, and can stay close to Kalim during your instead. So take that as a good thing.

He's going to make sure you're having the time of your life, not wanting you to focus on anything even mildly depressing for the whole of winter break. Taking you anywhere you'd find fun the minute a smile even dares to disappear from your pretty face.

But he's very quick to cheer you up when you mentioned it to him at first. Like even Jamil was ready to uplift your mood, but mostly because he didn't want to cook for yet another party if that Was Kalims idea to brighten your mood.

"No I'm very sure you can come over during winter break, I even made sure to check in with Jamil this time! It'll be ok, you'll have fun with me instead of staying here, at campus. So please start smiling again for me!"

(he's a big collector of plush toys, you cant convince me he wouldnt be. he buys so many cute ones, and he can have animals in fabric instead of actual breathing ones. thats the only thing Jamil likes about them though.)

Leona

Almost ignored your 'sad whines about winter break' when you visited during lunch, but he could clearly hear your saddened tone and decided to make you stop whining.

How does he do this? Interrupting you mid 'whine' stating you're staying in sunset savanna with him, so shut up it's nap time.

He's dragging you home with him if he has to, but only because Kifaji is annoying him too much, and if he needs to deal with them it has to be alongside you.

Would have done this even if you could stay with your own family over the break, though housing you because of that was a perfect excuse. He mostly wants to avoid being the subject of family gossip, and this provides an easy way out... Hopefully.

You'll have a nice time in sunset savanna though, he will make sure of that, for a small price.. Said price is being his pillow for the whole trip, no excuses.

You're in a car and there isn't enough space for it, plus its dangerous? He doesn't care. Since he made sure it was a really fancy vehicle with enough space in the back to fit at least 10 people. It'll be a long ride, so get comfy.

"Then you're staying over with me, now would you stop whining so much and let me nap here in peace. No, that was not me telling you to leave, get back and sit down. Now. Finally, thank you."

(trying to get him to eat a salad would be like trying to bathe a cat, 99% impossible to do without force and weird tactics. You'll also be scratched during it. a lot.)

Ace

Oh you poor unfortunate soul, you'll just have to stay here at campus and be so, so lonely without him- Don't look at him like that, he's just teasing, relax. Of course you aren't actually staying here, you're staying with him, idiot.

Too shy to actually ask if you'd want to stay with him, and couldn't help but tease you for a little to see that sad little pout- Okay, okay he'll shut up, just please put that book down.

He does not care if his parents even agree to house you, his brother had friends over all the time so it should be fine. But now that he's remembering his brother is also coming over, he's not looking forward to winter break so much anymore.

If his family starts asking too many questions about you two, he's out. Excuses spewing out his mouth as he drags you outside, talking about this super cool place he forgot to show you.

"Come onnn, you look so stupid when you're sad, with a cute little pout as well. How could I not want to see your- okay, okay yeah I'll shut up now. Don't hit me with that book, put it down, it looks heavy. Phew, starting to think you want me dead here."

(cracks his fingers a lot, he hates the sounds they make but man does it feel good after practicing card tricks for 2 hours, no breaks. is also disgusted when Deuce does it, like gags sometimes kinda disgusted)

Thx for reading, love ya! - Masterlist

[comicaurora]

Tahraim is my fav absolutely adore him! I love that you’ve made the smith deal in introspection and cryptic bs, a lot of times smiths are very straightforward characters in stories. What made you decide to shake it up?

Can gods be tied to concepts as well as cities? As Tahraim seems to be a god of blacksmithing (or at least has some serious motifs) does he have a city thats just forges?

He also seems a lot more mobile than the other gods, or is he just “tied” to Danix?

Tahraim is a conceptual god, a class of deity considered grander and more untethered than city or nature gods. Also in his weight class are Emnis and Erebas (dreams and nightmares), Shanyasi (music), Sennaia (knowledge), Jiya (war), and a whole bunch of others. They're gods of ideas, and their domains are in the collective consciousness of mortals. They can manifest anywhere they hold sway, and several of them have constructed domains of their own in pocket dimensions; Sennaia has a transfinite library hidden away somewhere, and Tahraim has a forge.

Tahraim's personality comes from my own experience with artists and craftspeople. Many artists are acutely aware that in order for their work to be better, they need to be better. The process of creation and introspection becomes inextricably linked. Forging a tool changes the forger, little by little.

There's also an element I've observed from teachers. I was always a firm proponent of "don't be cryptic or cute, just tell me the thing and I'll get it," and while that's true a lot of the time, there are concepts that cannot be Just Told in any meaningful way. They don't hit or stick if the person doesn't put them together themselves and construct a way that works for them. Teaching isn't always the impartation of information; a lot of the time it's guidance so the student crafts the tools that work for them. Even if the teacher can perfectly communicate what method works for them, everyone is different, and a student that does the exact same thing exactly right might gain no benefits or be actively harmed by the process. Instead, the student has to parse the lesson and create their own tools to execute the same goal.

Personal example under a readmore because it got a little long:

I've sporadically dealt with intrusive thoughts my whole life, though I didn't understand what they were at the time and they've mostly gone away on their own. When I was little, upsetting thoughts would get stuck in my head and stay there; things would give me nightmares that lasted for weeks, or I'd be stuck awake in the wee hours ruminating on every time in my life I'd done something shameful or harmful or wrong. My dad recognized I was upset, and tried to teach me a method of "counting thoughts" that worked for him, where I could sit for a few minutes and just passively observe the thoughts floating by, counting them and observing them and thus becoming aware that they were small, fleeting things with no power on their own. The problem is, this method didn't work for me at all, because "count the thought" didn't communicate to me "and that makes the thought not a problem anymore." The thought still hurt just as bad, all I was doing was reminding myself how many bad thoughts were happening. I would get overwhelmed and end up more distressed, and the fact that this thing that should have worked didn't work just convinced me that I was trapped and nobody could ever help me.

It took actual years before I found a method that clicked in my brain, and it was just one step further down the path of counting thoughts:

"Having that thought is harmless."

Every thought that got stuck in my head was about times or ways I might've harmed people. The things that distressed me most were things I'd done wrong that I had zero power to change, so the wrongness would just haunt me forever, making me miserable forever. But the root of the distress was that I had messed up and hurt people.

The thing that clicked was that having the thought does nothing to anyone but me. The thought is harmless, even if the event the thought is about wasn't or wouldn't be. Having the thought hurts no-one else. And since 90% of my distress was distress at the thought of hurting other people, it hit me that in reality, even in the depths of my angst, I was just sitting there, hurting no-one.

And suddenly I found that the last few intrusive thoughts rattling around in my brain withering, because the last thing that had been feeding them was gone. I was given the technique for Counting Thoughts, but it wasn't made for my hands. I had to make my own version out of it. And just because it worked for me and my own personal brain doesn't mean this method would work for someone else, just the same way the method that worked for my dad didn't click for me. If I wanted to teach someone a way to bypass intrusive thoughts, all I would have to work on would be what worked for me, but I could try to guide them through a path similar to the one I followed to find my method so they could maybe find their specific hangups and what specifically would work for them. Every mind is different.

This is also why it's so frustrating to hear someone say stuff like "Oh I used to worry about that too, but it's actually fine, you can just stop worrying about it!" And it's like, "oh, fuckin brilliant, just stop worrying about it? Absolute genius, I just hadn't thought of that-" like yea it sounds flippant and yea it's not helpful, but they are using the only frame of reference they have and describing what they did. They stressed about something, realized it was not actually a problem, and knowing that was enough to make it leave their mind alone. But saying that they "just stopped worrying" doesn't make you understand or internalize how they did it. And because they can't seem to help you, it makes you mad. But then sometimes, with time and perspective, you look back and think "wow, yea, at some point I really did just stop worrying about that." It doesn't mean their advice worked, it just means somewhere along the line something clicked in your mind and started working.

Tahraim is a smith who sees no difference between shaping a tool and shaping a person, but there are some ways that people can't be shaped from the outside, and instead have to shape themselves. He likes to be subtle and cryptic, but he also has good reason to be. The only way to make something click in someone's head is to guide them towards it and nudge them when necessary. It's not all hitting stuff with hammers.

[alexanderwales]

Occasionally you'll see a writer question like "how do you write women?"

And the answer that's given is often "WOMEN ARE PEOPLE".

I just ... I don't think that this is a good answer? It's true, but I think it's not that likely to help men convincingly write women unless they're starting from "women are magical unicorn creatures". Which, yeah, sure, some men are starting from there, and "just write a person" might actually improve their situation.

I think a lot of men fail with "ah, just switch the pronouns". They write women whose socialization and life history is unacknowledged. Women who have not suffered harassment, discrimination, male attention, etc. Women who wear makeup but don't ever think about the makeup. They get the texture of the emotions wrong. They get the history wrong.

And for a single character, I would argue that sometimes this just doesn't matter. An individual can go against the grain, and have their own quirks and foibles. You can have a woman who wishes that she were a man. Though ... a woman who wishes that she were a man because men have the "better" gender role would be quite distinct from a man, right? In terms of her internal motivations and backstory and stuff? All people live within a society, and are shaped by that, and by their socialization, and their gender role, and their reaction to all that.

So for writing women, you have to know what it's like to grow up as a woman, to be seen as a woman, taught as a woman, all that stuff. You can and should do research on these things! You should read stuff that women have written about what it's like to be a written, how it feels to be looked at by men, what female friendships are like, what women are physically and emotionally attracted to, the particular texture of fear and anxiety that women often have around men in certain situations, the emotional labor that women are expected to do, all that and more. There's a lot to it! And as with most research, most of it will not make it to the page, it'll be a thing that you think about, and then it becomes part of the background texture of the character.

And yes, this is the same approach that you take to all character writing, whenever you're trying to write someone who isn't yourself, when you have to think hard about internal experiences of other people and marshal an understanding of the circumstances of their life.

So I think "women are people" can serve that role, and at a really basic level, writing women is like writing any character with traits you don't have, but there's also a bunch of specific stuff that naturally would come up during research and talking to women that could help a lot more than just "idk, do your own research, just make sure they're not unicorn fairies".

[yuikomorii]

// I keep seeing antis say stuff like “the Diaboys only changed because sadistic content doesn’t sell well and Rejet had to tone them down and make them nicer to appeal to the audience”, which makes me wonder… who the heck lied to you?? Because if you actually look at the broader otome game market, especially in Japan, it becomes obvious that twisted, morally gray, or outright sadistic characters have big fanbases.

Take Yang from Piofiore as a perfect example. He’s objectively abusive for the entirety of his route, but at the same time, his personality makes him incredibly compelling to a lot of players. As a result, he’s constantly being talked about and is known for selling very well while also being very expensive. What’s even more telling is that he already had a huge amount of fans from the very first game, back when he was even more extreme. Another example is the cat twins from Black Wolves Saga. When Rejet announced the Switch port of the game, there was an overwhelming flood of fanart, screenshots, pics, and posts focused entirely on them. A bunch of people can’t even name the rest of the cast.

So when others say that sadistic or dark characters don’t appeal as ‘softer’ ones, it honestly just sounds like projection or wishful thinking. The reality is that these characters do have a large and loyal audience and if they didn’t, companies like Rejet wouldn’t have continued the franchise.

Now, when it comes to DL in particular, the Diaboys didn’t suddenly soften up out of nowhere because being sadistic was “no longer viable”. What we’re seeing is character development, something that’s natural and necessary in any long-running story. No one wants to follow a franchise where the characters remain static in every game. Yes, it’s true that sometimes that development can feel rushed, but even when it does, there are still signs that the boys are starting to show growing potential and recognize their mistakes.

Last but not least, we’re talking about otome games here… they’re meant to be engaging, not completely realistic. They’re not supposed to reflect real-life relationships or situations, because everything is intentionally exaggerated for drama, plot, and so on.

[maradevi]

The Unusual: A Character Analysis on Bomb (And OJ, sort of)

Introduction

Wanted to make this post seeing as Bomb's been getting discussion again after the recent remaster episode. It goes without saying that Bomb is a complicated character. He, as with many problematic aspects of II1's story - was undeniably crafted as a mean-spirited ableist stereotype, that was consequently "scrubbed clean" off the face of the series up until the recent season two finale and remaster. And it's true. He is evidently a “writer's regret,” severely lacking in modern relevance, and compared to the intentionally-done stories of Suitcase and Knife - critically underdeveloped as a character. 

And yet - I'm drawn to him anyway.

It's hard to argue Bomb is as deliberately written as most of the fuller, modern characters are. Frankly, a large portion of his depth likely wasn't thought about at all, even now - but there is something horribly, and ironically complex about the character he is given. Something that I haven't yet seen discussed in this fandom, or concretely acknowledged by even the canon source. The "overly anxious, bumbling idiot" trope II intended to portray him as, ironically became a self-referential character that has experienced nothing but ableism from other characters, became shaped by his discrimination, and is consequently now a reversal of everything his stereotype limited him to be: affable, easygoing, interpersonally skilled - even teasing and sassy at times. 

I want this essay to humanize a character that is so critically overlooked by both his writers and this fandom. I want this essay to show him in a completely different light than what we're used to seeing - Bomb has grown since season one as something more than just "The Unusual". And while no one needs to like him or enjoy him - understanding Bomb, at the bare minimum, is critical to understanding the arcs of plenty of other well-loved characters (namely OJ, who will get his own analysis section in this essay). 

There will be obvious mentions and descriptions of ableism throughout. Please take care of yourself while reading. I also want to emphasize that although I try to analyze only what has been consistently established, I also acknowledge that a LOT of Bomb’s scenes generally lack intentionality and there is always the likelihood II could eventually release some episode that completely subverts everything about his character. But what he has now, as of the time of writing this, means a lot to me - and that’s what I want to focus on. 

"FALSE ALARM": What it Means, and Why It Fits

There is one other tagline that II gives Bomb beyond "The Unusual"-- and it's "FALSE ALARM,” crudely written on his corpse in the midway point of the season two movie.

And I think, at his very core - this is fundamentally what Bomb is meant to be. It is inherent to his object, even - he is a weapon that harms others, in mass quantities. The whole (initial) purpose of BFDI’s Bomby is to mass kill characters when necessary and freak out when his fuse is lit. And technically, on a surface level, Bomb appears the same way. He blows up when it's funny, his arrival in Idiotic Island causes mass panic, and he screams at the top of his lungs when he sees MePhone's plane fly by at the beginning of season two. But these scenes actually make up only a fraction of his dialogue - and the interesting irony of Bomb is an almost meta-level of self-awareness of what he is, and his attempt to break out of that when he has the autonomy and power to do so.

"Double Digit Desert" in particular points to Bomb's general preference for non-violence and passiveness (or at least, violence that does not involve him blowing up and hurting a bunch of people). Despite clearly having the physical strength and prowess to destroy the desert/his obstacles, his first instinct is to… verbally threaten the fence to move. He is willing to use physical skills to help his ally (OJ), yet interestingly, he abstains from doing so if it would possibly hurt himself or others. The post-ending scene of "The Crappy Cliff (Remastered)" is ESPECIALLY on-the-nose with this - he is aware that yes, he can blow up and kill everyone with ease, but will only do so under the circumstance it helps everyone's problems (that is, getting them out of falling for non-existence). He knows he is made to be a weapon of mass destruction, but actively refuses to live up to that unless given the “yes” from everyone else. His explosions, at least when done of his own will, pretty consistently happens in a controlled environment where it generally won’t harm others/it’s actually needed, in this case. 

Yes, Bomb does have plenty of scenes where he DOES blow up and it’s a big freakout scene - but it's incredibly interesting how none of these examples are done out of his own will or to intentionally harm others, despite being an object that could easily get away with it in the same way Knife is justified for being violent... because, well, you'd expect a knife to do that. And you'd expect Bomb to do that too... but he doesn't - because it’s part of him being a “false alarm.” Funnily enough, as pointed out by a dear friend - there’s also a layer of irony that possibly the only scene where Bomb is actually feared is the one that consequently frees everyone from Idiotic Insanity.

Similarly, a great deal of his lines point to Bomb perhaps being way more introspective and socially aware than what we'd expect (or what the ableist stereotype WANTS us to expect) for the "goofy idiot.” His very first line in "A Lemonly Lesson" is him speaking up about Balloon treating Taco aggressively and calling him out for it (and interestingly enough, in the remaster - OJ, the "nice guy character" actually encourages Balloon to treat Taco awfully right after that - acting as a very interesting foil to Bomb). He becomes saddened and seemingly ashamed when Pickle wordlessly admonishes him (for his literal disability) in “War de Guacamole.” In later episodes, he picks up on OJ not caring about him as a person - he just wants to satiate his own savior complex, hence why the whole ""betrayal"" arc happens (more on that later). In spite of it all, he’s even able to separate strategic plays in the competition from his personal relationships (throwing OJ aside to win the challenge - which I want to quickly clarify that characters like Silver Spoon do things like this all the time without it being seen as a reflection on their personal relationships, so I see no reason why this logic can’t also be applied to Bomb) - something OJ actually HADN'T developed yet, hence why Bomb gets confused when OJ takes the betrayal so harshly. And when OJ continuously treats him awfully throughout the rest of season one, he eventually has enough and sassily votes for him in "The Penultimate Poll" (even mocking OJ's self-victimization). 

Even his little scenes in the finale further this characterization: he leads Cheesy directly into a pun and beats him at his own wordplay, showing that although the characters around him take him as incompetent or socially inept - he is actually, perhaps, way more socially mature than a great deal of characters. 

But at the same time, it’s also INCREDIBLY important to me that Bomb is also, at heart, incredibly sweet and gentle. Obviously he has his moments in season one, but literally every single II1 character was bigoted and/or really mean for no reason (consequence of being written by 13-year-olds, I guess). He did genuinely care about OJ and did plenty to help him, up to a certain point (when OJ admittedly generally did not reciprocate this level of asssistance). He didn't want to be violent against a fence for crying out loud. He openly mourns the death of his best friend by trying to play his favorite game in his honor, his first question about the whole situation being to ask about Pickle - even after he was left in the dark about what exactly happened to him. And even though he was one of the few people who would have legitimate reason to not like Balloon - he (alongside Pickle) was the first person of the II1 cast to invite him to hang out again.

This even applies to OJ (although it's very unlikely Bomb and OJ are really "friends" as much as they are just on passive terms nowadays) - this guy was so, so terrible to him in season one, and yet Bomb shows no sign of what would be very justified bitterness or hurt past that little bit of sassiness in "The Penultimate Poll.” He's a VERY big forgiver in a way while still being pretty firm about not letting himself just get run over (which becomes a very interesting parallel to Paper later on!). So much of his interactions revolve around wanting to assist or help others, too - trying to uplift Cheesy during the redline game or putting everyone out of their misery at the end of II1 remaster, namely. Bomb is one of the characters (like Cabby) that would have every single right to be angry and hurt at the way he's been treated by virtually everyone, even to this day - and yet, he isn't. He is happy. He is gentle. And he likes plants - that just shows how easygoing he is, right? (/silly)

And he can be blunt, just as he can be sassy: he can choose when to be silly and when to be serious. He is NOT as emotionally volatile as his stereotype wants him to be - even his background scenes in season two supplement this, as he quickly puts a pause on his silly dances/reactions to watch Balloon as he enters the hotel in "Rain on Your Charade." Yeah, Bomb definitely has some strange reactions at (admittedly most) times in season two - but so much of his more serious scenes point to this being a choice he makes deliberately, rather than something he just... does because "goofy guy!” I'll get more into why I personally think he does this, but the point ultimately is that Bomb is surprisingly very evenly-tempered as a character, and is perhaps way more socially intelligent than AE even intended him to be taken as. 

It all leads back to his coding: being a false alarm. We expect a bomb to be one step away from lighting its fuse and blowing up. We expect Bomb (as a character) to be volatile, reckless, violent. But none of that ever happens. He is composed, soft(er)-spoken, passive, well-meaning - and certainly thinks and speaks much more carefully than what the people around him expect.

Bombjay: It sucks, and that's why we love it (+ a smaller analysis on OJ/Paper)

Of all things Bomb is probably most utilized or known for in this fandom - it's specifically his dynamic with OJ. And for very, very good reason. Bomb and OJ are, undoubtedly - a toxic and power-imbalanced relationship (in the context of canon). It gets to the point that even the writing pretty explicitly blames OJ for everything that happened. That's even the biggest point of criticism Pickle has against OJ during "The Penultimate Poll" - and while OJ acts like the catalyst was Bomb's "betrayal," in my eyes at least - their relationship was actually doomed from its very conception. So long as Bomb's disability began to "inconvenience him" (in other words, just exist at all) - it was never going to mesh well with OJ's self-centered savior complex. It's, although depressing, a golden example of how people very often prop up and parade around with disabled people to feel "good" about themselves for allegedly "saving them" from their lives. 

At his core, OJ is a caretaker/provider who is VERY obsessed with being the perfect example. He does not care if you don't want his help - he knows best, and is the most "rational" guy on the team, so it's his “saving” you'll be dealing with for the rest of your life. It's part of what makes his character as the "hero of II" so complicated and nuanced: there are times his heart is truly in the right place, just misguided by true ignorance/not knowing any better. And there are plenty of times he convinces himself his heart is in the right place, when he is in reality being nothing but condescending and snarky. And there are other times where he is just outright rude and cruel to people knowingly, but gives himself a pass because "I'm good everywhere else. It’s fine if I’m mean just this one time.” But the worst part is - OJ is technically validated in his way of thinking. He isn't immediately wrong about being one of the more rational characters. There really isn't any other character in II that would so willingly want to create communal housing for the others or have the willpower to actually maintain it. He knows he is good at what he is doing, and he exploits the hell out of that.

Except Bomb did not validate that way of thinking, and that's exactly where the fallout happened.

OJ showed signs very early on his care for Bomb was incredibly conditional - all the way back in "4Seeing the Future,” he notably gets irritated when Bomb accidentally throws his cookie into the air (rejecting HIS gift!). He happily lets Bomb talk to him when it’s validating his opinions about Balloon in "Sugar Rush," but when Bomb tries to explain how he returned in "Double Digit Desert" - OJ immediately cuts him off and tells him to "forget it." Anything Bomb tries to say that takes longer than two seconds to listen to is immediately brushed off by OJ, who, evidently - is only interested in how he can "save this pitiful guy" to make himself *feel* good. He's not interested at all in what Bomb himself has to say, and that's something Bomb evidently starts to figure out himself toward the end of "Double Digit Desert."

And this is ultimately what leads up to their big fallout at the end of the competition. Of course, Bomb himself isn't a golden standard of niceness (as most II1 characters are) - but I think it's often overlooked that Bomb had only loosely suggested that he should win when OJ immediately retorts that it should be him, because "he's smarter." OJ doesn't think for a second - his ally, who had previously helped him all throughout the challenge - might possibly be deserving of the win, and, while obviously cruel, absolutely shows very explicitly how OJ's tolerance of Bomb was just that: conditional tolerance. Bomb giving even the slightest suggestion that he might not fit perfectly into OJ's savior fantasy instantly shattered any hope of their friendship succeeding past this point.

Coupled with OJ's vaguely ableist-sentiment doubting Bomb's intelligence - I do believe that's exactly why Bomb ends up shoving (and killing) him. It clicks in his head this guy does not care much about him - but interestingly, at the same time, Bomb initially doesn't seem to perceive this act as a betrayal as much as it was maybe a minor disagreement, if not just a strategic way of winning a competition. It's exactly why Bomb gets so confused in the following episode, where he happily goes up to OJ and calls out for him - only to be immediately shut down by OJ, berated, and then ditched for Paper. 

So funnily enough - it's not really Bomb's actions that hurt OJ. It's OJ constructing a false image of Bomb in his mind, and when that helpless image of Bomb got broken - OJ betrayed himself, and consequently hurt his own ego. 

OJ effectively door slamming on Bomb as soon as that perfect little image got shattered is another HUGE indicator their alliance was, at best: conditional. The moment OJ no longer needs to play into the role of being Bomb's "savior,” he goes completely mask-off in his ableism. He outright states this himself: "I accepted you for who you are!" When Bomb tries to explain himself, he refuses to hear him out and jumps to Paper instead (actually making it a point to state he's only allowing Paper to be with him to "get back at Bomb", in a way). Then, funnily enough, he exhibits the same immediate withdrawal tendencies to Paper themself later on in the episode when he tells them "Between you and Bomb, I feel like I'm in a mental hospital." It conspires all the way to Bomb's elimination, where OJ just HAS to get the last word in about how Bomb "deserves" it for ""betraying"" him. 

The slightest bit of resistance, from someone that isn't expected to "resist" - instantly seems to absolutely destroy OJ's world. Every interaction he has with Bomb throughout the rest of the season is literally just OJ trying to make it a point "you did something bad and you should feel bad for me." 

All this to say this isn't meant to be an attempt to demonize OJ - it's actually a very critical point of his character development, and understanding exactly where his savior complex later on comes from. Bomb possibly suggesting that his "saving" isn't exactly helping questions his very existence - and it thus results in OJ having an extreme meltdown that leads to him self-victimizing himself, because if Bomb isn't the one in the wrong - then HE is, and that can't be possible, because he has to be a good person. He needs to be the hero. OJ is VERY horribly ableist to Bomb, but in a way, it may even be internalized ableism to himself - not addressing his fixation on being a hero is, in fact, unhealthy and incredibly damaging for his esteem.

But this is where Paper comes in - and is exactly why Bomb and Paper, surprisingly, have two incredibly interesting parallels. Paper is set up as the “same formula, different answer” side of Bomb - their relationship begins in eerily similar contexts. The Paper/OJ alliance starts out with Paper literally below him. It's not Paper giving OJ a chance - it's OJ giving Paper the opportunity of "okay, prove you're better than Bomb." Then when EP/Looseleaf comes into the picture, it evolves into "now how can I save YOU?". I do believe OJ's intentions with EP are more genuine than it was with Bomb - but at heart, it is still the same thing of OJ wanting to save someone. Only, because Paper is much more vulnerable and ""newer"" to socializing, in a way (than Bomb is at least) - they let him. They actively need someone to rely on, and OJ seems to fit perfectly into that mold. Getting rid of EP seems like a good answer to both of them - and when Paper does "overcome their evil alter!!!", OJ gets the self-validation that look, he DID help someone! And now Paper should be indebted to him.

"The Tile Divide" is an all but explicit parallel to "Double Digit Desert": only Paper is a doormat. Their imbalanced relationship with OJ has made them subtly become the “inferior,” and so their solution is to fawn/play into that, rather than Bomb's solution of "I should stand up for myself." Tile Divide is a test to determine whether or not Paper/OJ is going to last beyond the competition, and by Paper allowing OJ to win - and, most importantly, accepting and framing it as "punishment" for them not helping him earlier with his orange juice problem - is exactly what made Payjay last and Bombjay fail. OJ tries to project his fear/insecurity of a similar ""betrayal"" happening again (by calling Paper a traitor/backstabber for trying to go help Taco with her lemon problem), but rather than pointing out that's a silly idea - Paper buckles to the idea instead. They unintentionally cement OJ's perspective as them being "inferior," but they also cause OJ to become very attached to them because they eased his fears about not being needed. It makes their relationship, in the same stroke it destroys it - at least until this power imbalance gets formally acknowledged in "The Reality of the Situation." 

Bombjay is complicated. It's messy. But it's a huge part of why both characters are the way they are (and is even fundamental in setting up Payjay, I'd argue). And all of this is largely why I believe Bomb and OJ can never truly become close again - it's likely very similar to how OJ (apparently) sort of just accepts Taco is around again post-finale, even after her “evil reveal.” He gets too busy to care or think too much, although the "betrayal" probably still stings. And in Bomb's case - all that ableism and belittling radically shapes how he starts to act in season two and onwards - but he still isn't nearly petty enough (beyond sassing OJ in "The Penultimate Poll") to carry on their rivalry. And so they both set season one aside, even though the wounds are still there, and they still hurt - but maybe, those wounds sting slightly less if they just keep their space away from each other - and that means not acknowledging the problem anymore as well.

Bomb and... everyone else (and how it shapes him)

Unsurprisingly, it's not just OJ that treats Bomb poorly, though.

It's hard to talk about Bomb without separating him from his stereotype - the writing, both currently and back in II1 - does not treat him well. Everyone sees him in a condescending way. Even the writing sometimes tunnel visions him as just some "goofy guy" that can't do much else but make silly expressions. I don't want to blame the characters as much as I do the writing - but it's hard, when Bomb is pretty much universally seen in an "inferior light" and is very notably treated differently in the plot from everyone else. But at the same time, it's undoubtedly a huge part of why Bomb progressively becomes more passive, quiet, and less outspoken in the later series.

I think "War de Guacamole" is probably the most mean-spirited about this: they very overexaggerate his stammer, and all of the characters stop to stare at him in disdain. Pickle even makes it a point to stare down at Bomb and glare like he's a misbehaving child - over a disability he can't control. II2 becomes more subtle with it, but undoubtedly other characters continue to treat Bomb like a chore/hassle more than a person. Soap proclaims she "shouldn't have to worry about Bomb making a mess" in the first edition of the II comics. When Microphone notices the TV wasn't unplugged in "Through No Choice of Your Own," she jumps to accusing Bomb of plugging the video game back in - and although her assumption isn't illogical, her groaning and tone of voice when scolding him in a manner similar to a child - evidently hints at a condescending attitude that is VERY different from how characters normally address each other. When most other characters get a moment to mourn their loved ones, Bomb is virtually left in the dark about what happened to Pickle as Baseball doesn't reply to his question about his death - while none of these are likely deliberate on any of these character's parts, it becomes a depressingly recurring pattern of Bomb being brushed aside, seen as a problem, or just... not important. It's incredibly similar to the Thinkers infantilizing or treating Yin-Yang like a child/animal - only Bomb gets much less closure in that regard, as he's evidently still seen as a problem.

Personally, I have a lot of beef with how Bomb is written from a meta-perspective still. Too much of his relevance in the finale is just lightly (or sometimes seriously) scolding him for doing "something out of line." He apparently acts out about the video games, he freaks Cheesy out during the red line game, so forth. He has less... normal interactions, and more so needs to be scolded or kept in line by others. And while it's very likely his emotional maturity previously established was just unintentional implications - it goes pretty depressingly against what we've seen prior. 

But meta criticisms aside, this ultimately leads me to my main point: Bomb, as established by him sassing OJ, knows what ableism is. He recognizes when he is being treated poorly, and he reacts accordingly. And in this case, it's largely why I interpret his involvement in season two as becoming deliberately quieter and reserved to avoid being belittled. I don't really have as much concrete evidence for this as much as it is just how I personally interpret it. Thus:

The Unintentional Implications/Interpretations of Bomb

I view post-II1 Bomb as a self-fulfilling prophecy in a way. He has become so used to being relegated as the goofy guy people find tiring - that he plays into that to an absurd degree. We've seen in little background scenes that Bomb is very capable of controlling how he reacts to things, meaning his sillier/absurd moments are likely much more conscious than we think. And because it's conscious, it leads to me interpreting this as Bomb avoiding the ableism that's plagued him all his life, by almost trying to play into it. Obviously, he won't stand for someone being as blatant about it as OJ - but it's much easier to not be made fun of if you just... be silly about it, and be quiet.

And in some ways, perhaps it isn't really a conscious decision on Bomb's part to play into this role - maybe it's the ableist treatment of him that has actually locked him into being seen as just a silly guy. Cheesy being shocked that Bomb could actually out-pun him shows that people really don't expect much wittiness from him, Mic/Soap have both established Bomb is seen as a liability at times, etc etc. So even though Bomb acting "ordinary" and "aware" is actually what his personality consistently is (as demonstrated numerous times!), it comes off as a shocker to everyone else because they just assume he's the weird guy. Maybe that is also part of his coding as a false alarm - his coding might not necessarily affect him, as much as it does affect everyone else - warping their perceptions to perceive Bomb as an absurdity or a threat, when in reality he’s just some guy.

But this discussion is largely speculative. The II1 remaster will have a lot of things to add to Bomb, and I don't want to make conclusive statements about anything until it finishes Bomb's story. I will say from what we have so far, however - their rehandling of Bomb definitely plays a lot into Bomb truly being more of an ordinary, sweet, and level-headed guy - just surrounded by a bunch of people who aren't very kind to him.

Concluding Thoughts (Why I Love Bomb - And You Should, Too)

Bomb isn't well-written. I will say that very point blank: he is not. 

But he is complexly written (...at least with OJ). No matter how unintentional, talking about his nuance is interesting. His arc is perhaps one of the most important in II1, if not the greater II as a whole for how it builds up OJ in particular. His character is treated cruelly, and yet in that cruelty - I resonate with him, and that's exactly why I think generating discussion about him, well-written or not - is so critically important and fun to me.

And although his current base is not great, I have faith in the II1 remaster for a perhaps kinder depiction of Bomb. I greatly enjoy the additional supplementation they have given thus far - generally leaving his lines alone, but giving his character more weight and intentionality in what he does. He becomes recognized and written for being Bomb - not for his disability (as a mean-spirited joke, that is). 

But even without the remaster, I still truly believe Bomb deserves much more than being perhaps the least talked-about character of II1 (second to maybe Salt or Pepper?). OJ is a great part of his character, and Bomb is a great part of OJ's in turn - but both are so deeply complex by themselves that discussion like this can be generated for either in great length, separately. I know a large majority will likely not agree with my more favorable opinion of Bomb, but so long as he might become something more for some person: that is the goal of this essay, at the end of the day. 

He is a flawed character, but he, ironically enough - becomes an even stronger character within these flaws. And in my eyes: any character that can generate this amount of discourse in length, has done something right enough to be compelling, even if it’s to just one person.

[thetrialsandtribulationsofeb]

tim, oliver, and ryan are literally a bunch of liars who lie

just thinking about how - and correct me if i’m wrong - they didn’t say anything about buck’s bisexual awakening until 7x04 aired. that’s why they spent the whole episode focusing on buck’s jealousy over his “best friend,” because buck revealing he wanted “tommy’s” attention and kissing a man for the first time in his life at the end is supposed to be a big surprise for the audience

same with ryan talking about eddie’s relationship with marisol like they’re going to last in an interview - either because he genuinely didn’t know about kim at that moment or because he knew but couldn’t say anything for obvious reasons

we’re not supposed to know more than the characters at any given time in the story, and tim strikes me as someone who hates being figured out. that’s probably why he “killed” bobby and separated buddie for these three episodes before 8x17 - to completely reverse the audience’s expectations

and of course, they’re not going to reveal anything in their interviews, because then what’s the point? they’re constantly playing coy or straight-up lying

and i really can’t with tim’s “it really wasn’t intentional,” especially with the new 8x17 episode

at one point, there are so many “which could mean nothings” that they turn into “it’s not nothing.” (and that applies to bobby’s “death,” too.) like, i can’t actually believe someone could write that many unintentional parallels and references. i could do a whole study on seasons 7 and 8. how does that saying go? once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern. a hundred times is definitely a sign

if he doesn’t deliver buddie and alobby canon after everything he put in the script… he’s going to destroy himself, because i don’t think the audience will be happy with that. we’ve already seen how mad everyone can get. he can’t keep playing with this will-they-won’t-they forever, and seasons 7 and 8 tell me we’re finally getting a clear confirmation that “they 100% will, just in season 9” in the season finale (along with the bobby reveal. i’m never closing on alobby!!!)

also, literally, what could be a more true and authentic development for one bisexual and one gay-coded character who can’t keep any romantic relationship in their life but act like an already married couple and perfectly complement each other, hmm?

my brain just refuses to believe that they all don’t know what they’re doing. no one is that oblivious. and ryliver recently doing interviews together confirms buddie canon for me

[stellar-collective]

//blood

buncha ghost designs i whipped up for a new au i’m working on (yes another one this is how i have fun)

it’s a ghost hunters au! Reginald and Phoenix both work at the Ghost Hunter Agency in a world where ghosts are like. a pretty common and established problem and they have to go in and investigate them Phasmophobia style! more details about them and the ghosts under the cut :3

cw for usual ghost/true crime stuff (gruesome murders/deaths and all that)

ok i have a whole story behind how these guys are all connected and why Reginald and Phoenix are visiting them all (basically Doctor Zor is a ghost so vengeful that they became a serial killer from the afterlife and they’re the victims that also became vengeful ghosts) but let’s focus on them individually first! they’re all from different eras and died in a variety of ways. in the actual story, most of them are invisible 90% of the time, so some of these designs are just for fun!

starting from the top left, the Fabricator was a fashion designer and one of Zor’s oldest recorded victims, dying around the 1910s. got shot by her own bear archer, L. she’s one of the most frightening ghosts to deal with because she’s fully aware of her surroundings and isn’t lashing out from confusion/fear, she just really loves scaring people to death. she haunts her old workshop and enjoys chasing people around with pins and scissors and setting up elaborate traps for them

below her is John Juniper, a 1940s starlet who was killed in a theater via electrical “accident” (Zor wrecked the wires) and happily haunted said theater for seventy years before Plot came along and riled him, prompting the GHA (Ghost Hunter Agency) to try and figure out why he was suddenly acting up. he’s normally fairly chill, but flies into a frenzy if you touch his masks or do classic bad luck theater things (whistling on stage, saying Macbeth, etc). he’s really scary when he’s hunting; dropping stage lights, making mirrors shatter, causing visual and auditory hallucinations, making spotlights go crazy, etc. Phoenix found this out the hard way lol

to his right is Commander Solaris, who died working on a project for the Space Race in the late 50s. the radioactive materials she was working with exploded, and now she haunts the remains of her lab. she is TERRIFYING to get near and extremely radioactive; the surest way of tracking her movements being a geiger counter. she fritzes out any electrical equipment nearby, glows in the dark, and has odd effects on the human body (shortness of breath, adrenaline spikes, plus the radiation). she’s the ghost that got the closest to killing Phoenix and probably took a few years off their lifespan.

moving upwards, we have Caliente and Hivemind, who died exactly how you’d expect: Hivemind was allergic to bees and simply supremely confident in his ability to keep them pacified (too bad Zor riled them up) and Caliente died in a welding “accident” that burned his house down. they both died in the 70s.

then we have Ollie (<3), who starved to death in a lighthouse in the 80s and, driven to madness by Zor, eternally guards something important to them. although he’s the least murderous of the bunch, he has one of the most visually frightening power sets; going absolutely ballistic with the howling and wailing and chains rattling and huge dark shapes slapping their tentacles against the windows and making the air go cold and the lights crazy if you even THINK about going to the top floor. but once Phoenix gives him an otter pop and snaps him to the present day, he calms right down.

there are a couple other ghost characters who i didn’t draw (like Anna Ulanova, who died in a train crash and fills the valley with haunting violin music on clear nights, and Daniel Sans, who fell to a chemical accident) but those are all the main ones i think! um, other important stuff— Roxana is still very much alive and kicking (she’s the same age as Reginald) but ends up catching Zor’s attention and almost becomes their latest victim before Phoenix and Reggie step in. i’ll probably draw the living characters later when i’ve properly visualized how i want the GHA uniforms to look. and yes, Phoenix has thrown themselves onto a pentagram and shouted “rock n roll, buckaroo!” because they do not feel fear. oki enough rambling for now :P

i feel like there HAS to be some absolutely genius title for this since it’s literally about ghosts and it’s the game I Expect You To Die but… i can’t think of anything. currently taking suggestions lol

[jogetsobsessed]

Always an Angel - Paul Lahote

Ok, I've been obsessed with the lyric “Always an angel, never a god for a few days now. I don't know why all of a sudden but it's been all I can think about. I know there are a bunch of literal interpretations but I look at it as a version of “always the bridesmaid, never the bride”, always the side character, never the main character. So I hope this comes across how I want it to lol. 

Also, the timeline is kinda messed up in this, just live in ignorant bliss and ignore it pls, and thank you!

---------

Always the option, never the priority. 

Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. 

Always the lover, never the loved. 

Always the fighter, never the fought for. 

Always an angel, never a god. 

------------

You were used to being sidelined, looked right through. 

No matter what you were doing, or who you were with, you were never the main focus. 

Growing up boys never spared you a glance, your best friends being the main targets for their glances and flirty remarks. You were never the one asked to dance, always the one asked to hold a friend's purse or bag. If the car was full on the way to get ice cream, you were always the one that was going to be left out. You never learned inside jokes and standing alone at parties, you didn't even know why you went, it's not like anyone would notice if you left anyway. 

At night when you would break and confide in the one person you knew truly loved you she would always question why you remained friends with the people that caused you so much pain. And through your blubbering, you would look at her like she was crazy. Explain to your mother that it must have been too long since she was a teenager. Because that's not how it works. Living in a small town the pool of potential friends is small, and having friends that treat you horribly is better than having no friends at all. 

You would apologize to her years later, after maturing, and realizing that the remarks you directed towards her were uncalled for. The anger you threw her way was misguided and unfair. She didn't deserve the way that you treated her. 

When Bella Swan moved to town you thought everything was going to change. She was from a big city, you didn't know much about Phoenix but you knew they probably didn't harbor the same small-town mindset that Forks did. 

She had no clue who you were. She didn't know the unspoken reputation that hung above your head like a storm cloud. 

And at first, you were right. 

The two of you became friends quickly, Bella taking a liking to your quiet demeanor, such a drastic change from Jessica and her goons. 

Your friendship appeared surface-level, to everyone but the two of you. In school, you both kept to yourselves and didn't talk much, even to each other. You would drag her along with you when you gathered the strength to hang out with your old friends. But you didn't do that often, seeing as they saw her as a shiny new toy and didn't treat her as a second-class citizen. 

But after school the two of you would talk, your friendship would come alive in the comfort of your own homes, and you two would look like actual teenage girls and not two seventeen-year-olds who should be on the highest dose of Lexapro. 

She was the first person that you saw as a true friend, that was until she committed, in your opinion, a cardinal sin. 

Bella had gone off the deep end and you hadn't seen her in days. But that was normal, she would spiral, skip school, and then show up as if nothing happened. So you weren't concerned, sent her a few texts checking up on her and getting one-word responses back. Then the following Monday came around. You were waiting by your truck, lazily twirling your hair, eyes glazed over as you dissociated waiting for the bell to ring. 

But amid your dissociation, you were pulled back to reality when a shiny black Volvo came to a screeching halt a row over. You knew who drove the expensive car so you tried to be as nonchalant as possible as you peered over your shoulder to get a good look at the owner. 

You wished you hadn't. 

Because getting out of the passenger seat was the person that you considered your best friend. Your best friend was sitting in the passenger seat of the car of the guy you had a crush on since he arrived at Forks High School. 

She knew about your long-standing crush on Edward, she was the only person other than your mother who you had told. It came tumbling off your tongue one late night about a month after she had arrived in town. And you had sworn her to secrecy, begging her to never tell another soul. 

But now it seemed to not matter, she had broken your trust and your heart. 

------------------

The next year drug on. With Bella being completely infatuated with Edward you were left to crawl back to your old friends. They accepted you with barely open arms, reluctantly saving you a seat at the lunch table, sometimes sending you the location for Friday night activities. 

When the Cullen clan abruptly left Forks Bella did to you exactly what you had done to your friends months earlier. Part of you didn't know why, but you let her back in, although this time keeping her at an arm's length away, never fully trusting her, 

Eventually, however, Edward came back. First making his appearance walking hand in hand with Bella in the dreadful hallways of Forks High School after she had disappeared yet again for a few days with not even a courtesy text. 

This time seeing them together didn't feel like a hot knife was piercing your skin. How could it, you no longer felt the same that you had for Edward. Because he had proven himself to be just like everyone else. He made you feel invisible. 

------------

The heat of late spring had arrived and you took in all the warmth that you could as you walked down the small rocky path to the mailbox. Graduation had come and gone and you found yourself in isolation. The people you had forced yourself to be friends with in high school no longer mattered. You didn't have to play the uncertain game of high school politics anymore. Starting university was on the horizon and while you dreaded leaving the comfort of home you were excited, this was going to be your chance to reinvent yourself. You were no longer going to be the person no one cared to look towards. 

Pulling out the various envelopes you felt your heart stop beating when the light lilac envelope was pulled to the front. You knew what it was, you didn't even have to open it. But you did, ripping it open, praying that you hadn't torn apart the coveted invitation. Sure enough in bold letters, you read “Edward Anthony Masen Cullen and Isabella Marie Swan request your presence…”. 

The phone call with Bella that night was awkward. You haven't talked much since graduation but she assured you that she wanted you to be at the wedding. You had wanted to push and ask her why she was rushing to get married. I mean you along with everyone else knew that they had only known each other for a year and hadn't been dating for the entirety of said year. But she sounded happy, the happiest she had ever seemed. So you didn't say anything, instead prying for details about the impending nuptials. 

-------------

Thousands of flowers cascaded down creating a custom perfume in the air. Your eyes darted between the bunches of wisteria and sweet peas and you were in awe. The wedding had snuck up on you. So much had happened over the summer leaving you feeling unprepared to start school in the fall. Leaving you to make one of the hardest choices that you had ever made, deferring your acceptance into your top school to the following fall quarter. 

So when you got a reminder on your phone that read “Bella and Edward wedding tmr” you were at a loss for words. I mean you had everything you physically needed, a dress, a present, the right pair of shoes. But you had forgotten one important thing, a date. 

It wasn't going to be the first time you had shown up to an event without one, but it was probably going to feel the most embarrassing. 

So here you were, standing next to your group of “friends'' from high school as they gossiped about the possibility of Bella being pregnant. “What do you think?”Erik asked you, giving your arm a soft nudge with his. “I don't know guys '. Jessica of course had a counter, pointing out that out of the group you were the closest with her. Luckily before you had to come up with an excuse of why you didn't know for certain the music began, signaling that it was time for everyone to turn their attention to the altar. 

A few tears managed to slip down your cheeks as you watched your sometimes best friend say “I do”. In that moment all the turbulent times the two of you experienced didn't matter. You were just happy to be in the presence of two people who were madly in love and confessing it to each other, permanently sealing their love with a dramatic kiss. 

The reception area was decorated equally as beautiful. You were grateful that Bella, or more likely Alice had set you close to the dance floor. That way you could watch people without feeling like a total loser, hanging out in the corner by yourself. At least this way you could still enjoy the happiness of the other guests without feeling the gross amount of body heat from the dancing bodies. 

The ice was melting quickly in your lemonade, the night had not been rewarded with a cool late summer breeze so you were appreciative of the cool drink. The night had seemingly been going according to plan. Your ‘friends’ had migrated to another table across the dance floor with the excuse of wanting to talk to some of the other guests, but they had not returned in almost two hours so you were holding your breath. 

Mentally you were planning your escape plan, glancing at your watch. Waiting for an acceptable time to leave, not too early into the night but not too late that you were leaving only minutes before the bride and groom's big exit. As you granted yourself yet another glance at the heirloom watch you wore and looked back up a gasp unwillingly left your lips. 

The mystery man, who looked almost familiar, chuckled at your surprised look. Confidently he took the empty seat next to yours, turning his body to give you his full attention. “May I help you”, you didn't recognize your own words, your tone was a bit rude and you didn't even give him a second to introduce himself after she sat. 

“I’m Paul Lahote”. 

Once he gave his name to you your eyes moved up to meet him and the electric shock that you felt in your veins almost felt real. There was no doubt blush forming on every inch of your face and you were praying that the low light of the Edison bulbs did a good job at protecting some of your dignity. You gave him your name, barely squeaking out your last name. 

Things like this didn't happen to you. A man that looked like him didn't talk to you. A part of you wondered if Jessica or someone like her had already turned him down, because let's face it, you were always the option but never the priority. 

“I think you should share a dance with me, no pretty girl like you should be sitting alone at a wedding”. The flare in your cheeks was visible now, you were sure of it. No matter how low the light was you could have sworn a red glow was emitting from your body, like an accusing halo. 

“Paul…you don't have to dance with me, I was just getting ready to leave”. Gathering your belongings as you begin to stand up. “No!”. He said, eyebrows raising to the top of his forehead once he realized how loud he exclaimed. Sheepishly he looked around offering small smiles as an apology to a few of the guests who looked at him like he had three heads. 

“Please, I noticed you when I walked in before the ceremony and I haven't been able to shake you from my eyeline all night. I don’t think I can take no for an answer”. 

The fact that your heart was still caged behind your chest was an act of god. Because at this point it should have flown away due to how hard it was beating. You were at a loss for words. The thought that someone was putting you first, taking interest in you was unbearable. And you were crumbling at his gaze. 

His outstretched hand found yours that you slowly had begun to uncurl from against your body. Swiftly he whisked you out onto the dance floor, pulling your body flush to his. 

Clumsily your feat matched his falling into routine with his steps, your body swaying in unison to the light melody. He hummed along softly to the quiet music as he kept a firm grip on you, almost like he was afraid to let you go. 

The song ended and awkwardly you looked around not knowing what to do. Paul however looked happy as can be, letting go of your hand but keeping the one on your lower back in place. He led you back to the table where you had spent most of the night, pulling out your chair before you could even react. You thanked him as you sunk into the back of the chair trying to ground yourself. 

“Man, I feel like the luckiest guy here at this whole damn wedding I got to dance with the prettiest guest of them all”. He said matter-of-factly triumphantly, taking a sip out of the glass he abandoned when he first approached your table. You scoffed, there was no way he was being for real, the alcohol had to have been getting to him now if he was saying such an untrue statement. 

“I think you've had enough”. Your voice was shy and your eyes barely peeked through your almost closed eyelids. The embarrassment you hadn't felt earlier had returned and you were suddenly hyper-conscious of everything happening around you. 

“Doll this stuff doesn't make me feel anything, you, however, are making me feel alive for the first time”. His drink was abandoned yet again as he scooted his chair closer, invading your bubble, and causing you to squirm under his gaze yet again. 

“Paul, I'm flattered but again I think your choices are impaired. There's no way you feel anything like that for me”. 

Paul was out of his chair before you could continue your babbling, cutting you off by capturing your lips in his. 

After he pulled back for air his forehead rested against yours, the two of you matching your breathing. You were yet again at a loss for words, kissing the hottest boy at your best friend's wedding was not on this year's bingo card. But as per usual it seems Paul had the perfect thing to say, “My angel forgive me if this is forward, but l you need to let me love you, I have a feeling that you're gonna be stuck with me for a long time”.

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

ngl I am a little annoyed with how the good faith response to criticism from fans who liked the show is often "i get why you didn't like that but canon is what you make it! You can pick and choose!"

like, I get it, and I plan to, and if nothing else it's a much more mature response than I've got from other people, but it really doesn't address my two biggest issue with the show at all:

Yes, I can ignore that it ever happened to characters that I like, but the show is still out there with all those odd misogynist and racist messages in the writing and casting unadressed. And at best, it is reinforcing a bunch of industry stereotypes, and it's not unique in that of course - but with the way the show is being lauded rn, I'm genuinely worried that a lot of people are seeing harmful things they believe to be true given the stamp of "revolutionary and progressive, actually". People are falling for the virtue signalling, and it's not a push in a good direction. To be fair, I've often got this comment when I was criticising narrative decisions that were at least somewhat removed from those issues... but idk stuff like the changed backstory and the removal of Bodhi and Jyn from the larger narrative is still part of that problem.

There was already so much potential in the backstories that were implied in the movie and the supplemental publications (which were canon for half a decade, so anyone wanting to argue with me about how "Gilroy didn't have to use your headcanons, grow up" can shut up right away, thank you). And not only is it a huge bummer that we didn't see any of that explored, and not only is it extremely annoying that Andor and Rogue One do not add up to a satisfying whole - it also means we will now never get any of these stories outside of fandom. Had Andor not been made, or been deemed (correctly) too expensive and disappeared into a drawer, Disney would not have resisted the urge to make more money off these characters forever. And if a show had been deemed too expensive, or not buzzy enough - we might have had a novel, or even a series of novels, and the characters might have shown up in other franchises. And yeah, we can still have these stories in fandom, and that's great... but this means that these stories will now only ever reach the people already searching for the crumbs. Stories like the one known former Separatist on the Rebellion's side, stories of the one good guy who was thoroughly broken down into doing whatever people told him to for that same, much less unambiguously good Rebellion? The one story of a soldier and a cog in the machine for whom breaking away from a bad system was actually hard, and not just an easy choice he made in the opening act of his first movie? That will not be a part of Star Wars in the public eye - maybe never. And much as I love and support fanworks (which almost always offer something better than the canon stuff if you know where to look!), I think it's legitimate to be angry at the decisions that were made here. Star Wars already told every conceivable version of a Han Solo-esque storyline. There was so much narrative and political interest that was lost here.

No criticism of the show is attacking the community any individual person built connecting to someone else over how they liked it. And the show had its moments, and a lot of people worked very hard on it (and others wouldn't even watch a two-hour film to prepare).

But I still think at the end of it all, it's legitimate to say that between what was canon before and could have been turned into a show or a novel and what we got in the end, I think we got a very short end of the stick. And "you can just ignore it" doesn't help with that. It's about the iffy messages and the lost potential, it's not a lack of ability to compartmentalise when I write my next fic or read someone else's. I'm not complaining because I think I have to delete all my fics and bookmarks because they're not canon anymore. Hell, I've been ignoring a canon ending to write fic for years - why stop now?

I'm complaining because there was so much potential here, and instead we got a show that is so murky in its supposed "progressive revolution" that right-wing pundits and mainstream progressive media alike try to claim it for their own views, with a story that is far less satisfying and cohesive than the one we already had.