#AS I WRITE THIS I AM FULLY AWARE THIS IS SUCH A FIRST WORLD PROBLEM i know!!!!!! fully aware!!!!

[seenthisepisode]

~~~

[inkskinned]

crows use tools and like to slide down snowy hills. today we saw a goose with a hurt foot who was kept safe by his flock - before taking off, they waited for him to catch up. there are colors only butterflies see. reindeer are matriarchical. cows have best friends and 4 stomachs and like jazz music. i watched a video recently of an octopus making himself a door out of a coconut shell.

i am a little soft, okay. but sometimes i can't talk either. the world is like fractal light to me, and passes through my skin in tendrils. i feel certain small things like a catapult; i skirt around the big things and somehow arrive in crisis without ever realizing i'm in pain.

in 5th grade we read The Curious Incident of the Dog In The Night-time, which is about a young autistic boy. it is how they introduced us to empathy about neurotypes, which was well-timed: around 10 years old was when i started having my life fully ruined by symptoms. people started noticing.

i wonder if birds can tell if another bird is odd. like the phrase odd duck. i have to believe that all odd ducks are still very much loved by the other normal ducks. i have to believe that, or i will cry.

i remember my 5th grade teacher holding the curious incident up, dazzled by the language written by someone who is neurotypical. my teacher said: "sometimes i want to cut open their mind to know exactly how autistics are thinking. it's just so different! they must see the world so strangely!" later, at 22, in my education classes, we were taught to say a person with autism or a person on the spectrum or neurodivergent. i actually personally kind of like person-first language - it implies the other person is trying to protect me from myself. i know they had to teach themselves that pattern of speech, is all, and it shows they're at least trying. and i was a person first, even if i wasn't good at it.

plants learn information. they must encode data somehow, but where would they store it? when you cut open a sapling, you cannot find the how they think - if they "think" at all. they learn, but do not think. i want to paint that process - i think it would be mostly purple and blue.

the book was not about me, it was about a young boy. his life was patterned into a different set of categories. he did not cry about the tag on his shirt. i remember reading it and saying to myself: i am wrong, and broken, but it isn't in this way. something else is wrong with me instead. later, in that same person-first education class, my teacher would bring up the curious incident and mention that it is now widely panned as being inaccurate and stereotypical. she frowned and said we might not know how a person with autism thinks, but it is unlikely to be expressed in that way. this book was written with the best intentions by a special-ed teacher, but there's some debate as to if somebody who was on the spectrum would be even able to write something like this.

we might not understand it, but crows and ravens have developed their own language. this is also true of whales, dolphins, and many other species. i do not know how a crow thinks, but we do know they can problem solve. (is "thinking" equal to "problem solving"? or is "thinking" data processing? data management?) i do not know how my dog thinks, either, but we "talk" all the same - i know what he is asking for, even if he only asks once.

i am not a dolphin or reindeer or a dog in the nighttime, but i am an odd duck. in the ugly duckling, she grows up and comes home and is beautiful and finds her soulmate. all that ugliness she experienced lives in downy feathers inside of her, staining everything a muted grey. she is beautiful eventually, though, so she is loved. they do not want to cut her open to see how she thinks.

a while ago i got into an argument with a classmate about that weird sia music video about autism. my classmate said she thought it was good to raise awareness. i told her they should have just hired someone else to do it. she said it's not fair to an autistic person to expect them to be able to handle that kind of a thing.

today i saw a goose, and he was limping. i want to be loved like a flock loves a wounded creature: the phrase taken under a wing. which is to say i have always known i am not normal. desperate, mewling - i want to be loved beyond words.

loved beyond thinking.

[omegalomania]

so im sure everyones fully well aware of the magic 8 ball site fob is using to promote a contest to win some tickets to see them in nashville. the little 8ball widget theyve got in browser is also modeled on the physical 8ball that they had in the vip merch packages for tourdust's first leg, which is cool! but of particular note is the way that, to fill out the contest form, you have to pick your favorite fall out boy songs. and the sheer breadth of what is allowed is...interesting? it's not cohesive by any means, but it is really wild the selection of songs they have here because not all of them are fob songs. in fact, quite a few of them aren't.

i went directly to the source code and got a full list of all possible songs that you could input (which you can check for yourself by right-clicking and selecting "view source"). i'm going to list them here for archival purposes, with a few notes/explanations cause some of these are WILD.

there are 187 songs total listed.

bolded songs indicate songs that are demos or never received an official release

italicized songs are songs by other bands

underlined songs indicate songs that are covers

songs with an asterisk beside them (*) indicate they are from patrick's solo catalogue. two asterisks (**) are for pete's.

additional commentary by me will be [in brackets]

20 Dollar Nose Bleed 27 7 Minutes in Heaven (Atavan Halen) 7-9 Legendary A Little Less Sixteen Candles, a Little More "Touch Me" A Nice Myth [one of the earliest fall out boy demos, found on their first ep, and only the casette version at that] Allie* Alone Together Alpha Dog America's Suitehearts American Beauty/American Psycho (song) American Made Art of Keeping Up Disappearances As Long as I Know I'm Getting Paid* Austin, We Have a Problem Baby Annihilation Bad Side of 25* Bang the Doldrums Beat It Big Hype* Bishops Knife Trick Bob Dylan Bounce [this is a song that came out on then-Decaydance labelmates The Cab's debut record, Whisper War, which patrick produced. he has writing credit and also is credited with background vocals (and also shows up in the music video)] Caffeine Cold Calm Before the Storm Centuries Champagne for My Real Friends, Real Pain for My Sham Friends Champion Check Your Phone** Chicago is So Two Years Ago Church City in a Garden Coast (It's Gonna Get Better)* Coffee's for Closers Cryptozoology* Cute Girls* Cyanide** [this is a nothing,nowhere song that pete did some spoken word parts and backing vocals on] Dance Miserable* Dance, Dance Dead on Arrival Dear Future Self (Hands Up) Death Valley Deep Blue Love* [song patrick did for the indie short film "spell"] Demigods Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes Don't You Know Who I Think I Am? Electric Touch [the (in?)famous taylor swift song patrick featured on] Eternal Summer Everybody Wants Somebody* Explode* Fake Out Fame Less than Infamy Favorite Record Fellowship of the Nerd [this is an alternate title for world's not waiting, as far as i can tell] Flu Game Flu Game [yes flu game is listed twice for some reason] Footprints in the Snow [demo from the Llamania ep] Fourth of July From Now on We Are Enemies G.I.N.A.S.F.S. Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part to Save the Scene and Stop Going to Shows) Ghostbusters (I'm Not Afraid) Golden Grand Theft Autumn/Where Is Your Boy Greed* Grenade Jumper Grow Up and Be Kids [this song is on The Cab's sophomore album Symphony Soldier, which release after they left decaydance. nonetheless, pete does have some writing credits on it. give it a listen and you'll hear for yourself in the first 10 seconds or so] Growing Up Hand Crushed by a Mallet [this is a remix of the 100gecs song of the same name; patrick did some vocals for it] Hand of God Have I Got a Gift for You* [song patrick did for the horror movie black friday] Headfirst Slide into Cooperstown on a Bad Bet Heartbreak Feels So Good Heaven's Gate Heaven, Iowa Hold Me Like a Grudge Hold Me Tight or Don't Homesick at Space Camp Honorable Mention Hot to the Touch, Cold on the Inside Hum Hallelujah I Am My Own Muse I Don't Care

I Got Nothing, But You Got Something [this is the one that really perplexes me. there's no evidence of this song actually existing, other than an unverified genius post and an article on a single fandom wiki. it is inexplicably listed here despite its very existence being questionable at best.]

I Slept with Someone in Fall Out Boy and All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me I Wanna Dance with Somebody (Who Loves Me) I'm Like a Lawyer with the Way I'm Always Trying to Get You Off (Me & You) I've Been Waiting [this is technically a lil peep song with fall out boy as a feature] I've Got a Dark Alley and a Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth (Summer Song) I've Got All This Ringing in My Ears and None on My Fingers Immortals Irresistible It's Hard to Say 'I Do', When I Don't It's Not a Side Effect of the Cocaine, I Am Thinking It Must Be Love Jet Pack Blues Just One Yesterday Lake Effect Kid (song) Lake Shore Drive [this is a song patrick covered on the piano at wrigley, first night of tourdust] Love from the Other Side Love Will Tear Us Apart Love, Selfish Love* Love, Sex, Death Lullabye Mad at Nothing* Miss Missing You Moving Pictures My Heart Is the Worst Kind of Weapon My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark (Light Em Up) New Dreams [this is a bonus track on pax am days, a naked rayguns cover] Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner Novocaine Of All the Gin Joints in All the World One of Those Nights [another song from the cab's whisper war. this one has patrick doing vocals very prominently] Open Happiness [this was a huge collaborative piece done for a coca cola commercial. patrick was on it along with big names like cee lo green, janelle monae, and labelmates travie mccoy and brendon urie] Our Lawyer Made Us Change the Name of This Song So We Wouldn't Get Sued Parker Lewis Can't Lose (But I'm Gonna Give It My Best Shot) Past Life [llamania ep] Pavlove People Never Done a Good Thing* Porcelain* Pretty in Punk Rat a Tat Reinventing the Wheel to Run Myself Over Roxanne Run Dry (X Heart X Fingers)* San Diego [this is a blink-182 song that patrick did some writing for] Saturday Saturday Night Again* Save Rock and Roll (song) Sending Postcards from a Plane Crash (Wish You Were Here) She's My Winona Short, Fast, and Loud Snitches and Talkers Get Stitches and Walkers So Good Right Now So Much (For) Stardust (song) So Sick [this is a song patrick has exclusively covered live, so it's a fascinating inclusion] Sober [another blink-182 song patrick did some writing for] Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year Star 67 Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea Sugar, We're Goin Down Summer Days (song) [this is a martin garrix song patrick lent some vocals to] Sunshine Riptide Super Fade Switchblades and Infidelity Tell That Mick He Just Made My List of Things to Do Today The "I" In Lie* The (After) Life of the Party The (Shipped) Gold Standard The Carpal Tunnel of Love The Kids Aren't Alright The Kintsugi Kid (Ten Years) The Last of the Real Ones The Mighty Fall The Music or the Misery The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes The Phoenix The Pink Seashell The Pros and Cons of Breathing The Take Over, the Breaks Over The World's Not Waiting (For Five Tired Boys in a Broken Down Van) This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race This City* Thnks fr th Mmrs (song) [for some reason the site specifies song here, despite that not being necessary. the only other times this distinction is relevant is when songs share a title with their albums, i.e. save rock and roll] Thriller Tiffany Blews Twin Skeleton's (Hotel in NYC) Uma Thurman Untitled 1 (Colorado Song) Untitled 2 (Jakus Song) [both of these are recently released tttyg era demos] W.A.M.S. We Didn't Start the Fire We Don’t Take Hits, We Write Them [this is a song that famously was only ever performed live. we don't have a studio recording or even a demo, as only live versions exist] We Were Doomed from the Start (The King is Dead) West Coast Smoker What a Catch, Donnie What a Time To Be Alive What's This? When I Made You Cry* Where Did the Party Go Wilson (Expensive Mistakes) Wrong Side of Paradise [llamania ep] XO You're Crashing, But You're No Wave Young and Menace Young Volcanoes Yule Shoot Your Eye Out

in conclusion i have no idea who compiled this list. it doesn't include every song patrick and pete have ever touched (notice the lack of gym class heroes, cobra starship, and hush sound discography) but it has a really weird selection of songs. i mean, blink songs patrick wrote on?? its bizarre.

anyway do you think if we mass request swing me by the rafters they'll have to do it

[akumakosuke]

Yay, I finally finished the first chapter of my new fic...

†Our cursed love†

This is my first time writing an actual fic so it might not be that good, constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged! I would really like to know your opinions on what I'm doing right and wrong, things I should change and so forth.

A little PS this is not going to be absolutely canon, there will be some changes to the lore and techniques so be warned. I am also fully up to date on the manga so there will be manga spoilers.

Please enjoy the first chapter of ‡Our cursed love‡.

No warnings

~_Our cursed love._~

Chapter 1- Our pedestal.

~No one POV:~

The day is like any other day to most people. The sun blazing high in the bright blue sky, perfect white fluffy clouds dot the sky, moving along swiftly with the breeze. The sound of streets full of vehicles and streets full of people fills the air.

The day was like any other to non-sorcerers.

They all go about their lives, completely oblivious to the two Gods currently walking among them, blissfully unaware of the evil seeking to destroy these two Gods.

The day was like any other to the two Gods. Aware they’re being hunted but unaware of each other.

It’s true what they say, ‘ignorance is bliss’ and our two Gods will have to learn that lesson the hard way.

~3rd Person POV~

A young boy, around the age of 9 walks with an unusually cold face for a child wearing a blue hoodie with beige shorts and black sneakers. His expression isn’t the only eye catching thing about him, his eyes are quite simply breathtaking. Strikingly brilliant sky blue orbs. His short, fluffy white hair gently swaying in the breeze.

To passers by he seems like a relatively normal child with oddly spectacular looks but normal is not a word fit to describe this God.

Satoru Gojo decided to take a trip to Shibuya for no other reason than boredom. He knows it’s ‘dangerous’ because of the many, many bounties on his head but does he care? No, of course not.

Why would he care? He’s a ‘God’ right? All these fools are beneath him, besides its clear that none of them would even be a problem, he might be 9 but he knows his place in this world, he knows the ‘blessing’ he’s been born with and he knows how to use it -albeit not well- one glare is enough to dissuade anyone crazy enough to target him.

He can sense them all around him, thinking they’re hiding their cursed energy well but nothing can get past his six eyes, nothing.

~10 minutes earlier~

A young boy with long grey hair tied into a neat pony wearing a (f/c) shirt and (2/f/c) pants that are clearly too big for him and a pair of (f/c) boots steps out of a fancy black car in the middle of Shibuya. The 9 year old closes the door and the car drives off, left unattended which would be odd if he were just a boy, although his expression is somewhat normal for a boy his age, relatively bored, his eyes hidden by a pair of blacked out glasses with a circular frame.

He confidently makes his way through the busy streets, despite his small size he easily navigates a path through the much taller adults, some only sparing him a brief glance but none question why there’s a clear gap between him and everyone, a physically space none of them an seem to cross, naturally and absentmindedly moving around the boy to avoid it.

M/n Goto is aware of this gap as it’s intentional. He’s practicing although the few hungry pairs of eyes on him are distracting. M/n knows venturing out alone is ‘risky’ because of how valuable he is but hes a God isn’t he? Those fools are beneath him.

They’re clearly trying very hard to hide their cursed energy but alas it’s in vain, M/n sensed them following him since he left his estate. It’s not like any of them would be a problem for him, he knows his place in the world, he knows the ‘blessing’ he was born with and he knows how to use it -thanks to his loving father training him since he could walk-, one glare is enough to dissuade any idiotic enough to try and mess with a God, besides nothing can touch him without his permission, nothing.

~present time~

Destiny is a funny thing, many argue its existence.

If destiny exists then freedom cannot.

If freedom exists then destiny cannot.

Many argue its existence, many chose to deny its existence, they chose freedom.

The freedom of choice.

M/n Goto and Satoru Gojo do not believe in destiny.

M/n Goto and Satoru Gojo both chose to come to Shibuya today because they wanted to, they were bored and chose to do the riskiest thing by leaving unsupervised.

They both chose to walk this random street, they both decided they were tired of being followed and chose to turn around. A completely, random choice.

Completely random.

“Huh-?!”

“What-?!”

Time suddenly stops for two young, lonely, untouchable Gods.

M/n Goto and Satoru Gojo do not believe in destiny, so what is this feeling? Not the physical feeling of their shoulders colliding.

This sudden tug, this oddly familiar feeling like meeting a different version of yourself.

Luminous, sparkling sky blue orbs meet now uncovered blazing, blood red orbs and for the first time both are in absolutely awe of another’s appearance.

~M/n POV~

‘He- he bumped into me… his eyes… they’re… how did he-? This feeling… who is he, i feel like I should know… wait… he’s…’

~Satoru POV~

‘I didn’t sense him-? He touched me… i was sure i had it on… those eyes, they’re breathtaking… who is he? Why do i feel like I should know him? Wait… he’s…’

~3rd person POV~

“Cursed.” They both mumble at the same time causing both their eyes to widen, both taking a step back from the other.

The warm, carbon filled air suddenly feels a whole lot more suffocating, the feeling tugging at both of them gets stronger and they both know the other feels it.

It’s an odd sight, two unsupervised 9 year old standing in the middle of a busy Shibuya street just silently staring at each other in what can only be described as bewilderment.

For the longest time they’ve both believed them to have no equal. From the moment they opened their eyes they were forced to live in a word beneath them filled with people beneath them. They were put on pedestals so high no one else could ever hope to climb it and yet…

Their lonely pedestal is apparently bigger than they thought, all they had to do was turn around and be confronted with the other.

A shared pedestal is something everyone told them was impossible, they were born Gods among mortals, they were special, miracles, forever alone.

“Goto M/n…” M/n, finally regaining his brain, blurts out, feeling something he’s never felt before, nervous.

“Gojo Satoru…” Satoru eventually replies, having taken a few more seconds to recover and identify the unknown feeling in his chest, anxiety.

“We should probably lose them first before we talk…” M/n suggests, hesitantly turning his gaze away from Satoru and toward one of the groups of curse users currently hiding out in a tall building across the street with horror on their faces because the sheer amount of power coming from the two Gods is mind breaking.

Satoru turns his gaze towards another group hiding on a rooftop few building’s down with the same expression and hums in agreement. He slowly reaches out to grab M/n’s hand, he doesn’t know why but he just does.

The moment their skin makes contact they both jump, the feeling of physically touching another is so foreign, so intrusive yet so natural.

They quickly easy into the feeling, Satoru pulling M/n along and M/n following without complaint.

This action feels so normal it’s almost easy to forget the innocent looking 9 year old boys are running away from assassins hunting Gods not boys.

They both in this moment, forget they are Gods, they forget they are cursed, they both, even if only for a fleeting moment just feel like two normal boys, running freely through the streets of Shibuya, unsure of when they actually started running but unwilling to spend any time thinking about it.

They just run, the destination isn’t a concern to either of them and after running for what felt like both a lifetime and barely a second they stop in a dark, dirty alleyway, joyful laughter still bubbling from their chests as they catch their breath.

“Phew, I’m pretty sure we lost them.” Satoru comments as he leans against the wall, relaxing a bit more because he can’t sense anyone else.

“Hmm, it would be foolish of them to follow.” M/n adds, leaning on the opposite wall, also relaxing.

A short, comfortable silence envelopes the two Gods as their gazes lock, again being completely caught off guard by the other’s eyes. Millions of questions run through both of their minds, having finally found another like them is something they didn’t think possible , they were told it’s impossible.

“How… how did you touch me? Get past my barrier which I’m positive was active?” M/n asks incredulously, he should be absolutely horrified someone can bypass his technique but he isn’t.

Satoru looks at M/n in slight shock, now being made aware the other also had a barrier active at the time of contact.

“I… I don’t know, i also had a barrier active so maybe they cancelled out?” Satoru would have never thought he’d say that with such a casual tone, someone being able to bypass the one thing that makes him untouchable, he should see M/n as a threat but he doesn’t.

“So we both have a kind of barrier technique and they cancel out somehow… that should be horrifying right? Our one impenetrable defence rendered useless…” M/n’s voice drops to a low whisper but there’s no hint of defensiveness, simply taking in the fact he can be touched, he’s not unbeatable.

“It should but honestly it just makes me excited ya know?” Satoru chuckles, his eyes sparkling even more as his usual cold expression replaced a small grin, his heart is still pounding in his chest, the tugging feeling getting stronger the longer the talks to M/n.

M/n mirrors Satoru’s expression, feeling the same pounding in his chest, the tugging feeling moving his feet forward as he takes a seat on the floor next to Satoru, his barrier preventing his clothes from getting dirty. Satoru quickly joins him, activating his own barrier to stay clean.

Although both of them are just 9 years old, being born basically ‘God’s’ they naturally possessed some basic control of their techniques, both already having trained to use their techniques for a few hours none stop before they get tired.

“It is isn’t, my entire life I’ve been told no one would be able to challenge me and I thought how boring that sounds, they said I stand on a pedestal made for Gods and that I alone stand atop it, atop everyone else and then I thought how… lonely that sounded…” M/n says, pulling his legs to his chest as he rests his head on his knees, looking at his new found friend.

Satoru adopts the same pose, his mind and soul filled with pure joy as M/n speaks because he understands, he understands so well and he never thought someone else would understand.

“Mhm, they called me blessed my entire life, a miracle. Showering me in praises and gifts alike, telling me how special I am, how I’m better than everyone else. They also call me a God, put me on a pedestal too tall for a kid… They don’t see the view from the top, they don’t see how big and empty that pedestal is…”

M/n listens to Satoru, there’s something freeing in listening to him speak, like a weight lifted off his shoulders, the weight of being called the strongest and the loneliness that comes with it, a weight no 9 year old should even have to know about.

“Well it was big and empty but perhaps we can share it?” M/n asks with a hopeful tone, somehow already knowing he doesn’t really need to ask.

“I… I would like that. Our pedestal?” Satoru has never felt this type of excitement, the idea of sharing, being equal to someone else, of not being alone is enough to make him feel like a normal kid.

“Our pedestal.” M/n repeats, the word ‘our’ rolling off his tongue so naturally.

“So what do you normally do for fun? When you’re actually allowed to do what you want ?” Satoru asks, clearly excited to do whatever friends do when they hang out, he’s excited because he doesn’t really known what others do because he’s never bothered to pay attention to anyone else, they were beneath him so there was no point in getting to know them but now, now he’s never been more interested in another.

M/n grins, suddenly standing up and looking down at Satoru with a sparkles in his already spectacular eyes. Satoru still can’t believe he likes someone else’s eyes more than his own, his attention immediately glued on M/n. They both feel that tug again as M/n extends his hand towards Satoru, the idea of physical contact regardless of their barriers still seems so absurd but so enticing.

“Wanna find out?”

Satoru takes M/n’s hand, the unfamiliar warmth of another comforting their souls , penetrating their minds. M/n pulls Satoru up and their hands stay linked as they exit the alleyway, M/n leading the way, unknowingly staring the first chapter in a very long and dangerous book.

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

Tag list-

@itsgivingitalian

[hyperactivewhore]

hi I love your blog we have very much the same opinions in everything except klamille is my favourite klaus ship and klaurora is second

I have been trying to enjoying klaus fics or any tvdu fics on wattpad but every thing I have read so far doenst show the characters accurately which is very annoying

I was hoping and want to request if you could give me some recommendations on fics on wattpad that are good. (Mainly klaus but any love interest would be good)

could you please give a short summary/review so far of any recommendation you give so I don’t waste time starting one only to not like ir

sorry if I am sounding rude English is not my first language but I can read it fully thank I you very much

Don't worry, you're not sounding rude at all, if anything you actually sound really sweet. I'm glad we share some opinions and I'm really honored you came to me for some suggestions.

I haven't read long fanfictions in a while outside works in ao3, I left Wattpad a few time ago but I'll still try my best, tho I'm not very good at giving summaries. Fair warning these are mainly fanfics I've read in Archive of Our Own, not Wattpad, but I hope it's not a problem. If it annoys you, send me an ask and I'll give you some Wattpad recommendations!

Patisserie (ao3, poly Mikaelson siblings x original female character, no incest) by @wickedlyemma:

Stats: (published: 2020-12-29), (completed: 2023-03-12), (words: 154,943), (chapters: 45/45), (comments: 4,385), (kudos: 8,469), (bookmarks: 1,799), (hits: 279,967)

Tags: Polyamory, Sugar Daddy, Self-Indulgent, Explicit Sexual Content, No Incest, Slow Burn, Not Canon Compliant

Summary:

I think we've all read those kind of tvdu fanfics where the main character is a teenager, usually related to the Gilbert or the Forbes, still in high school and who suddenly stops trying to make a life for herself just because she gets dragged into the supernatural world. Well, Patisserie is the opposite of that. For once, the main character isn't a teen but an adult around her twenties, who works at a bakery and is completely unaware of the supernatural world until Klaus decides to change that.

The slow burn is is truly worthy of a chef's kiss, the way the author describes and writes the Mikaelson is just so on point it hurts. Their family dynamic is so entertaining to watch, but it's as fucked up as it is in the show, which it's something not many authors can accomplish. The way they behave around the main character, a simple human, it's so amusing because they truly know nothing despite their age and she's just so easy to relate to, because for once the oc is not ridiculously overpowered.

The way we perceive the Mikaelson and the vampire world from a human pov is truly interesting, how she copes with all of it and eventually learns to love all of them individually while being aware of the danger is so well done. Kol and her, as well as her relationship with Klaus, are particularly interesting to read, especially considering how they all behaved around her at the beginning and especially because both of them are the most dangerous members of their family. They are all selfish creatures, and I love how it shows the more their relationships with her develop.

Apotheosis (ao3, Klaus x original female character) by atriums;

Stats: (published: 2022-01-01), (completed: 2022-12-13), (words: 158,264), (chapters: 31/31), (comments: 606), (kudos: 1,817), (bookmarks: 491), (hits: 69,472)

Tags: POV Alternating, Minor Original Character(s), Minor Character Death, Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sex, Sexual Content, Devoted Reader, Author Rejects Canon and Substitutes It with Their Own, Cannibalistic Werewolf Cults, Nobody Is Good But Also Nobody Is Evil, These Characters are Flawed and Problematic (Probably), This Fic is Not a Bastion for Healthy Characters and Relationships, Reader/OC Especially, Reader/OC can be any ethnicity

Summary;

You know those fanfics who fix (almost) everything problematic in canon? Apotheosis does exactly that. In this story, Klaus isn't a complete irredeemable character for once, but he also isn't half as bad as his canon version, and due to the oc being a werewolf, this fanfic does expand on his werewolf side a little more than The Vampire Diaries or The Originals ever did. His family and him actually have a healthy bond, and Finn gets the recognition he deserves for once.

The story is set in season three of TVD, exactly when Klaus and Stefan are trying to make hybrids for his pack, and in a ironic plot twist, Klaus decides to take you with him when you're still a werewolf after you say you're not worthy to be a hybrid, at least not yet.

Her devotion to him is completely endearing and I absolutely love how Klaus actually cares for his pack, especially because they're all canonical characters who were killed way too quickly. Her relationships with the members of their pack are so well written, and this fanfic it's the perfect mix of humour and seriousness. It has a ongoing sequel, which I just adore. I warn you though, all the characters have several differences from their canon versions.

Twisted Obsession (fanfiction.net, Klaus x original female character) by rocket-queen98;

Stats: Originals, M, English, Romance & Angst, chapters: 16, words: 59k+, favs: 1k+, follows: 1k+, updated: May 6, 2023 published: Aug 13, 2016, [Klaus M., OC] Elijah M., Hope M.

Summary;

Lola is one of the most adorable mc I've read. She is human and around nineteen, if I remember correctly, and just a sweet girl and adorable. She's introduced into the supernatural world thanks to baby Hope, who is just the cutest, due to her needing a mother figure now that Hayley wasn't present in her life thanks to the curse placed on her.

Her relationship with Hope is my favorite part of the whole fanfic. She doesn't suddenly turn into her mother, she doesn't intend to either, but rather becomes her best friend and Klaus and her develop a bond thanks to this. The way father and daughter interact is so heartwarming too, the subtle hints of them being werewolves, and seeing a main character having a good relationship with her father for once is a good turn, especially in tvd fanfics.

It's clear Klaus and Lola have something going on, even if they won't admit out loud, but for some reason the people around them give the impression they don't actually want them to date. There is implications something more fucked up than usual is going on with Klaus and his relationships, and I'm pretty sure him and Cami were a thing in this fic too. Surprisingly, Hayley and Cami aren't turned into absolute bitches, but there is Jackson bashing though.

The Girl in the Forest (fanfiction.net, Klaus x original female character) by noblecrescent;

Stats: Originals, T, English, Mystery & Romance, chapters: 30, words: 311k+, favs: 232, follows: 176, updated: Feb 19, 2017 published: Jan 23, 2016, [Klaus M., OC] [Elijah M., Camille O'Connell]

Summary;

This fanfic is a tetralogy of books set in The Originals, I read those fanfics a while ago so forgive me for any mistake. Maleny is a witch who was cursed, if I remember correctly, and was constantly body-jumping every short time.

In one of her lives, she met Klaus and they fell in love, but she died, if I'm not wrong, and they end up meeting again in New Orleans time later where he has a child on the way and a kingdom to conquer.

I can't remember a lot more without giving you spoilers, but it's worth checking it out!

Now, I'll give no more summaries because I honestly don't remember a lot of the next fanfics, but it's your choice if you want to read them;

A Veil Between Love and Hate (fanfiction.net, Klaus x original female character) by MandalorianHybrid;

Stats: Originals, T, English, chapters: 57, words: 200k+, favs: 609, follows: 359, updated: Sep 15, 2019 published: Jan 30, 2014, [Klaus M., OC]

Summary; Another five books set in The Vampire Diaries, with a story that eventually moves to The Originals.

Allure (wattpad, Klaus x oc x Stefan) by @viavolterra;

Stats: 575k Readings, 20,5k Votes, 34 Chapters

Summary;

I just could not not recommend this fanfic. Mia comes to Mystic Falls to seek revenge after Damon kills her best friend Lexi, but she of course gets dragged by the problems in that little town.

The thing I like the most about Via's story is how there is no cliché: no bashing towards Tyler or Elena, Mia actually befriends them, Bonnie gets the recognition and love she deserves, Klaus doesn't suddenly turn into a different person just because he loves the oc, he continues to be a piece of shit, and how sweet and empathetic she is, not like those reused badass mc who are just rude.

I would recommend some more, but it's kinda hard to find fanfics with a good Klaus depiction. I'm pretty sure I left out a lot of amazing fanfics, though.

[dpr-stay]

Super-Fan | MV33

Max Verstappen x Badminton Player!Reader

No Warnings except a few swears

WC: ~4.5k

Oh boy, i love writing unserious fics about fully grown men like they’re awkward teenagers! They're just funny fellas your honour! Also can you tell I like writing dialogue?

Didn't edit and the writing style changed like six times, sorry!

The life of a professional badminton player can be described as a war between two factors: bankruptcy and passion. Well, less passion and more talent, to be completely fair. It didn’t matter if you had passion if you didn’t have any talent. The reason for this being it was virtually impossible to make any money as a professional badminton player unless you won tournaments or were able to take on thousands of brand deals. 

Now, as a player with a considerable amount of talent but a huge lack of money, you had two options. You could either win more tournaments or take on thousands more brand deals. Of course, considering you were winning as many tournaments as you can, you had to choose the second option.

This meant you had taken brand deals with clothing brands, food delivery apps, animal shelters. In a time of desperation when you couldn’t even afford a coach you had even taken an opportunity to be an ambassador for a garbage collection agency, riding around on a garbage truck for a few days. 

All of these deals meant you were moderately well known by the general public but incredibly well known in the small world of professional badminton players. Not only because of your brand deals though, but also your incredibly quick rise to being first place in many professional tournaments, even earning an Olympic Gold Medal for your country. 

However, you still had to take on more brand deals. So, when your rich cousin came knocking on your door with a proposal to film a video for his F1 team about teaching him how to play badminton and you how to drive, you of course said yes. 

I mean, who the hell would say no to Mercedes? 

This is of course all build up to your current situation. Sitting in a badminton hall, which was full of people with cameras and various filming equipment, with your cousin sitting across from you in a chair. One of those fancy fold out chairs, you know, that should say director on the back.

You weren’t exactly sure how you were going to teach a professional driver how to be competent at playing badminton enough to where he’s good enough competition just as you weren’t actually sure how you were supposed to learn to drive in around an hour. 

But that was a problem for future you, you thought as the camera men gave thumbs-up and George turned to the camera, PR face on.

“Hello everybody. I’m sure you’re wondering who I’m joined by and the answer to that is the most recent gold medalist for women’s singles badminton! Otherwise known as my cousin.” Ignoring the slight tease, you held up two thumbs up and smiled, albeit awkwardly, at the camera.

“Today I am hopefully going to become a pro badminton player.” He said and then turned to you. You both made eye contact and he signaled by moving his eyes for you to say something. You turned to the camera and clapped your hands together.

“And I’ll hopefully learn to drive and get my license.” You finished with a closed mouthed smile.  

“Wait… you don’t have your license?” George asked and you turned back to him. Now aware of his shocked face, you slowly turned back to make eye-contact with the camera.

“No.” You slowly said. His large hand gently came into contact with your shoulder.

“You’re twenty five years old and you can’t drive?” He asked incredulously, you turning your head to now make eye contact with him.

“I’m a badminton player!” You tried to excuse, gesturing out with your hands and he shook his head, his mouth slightly open. His expression prompted you to try and explain.

“I can drive! Like I promise I can, I just don’t.” You tried to save, glancing between the camera and George.

“Yeah, because you don’t have a license!” He said, throwing his hands out, a grin threatening to spread across his face.

“I can leave. I can leave right now and cancel this whole thing.” You threatened, pointing down to the ground with what you hoped came across as power. George took a second to respond, steeling himself from laughing.

“How exactly would you leave?” He said, beginning to laugh. Your expression instantly changed into a stone cold one in response to his joke and you turned to the camera with a fed-up look on your face.

“Do you want a badminton lesson or not, you bastard?” You questioned him and he finally relented. 

“Fine, fine. Shall we start?” He said and you nodded. After the cameras cut you both were quickly praised for how well you get along and your entertainment value before quickly being ushered onto a badminton court and handed rackets. The director quickly counted down before the lights turned on and the camera started recording. 

George turned to you.

“We haven’t been given much direction so you’re just going to have to start teaching and hope it works out.” He smiled and you shot back a smile filled with as much joy as you were feeling.

“We haven’t been given any direction, so we’ll just get this out of the way. You know how to hold a racket, no?” You asked and George smiled guiltily.

“Maybe.” He shrugged, letting the racket drop from his grasp as he brought it up and clatter to the floor. You sighed and picked up the racket before giving it back to him.

“This is going to take a while.”

After roughly 45 minutes of the camera capturing you both making jokes and doing little Jim-from-the-office-esque cut away’s to look at the camera (and teaching George how to play badminton), George was ready to play a match.

You ducked under the net onto the other side of the court and held up the shuttle.

“I’ll take it easy on you, yeah? Can’t have you giving up the racket already.” 

“Nah, I’ll be able to take it.” He dismissed, showing a smirk and waving his hands around. You deadpanned him.

“I think we should at least do one practice match.” He blew out air from his mouth in a mocking gesture and scrunched up his face.

“Nope! Do your worst, I’m sure I'll be able to beat you.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Or at least get a few points.” You tilted your head in question. He narrowed his eyebrows and sighed before admitting.

“I want to teach you to be able to drive.” You ‘ahh-ed’ and nodded before raising the shuttle again and nodding at him. He nodded back and you dropped the shuttle and hit it as a singles serve. George quickly moved closer to the net before gently hitting it over to you.

You, bearing in mind that he told you to do your worst, advanced quickly in footwork you’d practiced for over twenty-two years to quickly smash it straight onto the floor within bounds. 

You made eye-contact with George through the net and saw him visibly gulp. You, then, turned to the camera and gave it a thumbs up before turning back and reaching under the net to scoop up the shuttle. 

“I feel as though I’ve made a mistake.” He said and you huffed out a laugh.

“You asked an olympic gold level athlete to beat you at their game, it’s not going to go in your favour.” You fixed him an incredulous look and he just accepted what you said with a raised hand.

The game continued on, George not doing any better and you only continuing to prove your prowess at your sport. The ways in which George lost became increasingly more difficult to watch as the game went on, staff behind the camera having to muffle their laughs into their sleeves as George flailed around trying to return your hits.

It was down to the last serve of the match (score 20:0) and you geared up to do a fancy serve, aiming to land it just in the boundary line in order to make George run over to get it. Just as you released the shuttle, the door to the entrance of the gym slammed open, making both of you turn your heads to look at the intruder.

Max Verstappen was standing, still in shock, as he took in the sight of the Mercedes camera crew with many cameras pointed his way and the two players in front of him. He blinked as though coming out of a daze before awkwardly laughing.

“You alright mate?” George asked, focused on the guy in the doorway. While he was distracted you quickly tried to scoop up the shuttle, hoping George wouldn’t notice. “Oh yeah I’m fine.” The guy responded, his Dutch accent shining through in his words.

“I was just looking for Y/N.” You snapped your head to face him, ignoring George’s incredibly questioning look.

“Uhh yeah? Is something wrong?” You asked and the man bashfully (you read that right) turned to you. He seemed almost hesitant to speak.

“Can I talk to you after you’re done?” He asked, looking at your forehead to avoid looking at your eyes. 

“Sure?” You said, questioning why the stranger who was also a world champion wanted to talk to you, and why he approached in the way a teenage boy approaches his crush.

He nodded and entered the gym, the door slamming behind him. He lumbered over behind the camera crew, holding some sort of bag and then just stood there and George made eye contact with you. You shrugged at the question in his eyes and the director cleared her throat, causing you both to look at her.

“We’ll start the take again, yes?” She asked and you nodded as did George before he paused.

“Wait, didn’t it fall to the ground?” All movement on the set stopped. You chuckled, albeit nervously.

“No, what are you talking about?” You asked, prepared to start gaslighting, a disbelieving expression on your face.

“I could’ve sworn you let go of it before… that happened.” He said, vaguely gesturing to the door, a grin beginning to spread on his face. You exhaled air and widened your eyes.

“Mate, I think we need to get your memory checked because I didn’t even let go of it.” You said, shrugging and George quickly glanced over to the staff.

“I’m not hallucinating this, no?” None of them replied. He frowned before saying. “We’re colleagues, you guys should have more allegiance to me than to my cousin.” He pleaded as you coughed whispering “Badminton Gold Medallist” very obviously into your fist.

He turned to fix you a glare.

“I am not hallucinating this. I think you’re lying.” You shrugged at his words, smirking.

“I don’t think so. I genuinely think you were hallucinating.” You said as you shook your head, staring at him in pity. He sighed before saying,

“How would your mum feel if she knew you were lying to me like this?” Oh he brought out the big guns.

“Ok, you’re right, I was lying. Please do not tell my mum.” You quickly admitted, holding up your hands and bowing your head. He started laughing as you quickly looked to the camera.

“My mother did not raise a liar.” 

“You just lied.”

You snapped your head back to him.

“Irrelevant.” You pointed a finger in his direction and he started smirking, causing you to groan.

“Does this mean I get a point?” You groaned again and George started laughing as did the staff and camera crew. There was one loud laugh and, as you glanced in the direction of the camera crew, you realized it came from the intruder. What a weird turn of events. You had no idea why he was there or why he wanted to speak to you.

After his brief stint of feeling superior, George quickly served the shuttle in a way you could only describe as dramatic, only to hit it too short so that you got the point and you won the game. You shook his hand under the net, sarcastically thanking him for a fair game.

“Hey, I got that point fair and square.” He said, eyes wide and pointing at you.

“Sure you did, buddy.” You said and patted him on the back. He laughed and the camera crew cut the cameras. The driving part of the video wasn’t scheduled for another hour and it only took 20 minutes to get there and get set up, so the director called for a 30 minute break.

After this was announced George gestured at you to walk to Max Verstappen rather vehemently, so you did, cautiously approaching the man. As you approached he looked up from where he was focused on his phone, quickly turning it off and standing up to shake your hand.

“Hi.” He said, sounding almost breathless as he grasped your hand and shook it almost violently.

“Hi?” You responded, thoroughly confused but letting him continue his assault on your hand.

“I’m Max Verstappen.” He introduced, his eyes shining as he looked at you. You nodded, a small, disbelieving smile growing on your lips.

“Yes, I know who you are.” You replied and he inhaled air audibly.

“You do?” He asked, leaning a bit closer.

“You’re a bit hard to avoid.” You said before carefully tacking on “Not that I go out of my way to avoid you.”

“I’m kind of surprised you know who I am to be honest.” He said and you almost laughed at his humbleness. After a few seconds of him continuing to hold your hand he seemed to come to himself and let go of your hand. He cleared his throat before continuing.

“I don’t know if you know, but I’m a huge fan of yours.” You had not known that and wouldn’t have been able to guess that in a million years. But it definitely explained a few things

“Oh really? That’s cool, I’m flattered.” You smiled, realizing his incredibly odd behavior was him being star-struck. 

“Uhh thanks.” He said before taking a deep breath.

“We started our professional careers around the same time, I don’t know if you know.” He started. “I know your parents always wanted you to be a badminton player, like how my dad always wanted me to be a driver, so I kinda connected to you on that.” You were surprised the man had so much to say, knowing of his usual reservedness or, in George’s words, ‘passive-aggressive-ness’. 

“And then, when we started at the same time, I thought it was cool how we both kinda matched each other at how well we did in our sports. Like when I won the championship, you won gold. Yeah. I just thought it was cool.” After that huge speech he went back to looking at his feet.

“So you’ve been a fan for a while?” You prompted, finding his outburst cute. He looked up again to continue speaking.

“Yeah, I actually watched your Olympic final before the Hungarian GP, like before I had to get in the car!” He said happily and you paused for a second, a confused expression taking over your face.

“Didn’t you crash in that race?” You asked, a slight hesitation in your voice. Max frantically shook his head, laughing awkwardly.

“Uh no. Someone did crash into me though.” He said, emphasizing the ‘into’ as if trying to make sure you knew that he wasn’t a bad driver. You definitely knew though, the many texts you’d received over the years from George about the older man making sure that if you knew one thing about Max Verstappen, it was that he was a damn good driver.

You both descended into awkward silence as you sucked in air through your teeth and rocked back and forth on your feet. He wasn’t helping, after his correction he’d taken to clearing his throat and scratching the back of his neck. You opened your mouth to speak before closing it, having nothing to say except that this might’ve been one of the most awkward situations you’d gotten yourself into.

“I was wondering if you could sign some merch?” He quickly blurted out, snapping your eyes from the roof to his face. You could only nod as he took off his bag and opened it, revealing probably the biggest stash of your merch you had ever seen. You let out a quiet ‘wow’ as he started pulling stuff out and putting it on the chair he was previously sitting on, choosing not to comment on the way he flushed at your words.

His collection was expansive, there was team shirts from your first team, caps with your name on them, your country’s badminton jersey from the olympics with your name on it, a few banners, a badminton bag part of a collection you’d modeled for, and even more merch from all your brand deals. Did you know that you had a special edition of a garbage bag from that garbage company series or a pair of socks from a luxury sock brand? No, but Max definitely did.

He wouldn’t look at you as you took in the scale of all the items. He was probably single handedly paying your rent with the amount of stuff he had bought. You could only look on in awe at the magnitude. You kinda felt bad, you only had a cap with his name on it from a lame attempt to tease George at Secret Santa that backfired when the cap was launched at you and nearly knocked your teeth out.

“It’s not all, if you were wondering.” He said as he quietly stepped back from the pile and you turned to him, an heavily incredulous look on your face. You took note of George in the background of your vision, playing suspiciously on his phone, almost looking as if he was recording.

“Wow, you really are a fan.” Was the only thing you could manage to say as you stared at the array, stuff falling off the chair and onto the floor. You took a deep breath before slapping your thighs as you crouched down, grabbing one of the hats. You turned to look at Max.

“You got a pen?” You asked and he hastily retrieved one from his pocket and handed it to you. You chose not to address the way his hand lingered as it touched yours barely as he handed you the pen.

You signed the hat before reaching deeper into the pile, grabbing a shirt and signing it too. The cycle continued for a few items before you must have grabbed something that upset the pile and you were suddenly buried in your own merch. It’s always those closest to us we can’t trust.

The darkness encapsulated you and you tried to shake off the large mass, but your attempts proved unfruitful. After a few seconds you just resigned yourself to being buried in assorted items with your name plastered on it. I mean, when did you sponsor a lamp company and why was there a lamp with your badminton racket holding the lightbulb? How the hell did Max fit that in his bag?

After 30 seconds you saw light again, Max’s mortified face staring down at your splayed out form. His head was encapsulated by the stadium-grade lights and it was almost as if an angel was looking down at you from the heavens. 

You tried to haul an arm up to hopefully pull yourself out, but you couldn’t move your arm. It was pinned down by a… was that a BearBrick version of you? You really have got to pay attention to the contracts you sign. Max eventually got the memo by the shifting plastic (?) and pulled the bear off of you, leaving you to sit yourself up rapidly with a gasp, like a swimmer getting their first breath after nearly drowning. 

It took you a second to regain your senses, but when you eventually came back to normal you could hear three things. The silence that was permeating from the film crew who could only stare in barely-concealed horror, George’s raucous laughter as he struggled to hold his phone properly to capture you both, and Max’s rushed apologies, repeatedly muttering how sorry he was as he took your hand and hauled you so you were standing. 

You took a second for your iron to stop fucking with you before you patted Max on the shoulder, him letting go of your hand in response and you leaned over to put your hands on your thighs, hanging your head forward before lifting it to see the catastrophe of your merchandise all over the floor.

Max hadn’t stopped apologising and you feared he might combust if you didn’t address it soon. You turned to him, taking in the way he was glaring at the floor and hadn’t stopped fidgeting with his hands, and you sighed. That only seemed to make him shrink in on himself, still apologising before you took his hand and almost dragged him across the hall, out towards the door he had entered the hall through.

There was a small paved walkway outside the hall, the pathway separated from the tin walls of the hall and the road beside the hall by two nice patches of greenery. There was a railing on the outside of the pathway and you leant back against it as you let go of Max’s hand and surveyed his form.

For a world champion, a man who should walk around full of pride, he really presented himself as quite small. Maybe that was just because of the circumstances, but he should be more confident in himself, you couldn’t help but think to yourself.

The way George had described him in his ranting sessions contrasted heavily as to how he was acting in front of you, all shy like. You wondered where the ballsy man who pushed people off track and didn’t really care went. If you were a two time world champion you’d walk around bragging about it everywhere you went.

‘Hey pretty lady, you want to go out? I’m a two time F1 world champion and I can make all your dreams come true!’ To be fair, that probably wouldn’t work on any self-respecting woman, but hey! There’s a lot of women in the world, Max could definitely pull at least one of them.

How did you get here? Your mind was just wondering about, you guessed. The man was attractive, so it did make sense you’d be thinking along these lines, but normally you have a three hour grace period where you decide if a man is a creep before thinking along the lines of if you want to… respectfully ponder his relationship status. 

Max, unfortunately and probably against his wishes, had kinda come off as a bit of a creep, though you knew that if you told him that he would probably shrink in on himself like before and disappear. However, you still found yourself thinking about him like that. Maybe you found it cute, the way he was such a fan? Maybe you were just really flattered that such a famous person liked you so much? Maybe you just found his mannerisms really cute? 

You didn’t know. 

At this point it had been a minute or so of you both quietly standing there, Max having finally stopped apologising as you took his hand. You breathed out and Max’s eyes snapped to you.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t know that would happen, I wouldn’t have brought everything if I’d have known. I shouldn’t have brought everything, it was too much. This is our first time meeting, this was probably so weird. I didn’t mean to weird you out, I’m sorry. I probably just embarrassed you in front of all of those people, you didn’t deserve that.” The unspoken ‘I just embarrassed myself in front of you’ was heard loudly in your head, as you stared dumbly at the man who had just poured out all of his worries in front of you. 

He went silent again, leaving you with time to process all he had said. While yes, it was definitely a bit much for a first meeting, why did you find it sort of sweet? And, to be quite honest, you didn’t really care about embarrassing yourself in front of the crew. As despondent as it sounds, you’d done worse for less. You decided to tell him as such.

“Nah, you’re fine.” You said and he looked at you again. 

“To be honest, I just pulled you out because I didn’t want you to be embarrassed.” He opened his mouth to speak but closed it at your words. A pause.

“I’m still really sorry about this whole thing, I shouldn’t have stopped by.” He said quietly.

“How would I have known that two time world champion Max Verstappen was my biggest fan then?” You teased and he shook his head, a small smile appearing on his face.

“It was cute honestly.” You said, and his head jolted up to make eye contact, shock plastered all over his face.

“It’s kinda sweet to know someone so respected has such respect for me.” You said quietly, looking to the floor, a smile spread across your face.

“Uhh yeah, I definitely have a lot of respect for you.” He said, clearing his throat. You then looked up at him, like really looked at him. You took a moment to decide something before continuing to speak.

“Would you like to go for dinner at some point?” You asked and Max looked as if he had been shot for a second before jolting out of it. 

“Pardon?” He asked and you winced. Alright, message received. You just awkwardly waved it off.

“Oh nothing, just something stupid.” “No please, what did you say?” A tone of desperation took over his voice and he grasped your hand. You looked at his eyes, genuineness shining through then. Ok, one more shot.

“Would you like to go for dinner?” You asked and he immediately started nodding his head violently. 

“Yes, I’d love to! Can I have your number so we can talk about it?” He asked, and reached into his pocket to grab his phone before coming back empty-handed. He groaned, realising his phone was still in the badminton hall and you laughed.

“Of course, you probably need your phone though.” Max looked over to you as though to say something sarcastic but stopped as he saw your smile. You pretended not to notice and went to open the badminton hall door. 

“Are you ready to go back in?” You asked and he groaned.

“We’re going to have to pack it all up and face Russell.” He said, resignedly, and you laughed.

“Sounds like a good prelude to a dinner.” And he smiled, looking back at you. 

“It does."

You did eventually learn how to drive, by the way. It just wasn’t from George teaching you.

get the title now (i don't know how to embed spotify links so this is what you get, sorry) also probably my worst work but oh well

[high-dragon-bait]

Okay I’m just going to say it: I always found the take that “Fenris and Anders’ relationship is wasted potential” kind of irritating. At least in the way most people mean when they say it: Anders and Fenris never found common ground, and that is a waste of potential

I do agree that there are some writing let-downs in their relationship, I just don't agree that the fact that they never reach a common ground is part of it.

It is true that Fenris and Anders have more in common than differences, their trauma is ultimately based in the same thing: being held and tormented against their will by an oppressive system. If you pay attention, the narrative, the characters, and Fenris and Anders themselves are aware of this. Here's a little snippet of it shown in this Legacy dialogue

The game knows they're alike. It's not that they can't see there's common ground between them. They can. The problem is: Fenris is healing, and Anders is not

I'm going to show you more banter screenshots now

Specifically of Fenris and Anders' banter with Varric, in acts 2 and 3

Just bear with me, we'll start with Fenris

Fenris and Varric in act 2

Fenris and Varric in act 3

Now Anders

Anders and Varric in act 2

Anders and Varric in act 3

There are more banters that illustrate this point but I think these four are the strongest and also I would like to go to sleep at some point tonight.

Fenris is healing from his past, if you look at his banters as a whole, you can see across all characters he gets more open, humorous, and talkative throughout all acts. Anders does the exact opposite. Anders gets more closed off, cold, and in act 3 you'll notice he rarely speaks before being spoken to unless he's following up on a previous conversation.

It makes sense, to me at least, why they never become friends. It isn't because Anders is a mage, Bethany is a mage, anti-circle, and Fenris loves her. Don't believe me? Look on the wiki or search "Bethany" on my blog and you'll find some of their interactions. They're adorable.

It's because Anders is getting worse and Fenris is getting better. That's why all their conversations are just an exhausting loop and why they never seem to connect. To me, that is the story being told here. It was never about them finding a common ground, it was about paralleling two people and one who heals from their past, and one who does not. Making them on opposite sides of the mage/templar debate is meant to emphasize this.

I do want to state that I have mixed feelings about this. While I think it's a neat idea, it does also feed the "You were hurt by a system but now your hate for it consumes you" trope which I am. Not a fan of. You can also talk about how the world itself plays into this in that Fenris can escape from Tevinter but Anders can't escape from being a mage. That's all a retrospective for another day, I'm just talking about the intent behind the relationship here.

Basically what I’m trying to say is: A story may not go in the direction you want it to but that does not make the story bad, it just makes it the story you didn’t want. That is fine, but I take some issue when people treat it as an actual fault of the story rather than a matter of taste.

Like I said, there are plenty of actual writing issues in Dragon Age 2, and I do think that there are some wasted opportunities in Fenris and Anders' relationship. My biggest problem is that it doesn't go far enough. We see Anders spiral until he hits full rock bottom and destroys the Chantry. We see Fenris... go play some cards with his buddies. I think it would've been more effective if Fenris got a little farther in his healing, namely his relationship with magic. I've said that I don't think Fenris would ever fully trust magic and I don't, but it would've been neat to at least see more progress made than is actually made in the game. This I think is the consequence of Dragon Age 2 being a first draft like David Gaider said, I think if they had more time, they could've pushed this further and made it more interesting, but I do genuinely like what's there like I genuinely like the entirity of Dragon Age 2.

Anyway, that's why in my opinion, Anders and Fenris never finding a common ground isn't a problem from a narrative perspective.

[dreamless-daydreamer]

TBB as Taylor Swift Songs - Character +Song Analysis Part 4

Thanks for all the love and support on my previous parts, It means the world to me that yall are enjoying these.

This one Technically isn’t a Taylor Swift song, but she did co-write it so I think it counts.

Crosshair - The Alcott

I wasn’t going to leave him for last, so here he is

Also, I am fully aware that Crosshair likely still has his chip or it had some lasting effects but Crosshair himself if under the impression that he was free of its control and everything he did was of his own free will, and that’s the mindset I’m approaching this with.

I get myself twisted-in threads

To meet you at the Alcott

I'd go to the corner in the back

Where you'd always be

And there you are, sittin' as usual

With your golden notebook

Writing something about someone

Who used to be me

Okay there’s so much to unpack here. Crosshair pulled all of these strings to get the batch back to the Kamino by the finale. And when they’re all together they refuse to listen to him they insist that he’s under the control of the chip and he has to break the news that he actually isn’t being influenced by the chip, this is who he really is.

I had to do something

To break into your golden thinking

So Crosshair views Hunter as someone who believes he’s always right and in the show Crosshair is able to completely crush Hunter with declarations of his failure and insistence that Hunter is wrong in everything. These words completely destroy Hunter, and I talked about the effect it had on him in part one. Whether or not Crosshair meant these words, it was the only way Crosshair was able to get through to him, to get him to pause.

How many times will I do this

And you'll still believe?

Throughout the entire first season the batch continues to hold the hope that Crosshairs under the effects of the chip, and even when they’re told it was removed they still struggle to believe that that’s who their brother really is.

It's the last thing you wanted (tell me, which side are you on, dear?)

It's the first thing you do (give me some tips to forget you)

The Batch never wanted to leave Crosshair behind and yet it’s all they did. They never came back for him.

You tell me your problems (have I become one of your problems?)

And I tell you the truth (could it be easy this once?)

Crosshair is “Severe and Unyielding” we see that he doesn’t shy away from the truth as much as it may hurt.

It's the last thing you wanted (everything that's mine is a landmine)

It's the first thing I'd do (did my love aid and abet you?)

Even if the batch left Crosshair behind it’s only because he betrayed them. It’s just as much his fault as it is theirs that they were split. Also. LANDMINE

And I'll ruin it all over

I'll ruin it for you

I'll ruin it all over

And over like I always do

Crosshair betrays the batch, and stays loyal to the Empire, and he does it with the intention for the whole batch to stay together within the Empire, and yet it doesn’t work. Even when he tries to help them in The Tipping Point it’s what leads to Techs death and Omegas capture. When he tries to hurt them, he hurts them. And when he tries to help them he still hurts them. He ruins it all over, for them, but inevitably ruins it, like he always does.

Happy Bad Batch Eve! Here’s one last analysis before it airs. TOMORROW. I’ll be avoiding spoilers so I’ll likely post one or two tomorrow without paying attention to my feed or notifications. I’ll check them again thursday night most likely. <3

[lotusmi]

you support rcta?

this is a very long ask - please read everything, I tried to clarify everything and I am ready to change my beliefs if I am wrong. edit: I know some people thought I was ignoring everything, I am sorry if this came late, I've been writing this for 3 hours straight. It's not about supporting... I don't "support" it. The thing is that I don't believe it as real [ the changing], I will try to explain... I believe that if creation is finished, this is all about identification. No one change their race, it's not the outer body which changes, but the inner man becomes aware of a new thing. Some people misunderstand their feelings and think they have to be from other race to feel pretty, wanted, or loved. But at the end we are only consciousness, and I believe that we exist to experience. So, now I am experiencing being brazilian.. but I know I am awareness, so I am aware of being brazilian right now, but I also know that I am everything at this exact same time, an arcturian, a hobbit, a hizuru (yes I fully believe that there is no different from "fictional" races and "races from this world"). If you believe that creation is finished and that there is no difference in what is Imagined and what is "material", you probably get it. Nothing can be changed, it only can be experienced.

Now let's talk about fetish... fetishizing a race. I remember when I was younger, I used to like to listen to kpop and at that time I wanted to be korean (i was 11) because I thought that only koreans were pretty, and I thought couldn't look as pretty as the korean girls, this was obviously a lack of self love. My desire was not to be korean, it was to be beautiful, those are different things. Then here we can see that sometimes we think we desire something, but it is not exactly what we truly want. So if you ask me if I support someone to manifest themselves to be another race, I don't support anyone 'changing' who they are if this is about not feeling beautiful, wanted, important, for there is nothing in the universe that can deny that all the forms of bodies are beautiful, they are beautiful, we know it, everyone knows it. And if I was not clear when I replied to this topic before, I hope that now I can be - do not be ashamed of your skin, your body, your face, your language, I am sure you are perfect as you are. I don't want you to feel like you have to be different. Most of time when people want to change their race it is not about experiencing the experience itself, to learn and comprehend different forms of life as awareness, but only to be "pretty", so you think you want to have asian eyes, but at the end you only feel that your eyes are not beautiful (they are beautiful!). I will quote this story from Neville to explain what I mean, one day a black man came to Neville, he said “you do not know my problem. It’s not a state of health, I assure you; it is look at the skin that I wear” and Neville said “What’s wrong with it?; it looks lovely to me” and the man said “Look at the pigment of my skin. I, by the accident of birth, am now discriminated against. The opportunities for progress in this world are denied me just because of the accident of birth, that I was born a coloured man. Opportunities for advancement in every field, neighborhoods that I would like to live in and raise a family I couldn’t move in, where I would like to open up a business I couldn’t move into that area.” so Neville told this man about Abdullah, his master, who was a black man. "He was very proud of being a negro didn’t want any modification of what God had made him. He turned to me and he said, “Have you ever seen a picture of the Sphinx?” I said, “Yes”. He said, “It embodies the four fixed quarters of the universe. You have the lion, the eagle the bull and man. And here is man that is the head. The crown of that creature called the Sphinx, which still defies man’s knowledge to unriddle it, was crowned with a human head. And look carefully at the head, Neville, and you will see whoever modeled that head must have been a negro. Whoever modeled it had the face of a negro and if that still defies man’s ability to unravel it, I am very proud that I am a negro.”" after that, the man got his desired business and became very rich, "Neville, this year I will net a quarter of a million dollars”.

"you must first start with self. Find self, don’t be ashamed ever of the being you are. Discover it and start the changing of that self" - Abdullah

don't be ashamed over the being you are, if you think you have to look like another race to be beautiful, important, wanted, loved, or anything like that, I tell you: You are lovely as you are, you are. No race is superior to another, everyone is part of the same God, the same God who made the entire universe.

So if I was not clear before, no, I don't agree with 'changing race'. If this is about someone feeling inferior of being who you are or feeling that you are less than what you are, you were born perfect, I hope you know that. What I meant is that I am not against experiencing different ways of being in terms of knowing more about the universe, even to know how others feel, to understand people better, to understand their pain, to learn more. I believe we are God experiencing his creation. - I had once a vision were I was an old man from the countryside, and I saw myself in his body and I knew I was him, I lived a day in his body, I worked in a farm, I lived in a poor home in this big farm, I felt his pain and hurt. After this vision (which happened naturally), I learned a lot of this kind of living, and I had a better understanding of life. This vision made me comprehend what millions of people feel, how they live and made me a better person since it was a beautiful experience (even though it was arduous). I did not scrypted that, It happened. And I learned that the difference between me and that old man was only my awareness. I just assume I am who I am, but at the end I am only awareness. I exist as him, he exist as me. This is our universe, it is beautiful, we exist in all ways. We can't even comprehend how this is beautiful, I have not even words to express this. And it was done already.. I was already him.

I remember that one anon shifted to egypt to understand how the pyramids were made, so he lived a egyptian life. It was not fetish, was the desire of experience, learning about our universe, our history. Is it that wrong? (I sincerely want your answer, for I really want to understand this).

What if someone want to travel to the middle-earth from the lord of the rings and be an elf or a hobbit? It is other race, it is. And we know there is no diference between our universe and the others, all of them exist and are real in the same way. So experiencing that life is wrong? (I am genuinely asking, I hope you understand).

Knowing that we exist in all ways, is it wrong to experience it when our desire is to maximize our understanding of life and learning, even to know how to treat others?

The idea of a pure race is hard for me to comprehend since I am brazilian and we don't have a "pure race" "We can say that the Brazilian ethnic composition basically comes from three large and main ethnic groups: the indigenous, the Africans and the Europeans." I am miscegenated, my skin is sort of olive (yellow?), my mom is light brown (she has native american ancestors), my dad is white, my sibling has a darker shade of skin and curly hair. We are all so different and unique in our own ways. Every brazilian person is different from the other, our culture extends to several different forms of art, food, accent, music and more. I love being brazilian, if someone would want to understand life through brazilian eyes, I have nothing against it. I feel like there is a big difference between fetishizing an ethinic and loving it, experiencing, living, comprehending, learning, not only being it in the exterior, but truly being it within.

Even though I do believe we exist in all possible ways, it does not mean that I don't understand poc struggles and everything that people of color went through in this reality. Knowing we exist in other races does not mean we can appropriate of others culture, someone asked me if I think if it is right to appropriate other countries cultures, and no, officially not. From knowing we exist in all different ways I comprehend how each way of life is precious, and we must respect every race and embrace ours (even when we are miscegenated of course) for all of us are beautiful, our culture, our bodies, or history. No race is superior to another and it will never be, loving those who are different from us (and loving ourselves as we are) is essential to our lives. If you are black, asian, a person of color, native, miscegenated or even if just don't feel like fitting in this world in the way you were born, changing your race is probably not your desire, your desire is the change of the feeling of self. Your desire is to love yourself as you are and be loved, and I tell you that you are, believe it, you are precious. You are the operant power of your reality, you are awareness, your race here is precious, your history, everything. You are God. Feel what you want to feel, feel wanted, loved, important, you already are.

I do not support 'changing' your race when this is about a superficial way of understanding what the heart wants, fetish or thinking that one race is superior to other when it is not. I do not support claiming yourself to be from this or that race when you don't even know who from your ancestors were from this race and you don't even know anything about this certain culture. This is not right and it will never be. Looking different is possible, but what is the point of claiming to be from other race when your heart and mind never experienced what people from this certain ethnic had went through? Looking as if certain race is not being it. Now if your desire is to shift to other reality, completely live other life so that you can learn more about your existence and learning how others life is, revise from the beginning and live as this culture lives so that you grow your spiritual knowledge in a place of unconditional love and RESPECT, I don't see a problem with it. I would love to know your opinions about this and officially correct me if I am wrong, I don't want to be disrespectful and I hope I can learn to be a better person, always. I apologize if I sounded rude in the past for not making my opinion clear and I am genuinely ready to change my beliefs if I am wrong. I thank you so much for reading all of this and I hope we can discuss and find the best answer. We are here to learn.

"don’t be ashamed ever of the being you are" - Abdullah

"No matter what happens in the world, don’t despair, for the very one who created the whole vast universe is in you. You’re not some little puppet on the outside. And this goes for every child born of woman REGARDLESS of race, regardless of nationality, regardless of anything. But every child born of woman, God is housed in that child when he says “I am.” " - Neville

[yandere-isopod]

Making a new pinned post and I still have no eye for design so it is still not formatted all sexy. :(

Boring shit about myself first:

I’m Haru, (they/them) I don’t have a set theme here I just throw my impulsive thoughts out to make them everyone’s problem. I am delusional and obsessive with friends and my spouse so I post obsessive and sometimes toxic rants a lot. If you’re uncomfortable with yandere content you will be uncomfortable with this page. Everything I post about people is completely consensual. Somehow I ended up around people who are very insecure so my “I’ll kill you if you ever leave me” is usually met with blushing and a heartfelt thanks. But that’s just to say that anyone I’m talking about is fully aware of my behavior and feelings and actively encourages me being feral for some reason.

I don’t really have solid rules on asks except don’t sexualize me. You can sexualize any OCs or game characters, you can even send platonic yandere asks, I just absolutely do not want to be sexualized. Compliment me like you would a really neat piece of furniture and you wouldn’t fuck the furniture… right?

I’m making a game

And I’ll put that in big fucking letters cause I’m very excited about it. It’s called Nozomi and anything about it is tagged under that. I would describe it as a farming survival rpg. But most of the people following it are here cause they saw “yandere love interests” and are starved for content.

Nozomi is a love letter to my darling who loves yanderes so every marriageable character has the potential to be yandere. (There are also a couple platonic yanderes as well and at least one who is aromantic.) You have the power to either help them get help, or encourage their deranged behavior and enjoy the consequences of your actions.

You start the game taking over as the deity of an island that is loosely based off the town my grandma grew up in Japan. The island and its inhabitants are in a pretty bad way when you start and where you go from there depends entirely on what you want to do with it. Not just with the islanders, but with each quest there’s several ways you can complete it and things change in the world based on what you decide to do.

Nozomi is built to be diverse. There are different body types, races, disabilities, sexualities and gender identities. I’m not making this game to make money, I’m making it because I wanna make my spouse’s perfect game and I feel like I have a fun idea that a lot of people will enjoy. If you are homophobic, racist, fatphobic or transphobic: I DO NOT WANT YOU TO BUY MY GAME. You aren’t welcome here. I don’t care if there’s only one person who ever buys the game, I’m very loud about those opinions and while I can’t outright ban someone from purchasing something on Steam I can certainly make it impossible to miss my feelings on the subject.

By the end of the year (ideally by fall but definitely by December) I’ll have a steam page which I will post here, and I’ll be having people bug test it. Most of game development is when everything is “finished” so even though I’m pretty far in, I don’t expect to actually release it for another year and maybe two. A lot of it now is just writing and art but I have a much bigger team now, so I’m hoping that goes pretty quickly.

Current artists who have worked on the project are:

NaniWasabi - https://www.fiverr.com/naniwasabi/design-assets-or-sprites-for-any-digital-need

IncognitoAnkh - https://www.fiverr.com/ankhasmodeus

Piyan Apriyanto - https://www.fiverr.com/piyanapriyanto

Current writers who have worked on the project are:

Almond - @miodaisgay

Drops - @sleepingbirch

Beelzebutt

Drama Lama of the Alpaca Lips

I will add links and artist names as they join the project or give me their links.

[mommalosthermind]

How do you block and filter fics with rampant racist micro aggression since that's never tagged properly and the writer will have a white meltdown if they're ever confronted with the fact their fic is racist?

I honestly can’t tell if this was in earnest or if it’s meant to be another Gotcha! Attempt from one of the anti-censorship posts I’ve annoyed people with, so I’m going to assume it’s the first and do my best to answer.

As a white woman, I am definitely not someone who should be speaking on racism, since the systemic issues I deal with are very very different.

Unfortunately, though, your experience with such a fic is going to mirror what I’d imagine is also your experience with most other forms of media which don’t flag that kind of behavior: bail. Back out. Don’t finish the thing that is upsetting you. Possibly, (as I’ve done with authors on issues that hit home for me) take note of who’s behind the thing so you know to avoid them in the future, as they’ve broken that trust.

This is also known as curating your space. I don’t remember if I go on that rant in the other two (three?) posts that seem to have picked up, but that’s the READER’s side of the equation. Find your garden and tend it well, keep it how you like it, because it is for you and you alone.

My job as a writer is to tag to the best of my ability so you know exactly what you’re bringing into your garden. I don’t want to spoil your flowers anymore than I want someone to trample on mine.

Hopefully, as people talk about this more, authors will be more open to tagging/ modifying and/or adding a footnote for things exactly like this.

Micro aggressions are especially difficult, since (again, pulling purely from my lived experiences) getting folk to agree on what ‘counts’ is rough. But as an author— I want to share my stories. That’s the point! If I’ve written it, then I damn well better be self-aware enough to tag it, and be willing to ADD TAGS so I’m not breaking trust with the people I’m trying to give nice things to. Hopefully that makes sense?

I’m gonna say that again since I feel it needs it: if you’re comfortable enough to write the Real World problem happening, you’re fully capable of being able to recognize why someone might like the warning. Be kind. Tags only work if you use them.

On AO3, I believe they recently made it possible to block an author entirely, so they no longer show up in the results for your searches.

I’ve run across exactly one author I’d have blocked if it was possible at the time, because he refused to add tags to a story that… really needed tags. And, going through the comments in later chapters, dozens of people have asked him to update tags. He claims that doing so will ‘ruin the story’ despite the graphic raped-to-death-then-magically-revived bit having literally nothing to do with the plot at all. Instead, it comes out of literally nowhere in an otherwise really well written tale, and was deeply deeply upsetting to the point that his response to my first chapter squee was “yeah, tell me if you still like it after chapter X”. (Unfortunately i am a very fast reader and had already gotten that far and bailed immediately. Dude if you KNOW it’s THAT upsetting to so many people ADD THE TAG.)

I’ll never read anything he’s written again, just like I refuse to read anything by JKR ( awful human) or Terry Goodkind (I can’t stand how he handles his female characters. At all.)

Obviously these two examples are not identical, but it’s the main comparison I have on hand.

This isn’t meant to sound like I’m belittling or downplaying that concern at all. But until people get better at tagging—and I really wish traditional books and other media would ALSO tag, because I’m very very tired of running into Specific Things without any fucking warning— you have to protect yourself and your happy place by putting up a fence, and booting unsavory things right back over it.

—side note: for those worried about spoiling the plot you can…skip the tags... just know you’re choosing to walk in blind. OR! And I wish i could figure it out—you can add! A hyperlink! That takes you to the footnote at the BOTTOM to add things that deserve a warning but might be spoilers! There’s even a tag for that! ‘More tags in notes!’ These are good and useful things! Use them so your readers can better curate their spaces!—

The system isn’t perfect by any means. There are a million ways to improve, and we’re trying! But please, please y’all use the damn tags because right now it’s the only system we’ve got. Take care of each other.

[a-hazbin-reader]

First of all, adore your blog, it and your writing is wonderful! 💜 Saw some folks chiming in with OCs and I thought I’d share mine!

There’s two because I wanted to make one associated with either trip from the pilot, so, one from the hotel and one Alastor calls in. I’ve decided, in the fic I’m writing with them that the two of them are gonna end up romantic because I can

We’ll start with hotel boi. Locke is a golden fox demon who was originally from Britain. He was a troubled kid, who would run around getting into mischief with his schoolmates, petty theft mostly and lots of it. His father and older brothers joined the fight in World War 2 but he avoided it like the PLAGUE finding any excuse to stay home. The war came to him anyway and he died being crushed by a falling church during the London Blitz. In Hell, he has remained a thief and coward, stealing from overlords and avoiding the consequences by joining Charlie’s hotel. He feels guilty about it, but not guilty enough to fully change (yet). His sins include: Greed and Sloth and maybe Envy a little bit

Lasso hails from the western US, having grown up on a prosperous ranch with her family and helping run their maybe-less-than-legal family business if you know what I mean. In Hell she has taken the form of a massive, muscled bull (I am aware that female cows do not have bull horns and are not used in matador fights but the imagery was too good to pass it up). She had and still has an anger problem and could go into blind rages, Wrath and Pride are her sins of choice. Before she died she was set to be married to a friend of the family and she had been so happy that she had not noticed her beau poisoning her whiskey and she died without the ability to fight back, almost worse to her than the dying itself. Arriving in Hell she was tearing things up until she ran into some trouble, against her will she was pulled into a fighting ring for other sinners’ entertainment, poking and prodding her to make her see red before a fight so she can be as vicious as possible. Alastor stumbled in one day and saw a woman in trouble and helped her out, also seeing a valuable asset. In the time honored Hell tradition, Alastor gained another female bestie that day. He calls on her help to run maintenance and upkeep for the hotel because A) He knows she can do it and B) It’s an exercise in futility which means he can laugh as her bovine nose shoots smoke and fire when she inevitably blows a fuse.

Both of them take a real shine to Charlie and through her help and slowly bonding with each other, maybe they can turn things around. I don’t know (I do know)

STOP THE BULL AND THE THIEF I CAN'T IT'S SO ADORABLE

[munmomuu]

I am full on copium on believing that BG3 should/would have a DLC based on a follow up for the Crown of Karsus. Full game and epilogue spoilers ahead.

First as a disclaimer - I'm fully aware this is at best, wishful thinking and isn't based on anything else than what we have in the game already and has a lot of problems due how large the game is. But I'm hopeful!

As anyone could probably tell, marketing standpoint, it would be really profitable for Larian to make story DLC's in the game. The game has sold a lot, has got expectionally great reviews, people crave more, yada yada. No surprises there.

Bah - why are you assuming there's a DLC coming?

In the epilogues, Withers does hint a lot on possible future DLC's. The first one is from the final toast you get after you advance the party by talking to Withers, and the second one is when your character dies during the last cutscene in the docks. The dev notes only describe the cinematics for the toast, so there's no additional notes on if it's foreshadowing or not.

Also, of course we can't ignore Raphael's oh-so-subtle hints. Screenshots are taken from video by Rhikitty

Obviously, it could be just Larian teasing us, it could be that they have plans now, but they sour later on. We can't really tell at this point. But, enough on that, I wanted to make this more on what it could be about - the Crown of Karsus.

Why the Crown?

The game has quite the emphasis on the Crown in Act 3 - the Netherstones control the crown and this way also the Elder Brain (which becomes the Netherbrain). In the end, the Crown drops in the Chionthar, where there's several options what will happen to it:

The Crown ends up to Gale - he will use it to claim godhood

Mystra gets hold of the Crown - Gale will return the Crown to her

Raphael will have the Crown - either the player surrenders the Crown to him, or (I'm not sure about this) he retrieves it himself from Chionthar

As far as I know and correct me if I'm wrong - someone will always have the Crown in the end. This already is a really good base for a story - Raphael is seeking out world domination himself after he has conquered Avernus, so we would have to stop him to get the hold of the Crown. It is pretty clear he hasn't given up on the crown.

Mystra's and Gale's motivations are still unknown what will they do with it. Raphael does allude that they would be corrupted as well and use it for their own selfish reasons, but at this point, could we really trust Raphael as the source on this?

Who would be the villain?

If we assume what Raphael says is true - this could also mean we would need to be against Mystra or Gale. Or, if the player ascends with Gale, maybe be against our old friends and companions, defending the crown and preventing them shattering their godhood. There's also the possibility that origin Gale would become Mystra's Chosen again, so origin Gale would have to fight beside her.

Personally, thinking about these options, I would wager the main antagonist would be Raphael, and Gale and Mystra would be your allies at the start of the DLC, with the eventual option to betray them in the end. Raphael is a very compelling antagonist, with amazing performance and brilliant writing, which would be very fascinating to see more of. Not to mention, it would bring opportunities to show off Mephistopheles, and also possible stir things with Zariel, Karlach, Wyll and Mizora.

There's also Shar and Vlaakith who showed interested in the artefact. I have to admit, I kind of missed the point why Shar would have been interested in the artefact. I know Vlaakith's main concern was to secure her place in godhood and avoid Orpheus getting free. So while they showed more interest in the artefact rather than Crown, it could be possible they would show more interest in it too.

Back to reality....

It could certainly be possible that this could happen, I'm bit of sceptical for getting any DLC that would set after the game events. While Larian's writing for very diverse, branching narrative is really cool, it requires a lot of mental work from the writers to keep the characters consistent for the player's actions and consider all the outcomes with companions and origin characters, not to speak actually making them in the game with full acting, getting approval from licensing standpoint, etc. It's not impossible, given how well the game has done and everyone working on the game are more experienced with it.

But this is just me theorycrafting and just getting some of the brainrot out of my system.

[bryantspeed]

Season 2 Good Omens spoilers

Long rant incoming

Now that I’ve finished crying I wanna talk about the ending and some gut punch reactions I’ve already seen from other people. A repeated sentiment I’ve seen from Aziraphale and Crowley’s separation after the kiss is that “we don’t need more tragic queer endings” and that Our Flag Means Death and Good Omens suffer from straight writers writing queer love that fails in the end. And there are a few problems I have with those sentiments

The first being, BOTH GOOD OMENS AND OFMD AREN’T FINISHED? Like Neil Gaiman has stated in the past that he and Terry Pratchett envisioned 3 seasons in the TV adaptation of Good Omens, and we have definitely left off on a very interesting note for the third act to pick up from. This is the furthest thing from an ending as we can get.

Second, Season 2 of Good Omens very much shifted away from the idiot plot of Season 1 to truly make it a love story and emphasize that above all else. Hell, both Crowley and Aziraphale both point out romcom tropes that they find attractive and attempt to use them to make Maggie and Nina fall in love! Good Omens may be a self aware romcom, but it would be wrong to say it’s not still a romcom that subscribes to those tropes and utilizes them fully! We are ending the second act on a three act romantic story, and what typically happens then? The romantic leads, despite their mutual attraction and desire, split on ideological grounds and leave each other with regrets heavy on their lips (no matter how powerful a kiss is). Queer love stories do this too! Look at the movie “Bros”, they have this same 3 act structure, as does “But I’m a Cheerleader!” where we are screaming at Graham to please just run away with Megan but she is prioritizing her financial safety and family above her own desires.

Hell's sakes, look at the pinnacle of Romance, the brains behind the 1810 Clerkenwell diamond robbery, Jane Austen! Pride and Prejudice also follows this format where Elizabeth and Darcy are ideologically and emotionally split apart, and it is not until Darcy and Elizabeth grow and change for the better that they come back together in the most romantic scene to ever grace the world! "One word from you will silence me forever. [...] You have bewitched me body and soul". What I am trying to say is, Aziraphale going back to Heaven with Metatron is an extension of that common romance trope, splitting our star crossed demon and the too-trusting angel apart to prepare for the third and final act.

And ya know the funny thing that would have certainly happened even if they ended up together at the end of the second act? They would have been split apart very early into the third act. Stories are born of conflict, no story worth telling is one that culminates in "Nothing bad ever happened and we just watched our two lovebirds go on dates and explore each other's bodies for six hours!" Love stories thrive on setting up conflict, so that the romantic leads can fight and claw and work their way back to each other in a much more satisfying emotional climax than if the sloppy, rushed confession that Crowley gave Aziraphale had worked. Stories where the leads end up together in the middle of the story itself don't tend to end well for them (See Romeo and Juliet, "La La Land," "Titanic," et cetera). That is how you end up creating a romantic tragedy.

Third, while “We want queer stories that don’t end tragically” did have a place in film criticism at one time, and a time fairly recently, I feel that sticking to that now when there are a lot more stories that express queer joy and love (especially if you look beyond just major studios, support indie filmmakers, and support the SAG AFTRA and WGA strikes!!!) limits the kinds of stories we can tell. A genuine benefit of today is that there are a lot of queer stories that we can tell, and I’ve been lucky to read a lot of them. The freedom with which we can create stories about us is breathtaking. I've had the privilege to read many well written queer stories, but I've also had the strange privilege to read poorly written queer stories that I can't fathom how they made it past editing. There’s a fierce joy I carry knowing that there are a plethora of queer stories that I can read now, and that more are being created, good and bad.

My point is, there are so many queer stories to be told, and that are being told, so limiting queer media to “must end happily” is exactly that! Limiting! If we go in to every story with the foreknowledge of a happy ending, well frankly that’d be so boring! I want tragedies! I want fucked up characters not fully resolving their problems and being left in situations arguably worse than where they began!

And while I doubt that's the direction Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett wanted to take their supernatural love story, if Aziraphale and Crowley, despite all their struggles, are tragically separated because of metaphysical forces beyond our wildest imaginings, then that would be something new! It'd be interesting if done right! As painful it would be to not see Aziraphale and Crowley together gallivanting off to Alpha Centauri, I'd much rather see a story that has these sorts of stakes for both the characters and the audience!

Anyway, the reason for this rant is just to say that I'm excited for where Crowley and the new Supreme Archangel Aziraphale go in their final act, and by god will I impatiently wait and see.

PS: to those that I saw dismissing Good Omens' and OFMD's cliffhangers for coming from straight writers, Taika Waititi literally came out as queer, and Neil Gaiman had boycotts on Sandman in the 90's because of his queer characters, and his loving portrayal of Wanda, a trans woman that I will protect will all of my heart.

[ingravinoveritas]

This was posted on Twitter the other day and I felt compelled to write a post about it. It seems there is a city named Port Tennant in South Wales, and it’s located just up the road from Port Talbot, where Michael grew up:

Could it be Fate? Kismet? Destiny? Whatever you want to call it, however you want to define Michael and David’s relationship--colleagues, best friends, lovers--them finding each other seems like it was almost certainly meant to be.

Now, I do know that Tennant isn’t David’s real last name, and that he changed it when he became an actor. Pure coincidence, one could say, that he chose the name Tennant. But that’s the thing, isn’t it?

Choices. All the little choices that were made along the way that led to something much bigger.

Michael’s parents chose to move back to Port Talbot and raise him there. David chose to change his last name from McDonald to Tennant. We know he saw Neil Tennant of the Pet Shop Boys mentioned in a magazine, but still. Of all the names in the wide world, for him to choose that name is somehow nothing short of extraordinary.

The first thread in the path. A connection, an invisible rope tying Michael and David together long before they could see it. The universe working its mysterious magic, ever so slowly.

And then, years later, Bright Young Things:

Another thread. Another choice--Stephen Fry putting Michael and David in the same movie, though they never shared the screen. Something pulling them closer, but not yet completely together, because Fate works on its own timeline. 

You can see it there, at the BYT premiere. Soulmates in waiting, somewhere in the background of each other’s lives, aware of but never fully appreciating their presence. The barely visible beginnings of a majestic structure waiting to be built. The outline of something grand. Something timeless.

And then...Good Omens. At last, Michael and David’s paths converged--from Port Talbot to Port Tennant, from Scotland to Soho.

Once again, little choices ended up making a big difference. The choice to film GO now, instead of twenty or thirty years earlier. Neil casting Michael as Aziraphale instead of Crowley. Michael choosing to play Aziraphale instead of Crowley. Neil making the choice to fight for David as Crowley, despite every objection.

In the end, the result of those choices was pure magic.

This is it, the universe said. This is the right moment. This is when they need each other.

Three years after season one (and on the verge of season two), we can still see it. A connection that has endured through a pandemic, through chaos and uncertainty, and that only seems to be growing stronger with every passing day.

Destiny, having staked its claim long ago, now sits in the distance, watching, smiling. You made so many choices. Choices that needed to be made. But the path was already clear. I just left the threads there for you to find.

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where, I love you directly without problems or pride: I love you like this because I don't know any other way to love, except in this form in which I am not nor are you, so close that your hand upon my chest is mine, so close that your eyes close with my dreams.” - Pablo Neruda

[intoloopin]

A PRELUDE: THE OTHER NIGHT I CRIED THINKING ABOUT HAVING SEX WITH YOU.

TWs: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. An intrusive thought about committing sexual harassment gets troughfully examined (it's 100% an intrusive thought, Haruki does not act on it at any moment). Very direct references to past sexual abuse of a character. NSFW in general. Panic attack symptoms such as crying, shaking and depersonalization. Invasion of personal space and disruption of sleep (yes. that’s important.). Also some internalized homophobia, but only if you squint. Also, it's sad, very very sad. If any other warnings flew over my head, don't hesitate to tell me.

word account: 1,152 words.

characters: Fukunaga Haruki. Dylan Hwang / Hwang Chihoon. Choi Sangwon.

dated from: mid 2022.

author's note: So, I am experimenting with style a lot these days, and this was supposed to be a private writing exercise for me and me only, but I believe it turned into a pretty insightful character study, and that it'll be pretty useful moving forward to have this piece out. It sets the tone of the blog well enough (a problem I had with my old blogs was that the writing and the vibes always felt so disconnected, it was lowkey hilarious), so if similarly themed writing to this is not something you want to see, feel free to block/unfollow/non-interact, no hard feelings at all. Also: english is not my first language! This text in particular was originally written in brazilian portuguese and translated by myself to english.

You're vaguely aware that there are more decent ways of going through 'this sort of thing'. 'This sort of thing', in your book, translates to falling apart, coming undone, having a small death, as most things in your book tend to circle back to as of lately.

If you were locked inside a bathroom with the shower running cold, resting your forehead against the cooler tiles, it would be all fair game, and you could get done with it, freely liberating tension off your shoulder blades without acquiring any new guilt, without being watched.

But there's a living breathing person near your space. They could hear you making noise, see you, take note of you, join you, leave.

All fair game, as well, up until they leave.

You're thinking about crying just as much as you're thinking about sex. You've learned some years back that often enough, one follows the other in Siamese fashion. You've been made fully aware a week ago that they're not as intrinsically connected as you make them out to be.

It doesn't have to always be like this, your brain reminds you through a vivid thought. The thought keeps on going, takes a curve: but it has always been like this, with you, so this is how it'll go.

The situation your mind constructed is as it follows:

You would have your own cock on your right hand, left hand shoved into your mouth, eyes set on the silhouette by your side, separated by five steps and a half and another bed, both your expressions blank, the world quiet, compliant.

Chihoon would look asleep, but he would be awake. And you would know that because you have watched him sleep every night for months, and his shoulders and brows don't tense when he's even lightly napping. It would make you feel nothing. 

Now, he breathes through his open mouth. In your head he stays silent, plays dead, plays you.

When you changed roommates, you chose to stay with the side of the bedroom that used to be Sangwon's. You told Dylan your legs got cold and you didn't like being so close to the vents, and that was all that was, all there would ever be – but in actuality, you have cultivated a morbid curiosity in putting yourself in Sangwon's shoes.

You understand that's not what your therapist had in mind when she suggested you practiced empathy, but that's what you do now: you change thought perspectives as if they were TV channels.

You blink and think that Dylan is now you and you're so many different people you might as well not have a face. (So this is how you saw me, you want to tell them, one by one. You saw me small.)

You blink and you're close to crying, ugly crying, head shoved in your pillow crying.

Sex with you was never good, but sex with you was never about being good, or about getting there, getting someone there. It had always been something taunted sinister by the fact that it was you inside your own body – a dead cat wrapped in gift paper.

You could never make them laugh with their full chest, but you always made them hard, made them wet.

You remember, like one would remember a hazy dream, the feeling of being taken over by love and fear for the very first time, always love&fear, a conjoined act, sweaty palm interlinked with another sweaty palm, bigger than yours.

You had always been the sort of kid that held their breath under the bathtub water until some numbness hit you. No interest in learning how to swim or how to keep your nose high, out of risk of drowning. Not swallowing any medicine to keep the aftermath headache away, having it sit at the crown of your head proudly, like a tiara.

People that have been carved out of precious stone and molded into sculptures, human looking but not human being things like you, were made for drowning underwater. That to you had always been factual.

That kid side of you breathes deep inside you still, hangs inside your chest somewhere you can't reach, unless provoked. He tends to jump front when you let yourself be at mercy of other people, when they hover; that part of you that knows your destiny and the sinking hurt that's integral to it.

Everytime you let a tiger come close to your open cage, you flash your neck so they can pick you up by the nape, like an animal cub, and drag you away to eat you alive in whatever area brings them privacy.

No one has ever asked you where more than once. One time you sucked a man off in a parking lot, saw cars and bikes coming in and off the corner of your eyes, and now you no longer feel like driving.

Your very own conception of privacy is even more cloudy than a dream, stripped bare of any value, rest in the same way your physical exterior has turned into rest. You outgrew this coat. You learned how to live out in the cold and can't let yourself miss feeling safe in the warmth. Can't deal with the hanging thread of the wind blowing this candle out, rain falling over it.

You take a hold of yourself by the arms in a straitjacket shaped hug, nails sinking deeper into the meat of your elbows as you abandon the covers. You feel yourself rising up almost supernaturally, sitting at the edge of the bed, feet glued to the icy ground. You feel yourself walking until the distance between you both is more or less of a single foot.

You can never sleep near someone and not marvel and bitch and get nauseous at how easy it is to choose not to hurt them.

(In the dark, nothing ever happens. You spent half of your life like this: on your knees, snot running down your nose, hidden away from the sun and all it touched. Someone somewhere told you were a night creature once, half-bat, and you still believe them.

A tree that falls where no one can see doesn't make any sound, and you used to find comfort in that, back when you knew what was making you out of breath. Back when you didn't know they'd always be someone watching.)

Hand taunted with sweat, you see yourself wipe it on his hair through astral projection, as if someone else did it. And then you start shaking and getting down, almost as if you were in front of an altar, and you press your non-working nose against his scalp. You don’t move even when you feel him move. You’re a marble structure crumbling down again, ruinning someone’s peace by reaching.

When you plead for forgiveness, your voice is an echo of the one belonging to who had you by the neck first.