#But i can never escape the real possibility of bringing a child into the world with same or similar mental issues i have

[mrfoox]

I'll probably never know if I actually don't want kids or if I'm just too scared about passing on bad genes and have them suffer and that's sad

[toffeecoco1]

A concept:

SQH is forced to reveal the system and/or his status as a transmigrator, due to a truth serum or whatever other convenient plot device. I HIGHLY doubt MBJ would just pass this knowledge on to LBH, especially if LBH didn’t ask—and how on earth would he think to ask??

So instead, I think at least part of it happens with LBH around. He watches SQH have a meltdown over being revealed, spewing nonsense about writing a book and then waking up inside it. He doesn’t even need to catch the entire mess, only fragments of it—enough to understand that it’s possible to jump from one world to the next, to end up in a world you already know.

And he starts wondering. Thinking about someone else he knows who has always known too much and brushed it off by claiming he read it in some book or another that Binghe can’t confirm exists. And though SQH appears to have found himself in this world as a child, who’s to say that’s the only possibility? His shizun’s personality changed suddenly and drastically, and he has no memories of his shizun having such startlingly extensive knowledge before that event.

What happens then depends on when this takes place: if it’s post-canon, he probably corners SQH to ask, and is smug about threatening him, then cradles the knowledge he receives close to his chest. Whether he brings this to his shizun is hard to tell, but he’d definitely carry himself with a light, happy air. Knowing that his shizun has always been kind to him and always loved him is simply euphoric. SQQ might notice him acting different and ask him about it, which might lead to a conversation—where SQQ is terrified at first, but relieved and simply relaxed by the end. He truly doesn’t mind being Shen Qingqiu and living what is technically a lie, but it’s… lovely to let his guard down a little around his husband, even if by this point “Shen Qingqiu” is no longer a mask he has to hide behind.

(Being post-canon is also fun because binghe can think back to the mausoleum and go “wow. maybe this should have been obvious.”)

Alternatively, I LOVE the idea that this happens earlier, during the 5 years where SQQ is dead. Rather than excitement and giddiness at solving a puzzle and figuring out more about his beloved, Binghe feels only grief and a slow horror as the pieces fall into place.

Maybe he still doesn’t know why his shizun pushed him into the abyss, but if none of the abuse he suffered was actually at his hands, if shizun truly was only ever kind to him… at the least he can begin to understand why his shizun might have sacrificed himself for him.

When he corners SQH this time, it’s with real anger, laced with fear and regret. SQH’s panicked answers give him enough information to piece together that SQQ likely didn’t have a choice in pushing him into the abyss.

So he wallows. His beloved never once tried to hurt him, was always kind to him and protected him. Likely knew he would escape the abyss alive. And he repaid that with threats and coercion, and drove his shizun to his death.

Years later, when he is in a dream and suddenly realises that his shizun is real, he doesn’t slowly smirk and begin to plot. He instead falls to his knees, gripping tightly to his shizun’s clothing and sobbing—much to SQQ’s confusion. But, still slightly numb with the whiplash of being kissed clumsily without warning and then suddenly cried on by a man he’s convinced is going to kill him, all SQQ can do is gently pat his disciple’s head.

[jeridandridge]

Hardest of Hearts

Melissa helps you handle a life changing event. CW: talk of Abortion

A/N: This is a different angle on a trope we’ve seen many times. I decided to explore the other side of a very real situation.

On a Friday afternoon you sit at your usual table with Melissa and Barbara tapping away on your phone lost in your own thoughts. The senseless chatter from Janine and Jacob going on behind you doesn’t even register as you look at the test results on your phone screen.

“Hey you okay, hon?” Melissa sits looking at you concerned.

You can’t do anything but nod and give her a tight smile as your heart beats fast against your ribcage.

“Sweetheart, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s wrong?” Barbara asks in the most comforting way only Barbara knows how.

Letting out a sigh you lock your phone and reach out for your water bottle instead. “I’m okay, really.” It was a lie, but none of your co workers needed to know your personal business. Especially Barbara and Melissa.

The redhead looks at you with something in her eyes that you cant place and you feel like you could cry right there. Being in love with the woman didn’t help your current situation. Getting up abruptly you give the group a tight smile as you gather your things. “I have some stuff to catch up on, you guys have a good weekend.”

As you walk out of the lounge you try to keep it together long enough to get up to your classroom. Looking at the clock you take a shaky breath realizing you have two hours left. It would be an easy rest of the day, you’d been letting the kids work on their own on a project anyway. You could make it.

As soon as your kids are gone you grab your bag and keys slipping out to your car before you can see any of your co workers in the hallway. On your drive away from Abbott you replay that day in your head. Melissa being mad at Gary all day. You planning on asking Melissa to dinner. Gary showing up at the last possible minute for a Valentine’s Day surprise. You meeting your friends at the bar. You going home with one of them. Now here you are pregnant according to your blood tests.

“Stupid.” You huff under your breath. You were always careful. Never hooking up with strangers, always using condoms. Now on your way home you come to the firm decision that you’re not ready to be a mother. You couldn’t even keep a plant alive. You had no right bringing a child into the world when you were still figuring your life out and living in a shoebox of an apartment.

Parking and going inside you lock yourself in for the weekend planning on trying to relax before making an appointment at the clinic for as soon as possible. That’s when you decide you’ll tell Melissa what’s going on. You might not have gotten the girl, but you did trust her with your life.

As the evening goes by, you receive a few texts from Melissa asking how you are and what’s going on but you leave your phone alone. Sitting with a book in your lap you try to escape reality for just a moment, only to be brought out of the story by a consistent knock on the door.

“I’m coming!” You call out getting off the couch. Looking through the peep hole you sigh when you see the redhead standing there with her hair up, hoodie on, and a bag in hand. Opening the door you keep your hand on the knob opening it just enough.

“Melissa, what are you doing here?”

“You’ve been acting weird and weren’t answering my texts so I thought I’d come by.” She shrugs holding up the bag from the store. “I brought treats and I miss you.”

Sucking in a breath you nod opening the door for her to come in. “I’ve been around,” you say softly.

“Yeah hon but something’s goin on. Can we talk about it?” She asks as you lock the door once more.

“There’s not much to talk about, Mel. Honest.”

Not believing a word you say yourself, it doesn’t shock you when the redhead looks at you with an unamused expression.

“Hon,” she sighs, “I don’t know what I did, but you’ve been kinda avoiding me all week, what’s goin on?”

Plopping down on the couch you bring your knees up to your chest, the redhead sitting across from you. God she was pretty.

“It’s not you, Mel. I swear. It’s a me thing and hopefully soon I won’t have to worry about it.”

Melissa reaches out gently cupping your cheek. For just a moment your eyes flutter shut as you enjoy the contact.

“You don’t have to lie to me. You’re talkin to the queen of hiding emotions.” She teases you with a small smile.

Taking a breath you gently reach for her hand removing it from your cheek so you can hold it, a gentle squeeze from the older woman grounding you.

“I’m only going to tell you this because we’re friends and I trust you with my life.” You start, your hands shaking as a cold sweat hits you.

“About a month ago, I went out and did something stupid. Now I’m pregnant.”

Melissa gently squeezes your hands.

“And I can’t keep it.” You let out as the tears start to burn your eyes.

“Oh hon,” she moves forward to hug you, but before she can you reach out resting a hand on her shoulder. The smell of her perfume hits your nose and that only adds to your

“If you hug me right now I think I’ll fall apart.” You all but plead with her.

The redhead nods putting her hands in her lap as you sit in front of her practically shaking.

“What can I do?” Is all she asks. And that’s when the dam breaks.

Tears fall down your cheeks in anger and sadness, undoubtedly making you look psychotic. You wished you could tell her everything, but you can’t. Not now.

“Take me to the clinic?”

The redhead looks at you with watery eyes nodding. “I got you.” She hums gently offering you her hand.

Reaching out you open your arms, finally ready for a hug as you calm your breathing. you hold onto Melissa like she’s your lifeline, a raft keeping you afloat in dangerous waters. She holds you as if you’re going to disappear into thin air.

From that moment on the weekend turns into a blur. That night you climb into bed with Melissa beside you, her hand rubbing soothing circles against your back through your shirt. You want to turn over and wrap around her but think better of it. You’re close enough, you won’t ruin it.

The next morning you wake up with Melissa’s arm wrapped around you and her front pressed to your back in a warm embrace beneath the blankets. When you shift you realize she’s already awake, moving back a bit to let you move.

“I’m sorry I’m ruining your weekend.” You hum moving to face her.

Jade eyes meet yours and soft pink lips curl into a small smile. “Don’t be sorry, hon. My weekend was gonna be crappy reality tv and grocery shopping.”

“Not doing anything with Gary?” You ask with a quirked brow.

“Oh that,” she hums. “Yeah that’s over.”

She says it so nonchalantly, you can’t tell if it’s a good thing or not for her.

“Oh.” Is all you say and that’s where that conversation ends despite you wanting to know more.

As the weekend goes on you’re pampered by Melissa. She makes sure you eat and stay hydrated, and is right by your side when the clinic calls you back in the afternoon.

“The earliest appointment possible would be great.” You hum into the phone as the redhead gently rubs your back. “Yes, thank you.”

Hanging up you set the phone down and tip your head back letting out a sigh of relief. “I’ll have to call in on Monday.”

“Don’t worry about it, let me handle it.” She says moving for her phone.

“What are you gonna say? It’s a little strange for both of us to need the morning off isn’t it?” You worry, hoping Ava doesn’t ask her too many questions.

“Let me handle Ava, hon. I won’t tell her anything personal.”

“I know you won’t.” You nod. “I just- yeah.” You lean against the counter bringing your hand to your forehead. Your mind was spiraling and you didn’t know how to stop it. Watching Melissa tap on her phone you look down at the floor zoning out.

“All set, hon.” She assures you with a warm smile. “Now what’s goin on over there?” She asks coming up to your side again.

“Nothing, just- thank you.” You tell her sincerely, hoping that’s enough for now.

As the clock ticks you toss and turn on Sunday night unable to calm down. Laying in the dark you sigh under the sheets. Melissa wraps her arm around you once more, brining you closer to her.

“Everything’s gonna be fine.” She gently squeezes you.

You don’t know when, but you manage to fall asleep even if it’s just for a couple hours. Waking up to the sound of your alarm going off you let out a huff staying in the warm bubble you and Melissa were in.

“Hon, you awake?” She hums reaching over for your phone turning the alarm off.

“I’m up.” You whisper not bothering to move from the tangle of legs and the arms you’re being held in. “Thank you, for all of this, Mel.” She can think you just mean being there or taking you for your procedure, but this very moment is enough.

“I’m honored you trust me, hon.” She hums kissing your temple. “We should get moving.”

Knowing she’s right you yawn, sitting up and stretching out as you both get up for the day ahead. Brushing your teeth and washing your face you and Melissa move around your tiny bathroom comfortably as if you do this all the time.

“Did they tell you what to do for aftercare or anything?” She asks brushing out her curls.

“Basically no strenuous activity, I’m gonna have a little bit of bleeding and discomfort.” You shrug trying to play it off. Deep down you were scared of what to expect after, but you knew this was the right decision. Having Melissa at your side even if you haven’t told her your feelings is enough.

“When we get back you’re not doing a damn thing.” She tells you in a voice that tells you not to argue. “Take a nap and let me cook.”

“Well I can’t tell a Schemmenti to stay out of a kitchen now can I?” You joke through a nervous laugh.

“Especially after something like this.” She nods moving through the room to get her boots on.

Watching her from the bathroom you take everything in. The lamp in the room is dim, and her hair cascades down her back in red waves. With everything she’s done for you, you’re not sure how long you can keep your feelings to yourself.

“Mel, can I tell you something?” You asks keeping your eyes on the doorframe.

“Hon, at this point you can tell me anything.” She chuckles tying her laces.

“I’ll understand if you change your mind about taking me this morning. But I need to get this out before I go in there.” You let out in a shaky breath.

Melissa stands back up coming over to you gently taking your hands in hers. “You can tell me whatever you need to tell me. I ain’t goin anywhere.” She promises.

Looking at your fingers laced with hers, you take a deep breath before you meet those gorgeous green eyes again.

“I- this is horrible timing.” You laugh sadly shaking your head.

Melissa lets go of one hand reaching up to gently tip your chin up. “Are you gonna tell me or should we get ready, go, and talk about us when you’re feeling better?” She asks you as if she already knows. The way she looks at you tells you she knows.

Swallowing hard you nod, keeping your hand in hers.

Something shifts. The fear you had starts to lift as you walk out to her car a little while later. In your sweatpants and hoodie you sink into the passenger seat with your bag and water bottle taking deep breaths.

Watching the redhead get in the car she settles herself and starts it up, pulling out of your apartment complex. Going through the streets it’s relatively quiet in the city, some people are just going home and some are getting ready for a long day. As you get closer to the clinic you feel Melissa’s hand on yours stilling your shaking you hadn’t realized was happening.

“Is Barb gonna hate me?” You ask quietly, thinking of how you dragged her best friend into this mess. She was a Christian woman after all.

“Barb doesn’t need to know your business,” Melissa shakes her head. “But if you do tell her, she’s Barb, hon. She’s not gonna hate you ever. Especially when you’re with me.” She squeezes your hand with a soft smile.

The rest of the drive goes fine after that. You do your breathing and hold Melissa’s hand, only looking up as you pull into the lot where you were instructed to go to. Parking, Melissa gets out with you giving you a sense of relief. “I told ya I’m not goin anywhere.”

And sure enough she doesn’t. Through the paperwork and exam process, Melissa is by your side holding your hand. When you wake up from the procedure she’s there in the waiting room as you’re pushed out in the wheel chair. The kind nurse that was there from the start takes you out to the car making sure you get in safely with Melissa’s help.

Sitting groggy and sore you look at Melissa through the window with hooded eyes as she speaks to the woman, realizing you fell for her for all the right reasons. The drive home is a slow one. Melissa takes her time making sure to avoid as many potholes as possible, driving cautiously enough to have people honking at her.

“Yeah yeah go around me.” She rolls her eyes.

“Don’t use the car bat.” You mumble the joke out, eyes still closed in the passenger seat. When you wake up to Melissa carefully opening the car door you feel her hand stroking your cheek.

“Hon, cmon let’s get you inside.”

Sitting up you blink a couple times, swinging your legs out of the car you wince as you get up.

“Nice and easy.” She encourages wrapping her arm around your waist.

Leaning into her you walk slower than usual into the building. You were happy you had an elevator. Up to your apartment Melissa keeps you close, keeping her arm around you as you unlock the door.

“Let’s get you to bed, hon.”

“Come with me?” You ask quietly, as if she hadn’t already told you she knows how you feel about her. She was so understanding of everything and on top of that you were so tired you could cry.

The redhead nods, gently rubbing your back as you go back to where you started your day just a couple hours ago. Getting your shoes off Melissa helps you lift your legs onto the bed, putting the blanket over you. Laying there in your still dark room you wait for the redhead to join you, her arms immediately going around you as she lays down.

When you feel her lips meet your temple in a soft kiss you let out a content sigh, drifting off to sleep with your hand over hers.

[the-fiction-witch]

Lion P3

Media Game Of Thrones

Character Lancel Lannister

Couple Lancel X Reader

Rating Smut

Lancel quickly strips himself off and gives his hard cock a few strokes making sure to be at his best for her before he slipped inside her already-soaked pussy, struggling not to moan biting on his lip, 

he wants his lioness and he wants her now.

she begins to whine and moan begging for more, Her whining and moaning drives him crazy. He has never felt desire like this for a woman before. He is getting more and more excited by the moment. Her begging for him to continue drives him even more mad. He pulls away just enough that she can see his face. His cheeks are red and his breath is shaken. His eyes are so filled with desire and lust that she can hardly believe this is her lion.

 He cannot believe he has the satisfaction of seeing her body like this. He finally has what he has always wanted. His lioness.

A low groan escapes from his lips as he leans forward and whispers in a raspy voice. "Is this what you want? Your lion to plant his seed deep in your garden?"

she whines and pleads with him "yes my lion, please this is what I want more then anything. I want my lion to plant his seed deep in my garden, I wish for my lions child to grow in my garden"

It is almost as you if you read his mind. If that was even possible he is sure this moment was too perfect to be. His lioness wants him and wants his seed as well. His whole body is shaking with excitement and desire. He cannot believe that the moment he has been dreaming of is real.

No words were needed. She had said everything her body and her desires needed to say. No longer was he a lion wishing to have a lioness. 

He was now a lion with a lioness.

Her body calls to him and he does not want to wait anymore. He wants her now.

The moment is so overwhelming that Lancel struggles to get himself under control. He has never wanted a moment more in his life then this one.

He is completely overwhelmed with the moment. His hands are quaking as he holds her body in his arms even though his mad lust the idea of him burying his seed was beyond thrilling to him The thought of becoming a father brings such joy to him.

she gasps holding his hips to help him soothing him her hand stroking his stomach to help aid his release,

Her cooes send shivers down his spine. Her touch is so soft and sweet in this moment. He looks at her face as he tries to stay focused. Lnacel is not only excited beyond belief, he is also nervous. He wants more than anything to go through with this to make her truly his,

No longer does he think of himself. He is only the lion and her only the lioness. The urge to begin is so overwheling it is almost uncontrollable. Her body is calling to him. He wants her more than anything right now.

she cannot help but smile as she egarly waits for this moment of becoming his, of his seed in her garden, she desires this beyond all else in the world and cares only for Lancel and his body over her

When his eyes meet hers with such desire and lust he cannot contain himself any longer. She has taken his breath away from the first moment she appeared before him. He wants nothing more than to make her the mother of his children. The moment has finally come now. 

He cannot wait anymore. Her words and her actions have made him feel wanted in every way. This is all he has ever wanted. Her being his and making her his is everything he has ever desired. His eyes are closed now. The sound of her voice and her breathing is so arousing to him.

Lancel could not wait any longer  pleasure running though them both, his bed creaked and banged against the wall, her squeals filled the air

Lancel could hardly believe the moment has come. Her squeals are filling him with joy. The noise the bed was making was a bit unsettling, and he hoped no one would hear them. But it did not matter anymore. 

As the moment begins he feels the waves of pleasure running through his body. His hands clutch the bed and her legs, and he has never felt so satisfied in his life. Her body is so amazing and perfect for him. The sounds of her pleasure is making him lose control.

He is losing all control, but he feels no worries. This is the moment he has wanted all this while. Her satisfaction is making him lose his grip on all rationality. All he wants is to make her happy. To take care of her and grow a family with her. make her his lady, make her his lioness, plant his seed in her garden every night and raise a family that would make the name of house Lannister live on for a dynasty longer then even the Targaryens, 

"my lord! My knight! My lion!" She squeals

Her words send shivers down his spine. Her cries fill him with so much excitement. He could not get his mind off her. The thought of her calling him all these different names makes him happy. He loves how she is calling out to him. 

He is the lion and he loves how she knows her place at his side as he lioness. He cannot take it much longer.

"Lancel! Make me your lady! Make me your bride! Plant your seed and make me a mother!" She begged her body twisting and contorting arching her back wrapping her legs around his hips her hands on his stomach massaging away his tensions as she was clearly on the edge

Her words hit him hard as she arches back. Her body being in such a position drives him even more crazy. The thought of planting his seed and growing children with her is making him lose control completely.

His breath breaks into heavy panting as he loses more control than he has ever felt before. He can now feel the pleasure building inside of himself. He feels like he will burst if he does not release himself.

she screams his name as she reaches her orgasm for the second time which In turn supplies Lancel with his own satisfaction, he felt like a wave of pleasure ran through his body. Her screaming his name sent him over the edge and he couldn't help but scream himself. his body frozen paralyed with the waves of pleasure overloading his every mucel, They both sat there for a moment, trying to catch their breath.His heart was still racing.

she had merely been gasping coming down her her second high of the evening before she looked up at him and giggled

His breath is still heavy as he slowly regains his breath. He chuckles and looks down at her with a smile. she wrapped her arms around his neck as pulled him down to her lips for a long loving kissHe pulls her in close and kissed her passionately. He was still a bit breathless from the moment, Her body was still shaking from the aftershock of the pleasure she had just had and it only brought him joy that he could make her feel like this and his own joy knowing he too was shaking for her. He kisses her deeper and longer than he had ever done before as his feelings for her could not be contained anymore.

The kiss lasts for a few minutes before Lancel breaks it and lays back down. He is still heavy breathing, but he is feeling much more relaxed now. Her body is still pressed up close to him which he appreciates.

she smiled and laid with him her hand coming to massage the tension in his stomach from all the pleasure and hard work His stomach was still tense and he was extremely glad she was massaging it. Her hand did wonders to make the tension ease from his body. It was so nice to have her massaging him. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her deeper into him as he wanted to feel her body closer to him.

"Are you happy my lion?"

"I am the happiest lion in the whole of Westeros" he smiles down on her playing with her hair Her body is pressed up against his and her hand is massaging his stomach. He is feeling much more relaxed than he had felt before. She was the source of all his happiness and he wanted to keep her at his side forever.

"I am thrilled to have brought you such joy" she smiled and kissed his lips softly, "My sweet Lannister Lion,"

"Ummm My sweet little lioness. My lady. My darling. I meant every word of it, I truly did."

"You did?"

"Of course, I want to marry you, take you as my wife, have you live here in the castle with me, be the lady of Darry by my side, be my sweet beautiful lady, my darling wife, my lioness to my Lannister lion. And to be the sweet little kitten who holds the garden in which my seed shall plant even more little lion cubs to come." He cooed as he held her close and stroked her hair, "I want you to be mine. In all ways that you can be. I... I love you Y/n. I truly do. and I beg of you, stay with me, be my wife, be the mother of my children, bve my lady... be my lioness."

she sat for a moment with a wide smile before she spoke, "I could never turn down such an offer. I would be happy to stay with you, I love you too lancel. My sweet lion."

"I love you too, and I swear to love you y/n. Until my heart is cold and empty."

"As do I." she cooed, 

"My beautiful lioness," He smiled,

"my sweet lion." she smiled before kissing his lips once more. 

[the-entity-down-the-street]

Y'know it's been a hot minute since I made a post about witchcraft on this blog, and a lot has changed since my beginnings back in 2019, so I think it's time to share some thoughts.

MY MAGIC AND AUTISM:

One of my discord friends was talking about possibly being an empath, and at first I didn't say anything, but eventually I decided it'd be better to inform them that a lot of the "empath/indigo child/sensitive" stuff is just spiritual talk for neurodivergency.

I'm autistic myself, finally got diagnosed in 2022 a few days before my 25th birthday. My mom told me that we were empaths when I was growing up, that we were sensitive to the feelings of other people, and that's why we both ended up shouldering other people's problems. She tried to teach me how "block" energies, but that never really worked for me. In part, this is because it was an abusive household and there was no escape from the negativity, but that's not the point I'm trying to make.

As it turns out, there is a way to block negative energy, and it's called setting healthy boundaries with the people around you. Y'know, talking with your friends, making it clear when you don't have the energy to listen to them vent. If you have good friends, they'll be happy to listen and respect your wishes. If you don't, well, I cast the spell of "bye."

Having access to therapy, learning interpersonal skills, and (eventually) going on antidepressants was more helpful for getting rid of negativity than any amount of purifying crystals/blocking techniques.

In fact, getting my mental health in check allowed me to *really* start my spiritual journey! Parsing out what was in my head and what was really, genuinely mystical was crucial for my craft. I could talk more clearly with my tarot cards, I was more in-tune with the messages the universe was sending me, and things in my life finally started moving forward.

This brings me back to the autism diagnosis. Having the language and clarification about how I experience the world really allowed me to flourish magically. You know why? Because through understanding how my autism influences my perception, I could find my strengths.

For example, I'm really good at picking out patterns, and I tend to make sense of life through the lens of storytelling, so I have a tendency to see thematic elements that carry through in my life. One of my dearest friends from college said that I did everything with a "narrative flair," and that's because of my ability to find narrative patterns.

This leads into how I picked up pop culture witchcraft. My strong attachments to my favorite stories, as well as my proclivity for picking up on themes, makes it the perfect avenue for performing witchcraft. Now I'm a fully confident witch with strong personal proof that magic is real.

Basically, what I'm saying is, despite the pervasive ableism that conflates neurodivergency with spirituality, there is a healthy way to have both simultaneously, by understanding how one influences the other. It can lead to a deeper understanding of yourself, as well as a deeper connection to the divine! Don't be afraid to be yourself, neurodivergent witches!

[wisteria-lodge]

Do you have any advice on how to find a dream? Or at least something you don't hate doing? Not to overdisclose or trauma dump, but I'm a 23 year old who's been taking care of my disabled abusive mother since I was 15 and raising my younger siblings since before that (youngest is currently 14), so I think I've lost the ability to fantasize and dream about things that I want because this has been my life for so long and it's not going to change anytime soon. I've tried getting other people around us and the government to help and there are tons of promises and never any follow through from any parties, so I'll keep doing it because I have to and it won't get done otherwise.

That's not the relevant part though, just background for my real question. I try and think about what I would like my life to be like in the future and what I would like to be able to do, but all I can think of is just "not this." I'd like to be able to have goals and plans and even just silly fantasies again, but I don't really know how anymore?? I was a very imaginative and creative child and I had a new plan and great goal for my life every week and now I just feel worn down and like that part of me kind of shriveled up without nurturing. I want to learn how to access it again because it brought me joy and I want something to look forward to when I finally escape this situation. No pressure to answer, I know that what I'm sharing can be stressful and A Lot to even think about, let alone answer, you just always give good advice and considerate answers. You can delete this message if it's upsetting to you or if you just don't want to answer though. Thank you!

(Btw I'm a bird primary lion secondary in SHC. I don't think this question or situation has a ton to do with SHC at all, but that info is there if you want it or need it.)

I've never been in a situation nearly as extreme as yours. But I guess I have been trapped, ground down, not able to picture the future. Cut off from myself. And thinking about your ask brings me back, a little. At least I can tell you what helped me.

I think it's important to think about leaving, and get specific. Doesn't have to be something you'd actually do. Doesn't have to be legal. Doesn't have to be something that takes the feelings of the other people in your life into account. Just has to be possible. Just has exist, so at the back of your mind you get a little of that power back. If I ever actually really had to.

And it sounds corny, but freakin' dream diary really did do a lot for me. I started to see some pretty obvious symbols and patterns, that gave me to permission write about (and give weight to) things that before were taboo to even acknowledge. I feel a similar way about Tarot cards. The pretty pictures facilitate having conversations with yourself, when the other avenues to your creative mind are closed off (god mine were so closed off...) I think they're both strategies to force yourself to give your inner world more importance.

And I did keep a list of anything that made my soul happy. Little things. Dumb things, that I wanted to do someday. But they're seeds, and the important thing is to just keep collecting them. I also watched Supernatural, and I've written elsewhere about why I think that show in particular helped me. But... the exercise of carving out time to do something that had no utility, that was just a thing I liked and that was it. That helped too.

I know you don't feel young. I know you feel as old as space and time. You've been a full-time caregiver, and you've been a full-time parent, and no 15 year old in the world is equipped to do those things, or should be asked to do them. But you are young, and things do change, I promise. Things always change. In four years all your siblings will be legal adults, that'll take some weight off at least.

I think the story for you is Cinderella. She was too beat down for a dream too. Literally all she wanted was to go to a ball for a night, to feel like a person again. But going to that ball left her with one glass shoe, one part of the magic that didn't go away. It's beautiful, and impractical, and fragile, but it's also what's keeping her grounded. And if she keeps hold of that one shoe, and doesn't let it shatter, the dream that fits will eventually find her.

One day, that song that squeezes into your heart (for me, "Autoclave" by the Mountain Goats, and "Human" by Christina Perri) will stop meaning anything to you. That will be a good day.

[snixx-sapphic]

One shots

One shots:

Ain't it shocking what love can do - "You're cute when you're angry"

Rumour has it! - Looks from the song

I need you - Hurt comfort (Brittany)

New York Lights - Song for nationals

You're the one I'd be thinking of - Santana in the hospital

Needing you - When something terrible happens and Brittany needs Santana, will she forget about the break-up

Into paradise - Lesbos island

Gun Shot - School shooting (Not canon)

You are worth it - After Santana says she's not worth it

So close that your eyes close as I fall asleep - Santana can't sleep after 6x06

Stuck on you - soulmates, before the proposal

A drop in the ocean - Brittany sings for Santana to get her back (2x15)

Partners- they take the day of Mr Schues wedding

Secret Language - secret hidden language

Heart to Heart - Glee reunion in the locker room, haven't talked in years

Stuck with you - Santana's thought process during the bedroom scene with Brittany

With Pride - NYC pride parade, Lebanese t shirt

Racer - Santana is a street racer, Brittany is the girlfriend of her biggest rival

Failed Breakfasts & ER Visits - Mother's Day

Let's go check out that dumpster- People you'd go anywhere with unconditionally

Kiss me - Camera and an Innocent kiss (Heya)

I believe we'll be okay - after the churros kiss

Naive - Once you have reached your breaking point. What else could you possibly want to live for

Secret Santa - Mini!Brittana, Santana takes gift giving very seriously

This Hit (Ice cold) Too Hot (Hot damn) - Brittany and Santana meet at a NHL playoff game but they're fans of rival teams 

Amigas y Rivales - Brittany has a secret

Someone like her - Santana sees Brittany for the first time after the hurt locker scene

Mounds of Infinity - Engagement gift

Fathers Day - they talk about Father's Day

Your beautiful life - Santana's life as she is blind

I choose you - Santana thinks Brittany is cheating (Abandoned)

Nights without you - Brittany gets back from tour

From Rivalry to Revelry - Editors on the muckraker and the thunderclap

After the yes - Break-up with Dani

To the moon and back - Space AU

Home is wherever I'm with you - Santana Lopez has been called many things in her life, but never among them a fool. So it's only natural that her first reaction upon spotting a telltale cloud of dust marking the fast approach of a horse is to reach down beside her chair to where her rifle is and bring it to her lap. Rated T for mild depictions of violence.

A date with the pierces - a date with Brittany and her siblings

Pound for pound - Brittany eating disorder

Maid for you - Santana is Sam and Brittany's maid

Ring the alarm - College!Brittana, Santana always sees Brittany during the fire drill

Inked - Brittany is a tattoo artist

Conference - Teacher!Brittany, Parent!Santana

The real 100th - glee cast on 100th episode (Heya)

If you want me, I'm here - After lesbian lilies scene (Heya)

Staring up at worlds beyond our own - They meet three times, all in the hospital

Still only halfway there - falling down a stairwell (Heya)

Changing a tire - Santana's car breaks down

Mother's Day - sequel to Father's Day

Never too late - The Quarterback (Heya)

Chasing pieces - Soulmates name appears on your wrist

What would you have done? - Loss of a child

Warmth against the cold - emergency foster parents

Dr Lopez, I presume - And, okay, so maybe inviting Brittany Pierce-the blonde, spunky, perfect host of Animal Planet's most popular wildlife conservation show-to Africa to film an animal which may or may not even exist is the new stupidest thing that Santana Lopez has ever done, but, really, can you blame her? 

By the light of the moon - Doctor friends but nobody can know

Escaped from the Zoo - Finding missing animals

Life after glee - 5 years after the show (Heya)

[thelibrarylesstrektraveled]

Practically Magic Chapter Four: Cinderella

Summary: Growing up in the same tiny mountain town, Y/N Owens and Dean Winchester despised each other. The only thing they ever agreed on was their need to escape. Life took them in opposite directions and neither of them ever looked back. So, when their paths cross over a series of gruesome murders in their hometown it was no surprise that old friction heated up again.

Dean never dreamed he’d be teaming up with a psychic, the FBI frowned on that sort of thing, but he was desperate. When that psychic turned out to be Y/N Owens, Dean knew two things for sure. One, Y/N was the real deal and two, he was in real trouble.

Pairing: Agent!Dean x Psychic!Reader, Dean x Reader, AU Dean x You Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Bobby Singer

Warnings: Slow Burn, Serial Killer Elements, Witches, Haters to Lovers, Claustrophobic Elements, Murder Scenes

Author’s Notes: This is an AU taking elements from the film Practical Magic and applying them to a fictional world where Dean Winchester is an FBI Agent. You will find parallels from that movie here, some quotes and other elements that capture the essence of the world of the Owens Witches. Hopefully! Additional Author’s Notes: This is a unique reader insert story as I have given the reader a physical description including hair color, eye color and body type. Chapter Four: Cinderella Word Count: 3372

Masterlist

Practically Magic Masterlist

“You’d think after 300 years they’d come up with a better line” – Sally Owens, Practical Magic

Dean sat in his car outside of the Compendium for a full twenty minutes trying to figure out what he was going to say. He hadn’t expected to see you there, standing in the middle of that crime scene. Performing a reading, of all things! You’d gotten better at it, of course you had. It was in your blood. You’d grown into yourself. All of that shining, raw potential of the child was now sharply focused in the woman you’d become. It caught him off guard and he reacted out of instinct. Get you out of there and away from him as quickly as possible.

“What the hell’s the matter with you, Dean?!”

“With me? What the hell were you thinking, bringing her here?! This is no place for a civilian, Sam.”

“Y/N is not just a civilian. We’re running out of time and options, we need help.”

“Help? From the friendly neighborhood witch?”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Come on Dean, she’s the real deal and you know it. Everyone in this town knows it”

“That doesn’t make her qualified to assist in a murder investigation.”

“No, but she’s our friend. If she can help, she will. That’s just how she is.”

Dean could only shake his head at his baby brother. How can someone that damned tall be so short sighted?

“Some friend you are. This case is as ugly as they come. You and I, we’re trained to deal with the rough stuff, and we still have a hard time with it. How the hell is a regular person supposed to deal with it?”

Sam could only nod, he hadn’t thought of that.

“And yeah, Y/N is the real deal. You know how sensitive that psychic stuff makes her,” Dean said with a sigh. “This isn’t safe for anyone, but especially not for her.”

“Fair point,” Sam admitted. “But there are better ways of keeping her safe than going after her like that.”

“Old habits,” Dean replied.

“Make some new ones, starting with an apology. She won’t just let this go; you know how she is.”

Sam was right, Dean knew exactly how you were. Stubborn, just like him. Wasn’t that always the problem? Dean reluctantly cut the engine and got out of the car. Dragging his feet wasn’t going to make this any easier.

The Compendium was nearly back in order when Dean opened the door. An impressive feat considering the state it was in after the party. He was exactly three feet into the store when a low growl sounded, stopping him in his tracks. A huge white dog stepped out from behind a bookcase, barring its teeth, the thick fur along its spine standing on end. Dean held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, hoping the dog would see it that way.

“Dean Winchester. Is it arrogance or plain stupidity that brings you to my door?”

“You know me Viv, always the latter.”

Vivienne Owens climbed down the ladder propped up against the shelves, a bundle of smoldering sage in her hand. She arched an unimpressed brow at him, “This place was in tatters after you boys rummaged though everything. It will take me a week of Sundays to cleanse it properly.”

“Send the bill care of Uncle Sam.”

She didn’t give an inch. A thin plume of white smoke spiraled up from the sage to circle around them. Viv’s ever present black cat hissed from its perch on the upper level and Dean felt very outnumbered.

He dropped his gaze, “Sorry.”

“You certainly are.”

“I come in peace. I just want to apologize,” Dean said, appealing to the older witch. “Viv, please. I owe her that.”

“You owe her far more, but that’s a start.”

Vivienne had the same dark eyes, you did. Those huge, fathomless, gypsy eyes. Ones that saw into the very soul of a man. But hers never held the warmth yours did, at least not for Dean. Her eyes were cold and carried suspicion and warning.

“I’m only going to say this once; you hurt her and in the immortal words of the great Dolly Parton… I’ll turn you from a rooster to a hen with one shot.”

Dean couldn’t help but swallow nervously. A woman like Viv didn’t offer idle threats, especially when it came to her treasured granddaughter.

“Noted.”

You knew it was Dean by the sharp scent of his cologne. He always smelled good, even as a kid. It was one of things about him that fascinated you when you were growing up. You loved him straight away, how could you not? His smart mouth and gruff exterior hid a boy you knew to be truly kind and compassionate. He played up the bad boy image to everyone in Silverton, but with you he was soft. He was your protector. Sam was your partner in crime, but Dean was the one who made sure you were safe. You trusted him with your life. Funny how things can change so quickly and so completely.

“I had no idea this room was back here.”

“What you don’t know could fill a book.”

You didn’t bother to turn, instead keeping your eyes on the fire blazing in the brick fireplace. Your frozen feet were propped up on a leather footstool in an effort to regain feeling in them. In hindsight, walking all the way from that house to the Compendium in your stockings was not your brightest move, but you’d been too pissed off to think straight. Even now, cocooned in a thick, wool blanket you were still shaking. Part of you knew it wasn’t just the cold, but the horrific scene that had you chilled to the bone.

“Do you always wander around without your shoes and coat? Or only when it’s below freezing?”

“It was more important to leave than to stop and fetch them.”

“Stubborn,” Dean muttered, dropping your forgotten items in the wingback chair opposite you.

“Me?! I’m the stubborn one?!” Your eyes snapped up to look at him, temper flaring. He had the audacity to smile, just a quirk of the corner of the mouth. Irritated beyond measure, you tugged the blanket closer and looked back to the fire.

“Thanks for returning them, you can see your way out.”

You’d dismissed him like a queen banishing a servant from the realm. He knew you weren’t going to make this easy. “Damn it, Y/N. I’m trying to apologize!”

“Well, don’t let me stop you. You’re doing a fantastic job.”

Dean watched the flickering glow of the fire dance across your face. It was fascinating to see the familiar expressions of the girl he knew reflected back at him in the face of a beautiful woman.

God, why does everything have to be so damn complicated?

“I’m sorry,” he said at last. “I didn’t expect to see you there.”

“At the house or at the party?” you asked softly. When he didn’t reply right away, you did instead, “I didn’t expect you either. Maybe I should get a magic eight ball.”

“You used to laugh when I called you that.”

“That was when you meant it as a joke. You weren’t joking today.”

“No, I suppose not.” Dean sat on the footstool so he could face you. It was low to the ground, causing him to draw his knees up so his long legs would fit in the small space. He always was taller than you, now even more so. Life was unfair.

“I’m sorry about what I said, you didn’t deserve it. I’ve been working on this case for a very long time, my temper’s short and I took it out on you. I had to get you away from that house. It’s not safe for someone who hasn’t been trained for it.”

You could see him then, your Dean. The one from all those years ago. The Dean who would coming running when you called. The Dean who vowed to protect you from anything.

“We should have dinner.”

Dean blinked in confusion, “Pardon?”

It was your turn to smile, you always enjoyed baffling him. “The three of us; you, me, and Sam. If we are going to work together, we need to improve our communication skills.”

“We’re not working together, Sweetheart.”

“Yes, we are.”

He matched your infuriating smile with a fierce frown, “I don’t want you getting mixed up in this.”

“I already am. I’ve tapped into it now; it won’t leave me until it’s complete.”

“If you had an ounce of sense in that head of yours, you’d leave and never look back.”

You searched out his gaze, those stunning green eyes looked so much older than his thirty-six years. Things between you had ended badly, but that was years ago. And it didn’t erase all the good that had come before.

“Tried that. Just ended up right back where I started.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Dinner,” you said again. “Tomorrow night, seven o’clock. Your treat.”

Dean knew a challenge when he heard one. This was the sexy, confident woman he’d met on Halloween, throwing down the gauntlet. He may not be a magic welding Owens, but he still had a few moves of his own.

He took your feet and settled them on his lap while he reached for your shoes he left in the chair. His touch was warm. The heat that radiated from him finally banished the cold you’d felt since leaving that house. He gently slid each shoe back on the corresponding foot, his actions deliberate and somehow very intimate.

“Try not to lose them this time, Cinderella.”

You tried to focus on his words instead of his hands resting on your ankles.

Good lord, look at those hands! Were they always so big? Christ. I wish he’d move them a little higher…

“Cinderella only lost one shoe, not two.”

He ran his thumb back and forth over your ankle bone while a grin slowly spread over his face. “Keep ‘em on, Princess. Don’t want you losing any valuable parts to frostbite.”

In one smooth motion, Dean got to his feet and started to stand. His hands braced on the arms of your chair, his face coming within a few inches of yours. His mouth only a breath away. He paused in that position, his eyes looked deeply into yours and you were caught. Your heart sped up and heated your cheeks as you wondered if he was going to kiss you.

He watched with great satisfaction as your pupils grew wide. Your gaze flickered down to his mouth just for a second before snapping back up. Witch or not, you were still a woman. And Dean had always been a big fan. He found it incredibly encouraging that he could get that kind of reaction out of you even under the circumstances. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Dean stood the rest of the way, feeling smug. “See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

“Y… yeah, tomorrow,” you managed to echo as he walked out the door.

Viv’s cat found it’s way to your lap, he must have snuck in when Dean left. You buried your fingers in it’s fur while you contemplated the flames. When you were little, your Gran would tell you stories of ancestors who could read the future in fire. You even managed to do it a time or two, but it was a volatile method. Naturally, it would be. Visions would come, but without context making the information unsettling and essentially useless. If that was what seers in the past used, no wonder everyone thought they were crazy. You made up your mind a long time ago, to be better.

But you couldn’t see what was coming, for you or for Dean. Which meant you had to go in blind. Just like everyone else. Just like a normal person.

“Fuck.”

June 5th, 2002

“Witch, witch, you’re a bitch! Witch, witch, you’re a bitch! Witch, witch, you’re a bitch!”

Dean was in the middle of changing the oil when he heard the chanting. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d heard it. Ever since that damned movie came out a few years back, the local kids latched on to it like it was the song of the summer. It had been nearly a year since he’d heard it, which meant only one thing.

He threw down the oily rag he used to wipe his hands and took off running.

“Witch, witch, you’re a bitch! Witch, witch, you’re a bitch! Witch, witch, you’re a bitch!”

There was a group of five kids, all chanting around a massive oak tree. Throwing rocks and sticks up into the canopy of green leaves. Dean recognized them, a couple of them were from his brother’s class, the rest were closer to his age. Bullies and troublemakers.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?!”

The tallest boy, looked at Dean and sneered, “What’s it to you?”

Dean looked past the kid and saw a familiar purple sneaker laying at the base of the trunk. Purple, with matching tie-dyed laces. He didn’t need any further confirmation; he was there the day you and Sam experimented with the technique for an art project. Purple always was your favorite color.

“Listen up, asshat. You’re going to take your little buddies and get the hell out of here.”

“Or what?” another boy challenged.

“Or I break your scuzzy face and you leave anyway.”

“Come on, Winchester. We’re just having a little fun,” the teenager from Dean’s class said, tossing and catching the lemon sized rock in his hand. “Besides, it doesn’t hurt ‘em. Everybody knows witches don’t feel anything.”

He chucked the rock into the tree and a pained yelp sounded as it found its target. He laughed and Dean saw red. He punched him square in the face, deeply satisfied with the sound of knuckles connecting with cartilage.

“Fuck!” The kid staggered back and held his face, blood spurting from between his fingers. “You broke my fucking nose!”

“Stick around,” Dean drawled. “I’ll break something else.”

That was all encouragement the boys needed. They scattered and ran back over the hill towards town, chanting their irritating little song the whole way.

Dean picked up the discarded shoe and looked up through the branches and saw your shadow towards the top. “Y/N?”

“Dean?”

“You can come down now, it’s safe. I sent those douchebags packing.”

He watched you nimbly climb down the branches, which was impressive since you weren’t the most athletic kid. Amazing how motivating being hunted down could make a person. When you got close enough, he held out his hands and helped you hop down to the ground.

Looking you over, he saw red all over again. You had dirt and scratches all over your arms and legs, the deeper cuts still bleeding. Long pieces of your hair had come loose from your braid and were sticking to your sweaty face. Your big, brown eyes were rimmed red from crying and your bottom lip was split open.

Dean took your chin in his hand; his thumb barely grazed the cut. You winced and looked down, tears welling in your eyes.

“It’s okay, Dean.”

“I’m going to kill ‘em.” Dean growled, releasing you. “Seriously, an ass kicking it too good for those dicks.”

You rubbed your bicep where that last rock had hit you. It hurt like hell, probably bruised all the way to the bone. You were worried about what your Gran would say when she got a good look at you. She always warned you to stick to the main road, not take short cuts. This is obviously why.

“It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have gone that way. Should have paid attention to where I was going.”

“Hey. This is all on them, you hear me? None of this is your fault.”

You only nodded, looking down at your sock covered feet. Dean picked up your discarded shoe and looked around for its mate.

“Where’s the other one?”

“Um… I lost it over in Settlers Field.”

“Okay, let’s get you cleaned up.” He surprised you by turning his back to you and crouching down, “Hop on, Pipsqueak.”

“You can’t carry me, Dean. I’m too heavy!”

“I carried Sam’s sorry ass all the way down the North Trail when he twisted his ankle last summer and he’s a freaking moose. I don’t want you wandering around missing a shoe.”

He looked over his shoulder at you and winked, “Come on, Cinderella. I’ve got, ya.”

You grinned back, in spite of yourself and climbed onto Dean’s back. He hooked his arms around your legs and stood with ease. Even bounced a couple of times to get a giggle from you before he headed back home.

You rested your chin on Dean’s shoulder while he carried you comfortably on his back, making easy strides through the tall grass. After a few minutes you began to relax. It was a really nice day, sunny and warm.

You hadn’t spent much one on one time with the older Winchester, but you knew Sam worshiped him. It was easy to see why, Dean was the embodiment of cool. He was older than the two of you by five years. Every time you saw him, he was in that beat-up leather jacket, listening to classic rock. And he had that intensity burning just under the surface.

“You must be missing Sammy, huh?”

“A little,” you breathed, then corrected yourself. “A lot. He called last night and said he was having fun though.”

“Only Sam would have fun at summer camp for math geeks.” Dean said, walking through the opened bay door of the garage. “What about you? I heard you got first place for that story you wrote. Shouldn’t you be at camp for writing geeks?”

Dean set you down on the long bench along the back wall and grabbed a few supplies from the first aid cabinet.

“There isn’t a writer’s camp. But there’s a conference in Denver next month. Gran says I can go if I want to.”

Dean dabbed disinfectant over the scrapes on your legs, “You don’t want to?”

You shook your head.

“Why not?”

“My story’s not good enough to present in a place like that.”

“Your teacher thought so, and you did get first place.”

“You didn’t read the other stories.”

Dean snorted in laughter, and you smiled. “Besides, that story was just for an assignment. I can do better.”

“I’ll bet you can.” He replied, fetching an ice pack from the beat-up fridge in the corner. He wrapped it in a clean cloth and held it against your swollen lip.

“Well Pipsqueak, you can hang out with me whenever you like. But you gotta pull your own weight.”

“Okay,” you agreed, if out of curiosity alone. “Doing what?”

Dean waggled his eyebrows and pulled the gray tarp off one of the cars. “Welcome to Dean Winchester’s Summer Camp for Grease Monkeys!”

You recognized it; Sam showed it to you one time. The Impala.

You stepped forward, running your hand over the rough frame, “You’ve been fixing up your dad’s car?”

“My car,” Dean said, pride ringing in his voice. “Gave it to me last year when I turned sixteen.”

Your fingers followed the line of the window as images came to you. Happier times when John Winchester was a young man, taking his pretty blonde girlfriend to the drive-in movies. Mary, the boys’ mother. It had been a junker back then, John always intended to get the car in mint condition. Never really got around to it.

“She likes you.”

“Yeah?”

“You gave her a name.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a little embarrassed. “Yeah. Baby.”

You leaned in the opening where the driver’s side window would eventually be. You could see how she looked the day she rolled off the line. Shiny and new. Polished chrome, black vinyl seats. In a flash, you saw Dean there. His elbow resting on the opened window, his right hand on the wheel. Wind in his hair, his music blasting.

“Baby.” You repeated. “Baby is perfect.”

[cina-full-moon-xanadium]

Kamen Rider J is a solid Tokusatsu movie, but I’ve never been quite sure on it as a Kamen Rider story?

I like it, to be sure -- and I found myself a lot more interested in everything it had to offer on this rewatch. But especially coming off of Shin and ZO’s retellings of the core Kamen Rider story, J as a movie seems to avoid the usual tropes as much as it possibly can; and that’s especially evident that I’ve now seen all of Showa Kamen Rider. Rather than a story about a man consigned to a tragic battle after being changed by evil or escaping evil, altered against his will; J is a miracle -- a power granted to our protagonist for his kind heart by agents of nature and the planet itself. For sure, Kouji Segawa straight up dies and has surgery done on him to bring him back to life, but there’s no loss or darker side involved with becoming J that usually marks a Kamen Rider story; certainly not at this point in time. What we’re left with is a very general Tokusatsu hero story about a nature-empowered superhero fighting to rescue a child and save the world from evil invaders; just he happens to be called Kamen Rider, looks like a grasshopper and has a transformation belt and motorbike. That’s like two out of four for this actor’s previous Tokusatsu role though, so y’know.

It’s just very difficult for me to talk about this movie, because often when I dig into an Ishinomori story now - especially a Kamen Rider one - there’s certain story elements you learn to look for and are kind of surprised when at least one of them isn’t there. No cross of fire, no real tragedy, no rise of fascism; I want to talk about this as a Kamen Rider story but I really can’t, because it just doesn’t feel like one, even next to the likes of Amazon and RX. If I can get at absolutely anything thematically, it’s the embracing of Kamen Rider as a being of nature; leaning into it even more after ZO; but it’s difficult to fully realise -- there’s certainly lip service paid to environmentalism in this movie, but it’s hardly like J’s extraterrestial enemies represent pollution or the like in any meaningful way. J is a warrior of the planet, and that’s clear in his captivating multiple green tones on his body and his receiving of miracles from the Earth... but I don’t think it all comes together in the way it should.

What I can talk about instead, then, is simply what the movie presents us with - and what most notably stands out is, just like the previous movies; a beautiful array of set design and effects. Compared to the darker tones of Shin and ZO though, this is much more wondrous; as if you’re expecting Spielberg to pop up as the Director credit -- so many nice nature shots contrasted with the glaring reds and blacks of the Fog Mother ship interior; which are all so intricate and convincing that you forget momentarily it isn’t real! That convincing nature continues onto the miniature set design inhabited by the giant Fog Mother and J fight at the end, with so many little touches like the concrete crushing beneath J’s feet, the moving treads and many machinery of Fog Mother; just the way everything is destroyed around them and covered by mist, even the final Rider Jump and Kick of J is... it’s magical, and I dare call it one of the best giant fights I’ve ever seen in Tokusatsu. It deserves to be watched just for that.

That’s it, then! I think J has a lot of interesting things to offer, but ultimately isn’t as fully realised as Shin and ZO are. Those are movies that know exactly what they want to do and achieve them to varying degrees of success, but J is unfortunately a little more middling with how many concepts it’s caught between and what exactly they were trying to do with it. I’d still recommend a watch for one of the most gorgeous Kamen Rider movies out there if nothing else.

[bigskydreaming]

And to clarify my clarifications further, because I know I’m gonna end up reblogging that post about my Official Stance On Jason’s Murdering and Also How To Like a Character for Being A Good Example of Being a ‘Bad Survivor' and Not Because You View Them As Good At Societal Reform....

In a nutshell, I have complicated thoughts on stories where Jason kills people on the basis they’re unrepentantly committed to wide-scale actions that negatively impact tons of people and he feels society/the justice system will never punish them due to privilege or institutional corruption, etc. Because I think there’s potential worth exploring in those stories IN THEORY, though I don’t think I’ve ever felt stories explored these ideas in ways that are novel or interesting rather than cliche and essentially just revenge fantasy fulfillment.  

That said, this does not in any way translate into being pro-extrajudicial murder in real life, for similar though not identical reasons to why I’m not pro-vigilantism in real life in general.

This is one of those things where I’m like, people have ruined ‘fiction isn’t reality’ as a phrase and I refuse to use it because it lacks nuance and is a performative soundbite....BUT that doesn’t mean that fiction can’t still be used to explore concepts in ways reality can’t duplicate.

For me, the big sticking point is being able to point to WHAT fiction is letting you do that you can’t replicate in reality. Fiction IMO shouldn’t be a catch-all that lets you just spew out any idea or fantasy and essentially platform any thought you’ve ever had while shielding it with some ‘its not real so its exempt from any reactive or critical thought it brings forth in people who see it’ BS. That’s a non-starter with me because it ignores that thoughts, views, ideas and ideologies are all real things that have real effects on people who encounter them, so fuck off forever with trying to dodge accountability from the simple reaction of people encountering a thought/idea/ideology and saying questions, comments and criticisms, we have them.

But what fiction CAN do, when you have a specific REASON for doing something in fiction that you know can’t work that way in reality, without being afraid to just fucking own what you’re doing with that fictional narrative and why.....

Is it allows you to explore various ideas or scenarios or let them play out in ways or to degrees that wouldn’t be possible in reality....because so much in reality is outside of peoples’ control. We can’t ensure that various factors all align or cumulate in the specific ways we need to reach the endpoint that’s the entire reason we started a scenario in the first place.

With fiction though, we CAN line up the dominoes in the right way, steer the narrative down the right channels to get things to a place where we can address the things or ask the questions we started a narrative TO explore.

Its like that one post I made about child heroes, for those who’ve read that. Never in a million years am I going to encourage kids to go out and fight crime or be burdened with the pressure of saving the whole damn world like the protagonist of the average YA novel. But child hero narratives absolutely have validity, because there’s a lot of worthwhile ideas and themes worth exploring in power fantasies for children and young adults, where they can see themselves centered in high stakes situations where they have the power to save themselves or affect real change without having to rely on adults in their lives to do it for them. 

A child hero narrative isn’t a how-to manual encouraging say, an abused kid on how to escape their circumstances and leapfrog their way into having actionable power to better their own life. But it can help mentally or emotionally fortify them WHILE they wait or look for ways for their actual circumstances to change. AND at the same time, it can also help them explore via proxy, the ways they COULD use the increased power and agency they might someday have, in order to get certain outcomes, or to see how various problems or fallout might arise from using that power/agency in negative ways. And per my example of an abused kid using fiction for escapism from their own currently victimizing circumstances.....just speaking for myself, a kid in circumstances like that might absolutely be lacking the kind of parental figures that ideally should be present to help them learn how to make good decisions or navigate complicated situations as they grow older. And while fiction shouldn’t HAVE to be a substitute for adults able to give kids personal attention and guidance towards growing up to be a responsible, empathetic adult who makes good choices and weighs the potential effect their choices have on others....it can at least always be a good supplement, and sometimes it actually is the only thing kids have to rely on.

So from that angle, and plenty others, child hero narratives absolutely have validity and contribute meaningful things to even child readers who one hundred percent should not be encouraged to ever put on a cape and appoint themselves the neighborhood watch.

The kind of questions some of Jason’s narratives could be used to explore, even though they never really are, similarly have potential IMO, and that’s why I hold back from being like ‘extra-judicial murder is never valid and thus Jason’s character is A Literal Bad Guy for engaging in it’. Because this is one of the areas where I think used with intent, fiction can present thought-provoking or morality-examining questions that can’t actually play out in reality.

I’m hardcore ‘no extra-judicial murder’ in real life, and firmly against the death penalty, but not because I believe that there’s no human being out there, no crime that can be committed, that doesn’t deserve death. Sorry not sorry, but unrepentant mass murderers, serial rapists, etc, people who have full awareness of what they’re doing and the harm they’re causing others, absolutely have the means, resources or privilege to make other choices and still do the things they do not out of necessity but out of want, who commit their crimes not because they’re unaware of their impact on others but because that impact absolutely is the whole point of their crimes for them, who have had abundant opportunities to change or reform but dismissed them time after time because they flat out don’t want to change.....hypothetically, yeah, they can fuck right off to hell, as far as I’m concerned. 

The value of that kind of person’s life will never IMO rise to the level of the value of all the lives they destroy with intent, who will never have the opportunity to make better use of the same kinds of power/resources/privilege they themselves abuse and exploit over others, all because they’ve used those things specifically to ensure their victims never get similar opportunities, or significantly hijack or derail their lives before they get a chance to. My bleeding heart does not extend to people who have already voluntarily chosen to sit back and watch while a person bleeds out in front of them, from wounds they inflicted. Its extended to their victim instead, and I truly do believe that many of the people who end up in the latter position would never be victimized if more of the people in the former position did face something like the death penalty after their first several victims instead of a dozen in.

But that’s just a hypothetical for me. The reason I’ll never support the actuality of the death penalty is there is flat out no way to be sure, in 99% of situations, of the actual culpability, motivations, or possible rehabilitation of the people actually faced with the death penalty. And given the institutional biases and the nature of most of our societies, and the way they’re largely set up by people in power rigging the systems they themselves help install and shape in ways quite literally intended to cover their own asses and allow for them and those of like-minds to continue exploiting or victimizing others their entire lives while setting up marginalized or disenfranchised people as scapegoats that societies are usually all too willing to accept as the True Face of Crime in their stead, given that the very nature of marginalization and disenfranchisement speaks to how selective society can be in applying personhood and empathy in the first place....

Well, duh. Obviously a disproportionate number of people who have not done anything to deserve the death penalty are gonna end up the victims of it while untold scores of people who have deliberately victimized people in the hundreds or thousands will never so much as get a slap on the wrist all because their address is a penthouse while the average victim of the death penalty hails from a low income, predominantly marginalized neighborhood.

Except, of course, its not actually that obvious to a lot of people, considering that the vast majority of Criminals in Fiction and the real life prison populations they reflect....tend to be blue-collar POC waaaay more often than they are white-collar white people.

So no real life death penalty is getting my vote. Not when there’s no way to ever be sure its applied to those truly culpable, and only those, with no actual innocents statistically sacrificed on the altar of the societal greater good. And not when additionally, the state appointed judge, juries and executioners determining both the greater good and who society needs to sacrifice for said greater good.....are y’know, all picked and appointed according to the rules and guidelines set in place by many of the same people in power looking to scapegoat others in order to cover their own asses and divert society’s focus away from their own crimes and victimizations of others. And thus, uh, they’re not picked because they inherently are the best moral barometers of society and what it needs, or even because they’re truly and accurately representative of society as a whole, but rather they tend to actually end up in the position to play judge, jury and/or executioner quite literally because its expected they’ll make their judgments in accordance with what those in power want or are hoping for, rather than according to the actual spirit of a Justice that isn’t completely arbitrary and self-defined.

The death penalty as a consequence for people who destroy lives on a huge scale, over and over without remorse, is one of those things that makes sense to me as a hypothetical, but that I understand just isn’t possible to implement as a real, actionable thing in any way I would accept and wouldn’t have reservations about.

But like I said, this is one of the times and ways fiction as a departure point from reality can be used, with intent, to explore stories of accountability, consequences, and the way these things play out on both an individual and societal level.....because fiction is completely defined by an author and their intent. In fiction, a writer can present scenarios where there is zero doubt that the perpetrator of a particular crime, however heinous, is one hundred percent guilty and did it of their own free will, has no remorse and absolutely intends to do it again, etc.

Because the writer has full control of what information readers do and don’t have about a situation or a character, they absolutely can craft scenarios where there is no narrative doubt that hey, this dude did the thing. Its not even in question. The only thing in question then, is the thing that I’ve expressed would sometimes have a different answer if it were possible for that to be the only question, with no question as to their actual guilt: what happens next.

And that distinction can make all the difference in a story, or when expanding on a certain topic. Its the difference between something that’s a non-starter in real life becoming a useful thought experiment in the realm of fiction. Where suddenly it can be used to raise and explore all kinds of different questions like:

How do people in-story and out-of-story react to a vigilante who applies extra-judicial murder to criminals he targets.....when those criminals don’t look anything like society-as-a-whole assumes from the outset? When his targets aren’t the ‘expected’ drug dealers or addicts, marginalized low income men who look like they expect rapists or violent murderers to look....but instead are CEOs who’ve paid off a dozen different women they’ve assaulted over the years and are still doing it like clockwork? A senator who got away with a hate crime in college because the all white jury judged it a youthful indiscretion when he was drunk and didn’t want to ruin the life of a young man with such a promising future, but who since then has gone on to back white supremacy groups and craft legislation that further marginalizes people of color all while using his connections and political capital to smooth over the crimes of his ‘constituents’ while demonizing and scapegoating black men in their stead? Etc, etc.

With fiction, with the guilt of said vigilante’s targets actually assured instead of a troubling question that can’t ever be indisputably put to rest.....instead, here we can use that as a springboard to examine what happens after....does finding out the reasons for why the vigilante went after these individuals in particular change how people in-story and out-of-story view that vigilante and his own actions? Do those who view him as bloodthirsty and morally wrong do so regardless of who he targets and the low likelihood they would ever be punished for their crimes by the actual institutions they hold so much power and sway over themselves.....or do some of them show awareness of the system’s existing biases and seem more entrenched in defending it and how people have to trust in the system and not go outside it because they’re concerned that changing it might make it less effective at covering their asses for their own misdeeds or shortcomings?

Do those who praise said vigilante and his actions seem to support him primarily because he’s ensuring accountability for people the system has failed to protect society from, or does it seem they’re more just enchanted by his seeming fulfillment of their own personal revenge fantasies, letting them see various bosses, politicians, people who’ve exploited or lorded power over them be the ones running scared and enjoying the view of those in positions of power cowering like they’ve so often made others?

Does the deliberate juxtaposition of these things, the narrative raising these things as questions in the narrative, change any readers’ personal stances towards the vigilante and his actions? 

Do some of the pro-vigilante readers start to second-guess themselves, ask whether they’re really sure their enjoyment of the narrative and defense of this character IS rooted in a fairer application of justice, or whether they might just be finding empowerment in the disempowerment of others and justifying it as ‘well as long as its the right people’? If the latter, is this something they’re actually okay with, or does it raise questions of its own, as to whether secondhand enjoyment of others’ disempowerment is ever truly valid or always just a stepping stone to making excuses to enjoy the disempowerment of anyone positioned to have less power than they themselves?

Do some of the anti-vigilante readers encounter things within the narrative that spark questions about their stances? Does it ever confront them to acknowledge whether they’re projecting more onto the vigilante’s direct victims than the victims of his victims, the ones he’s seeking justice/revenge on behalf of? Are their judgments of his actions and morality truly a reflection of their own supposedly neutral perspective, or are they predisposed to be more defensive about one group within the narrative than others? Are they more uncomfortable with the fate of the vigilante’s targets than whatever the narrative reveals the fate of these characters’ various victims to be, because they just can’t justify extra-judicial punishments and say well it was still up to the system to punish them, no one else - even if that meant they likely would never face real consequences.....or is their insistence on adhering to the system’s take, even knowing that it would likely enact no consequences and thus no real justice for the targets’ initial victims, because it just feels like this isn’t real justice, isn’t natural, just isn’t the way things should be done?

And if the latter, does that ever prompt anyone to examine what it suggests that they’re more willing to defend a status quo even once proven unfair and completely useless in some cases....than they’re willing to defend consequences for criminals the status quo refuses to ever hold accountable, not if that means actually challenging the status quo and suggesting it be changed into something new and unfamiliar, with no idea whether it’d be better or worse for them as individuals?

Can stories whose premise has a vigilante side-step an in-story legal system, built as it is on the biases and skewed tendencies of an out-of-story legal system, and applying capital consequences specifically to criminals who parallel those that readers and characters implicitly assume will never be faced with those kinds of consequences.....and with the narrative assuring readers of the actual guilt of those characters....thereby effectively raising questions about how much we ‘let certain people in society get away with’ versus how okay we are with ‘throwing the book at certain people in society’ for far less actionable harm to far fewer people? And how much of this might be rooted in readers’ own biases, readers’ own projections and which characters they personally relate to or identify with most…how much of this is readers just assuming or accepting that the difference in the ‘two groups of criminals’ and how people and the system react to them, is like, just the way things are and they’ve never put too much thought into any alternatives because they’ve never truly spent any time contemplating a different status quo, or what society might look like if one group’s lack of accountability and the other group’s scapegoating weren’t so guaranteed?

With fiction.....you can explore all these questions and more (regardless of how much readers are willing to entertain this narrative and y’know, actually engage in honest reflection of whatever questions you’re aiming to raise), even if, like me, in real life you’re never gonna vote yes on the death penalty let alone morally sign off on extra-judicial murder-by-vigilantes.....because in real life, unlike fiction, there is no way to ensure the consequences only get applied to people you think actually deserve them.

And that right there is another question....what is the line, for you, if the question of whether a person actually committed the crime is taken off the table completely? Do you even know where exactly it lies for you - because honestly, the reason I’ve been so vague and ambivalent throughout this post about who this hypothetical vigilante kills and why is because I do not actually have a clear idea of what I would even consider to be a crime definitively deserving death, even if I am clear on the fact that if questions of guilt and institutional bias can be removed from the equation, I do think that yes there are crimes - or at least degrees or scales of crimes - that can justify a criminal’s death? So apparently we can jot that down as one of the questions I’d read stories like this to explore if I felt any of the stories about extra-judicial murder-by-vigilante were actually interested in exploring questions of morality and accountability rather than just building bad-ass street cred by way of arguably sympathetic/justifiable body counts:

What actually is the point at which we see the inherent value of a human life as no longer outweighing the value of the harm/damage a person does to others, with their own lives’ value and worth taken into consideration? Can we truly be said to value the lives of all a person’s victims, if we know that they killed and traumatized these victims with total disregard for the value of their lives....or does that inherently position us as actionably treating their victimizer’s life as having more value?

Of course.....none of this really matters except in theory, if like, the stories never actually apply similar consideration or try to examine big picture questions.

And my own feelings about Jason, his stories, tropes, and potential aside....I will get a rolled up newspaper and smack the nose of the first Jason stan to try to insist canon Jason ‘the greatest blight plaguing society today is the neighborhood drug dealer who is definitely never disenfranchised/marginalized/driven to crime by necessity or desperation, just Evil and Deserving of Murder’ Todd is actually nuanced in any of the ways this post wishes he was.

But the fact that writers haven’t used him this way doesn’t mean that the potential isn’t there, and well, anyone familiar with how intensely I stan two-line characters on the basis of But The Potential knows that’s more than enough for me, lmfao.

Like, all of this might not be present in his canon or a lot of fandom reaction/building upon his canon, but the capacity for all of it is there in his stories, history, and tropes.

Its Schrodinger’s Stories: both there and not there, at least until someone writes him that way or doesn’t, with far more of the latter than the former but both still existing in the as-yet-unwritten chapters of every new arc or story starring him.

So I’m not like....self-deluded or in denial about Jason-as-is or the way he and his extra-judicial murder marathons are actually written, buuuuuut because I’m pedantic as fuck and always keenly aware of whatever whole big qualifier exists in my head as a footnote every time I round-down to a generalized statement or reference about a character or trope......

This is the qualifier that exists for why I’m ambivalent or vague about not definitively wanting to say Jason and murder always equals bad. Its like, yes, true, it does, but like, it doesn’t have to, there is stuff that could be done with the set-up already given us.

It just....hasn’t been tapped.

Anyway. So this has been a post. A post was had. My thoughts on Jason and extra-judicial murder: Here. Have them!

[voidfragments]

fake, fake, fake. he can't bear to stand any of it. that idiotic smile. that frivolous nonchalance. hong lu should have known what they've done. hong lu should have regret and crawled miserably along the ground, so his dear older brother was convinced. but here they both were, sharing a space, forced to breathe in each other's air. jia huan scoffs. when he speaks, it's only while looking away, leering.

' when did you get so pearly? ' his eyes cut and sear through the air while neither a frown nor a smile curls his lip. ' weren't you better wretched and gloomy, shut up in that estate? you might have been the family's prize, but you were also its greatest failure. '

of course, only the rabid, cuttingly honest jia huan would ever say anything like this. after all, he was one of the few who knew the other's truths; jade's ugly cuts and flaws. ' do you really think you can just change your name, run away to a bus, and escape this world? that's nothing more than a child's fantasy. it's what i could never stand about you, always having your head in the clouds. even a useless dimwit like you should be able to understand that, isn't that so, "hong lu?" '

finally, he turns. the blood red rubies of his own eyes make their demand, molten upon the other. ' tell me, are you going to say that you've learned more than just to smile and nod while shutting every ugly, unpleasant thing out? the 'you' i knew was always a luxurious coward. you could have stayed inside, right there forever, where you belonged. instead ... here you are playing fixer, just like your elder brother. surely you must know? that i don't like competition, even more-so if they're frustratingly inept? '

his smile remains as unwavering as ever, as though it's carved into his face, a mask of pleasantry. he wonders, does jia huan know how lucky he is, to be able to speak so freely? does he understand the stifling lengths to which baoyu's every word and action were monitored in that house? not that it matters if he understands or not, nor does the past matter now. out here in the city, away from home, who can stop him from speaking just as truthfully, besides himself?

(unfortunately, it turns out he's quite good at policing himself.)

hong lu, polite as ever, waits for his brother's rant to finish (well, maybe not so politely, checking his nails and humming a little as he listens), takes a moment to let it all sink in. then, he takes a deep, slow, steadying breath, and responds.

"any fantasies i may have held about this were shattered long ago," he begins, voice soft--light, despite the heaviness of his words. "i've seen people, good and evil alike, die before my eyes. i've suffered pains greater than anything you could possibly imagine. i've seen the city in all of its ugliness. i've failed--you know that well, i'm sure. you yourself caused what is probably one of our greatest failures to date. but,"

it's only now that his expression and tone begin to shift, real emotion bleeding through the cracks. "i've also succeeded! and i've made friends, and learned so many things!"

jade meets ruby, mismatched gaze boring into jia huan. "tell me, huan-ge, are you happier out here than at home? because i am." he brings his guandao in front of him--a defensive position, with an underlying threat. try to drag me back, i dare you. "maybe it looks like frivolous play to you, but i'm serious about this~ and i don't care if you like it or not. this is a decision i made for myself, not for you."

[comfreyhollywings]

a letter to myself three years down the road. to my twenty-two year old self.

hey. how are you? i don't know if you're still content creating (if not then okay, you do you.) i know that just by looking at this letter filled with unnecessary things, which i am doing now, may make you cringe – so ill cut to the chase. 

so, being a creator. let's talk about that. what's that been like for you? 

i know that for me, it's been long and hard. sometimes even grinding because i realize i always rely on my viewers. which is understandable, but i guess i get scared? scared over how fickle it can be if i rely on them. but then again, i get scared over relying on people than myself emotionally. it's probably another thing im working on in hindsight, and i swear im getting better. 

it's just.. the thought of it.. can be very daunting. 

but that's what taking risks are for, i guess. so tell me, have you took that risk yet? assuming that it might have took a big part of you? do you still rely on escapism to get away from your troubles? or have you decided to tackle them face-on? i’m sure you still get scared since we’re both so young. i’m sure… that you don’t really think about your goals way ahead in life because currently.. we’re both still going whichever way life has gone in store for us. can i confess something to you, older me? i dont think, as young as i am, that i have enough experience to ‘know’ the extent of what i’m preaching. but i know the path for me is already laid down for me if i look away from all the illusions i have willingly put for my life. i know that maybe i was onto something those two-three months before. the difference between the two is that i was unwilling to look myself in the mirror and asses my own weaknesses. i hope you’ve integrated those weaknesses better than i have ever done. i hope youre unashamed to be honest about that just like how we’ve always bene. right now, i still am under delusions. i look into the mirror and i think i’m learning. im trying to asses how i use people, illusions, and the idea of sex to satisfy my own gain even if they never know about it. if they don’t know about me, they will not have to know about me. why is it wrong though? it’s wrong because they are /people/ who will never fit into such selfish desires. my desires.. my selfishness… it’s not wrong to be selfish. but i don’t know. it feels.. wrong. it will always feel wrong if i imagine that the real people are looking at it to see what’s going on. but being put into that position, i haven’t minded as much? is it from my conditioning or the unnamed things from my childhood i still can’t think about in the internet? they don’t know now. …but. the same can’t be said about the future. i can’t rule out the possibility that all of these truths will inevitably be shed to the light. after all, it’s human to be hypocritical. it’s human to be dirty when you speak of clean things. the reason? maybe overcompensation. maybe it’s to set others in a path better than your own. but if i think about it, is there really a better path? is there really a ‘good path’ when life will inevitably bring you down those thorny roads for a reason? maybe i’m confused, but i don’t think there’s anything like a ‘better’ road if we’re all bearing our crosses for a reason. i guess the one thing we have in common though is that we’re all going through a lot of temporary shit. everything’s temporary. in two more years, you’ll be twenty four. i hope you’ve gained the courage to face yourself in the mirror and take the risks. i hope you’ve worked hard. it’s okay to not be at the level you think you should be, by the way. i’m not going to place any expectations on who i, who you will be in the future. i just want you to be okay. i just want you to keep facing forward over the things i didn’t have the courage, the depths, the energy to face the things i haven’t when i was younger. when i was still a child. maybe i’m letting the world weigh too heavy on my shoulders because i hold very high expectations over myself, but i hope you’ve healed more. at least a little more. because in reality, i’m not anything that i’ve amounted myself to be.

[erdasmcnonsense]

I have to say, I kind of love how my current fandom obsessions are like:

- A king who's only not corrupt because he isn't competent enough to be corrupt, surrounded by court members of whom most want to see him killed or overthrown but just don't want to do it themselves, and one of whom is only obeying him because he's given him basically a free pass to murder people, plus a right-hand-man who acts like exactly the type of character who's sweet-talking the monarch while planning to betray and usurp him, but never really seems to get all the way to the usurping bit, up against a trio consisting of an elven lady, a dwarf lord, and an alien (who also likes cleaning up people's stuff and leaves passive-aggressive notes if you keep your things in a disorganized mess of containers), who keep eating magical soup all the time. But also it's in minecraft and it's all in good fun and at the same time people are just building absolutely epic things and coming up with amazing creative minigames and stuff, and there's one guy who's just coming up with funny convoluted challenges for himself to do, and another who's building what amounts to basically a whole another dungeon-crawl videogame, and so on and so forth

- A tale of growing fantasy(ish) empires and realms and the alliances and conflicts and personal shenanigans of their various leaders, including, but not limited to, the sky god who keeps insisting he is super tall and sexy and stuff and also seems to be the only god actively present in the world for some unknown reason, his ...boyfriend? husband? who keeps having weird visions and prophetic dreams and maybe dimension-hopping(?) sometimes and who worships a goddess of agriculture and escaped as a child from the destruction wreaked by an evil king or something (sorry, I'm a bir fuzzy on the lore), the possibly-toy-because-the-sky-god-on-a-whim-turned-him-into-toy (look I just love this particular headcanon as an answer to if Jimmy is toy or not) wild west sheriff who is Very Done with the god's bullshit and seems to have a bad habit of alienating/driving away/getting into fights with a lot of the other characters (on the Jimmy vs Joel thing I have to say I'm rooting for Jimmy, but mostly because Joel's behaviour hits a bit too close to home with my memories of being bullied, and I'm low-key hoping Jimmy gets to enact the sort of brutal and destructive revenge on Joel that was never an option to me in real life), the steampunk aesthetic girl who doesn't remember her past but seems to be having weird dreams and visions too, plus has a random pumpkin-head dude in a cage in her home because the pumpkin-head guy kept standing in places around her home and she got freaked out. Also in minecraft, but takes storytelling and staying in-character more seriously than the above one

and

- A set of epic tales spanning several millenia set in a world that was made flawed and marked with evil from the very moment of its creation, telling of gruesome, bloody conflicts full of grief and betrayal set into motion by unbreakable oath, of loss and fall of so many great kingdoms, of struggle against terribly strong dark lords and evil that raises its head again and again every few hundred years no matter what is done to weed it out, a world so full of heartwrenching tragedies... and yet still having room for stories of hope and resilience, stories of good prevailing and beauty rising from the ashes, of good things hapoening against all odds and grace and mercy shown by... fate? god? the world itself? to characters to save them when their own strength can bring them no further. Not in minecraft.

[legaciestold]

@heirofhermes continued from x

claudia's light hues peer across the table, watching as he sets the book aside and listening as he speaks of magical sects. "that makes sense. my aunt, well-- she's not really my aunt, i just call her that because she's friends with my family but she always talks about magic as a godly gift. she told me there's different kinds. normal magic and then bad magic that's given by like.. the devil to people. but that isn't the kind of magic that most people have. and your magic doesn't seem to be the same as aunt kasia's or my friend rand's magic. it all seems different except, i guess the one thing it has in common as it seems to be part of the 'normal magic' school and not the 'evil' magic. god that sounds like the beginning of a ya novel or a bad joke." sometimes it was enough to make her head spin.

magic. strigoi. and everything in-between.

claudia's world had always been surrounded by the shadow world, one foot in and one foot out in the human one. she wasn't even human anymore herself. but where faith and magic came into her life was a gray area and always had been. she knew that god and the devil existed. she understood it because she's heard what her aunt had experienced in stopping hell before (at least the watered down version of it). yet knowing and believing were not the same thing. what did she believe in? could god and the devil exist but also others too? maybe she didn't know. if she had to come to some form of determination she guessed it'd be magic, energy, light and dark. maybe that was enough.

a sigh escapes her, college student shifting her focus away from the tangent her mind reels with. "i don't know the half of my family history." she counters. because really, maybe it sounded like she did-- enough to be able to counter what stoker had decided to run on with-- but when so many of the people around her were effectively immortal and held unpleasant memories surrounding these events they weren't running to tell a child or teenager the gritty details.

"hey, don't say that. everyone is important. one doesn't have to be in history books or have fiction written about them to be important. and i'll say you're pretty darn important. you are my friend after all. that automatically elevates your standing." her last statement comes out as a clear good-natured tease. claudia never was someone to boast or think herself above others, even if some strigoi treated her like some kind of royal because of who she was.

"hmmm..." she considers his question, her own mind running a bit wild. "i don't know about franken.stein but i could see it being possible she was inspired by something real for the story, couldn't you? i mean there are the undead.. like the ones that sometimes get out the graves. and there's some magic that can bring people back. so maybe shelley knew a witch or saw something she couldn't understand and came up with a story based on that?" it was an interesting notion to think about. how many fictional stories out there may have some base in something real? wasn't it said that all legends had some historical base?

"i wish dragons were real though. i think my pet bearded dragon wishes he could breathe fire. but who knows, maybe they were.. once. a long time ago. i feel like if there's anything people like us should know it's that the greater majority of the world is living behind a giant pair of sunglasses and wholly unaware of the full spectrum of truth that really exists in the world."

[seashellblue]

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle (Part 9)

Old ideas, throwing 'em to y'all to give 'em new life if you want to. Click here if you want an explanation that actually makes sense.

I never got really far with this story, to the point where it even still has a placeholder name, two actually. The post-apocalyptic, storm-filled ruins of this tales go by "Storm Clouds", or "One-Man Thunderstorm" if you wanna have a little more fun with it.

Story concepts goes as follows:

“Storm Clouds”

Bunch of floating islands with post-apocalyptic ruins everyone, no explanation provided.

Recurring element of the universe having really weird and dangerous weather patterns.

Core conflict of the story is “freedom vs. control”. For example, the primary antagonist’s motivation will be to calm the storms, but that conflicts with the story’s messages of “you can never make a perfectly safe world” and “sometimes you have to let go of control, and let the world be”

Concept, the weird storms are caused by the primary antagonist / antagonist factions trying to completely control the weather with a failing, pre-apocalypse machine. Resolution is willingly turning the machine off, and letting the storms flow freely.

The storms are probably also magic and sentient, so there’s that too.

Port over “dragons are just sentient clouds/thunderstorms” idea from “Until The Stars Bleed”?

I’m remaking some old characters called Aeros, Shui and Dunia, but it’s a heavy rework so almost everything’s different except for the core spirit of the characters.

“Storm Clouds”, this guy’s probably the closest to his original design, except less “clear sky” and more “thunderclouds” when it comes to his aesthetic. Swap generic fantasy hero for post-apocalyptic punk, and you get the idea, everyone loves a cool leather jacket. Possibly a defector from the main antagonistic faction, possibly has a personal relationship with the primary antagonist, probably dabbles in some amnesia at some point. Also, swap the lightning magic for cloud magic. Misty ~

“Harbour Waves”, we’re changing her from a conventionally beautiful young adult to a middle aged-going on -old lady! Because we deserve to have more old people in media! She’s “Storm Clouds” mentor figure, but she’s not just that because the mentorship goes both ways! Definitely loves to travel.

“Magnetic Pulse”, reworked “Dunia”, we’re also changing this character’s age! No more young adults, only unnervingly hypercompetent preteens! Her powers are now more “Magneto” than “Earthbending” but she definitely still gives off Toph vibes. Maybe an arc that addresses the unhappy reasons why “Magnetic Pulse” had to become so hypercompetent, and her learning how to be a child again.

New side character, “Cold Fire”, this guy steals the lightning powers “Aeros” originally had. Old man who’s really grumpy about everything, on a meta level he kinda feels like a high fantasy character who got ported over to a post-apocalypse and is real disappointed by it. Or he could not be, kinda up in the air.

“Sunny Skies” revamped version of “Atahi”, and the primary antagonist of an old story. Themed around control, wants to use the pre-apocalypse machine to end the “storms” completely, does unethical things in order to achieve that goal.

I like the idea of this villain’s primary motivation being fear and obsession. She wants everything to be “orderly” and “safe”, and the idea that she’ll never create a world truly free of risk and danger terrifies her to the point where she refuses to believe it.

Primary antagonist personality trait, I could easily see “Sunny Skies” constantly dancing on the edge of exhaustion, staying awake for days at a time trying to micromanage (and have perfect control of) every aspect of her villainous faction

Possible symbolic parallel, this is still up in the air, “Sunny Skies” could literally or figuratively be “Storm Clouds’” mother, and constantly tries to bring him back after he leaves/escapes. This eventually leads to some symbolism where releasing control over the storms is paralleled to “Sunny Skies” releasing control of “Storm Clouds’ as a parent

“Sunny Skies” as a foil to “Harbour Waves” where they’re both mother figures, but “Harbour Waves” is at peace with “Storm Clouds” becoming who he wants to be, while “Sunny Skies” wants to control him for his own safety?

Plotline, specific scene. “Storm Clouds” and “Harbour Waves” have been spending the initial part of the story in one location that’s assumed to be “Harbour Waves’” residence. “Storm Clouds” decides it’s time for him to go, only for it to turn out that “Harbour Waves” doesn’t live where they are either, they’re also a traveler, and they’re coming along with him!

I have these wisps of an idea that the thing that finally turns off the storm-creating machine involves “Storm Clouds” sacrificing himself, but I don’t know where that would go or if he would even have to fully go through with it, and wouldn’t get rescued at the last second.

[dmss-blog-salian]

Blog Post - 08

Why Realism in Games Isn’t Everything

As technology continues to progress, one of the things that most of us agree on is that games are becoming very, very photorealistic. Gone are the days when a game was just a few pixels on a screen. Today, it’s all about being “ultra-immersive” and “life-like”. Some of these games are basically movies.

When we begin to discuss the topic of realism in games, there are generally two schools of thought. The first agrees that games need to be as realistic as possible and the second thinks realism is overrated. I tend to fall in the latter group of thinkers. Realism, to me, is a bit too overrated and completely unnecessary.

However, my views don’t stem from my philosophical leanings on art and realism. My views here are actually a bit pragmatic. Let me break it down for you.

It’s All About Feel

Yes, realism can be great in games. But, I’d argue that there is more to a game than just realism. Your game can replicate or simulate reality exactly as it is but if it doesn’t offer a great game feel, then there’s really no point.

Games were primarily developed as a source of entertainment and fun. I would argue that this still remains the ultimate purpose.

Let’s take the example of sports games like FIFA. Yes, over the years, the various iterations of the football game have only become progressively more “real”. But, is that really the reason why we play FIFA?

At the end of the day, even a child knows that FIFA isn’t an actual game of football being played in an actual stadium. The gamer here is more than aware that it is all a simulation – simply an illusion. So, why is FIFA still selling like hot cakes?

Well, it’s about game feel. It’s that tactile sensation derived from being able to control a digital entity or person. The ability to transfer one’s intent into the character is what makes a game fun.

Realism Requires Too Much Effort and Energy

Those ultra-realistic worlds and characters are great to look at but do you know just how impractical they are? The sheer amount of energy and effort needed to just move a character requires a whole battalion of developers and tons of monetary resources. 

Why spend all of that when you can make a memorable game with just good gameplay, narrative, plot, character arcs etc.?

To make things worse, there will come a time when all that effort will be meaningless. As technologies develop, what is realistic today won’t be realistic tomorrow. The hunger for more detail will only grow but a game with good gameplay or narrative will still sell, no matter what.

Realism Can Be a Hindrance

Reality has rules. For instance, you can’t jump of an aircraft from 30,000 feet and land on your feet. The physical laws that govern material reality will simply not allow for that. Now, imagine a game where the completion of the objective is hindered by it’s own realism? Doesn’t sound fun, right?

You see, games, like other forms of art, offer us the chance to escape reality. That’s what makes them fun. Games like GTA or Need for Speed are fun because you can drive cars on a busy street at nonsensical speeds. Something you’d never be able to do in the real word, at least not without inviting some serious trouble.

That brings me to...

Road Rash – 0% Realism. 100% Fun

If you were a 90s kid, especially one that grew up in India, there were a few game titles that you most likely played and enjoyed. Road Rash was definitely one of them. In fact, it was my favourite at the time and still remains special to me.

The game, which was released in 1991, was an addiction for many children in India. So, what made it fun? Realism? Not at all. There was absolutely no realism in this game, visually or otherwise. I mean, we’re talking about a game from the 90s. The entire game was about 5mb in size. So, you get the point.

What actually made the game fun and makes it fun even today is the aspect of vicariousness. As disturbing as it sounds, my peers and I enjoyed carrying out criminal activities within the game. We enjoyed it because we knew we could never do something like that in the real world. I lived as a criminal via the characters I played. It gave me a rush, but also made me feel secure in that I knew I was simply playing a game. Nobody was actually being hurt and no crime was really being committed.

In fact, that’s my point – too much realism in a game can be a threat to fun. Games allows us to live vicariously through their fictional and unreal nature.

What Does This Mean for My Practice?

So, as expressed above, I do not feel that realism is something that needs to be prioritized in game development. As a game designer, I believe there are tons of other elements, such as story, plot or gameplay, that can go a long way into making a game stand out. If that wasn’t the case, many of the hottest selling titles today wouldn’t sell at all.

Sources:

ForeverGeek. (2019). Why Video Games Should Abandon Realistic Graphics. [online] Available at: https://www.forevergeek.com/why-video-games-should-abandon-realistic-graphics/.

www.spokesman.com. (n.d.). Game On: Video games don’t need to look realistic | The Spokesman-Review. [online] Available at: https://www.spokesman.com/stories/2022/mar/17/game-on-video-games-dont-need-to-look-realistic/ [Accessed 31 Dec. 2022].

Game Development Stack Exchange. (n.d.). non photorealistic - Why do people like `realistic’ physics and graphics in games? [online] Available at: https://gamedev.stackexchange.com/questions/20040/why-do-people-like-realistic-physics-and-graphics-in-games.

Holman, L. (2020). Realism Drags Down Video Game Design. [online] CBR. Available at: https://www.cbr.com/realism-drags-down-video-game-design/ [Accessed 31 Dec. 2022].

Destructoid. (2021). Sometimes games that are realistic...are worse. [online] Available at: https://www.destructoid.com/sometimes-realistic-games-are-worse/ [Accessed 31 Dec. 2022].

Wikipedia. (2022). Road Rash. [online] Available at: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Road_Rash [Accessed 10 Jan. 2023].