#and as far as adaptation goes? i Could Not Ask for anything else

[turning-the-kaleidoscope]

I love that mp100 is a story about self-acceptance and not self-love.

self-love is a loaded concept and it’s very, very hard and I’d dare even say impossible for most people to attain. and even if you attain it one day who’s to say it won’t be gone tomorrow? What does it mean to “love yourself”? I tried to “love myself” for many, many years and consistently failed not just to achieve it, but also to explain it. And even within “self-love” there were always parts of myself that I hated.

Self-acceptance is more neutral than that. Self-acceptance is “yeah, I do have parts of myself that I wish were different and that I might work to change. But I am this person and this person is me—and that’s okay. I don’t have to love it. I don’t have to hate it. If I love it that’s okay. If I hate it that’s okay. I can just be me, honest, and move forward in the ways that seem fit.”

It’s a more hopeful outlook on the self. It’s an attainable outlook on the self.

Self-acceptance lets us move forward.

[just-null]

Fr bro I love your energy! Noritoshi is so pretty and so criminally underrated. Keep up the good work in making more of us lusting publicly for him. You've done amazing job! That boy well-deserved it :)

tysm!! I try to open the eyes of the public to his qualities. join my cult yall, Noritoshi is so good listen to me.

but on the topic of energy, whether you're high or low energy, Noritoshi loves it. the only difference is how he reacts to it.

Let's say you're low energy or prefer subtlety in your affection..

Noritoshi will initiate first! ..after a while... in his own way.... He needs to gather enough courage and collect his thoughts properly, then hes good to go! He prefers more subtle displays of affection too, but if needed he'll be blunt about it. He'll learn to adapt to slightly teasing remarks, going as far as to banter and tease back, moreover he's just very loving. So loving it can be embarrassing from time to time because of how intense the atmosphere can get.. the best way he can be described here is princely.

A small smile forms on Noritoshi's lips when he feels you're around. He turns to you, already memorizing each and every quirk you have so that he doesn't waste any time setting his sights on you again. His hands reach out to tug on your sleeve as he looks at you with a gaze so needy you can practically tell what he's about to ask. "May i hold your hand?" His voice comes so smooth that if you didn't know him, you would've missed the twinge of desperation it carried. You couldn't help yourself, you shook your head, a mischievous grin slowly creeping onto your lips at the sight of Noritoshi's pouted lip. Of course he'd do as you say even if it was clearly unfair, but not without some complaints. He clicks his tongue, a quiet mutter of "cheeky.." escapes under his breath. He knows you do this on purpose to mess with him, he was tempted to beg a little, but decided against it. it was an embarrassing thought to begin with. Seriously, how mean can someone be to make a guy think like this? ..Extremely, if the guy's pouting is cute enough! Noritoshi lifts his hand to his chin, thinking of the many ways he can try to get around this obstacle you cruelly placed in front of him. He leans in close, hovering next to you as he usually does when he thinks. He faces you as who knows what goes on in his head, his closed eyes not even giving you a hint as to what he could be thinking. "Ah, pardon me, I got lost in thought. I suppose i can keep my distance, so long as you keep looking at me with that charming gaze of yours." Ah, so he was just winding up for a pick up line. How lame, but.. get used to it. He's going to shadow behind you the entire day with more one liners like that unless you shut him up yourself. Wait.. was that his plan? The faint sly smirk tugging on the corner of Noritoshi's lips and the warm hue on the apple his of cheeks are all you need to figure out the rest.

If you're high energy or prefer more blunt methods of affection..

Noritoshi gets overwhelmed and flustered from such raw approaches from you that he comes off as a bit rude. It's only because you make his heart so full that he needs to shut you down or else he'll do something embarrassing!! He wants to impress you, of course he enjoys your advances very much, but it's not very slightly to see someone like him act like a crushing school girl!! or so he thinks.

Noritoshi yelps in surprise as you snake your hands around his waist from behind. He doesn't push you away or even move for that matter, he's frozen stiff. Is he still alive? Like any good lover would, you benevolently press your ear against his back to listen for a heart beat. ..You didn't hear anything until the sound of Noritoshi sharp inhale came through. That was unexpected, but it works. He squirmed a little, seemingly trying to shrug you off but quickly giving up, accepting the fact that you've got him trapped. "You imbecile, e-enough of this!" he scolded, though he made no actual effort to stop you. Noritoshi remains stiff for the most part, but looking at the back of his increasingly flushing neck reassures you that he is, indeed, alive. He's just being stubborn! Not turning or even a greeting, just rude name calling again! You raise one hand and place it over his heart to hold him tighter in your embrace. As expected, its practically pounding against his chest. He swats your hand away and finally turns back to you with those cute furrowed brows and rosy cheeks. "You're such a bully, you know that?" he huffs out, any semblance of sternness failing to take effect as his jutted bottom lip quivers. Mercifully, you finally let go and spare him by not pointing out the quiet whine he let out. He stumbles forward and turns around to face you fully, trying to keep an eye out for any more of your stunts while he catches his breath. He felt so dizzy from being in your arms, if he were held for a moment longer, he surely would've melted right then and there. Noritoshi's hands trembled as he smoothed out his clothes, his mouth opening and closing as any and all words died in his throat. He wanted to yell at you for being so forward, for giving him no chance to prepare, for letting go of him, for a lot of things..! Yet he just pouted as he tried to calm the flush on his face. His hands instantly whipped up in front of him when he noticed you took a step towards him. He can't handle another display of affection right now, he'll go weak at the knees! But how can you hold back when he's just so damn cute?

The most likely outcome is a mixture of both with a heavy leaning towards one. Either way, you're very right!! He's extremely pretty.

[lunarmango]

Flickering Lights

Chapter Two is here and in Al's POV!! Though it is a tad shorter I'm quite proud of it! I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

TW: None, just Alastor being a pissy, whiny baby.

Chapter Two: Alastor the Radio Demon

Being in hell for a little over a decade does things to people. On earth, there was no such thing as literal power. Power came in the form of money. Money came from knowledge. Or luck, one might say. Either way, it was a huge change when leaving it behind. One that Alastor was more than happy to adapt to.

Being a murderer on earth was fun sure. The thrill of only being mortal as you hunt down someone far too similar to yourself for your liking. Running, sprinting, panting, knowing death could take you anytime if it wanted it so. Stalking the victim, killing ruthlessly to those who earned it almost as if you’re karma incarnate. Positively thrilling memories he holds dear to his heart, as gore filled and dangerous as some of the hunts were, those memories never failed to disappoint.

In hell? It was different. Power was only held by those who were either wise or trained, the unique powers being something surreal, only heard of in books down on earth. As an atheist, Alastor sure got a kick out of going to hell, at first a little intimidated however when he discovered the possible extent of his powers? It was an unforgettable experience. Meeting his victims from earth once more, venturing further into hell with nothing but him and his staff, going on rampages most people would pray to never witness. The rush in his veins was incomparable. Taking down one overlord after another only made him more feral in his hunt for as much power as possible. Giving hell to those who rightfully earned it.

On earth he’s a murderer.

In hell he feels like God.

Still growing accustomed to the burning underworld, something he had not fully accepted yet was the fact that he took the form of a prey animal. How awfully ironic. Soft ears, fuzzy horns and a swishing tail, the same features as a meek deer. Each sensitive in their own way every time they flick or brush against something, reminding him of their presence, making him mentally cringe. Though he is still growing accustomed to hiding his emotions through his tail and ears, his smile never faltered. He would never afford disappointing his mother in any shape or form. Though they’re worlds apart he'll honour her eternally in the ways he knows best.

Situated in a small cottage on the edge of Cannibal Town that his new friend Rosie was ever so kind to provide him with, it had everything he could possibly need. Bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, living room and study. It wasn’t home, since nothing could compare to when he would arrive home to the warm smell of his mother’s cooking, the furniture each tailored to his mothers liking. But it was a start, and he wasn’t one to complain… much.

Although he doesn’t technically need to sleep every night since his stamina was in abundance compared to how it was on earth, it was nice to have those little habits that take him back and relieve him of his worries. Letting him forget. This morning, he goes downstairs, his hooves tapping on the wooden floor as he walks down, eager to broadcast his weekly collection of screams to his lovely waiting audience.

He freezes.

The controls were tampered with. A few switches and dials turned astray. Needless to say, Alastor was fuming, a heavy huff from his chest as his crimson red eyes scan the room for anything else out of place. Quickly walking up to his panel, his ears stick to the back of his skull as his eyes flicker into a pitch black, both with a red glowing radio dial in the middle.

It seems his next broadcast consisting of screams was going to air much sooner than usual.

Speaking of which, his mind immediately asks himself if they aired anything on his channel. Lost in concentration, his features return to normal. He turns on the panel, flipping the switches back to normal, turning and fine tuning all the different controls to fit what he was going to air, a small annoyed grumble vibrating from his chest from who dared to enter and disturb his sacred workspace.

Headphones didn’t really work with deer ears, much to his distaste, so he had to resort to using a techy speaker. A particularly new one by the brand VoxTech, owned by none other than the television demon Vox. They’ve talked once or twice in the past, though Vox didn’t really appreciate when Alastor called him Box by accident a few times.

It was an honest mistake.

The man literally had a bright box for a face.

His thoughts trail off to how exactly the person that had tampered with his panel was going to suffer when suddenly, his ears turn to the speaker on instinct, a voice emerging and capturing his attention, asking if he was eager to hear their voice, the speech ever so quiet. Did they even know they have to stand near the microphone for it to work?

Enough.

He needed to rid hell of this pest.

Slowly turning up the volume dial, eager to hear all or any information this person had to share, Alastor clears his throat and speaks into his own microphone. “Hello, dear broadcaster.”

No reply.

Honestly, how rude can one person get? Were they even aware who they were dealing with? How did they even get on the same channel? He never collaborates with anyone, it’s his hard work and he won’t stand someone else tampering with it and messing up his schedule!

He took a deep breath.

Luckily, they weren’t airing anything. Which is a start.

Were they doing this on purpose for his attention?

How foolish.

Baring his teeth and gums in annoyance from the extremely loud volume, your voice booms through the speaker as Alastor quickly reaches out to turn the volume back to normal. So you’ve finally figured out what a microphone was?

Oh right, you had asked a question.

Could he hear you? Sure he can.

A scoff. He couldn’t NOT hear you from how loud he had set the volume. He decided to speak up, his ears perking up and chest puffing out as he sat straight in his chair, clearly proud to introduce himself to this clueless being, knowing his name will very well strike delicious fear into them. He was positively infamous in the pride ring after all.

“Of course I can hear you my dear, Im Alastor, the Radio Demon! Pleasure to meet you, quite a pleasure!”

Still no response.

It came to his realisation that he should be asking them the same question you had asked.

“Can you hear me my dear?”

Another frustratingly quiet pause.

Clearly not.

An exasperated sigh from Alastor as he slumps back in his cushioned office chair in defeat. Then it came to him. Their panels and equipment were connected, right? Eagerly sitting back up he flicks the lights above the dial on and off, hoping his prey wasn’t so naive as to think it’s merely coincidence.

A reply asking if he really can hear him, their voice now lacking any and all confidence that they once had. Alastor knows the sound of fear when he hears it, an ear splitting grin widening across his face. Was it really that hard to believe that in hell, a place only made of contradictions, some magical source connected them?

It seems that fate has brought him a new plaything.

Oh this was going to be fun.

Until he didn’t hear anything from you for the rest of the day.

_________________________________________

Taglist! <3 - @nyx91, @speedycoffeedelight, @sirens-and-moonflowers

Make sure to comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

[flanaganfilm]

Hello and Howdy Mr. Mike Flanagan! I'm excited to see you here on our humble hellsite. I have so much to say and ask about your netflix shows but for the moment, I want to ask about Doctor Sleep because I enjoyed that movie immensely - it filled me with a pleasant sense of dread, which possibly makes no sense, or a lot of sense.

What was that creative process like? Reconciling book and movie canons, following Kubrick's legacy, working with Ewan and Rebecca and Zahn and everyone else. I'm obsessed with King adaptations and I'm just fascinated with Doctor Sleep.

Alright! Buckle up for yet another long read.

Thank you for your question, and for this opportunity to go back and talk about DOCTOR SLEEP. It's a very special film to me, and a very special time in my life as well.

It all started with a general meeting with Jon Berg at Warner Bros.

The meeting itself started pretty wild - Adrien Brody walked out of the office as I was waiting to go in. Jon introduced us and we chatted for a few minutes, and I was a little out of whack for the rest of the meeting because I had a very potent "wow that was Adrien Brody" buzz going.

We were meant to talk about DC Comics and see if there was anything to do there. I was really hoping to chat about a horror-slanted Clayface movie, and about my favorite superhero: Superman.

Neither conversation went very far. I had just finished GERALD'S GAME, and Jon was a King fan, so he asked about the production. And then he asked if I'd ever read Warners' script for DOCTOR SLEEP.

I had. In fact, I had tried very hard to get a meeting at the studio when the book was first published. Warners owned the rights to DOCTOR SLEEP outright - it was part of their deal going all the way back to THE SHINING - so they immediately began looking into movie options when the book was published. Akiva Goldsman had written a script, and it was one of the first projects I asked about when I signed with WME as a client years before. "That isn't going anywhere," they told me. "I don't think that movie gets made."

They had tried to get me the meeting anyway, but no one at Warners responded. I never got in the room.

But now, here I was. What did I have to lose at this point?

"I did read it," I said. "I'd take a different approach." Jon sat back and smiled. "I love the book, Rose is one of the great villains of all time," he said. I agreed. He probed. "What's wrong with the script?"

"I don't think it follows the book closely enough."

"What would you do?"

"I'd do the book. Streamline it, combine some characters, and you'd have to rethink the True Knot a bit. But otherwise, just do the book. As long as it's a three-hander between Danny, Abra and Rose it'll work. With one big asterisk."

"What's that?"

"I think you have to bring back the hotel. Kubrick's hotel, I mean."

Jon smiled wider. "Yeah, it's a bummer the hotel burned down. King goes out of his way at the start of the book to emphasize that - no Overlook, look no further."

This was my biggest gripe with the book.

I said "When I read the book, all I could see was Kubrick's hotel. I think you do the book as close as you possibly can, until the big fight at the end. Instead of it taking place in an empty field, let it be in the hotel."

Jon: "Do you think King will be upset if you change his ending? You know how feels about THE SHINING, right?"

Me: "What if we gave him THAT ending? What if we let Danny have Jack's ending? Jack sacrificed himself to save his family and destroy the Overlook - why not let Danny do that? Change the ending, sure, but give him the ending Kubrick denied him."

We shook hands, and I called my producing partner Trevor Macy to tell him it was a good general, but nothing was coming out of my DC meeting. By the time I'd made it back to my car, though, Jon had reached out to Stephen King and asked if he'd be interested in me taking a swing at it. Steve, who had enjoyed GERALD'S GAME, said yes.

I was immediately petrified when the call came in that they might want to engage me on a rewrite of DOCTOR SLEEP, with a directorial attachment. I'd have to rewrite the script from scratch, and I kind of felt like they were calling my bluff. But the deal was made and quite suddenly I was adapting DOCTOR SLEEP.

First order of business was to make King aware of what I intended to do. I had just established a tentative relationship with my hero over GERALD'S GAME, and the last thing - the very last thing in the world I ever wanted - was to upset him. We weren't in direct communication, we spoke through agents and emails at this point - but I had to make him aware of the Overlook thing.

I put together a proposal that outlined what I wanted to do - use Kubrick's visual language, and keep the Overlook standing as a setting for the final battle. The initial feedback we got was "no." King really, really didn't like Kubrick's film, and his priority was to adapt DOCTOR SLEEP - not to revisit THE SHINING.

I told him that if he didn't want me to do it, I wouldn't - I'd walk away from the movie before I made something he hated. But as a last ditch effort, I said "imagine the Overlook, decrepit and rotten. And imagine Dan Torrance having walk in to 'wake it up,' the lights coming on above his head as he walks the halls. He finds his way to the Gold Room. To the familiar bar, where an empty glass is waiting for him. And we see a familiar bartender ready to pour for him, saying 'good evening Mister Torrance.' What if that bartender is his father?"

After a bit of a delay, King got back to us. "Do it," he said.

Writing the script was tough. I immediately felt like I had stepped into a very unsafe space. "This is going to piss everybody off," I figured. Kubrick fans would be livid that the movie was being made. King fans might be angry that Kubrick's imagery was being homaged. There was no way to please everyone, so I set about writing the movie I wanted to see most.

It was a slightly nauseous feeling that would stay with me until the movie came out.

I sat down to write with a hardcover copy of DOCTOR SLEEP to my right, and a hardcover copy of THE SHINING to my left. I read both cover to cover, sticking post-its throughout the pages with ideas, or flagging lines of dialogue (or even prose) that I wanted to protect. I managed to put together a basic outline for the movie, which was intimidating and sprawling.

I finally finished the draft and sent it off to Warner Bros. and King at the same time. I was shooting THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE at the time, and thought it would take a long while and a few more iterations before SLEEP would go anywhere, if it ever did.

Warner Bros. shocked us all by coming back with a green light. I've been told that it was one of the fastest green lights in the recent history of the studio, and I believe it.

It happened so fast, in fact, that Steve hadn't read the script yet. I got an email from him on a Friday saying "I read the first half, and I absolutely love it - my son's getting married, so I'll pick it up in a week or so and finish it, but great so far!" I was nauseous... because I knew everything that King was likely to hate was in the second half.

When he finally did finish reading it, about a week later, he reached out and said:

"I think it's really good. In my experience, this is the kind of script studios don't make, because it's TOO good. Hopefully I'm wrong. But no matter how it turns out, thanks for treating me so well. - Steve"

I had the distinct pleasure of being able to write him back and tell him that Warner Bros. had just greenlit the movie. And we were off to the races.

The pressure was enormous. They were spending a lot of money on this movie, and because of the insane box office success of IT: CHAPTER ONE, expectations were very high.

We were given access to Kubrick's blueprints for the Overlook hotel set, which were still held at Warner Bros. While we set about rebuilding the sets, our attention turned to casting.

For Dan, we met with a handful of actors: Dan Stevens, Chris Evans, Matt Smith, and Jeremy Renner all came in to chat about the movie. But Ewan McGregor, who himself was eight years sober (just like Dan), was the obvious choice. "Let's not talk about the Shining yet," he said. "I want to talk about recovery." He was the guy.

For Rose the Hat, we talked with several actresses, including Anne Hathaway, Nicole Kidman, and my dear friend Karen Gillan - but Rebecca Ferguson knocked our socks off on a 90-minute zoom meeting, and the part was hers.

Finding Abra Stone was more difficult - we auditioned more than 900 girls for the part. We'd narrowed it down to a half-dozen very promising and successful young actresses, including Lulu Wilson (who I'd worked with several times before and adore), but Kyliegh Curran's self-tape audition rose to the very top of the pile. Ewan flew to Atlanta to read with our final picks, and when Kyliegh - who lived 15 minutes from our office, was local casting, and had never booked a job before - finished reading, he turned to us and said "I mean it's her, right?" It absolutely was.

When we cast her, we invited her back to the office after school one day to get oriented. The crew was so excited for her that they decorated the production office in her honor.

As the rest of the cast fell in, we started doing our camera tests and getting excited about what we were putting together. My feeling over overwhelming nausea only got stronger.

We started shooting in September of 2018. The shoot was long, but never exhausting. The cast and crew were uniformly pleasant and happy to be there, and after the soul-crushing slog that had been THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE, it was a relief to enjoy working again.

Kate was pregnant with our daughter Theo at the time. She visited as much as she could, but finally couldn't travel any more. Being away from Kate and our son Cody was hard, but I'm so grateful that we got to share some time on set together.

All things considered, this was a smooth shoot. But something happened for me while we were making it that would change the course of my life forever.

See, THE SHINING is about alcoholism. King wrote it while in the throes of his own addiction, and it is a novel about the anxiety he felt about what he could potentially do to his family if left unchecked. It's one of the reasons he was so upset with Kubrick's adaptation - all of that was taken away. This is a profoundly personal story for King.

When he wrote DOCTOR SLEEP, he was decades sober. The story of DOCTOR SLEEP is the story of recovery. This was something that Ewan knew very well, and why he was perfect for the part. He knew what the journey felt like. He wasn't alone - there were a number of cast and crew members on this shoot that were sober. In fact, just about all of the actors who played main characters were sober. I was still drinking at the time, though it had already become obviously problematic in my life, I hadn't taken any meaningful steps to change it.

This photograph was taken on 10/12/2018. This was taken on the day I got sober. I quit cold turkey, in the middle of production. I was clinging to vices at the time. Note not only the cigarette in my hand (I was smoking almost 2 packs a day), but the ash tray that had been rigged to the top of my viewfinder by the camera department. (I don't smoke anymore either, just about four years without cigs as well... and I still miss them.)

I had been writing about addiction for a decade. It was all over my work, going all the way back to ABSENTIA. I didn't realize just how much I was writing about myself, and I still can't believe it took me this long.

I vividly recall writing the scene between Dan and Jack at the bar. My wife pointed out to me after the fact that she could see it then, that something was changing in me when it came to drinking. Something was waking up, and I was processing a desperate need to sober up. That scene represents an internal conversation that is profoundly personal to me. It's still my favorite scene of the movie.

I've been sober now for over 4 years. DOCTOR SLEEP helped me finally make that decision. I finished the shoot sober, and came home to my life with a lot of uncertainty and insecurity. But with the unflinching support of my incredible wife, and some amazing friends, my life started to really blossom. It was pretty immediately evident that this was one of the best decisions I'll ever make.

Meanwhile, though, I had to finish DOCTOR SLEEP.

I LOVED the movie we'd made, but I was still terrified of what King would think of it - not to mention Kubrick's estate.

When we finished the cut, I flew to Bangor to screen the finished film for Steve. It was the first I'd meet him in person, and one of the most insanely exciting and humbling days of my life.

We watched the movie together, and I was acutely aware of each and every little reaction he had throughout.

(With Trevor Macy, my producing partner at Intrepid)

When the show as over, Steve turned to me and said "You did a beautiful job." And ultimately, he added that this film had made him warm up to the Kubrick movie as well.

A week later, we heard from Kubrick's estate that they had also loved the movie.

With King's blessing, and Kubrick's family, I felt that nausea finally subside. I said to Kate, "that's it. That's all that matters. Doesn't matter if the movie crashes and burns - we already won the important battle."

And then, the movie crashed and burned.

A group of us went to see it opening night at Arclight Hollywood (my favorite theater). We were just about the only people there. And I knew immediately that we were going to have a bad weekend.

The movie didn't perform very well. Warner Bros. was disappointed, and ended up scrapping the Dick Hallorann movie we were planning, as well as the Overlook Hotel prequel.

I was pretty crest-fallen. I'd spent years tossing and turning over whether audiences would be divided between the King and Kubrick camps. I'd been petrified that they'd be furious, venomous, run me out on a rail... I'd never considered that they'd be utterly disinterested. Apathy wasn't even on my radar.

Steve called me the Monday after opening weekend with some words of encouragement. "I remember when THE SHINING bombed," he said. "And SHAWSHANK. Give it some time. It'll find its audience. It's a really good movie."

That has turned out to be true. While it didn't set the world on fire theatrically, the movie has over-performed on VOD and streaming. And when Warner Bros. released the Directors Cut (I'm still so grateful that they did that), it popped even more.

So yes, to answer your question - the pressures were enormous. I hope this paints a little picture of what it was like. The biggest gift I got out of it, though, was sobriety.

I reached out to King a year later, on my first sober birthday. I hadn't told him I was sober, but it felt like time to do it. I got to thank him. "I never told you this, but I sobered up while we were shooting DOCTOR SLEEP, and I don't think I would have done it without your words. Living in that story, and marinading in the concepts of recovery and redemption made it possible. I just want to thank you."

He wrote back his congratulations, and then mentioned "as it happens, I'm off to celebrate 30 years myself. It only gets better and better."

And he is absolutely right.

DOCTOR SLEEP was the perfect project for me after the nightmare that was HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE. I fell in love with making movies again. And I found a new and wonderful gear for my life. It has only made everything better - my marriage, my work, my experience walking around on planet earth. I'm so grateful for it.

When I think of DOCTOR SLEEP, I think of Ewan sitting at the bar and looking at the glass in his hand. "Man takes a drink, drink takes a drink... and then the drink takes the man. Ain't it so, dad."

Ewan understood those words better than I did when I typed them into the script. I understand them much better now.

There isn't a day that goes by that I'm not profoundly grateful for my time at the Overlook. And for myriad of ways my life has been changed because of it.

[starsreminisce]

Antis saying with their whole chest "Azriel only wanting a mate is canon."

To Mor. His blood chilled. He wasn’t stupid. He knew she and Azriel were . . . whatever they were. Knew Azriel had been in love with Mor from the moment she’d strutted into the Illyrian war- camp five centuries ago.

“The issue, actually, wouldn’t be me. It’d be him. I could peel off my clothes right in front of him and he wouldn’t move an inch. He might have defied and proved those Illyrian pricks wrong at every turn, but it won’t matter if Rhys makes him Prince of Velaris - he’ll see himself as a bastard-born nobody, and not good enough for anyone. Especially me.”

“Azriel,” Rhys said, “has been preoccupied with the same female for the past five hundred years.” “Wouldn’t the mating bond have snapped into place for them if it exists?” Rhys’s eyes shuttered. “I think that is a question Azriel has been asking himself every day since he met Mor.”

Azriel stiffened. Let his cold rage rise to the surface, the rage he only ever let Rhysand see, because he knew his brother could match it.  "What if the Cauldron was wrong?"  Rhysand blinked. "What of Mor, Az?"  Azriel ignored the question. "The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another." He had never before dared speak the words aloud.  Rhys's face drained of color. "You believe you deserve to be her mate?"   Azriel scowled. "I think Lucien will never be good enough for her, and she has no interest in him, anyway." 

The reason why I can confidently say with my full busty af chest that Azriel only wants a mate is because of his entire relationship and history with Mor, and how he approached Rhys when he entered his office.

So when Azriel's question turned to Elain and Lucien, shifting the focus to something about the Cauldron being wrong (despite it being stated in HOFAS that the Cauldron doesn't determine mates), and when he ignored Rhys's inquiry about the female he had been in love with for 500 years to demand an explanation on how two brothers are with two of those sisters—keeping in mind that those two sisters are mates to his brothers—and why the third sister was not given to him, it tells me that he is solely fixated on finding a mate because that's what he reduced Elain to.

"Two of my brothers are mated to my sisters, and yet the third is mated to someone else," is what he essentially conveyed.

Azriel waited 500 years to reveal his feelings to Mor, even though she had shut down his very first confession. Why? Why would anyone wait that long?

If they were his mate.

Because he felt instantly attracted to her the moment she came into his life, because he was willing to risk entering another High Lord's territory to bring her back, because when the confrontation at Hybern reached a critical point where Mor's life was in jeopardy, he went to her—even when he was injured by an ashbolt. Even when Elain was brought out.

And we're told that those were signs of the mating bond.

But the only requirement that the Suriel asked of Feyre was, "He is the most powerful High Lord to ever walk this earth. You are … new. You are made of all seven High Lords. Unlike anything. Are you two not similar in that? Are you not matched?"

Mor and Azriel are not similar. They are not as well matched as Gwyn and Azriel, based on the little we see of Gwyn so far. And even then, we see Azriel treat Gwyn more like an equal than he ever did Mor or Elain.

Elain and Azriel are not similar. SJM even goes so far as to describe that Elain will stay by the sunniest of windows, while Azriel’s shadows don’t even venture out to the sun. These differences in their fundamental needs suggest that compromise or adaptation would be necessary for their relationship.

On the other hand, Azriel and Gwyn share similarities in their history, trauma, preferences for weapons, and affinity for spying, making them potentially better suited for each other.

Also, we have this from HOFAS. Badass Azriel would have said that he doesn't need one.

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Thursday

(Goes in the series where Jak got to Spargus via trespassing 😆 takes place after Jak sneaks into the Arena)

Despite the threats of being "grounded until you're thirty-six" (per the advisor in the foundlings' dormitory), no one had taken Jak's gate pass or war amulet. He'd won them on his own, whether or not he met some arbitrary threshold based on bone growth. A lot of Wastelanders on the street talked down to them still, like they were children -- one weird guy with neither hair nor pants kept calling them "anklebiters" and scornfully laughing that the king would never let them leave the city again. But after crashing Sam's second Arena trial, Jak had started hearing approval here and there.

What he couldn't fathom was how often their approval centered around his dark eco form!

That abomination? The walking demonstration of how dark eco was an affront to life?

Easy there, that's Samos talking. If it was wholly evil, the Oracle wouldn't have taught me to make the Dark Form my own, beyond anything Praxis could dream of.

"Useful", they called the horned menace.

Useful, like he'd demonstrated the skills of an electrician or architect or something!

And no one had tried to make him use it, not even once! The most anyone had said so far was "I bet it takes a lot of nerve to learn those moves!", or questions about how much food he had to eat to keep up with the calorie expenditure.

He and Daxter had been tasked with hunting down a local pest called a kangarat that had a bad habit of eating the city's stored grains -- and that had devolved into s tense moment on the beach with some kind of dark eco-probe thing.

Honestly, it was one of the few times when Jak's inability to read modern glyphs came in handy. The script scrolling across the screens had been ancient, even by Sandover standards. But it was close enough to the texts Uncle used to teach him to read that Jak had been able to reroute the power and drain its battery core.

That hadn't done much to make the monk like them.

Seem had a real problem with dark eco, apparently. And oddly, that had felt jarring after everyone else in Spargus.

Seem reminded Jak of Haven.

He didn't want to think about Haven right now.

Eventually someone would probably make him go back. But the war was over, right? It was just skirmishes now, something they'd handled before Jak and could handle without Jak. They'd gotten too used to taking him for granted anyway.

They'd probably be fine.

Right?

Jak shook the darkening thoughts away and made his way out of the Arena complex, shoving a roll into the small pouch that hung from his belt. Meals were scheduled here, and food was readily available, albeit not abundant. But two years and some change of regularly going hungry meant he and Daxter were almost always thinking about food in some way.

Daxter teased that Jak thought about food more than romance. Jak didn't think he was wrong, exactly.

"What do you think, can we make it to the gate without being stopped today?" Jak asked Daxter as he stepped down into the street.

"Only if the Mustachioed Menace isn't there."

Daxter shuddered.

"Jak, promise me if he goes for the fork and knife, you'll skewer him."

"Yeah no, he won't even get that far," Jak promised.

The heat was already in full swing, even at four bells after sunrise. Jak was surprised he'd adapted to it as quickly as he had. The dust? Not so much. He coughed and spat out grit from an errant breeze.

"Told you to pull the scarf up."

"I'd look like Jinx."

"Your vanity or sand in the mouth, up to you, pal."

The general plan had been to make their meandering way back to the beach -- they hadn't seen a clean beach or unpolluted water in years -- but about three minutes into the West Quarter, Jak stopped. A familiar staff was leaned up against a small structure made of stone and conductive metals, but when they glanced around, Damas was nowhere to be seen.

"Well, that's a little weird," Daxter commented.

Jak stepped closer and hunched down to look into the almost hutch-like building. A large, squat, generator sat there on five-inch stilts to keep it out of the sand. A box of tools lay beside it, and a man's lower half stuck out from underneath on a small rolling palette. It almost looked like-

"Uh...Damas?"

Jak wasn't sure the guy liked Jak going around calling him by his first name, but Jak had never been one to allow formalities.

There was a soft clang and a muffled curse. Then the palette rolled out and Damas was there, stained with grease and looking decidedly impatient.

"If it's not urgent, make Kleiver deal with it. I'm busy."

"Yeah, I see that."

Jak crouched to awkwardly waddle into the hut.

"What are you doing?"

Damas raised a brow and gestured silently to the generator as if asking isn't it obvious?

A touch chagrined, Jak waved a hand.

"No, I mean like- what's wrong with it?"

"And how come you're fixin' it?" Daxter added, "Are folks that shorthanded?"

The king simply rolled his eyes and slid back underneath the generator.

"I already told you," he grumbled, "Out here, you're either doing something useful with your life or you're just deadweight. A king sitting sedentary and barking out orders is the epitome of deadweight."

Daxter made an approving sound -- a rarity Damas would later learn to appreciate.

"I can respect it. Not how I'd run things, but not bad! You even got shade in here!"

Jak shrugged Daxter off his shoulder and tapped at the generator casing in interest.

"So what's busted? How big of a problem is it?"

"Well either the blue eco tube is blocked, or the conductors are bad," Damas grunted. "If the eco grid in the Northwest districts goes down, our defenses will be completely out on this side."

"...can I help?"

Damas wheeled back out, looking as though he wasn't sure what he'd heard.

"You what?"

Jak pushed the toolbox closer, making room to lay down and look at the inner workings of the generator.

"I want to help!" he said, "I'm good with eco!"

"Yeah, noticed that."

Damas took a pair of something that looked like forceps and crimped the line in question. He wanted the uncanny boy to just leave. Everything about him felt like he was on the cusp of learning something that could not be un-learned, and would shake the foundations of everything he knew. It made working very distracting. But the offer of aid freely given was never turned down in Spargus. Even if the boy did lead his mind in uncomfortable circles, he was here, and he was eager to help.

With a sigh, Damas gestured vaguely to the tool box.

"Give me the electrical current meter and the wire stripper."

"Got it. Wait, which one's the wire stripper?"

"The pliers that look like they have teeth."

"Oh, there they are."

Jak picked up the wire stripper and handed it over to Damas.

"I don't know a lot about tools yet, sorry. Everyone always makes me destroy things. They think it's all I'm good for. The Oracles are kind of the only ones who don't get mad if I want to fix things instead."

"Geez, kid."

"Yeah, I know. It's not great."

Jak leaned over. "Why do you want the wire stripper?"

Damas pulled down two colorful wires where Jak could see.

"Because," he muttered, "this colorful stuff is insulation. And I need it off if I'm going to test the conductor with this other wire- hey, is the mouthy cacomistle mutant still out there?"

Daxter made an offended gasp, and Damas nodded.

"Good. Tell me if the lights come on."

Damas pulled a black wire and a red wires together and touched the bare ends together.

"Anything?"

"Eehhhhh...." Daxter flopped a hand back and forth. "Lights are on, nobody's home."

"Well, it's not the conductors then. Rot, that means the eco crystallized."

"Crap, really?" Jak scooted closer. "Man, that's a pain to break down."

"Tell me about it."

Damas adjusted the cart and shoved an arm up into the inner workings.

Jak watched, wondering about what he'd said. Was Damas implying that he could channel, too? Well it was about time he met some other channelers! Kor and Praxis couldn't have wiped them all out!

Maybe that's why people here were more open-minded about dark eco. Maybe there were enough channelers around here to use the light eco in the temple that they didn't even worry about getting unbalanced.

"Jak, I need your hand here."

Damas smacked his shoulder with the back of his hand and pointed.

"Hold that, and don't let it fall on me."

"Got it!"

Damas began to unbolt the resevoir frame to get to the eco. "We," he grumbled, "are going to be here a while."

"I'd offer to dissolve it with some dark eco, but I have no idea what that would do to your generator."

"Yeah let's avoid potentially possessed hardware," Damas said, "I'd just as soon skip a repeat of your little adventure on the beach with that...thing."

Jak winced and readjusted his grip on the frame. "...ah. You know about that, huh?"

"I'm the king, kid. I know everything."

It didn't cross his mind until much later that -- in spite of his misgivings -- he'd started treating Jak like any other Spargan. Nor had he considered at the time that he might have been setting a precedent. But when what should have been a simple repair job turned into an impromptu lesson on basic tool function, it seemed that Jak had lost any of the few reservations he had about Damas.

The next two weeks were filled with "what are you doing?" and "where are you going?", "can I come?" "Can I help?"

It was like Mar all over again, but as a skinny teenager!

There would come a day in the near future when Damas would look back on his choice of description with some very colorful swearing about the clarity of hindsight.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Writing with Chronic Illness

strigiformthunderstorm asked: Could you advise on forming a writing routine with a chronic illness? I have several conditions that cause a lot of pain and fatigue, and working part-time takes up nearly all of my energy. I used to write daily but stopped while I was in "survival mode", and now getting in my head about the quality prevents me from writing. I've had success with creating multiple routines to accommodate my fluctuating symptoms, so instead of writing out a schedule, I'm kind of choreographing a dance. For example, right now I'm coming out of a flare up so I'm trying to think of adaptations like writing in bed, taking naps between writing sessions, and being less hard on myself about smoking for my pain while writing + just doing brain dumps if that's what I need to get into the flow of things. I'm also neurodivergent. I'm trying to get to the point I'm actually writing the book (instead of world building/planning) and am making consistent progress.

[Ask edited for length]

A few things that might help:

1 - Don't worry about writing daily or hitting specific word counts. Doing things to "move the needle" are just as important, even if that is doing brain dumps, researching, or looking for inspiration photos.

2 - Try to avoid making writing feel like a stressful activity that your brain will automatically want to avoid. The things you're doing are already on the right track, so continue to give yourself grace, give yourself positive reinforcement for anything that moves the needle, and doing what you can to make writing relaxing and rewarding.

3 - Many writers find that writing sprints are a productive way for them to get words on the page. So, for example, try setting a timer for 10 or 20 minutes (or whatever increment works for you) and write as much as you can during that time. Don't worry about quality (we'll get to that in a minute), just get the words down. Do this a few times a day, and it starts to add up quickly. You may also find that you gather momentum and are able to write more per sprint, sprint for longer periods, and/or include more sprints into your day.

4 - Focusing overly much on quality is probably a bigger obstacle for you right now than anything else. This is by far and away the biggest pitfall writers fall into. Remember: writing is a process that requires editing and revision. No one writes a perfect first draft. There's a reason we call them "rough drafts" and "zero drafts." There's a reason we self-edit and revise. There's a reason we use beta readers, critique partners, and editors. It isn't supposed to be perfect at the beginning. Imagine being a sculptor, taking out a lump of clay, squeezing it to shape it a few times, and then being livid because it isn't a beautiful sculpture. That's what you're doing when you allow your brain to be frustrated about the quality of your writing when you're writing a first draft. You're getting mad because your lump of clay didn't instantly become a beautiful sculpture. If you never let your lump of clay be a lump of clay, and something that looks more like a misshapen whatever rather than the thing you're trying to make, then you'll never get it to the point of actually becoming the beautiful sculpture. You have to let the words on the page be ugly before you can shape them into something beautiful when it's time to edit and revise. Have a look at the following posts for more:

Concentrate on Quantity at First, Not Quality Overcoming Embarrassment Over Own Writing Delaying Writing Out of Fear Worried About Writing Style

5 - As far as routine goes, you're actually already doing what I would have suggested, which is to utilize a variety of different routines that are catered to meet your needs in the moment. Doing the things you're already doing, plus what is mentioned above, will hopefully be enough to get you over this hurdle.

Sending you lots of happy thoughts and hope for progress! ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[icedroppedinparasolcider]

looking for project sekai analysis blogs I like and asking their opinion on shizuku day thrEE. please yap as hard as you can about her, I love her so much

about to make you regret being born /j

i adore shizuku so much and there is such an abundance of things i could say about her that i don't think i can actually fit everything into one post because i will inevitably forget a point and likely have to tack it on later. and also, if it's not obvious from my entire blog, i'm an airi oshi, and so a lot of my thoughts and opinions regarding shizuku will tend to be through the lens of airi. they're intrinsically connected as characters because of their stories, what they mean to each other, and their aibou dynamic (though it's not explicit; just look at how much they parallel with akitoya and it'll become really clear really fast) makes it very hard to talk about shizuku without also talking about airi. especially in a "general consensus" kind of post. i will try to keep it at a minimum, since shizuku is her own independent character, but her dynamic with airi and her existence as a pure heart student makes it really difficult to discuss shizuku's story and growth without talking about how the people around her interact with and influence her story.

shizuku, as a pure heart student, falls into the domain of "suffering from perfection", though the way this happens leans much closer to cautious heart's thrust into an environment and expections they weren't prepared for than the rest of pure heart displays this (there's a really interesting conversation to be had about how more more jump! reverses the methods for which each member is confronted with their respective conflict when compared to the parallel mikudemy classmate of the other four units, but that's a topic for an entirely different post), but her approach to the problem and how she goes about solving and growing from it is quintessential pure heart, to the point that i think shizuku represents the central themes of the class far better than anyone else. she was convinced to become an idol by her friends by participating in and winning the grand prix, was recruited into one of the biggest and most popular idol groups of cheerful*days, and eventually became their centre when she was offered the role despite feeling like she was unworthy of it. shizuku's never thought particularly highly of her abilities as an idol, certainly not to the degree that everyone around her praises her for, and for several years was simply trying to live up to the unrealistic and impossible expectations set by the cheerful*days management, caused by her innate beauty, graceful demeanour, and naturally potent idol aura. it's a fascinating mix of cautious heart themes (being forced to adapt to expectations you don't think you can meet) and pure heart themes (carrying a natural affinity for the goals and practice of the unit) that's really only shared by toya and haruka, and haruka performs this much differently as a cautious heart student, while toya's is a learned affinity (akin to cautious heart) carrying over from a different genre of music. shizuku is entirely innate talent that was carefully shaped into her cheerful*days image. yes, she works incredibly hard to match that image, but what makes her so appealing as an idol at the first glance are the pieces that can't be changed.

shizuku's relationship with these expectations and the people who put them on her is a major part of what makes her a pure heart student. a huge part of the theme of pure heart is a lack of resentment toward the people that put them in these difficult environments (ichika not being upset with shiho or honami even though it was their choices that separated the dynamic; emu never holding anything against her brothers for not taking her seriously as she tries to help run phoenix wonderland; toya believing it his fault for not living up to his father's expectations because he set the standard that he will work hard enough to do it) (i would mention kanade but there's no one specific to blame for her father's hospitalisation and her mother's passing and she blames herself for it all anyway), and shizuku carries this in abundance across her entire story through her lack of disdain for cheerful*days—she's not especially comfortable around them initially, but that's nothing against them, that's believing herself in the wrong and wanting to avoid bringing back up their pain. something directly brought up and confronted through At the End of the Unraveled Thread, which is quite possibly the most nuanced event (and one of the most well-written) in the entire game. because unlike the rest of pure heart (even toya; he holds his running away over his own head, but he didn't actually doing anything wrong for wanting and seeking out the "normal childhood" he yearned for), shizuku did do something wrong to prompt what happened to her. she did wrong cheerful*days by admitting to her belief that she doesn't deserve the role of centre despite everyone's work to make sure she can perform it, because by doing so she made the rest of the group feel that she didn't appreciate or respect the work they put in to her success. cheerful*days was by no means right to turn around and bully shizuku to the point of quitting the industry (even if minori and more more jump! pulled her right back in), and the frustrations of the rest of more more jump! (most clearly seen through airi's mood shift anytime cheerful*days is brought up) are entirely justified, but shizuku recognises that she hurt people who were trying to help her, and works to make it right through public acknowledgement and holding herself accountable during At the End of the Unraveled Thread without expecting them to immediately forgive her, which they (arisa) don't.

shizuku's ability to express and understand emotions, her own and others, can't be understated; just another reason why she fits with pure heart. she starts in a very difficult position in that regard, specifically when it comes to communicating with her fans—shizuku is able to clearly communicate with the other more more jump! members and other friends of hers from basically the very start—due to the expectations of her cheerful*days era still looming over her head and those that followed her before the swap to the new group expecting that same character, a person shizuku is not and really struggles to perform as when off-script, something more more jump! always is during their streams. thus the conflict of Colour of Myself! and the start of shizuku's journey of self-acceptance, because it does not end with that event; that is simply the first and biggest of several steps she takes throughout her entire story. so much of shizuku's journey is acts of defying the idol she was made to be by cheerful*days, using what that experience taught her to become a better idol in ways only she could be and she would be best at. her famous air-headed demeanour is unique to her, and Colour of Myself! teaches her to no longer hide it like she had done during her time as cheerful*days' centre, while events like Cast a Spell on You!, Draw Your Bow in This White World, and The Warmth that Guides Us work to refine shizuku's nature into skills that she can use as an idol and a friend to reach out to and help the people around her. they prove that she's not air-headed, instead she's incredibly perceptive of the world around her, what makes her seem such is that her attention always lies in the emotions of the people she's with, rather than what they might consider to be normal. many of those around her are far more protective of their thoughts and emotions, while shizuku expresses all of it freely, growing moreso with each step she takes towards her own acceptance.

all of these subjects, as mentioned before, ties directly into shizuku's relationships with the people around her, most prominently more more jump!'s members and even more importantly: airi. because, even ignoring shipping contexts, the impact they have on each other's stories is impossibly important and shizuku, by her own admition, would never have become the type of idol capable of doing what she did in Colour of Myself! or At the End of the Unraveled Thread without airi's support and influence. from their very first meeting shown in the chapter seven flashback of Chasing the Radiance Beyond the Blue Sky where airi offered shizuku a towel and encouraged her to get back up and keep pushing, airi has been a vital piece of motivation for shizuku amidst her struggles with expectation and perfection during her growth in and peaks of cheerful*days. it's a huge reason why airi snapping at her about how unfair it is for shizuku to throw away everything she has when it's all airi ever wanted from her time as an idol during the main story is the action that throws her over the edge of deciding to quit the idol industry. because on top of all this understanding that she's hurt cheerful*days through her disrespect and disregarding of their contributions to her growth in the group, she had to grapple with the fact that by even considering quitting, she's hurting the most important person in her journey to success. she hurt the support she always had in her corner, no matter what happened on either side of their idol journeys.

the importance airi and shizuku have to each other's journeys, the way airi always lifted shizuku up to her feet if something was weighing down on her and shizuku was always a figure that airi was able to chase in her pursuit of being her ideal idol, is written a lot like the aibou dynamic of akitoya, just in a different environment. a less aggressively competitive world that works its hardest to put down whatever it considers competition, instead filled with exploitation of skills and dreams in ways that push the idols to the brink of quitting—as evident by the positions all three of haruka, airi, and shizuku are in at the start of the more more jump! main story. airi and shizuku manage to survive as long as they do because of each other, the idea of having someone by their side who will understand the struggle and lift them up when they get knocked down, a figure that they can look up to as an example of what an idol should be and is capable of. they look up to each other as idols to aspire to be, and have consistently been present in each other's journeys from the first moments of being recruited by their respective idol group as someone they can lean on when things get too difficult to bear alone. it's a back-and-forth dynamic that both side often forgets their own role in because they consider the other's contribution to their success as idols and growth as people so invaluable that they struggle to imagine themselves doing the same for anyone else.

this dynamic with airi also reflects into shizuku's relationship with shiho, just to a degree much less looked at by the story's writing. as expressed through The Two Moon Rabbits, both hinomori looks at the other's dreams and ambitions, at the effort they put into achieving them, and uses it as a method of motivation to push forward through their own journey and struggle. the passion and dedication with which shiho learned the bass and refined their skills with it for the sake of eventually playing in a band told shizuku that she shouldn't give up on her own goals of her idol work just because it's taxing on her body and exhausting to learn, and the opposite is true with shiho watching how much shizuku repeats the same choreography in order to ensure that each step is done perfectly and consistently and using that to tell themself it'll eventually bare fruit if they continue to practice and learn. they both take the tasks they're given and tackle them with complete sincerity, even if shizuku rarely looks anywhere near as serious as shiho tends to, and end up at a similar result of being regarded as especially talented in their respective fields and actively looked up to by the other members of their groups as someone to aspire to be like (obviously moreso airi than anyone else on shizuku's side).

i find shizuku to be an incredible example of what a pure heart character represents, with the focus of almost all of her events being the very traits that define and connect the class. she's an invaluable member of more more jump! through her ability to grasp and express the complex feelings of the unit at large in clear ways that most of those around her struggle to get across, and her ability to pick up on the intentions and internal conflicts of those around her is almost unmatched (she's managed to identify that something is bothering mafuyu through Draw Your Bow in This White World and managed to find a way to comfort her enough to prompt an unmasked smile, all without being prompted to do so by anything but her own observations). she's especially skilled at reading and understanding airi, who, as a solid heart student, would otherwise keep her problems largely internalised and attempt to confront them separate from the rest of the unit, even if she knows she needs their help. shizuku doesn't allow her to do this, constantly finding ways to step in and prevent airi from pulling away. something so consistent that it leads to airi, on her own terms, going into the sekai to tell shizuku and the virtual singers about her conflicting feelings on the whole group going to credit hours because it made her lose contact with a close friend (Re-tie Friendship). and the unique nuance of her relationship with cheerful*days made for, in my opinion, one of the best-written events in the entire game in At the End of the Unraveled Thread.

love shizuku. five stars. she should get to kiss airi as a treat. she's earned it because she's such a wonderful person. i'm sure airi won't mind. much. for more than a second.

[badsansandstarsansticklestuff]

Lee dust and ler lust? Lust likes, making the mysterious cool guy giggle /platonic

Tickle fic

Characters: Dust and Lust (not a ship)

Context: Killer has been annoying the hell out of Dust se he goes to Lust to have some calm and to relax, spoiler: he doesn't.

Btw I'm sorry for the long wait, i was not feeling very well these past few days, really didn't have the motivation to do anything even if I wanted to, so I'm only getting started now, still hope you'll enjoy it !

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Out of all the members of the gang, Killer was by far the most annoying, always talking, wanting to fight, moving, never letting the others breath... and today it was Dust he had chosen to be his victim, and since Dust really did not have the patience to deal with him, or else he would kill him, he simply decided to leave the castle and come back later.

As surprising as it may seem, his destination was Underlust. Not that he wanted to get laid, he just wanted some calm, and surprisingly Lust, who they called Sugar Plum, Plum for short, was pretty chill. He had his boundaries, respected the other's, wasn't overly dramatic and could have pretty good conversations with anyone. The good thing with working with the public was that he had a lot of social skills and could adapt to mostly anyone. So when Dust appeared by the door of his room, he greeted him with a warm smile.

- What is it for your service, dear ?

Plum would always give them sweet nicknames like that, and they never complained.

- Nothing, just needed some calm. Killer's pissing me off.

Plum chuckled a little.

- As always, well, make yourself at home.

He smiled, and watched from his desk as Dust crossed his room to go directly lay down on his bed, facing up. His room was heavily decorated with all sorts of posters, costume accessories, makeup brushes, and many more things, all in different purple and pink shades.

Plum got up to come next to Dust, sitting on the edge of his bed.

- So how was you day ? Apart from Killer, obviously.

Dust just shrugged.

- Boring.

- Nothing exciting ? And here I was waiting for some fun news..

- Nothing.

Short answers, Plum could tell his friend was grumpy. He always was.

Dust sighed, turning his back to face the wall. Plum looked at him, he couldn't let him be in a bad mood, what kind of friend didn't sheer up their pal ? Bad friends, and Plum wasn't a bad friend.

He turned to be right behind Dust, kneeling on the bed.

- I have a little French riddle for you, dear.

A mumble was heard from Dust, he was listening.

- What do you say when a French cat is stirring a pot ?

He asked moving his right hand at the same time to let it rest on Dust's side, making him flinch a little but he didn't chase him.

- I dunno ?

- A chat-touille.

Before Dust could process the answer he felt Plum's fingers digging in his side, making flinch and yelp as giggles quickly made their way out of his throat. He quickly grabbed Plum's hand to move it away but the skeleton in pink was quicker than him: he grabbed his arm with his left hand and blocked it against the wall in front of them. Another great thing with Plum's job: he knew how to hold someone so they won't move.

- I'm not finished, dear ~

He mischievously said, freeing his right hand.

- Well I don't want you to !

Objected Dust. But Plum obviously didn't listen to him, sitting closer to block him against the wall and slowly lifting the Dusty skeleton's shirt, feeling him tense and breather faster in anticipation.

- P-Plum wait-

He tried to beg but was cut by the feeling of a finger slowly tracing all the way up and down from his side to his ribs. Soon other fingers join the first one and started spidering ever so slowly all along his side. He used his only free hand, the one between him and the mattress, to try and muffle his giggles by pressing it on his mouth.

- You're so cute trying to hide like that the fact that you're just so ticklish.. ~

Plum teased, knowing he made him blush a bright purple. He kept on circling on his side, poking it from time to time, enjoying seeing Dust jolt each time, it was madly untertaining, and the sound of muffled giggles only encouraged him to keep going.

It was so soft, so slow, it was like torture to Dust, each time Plum gently spidered on his sides, going all the way to his tummy to circle his navel, he felt like it was too much and not enough at the same time. His tummy was shaking from his helpless giggles, making Plum chuckle sometimes, he was having fun at least.

- you know it is pretty rare working with people as sensitive as you, but it makes the work so much more fun.

- Sh-shuhut uhuhuhup !

He was so weak right now, he couldn't move, couldn't escape the wiggling fingers, couldn't use his magic without hurting Plum, which he didn't want to. He felt him scribble on his lower tummy right under the navel, and let out a squeak when Plum poked it, which he of course noticed and continued to circle around it, poking it every now and then. Dust was shaking all over his body. It was hell and heaven for him.

But what really signed up his death was when Plum grabbed one of his makeup brushes, the little one with really soft bristles that was just laying on the bed to softly brush his armpit, with his arm against the wall it was exposed just enough for the brush to get it. His giggles rose an octave as he blushed more.

- You're doing so well, such a nice little ticklish boy ~

He teased again, gently drawing little circles on his armpit for a good minute before going back down on his side.

- I'll kihihihill you.. !

He weakly threatened him.

- Not before I'm done with you.

He circled his way to his tummy once again, as if he wanted to cover every inch of his ticklish stomach.

- Tickle tickle, dear ~

He teasingly whispered in his ear, using the brush to tickle inside his navel, making him giggle and squeak helplessly. Tears were forming in his eyes, if he had known what awaited him he would have gone somewhere else, but it was to late now, and he was forced to endure this ticklish torment.

Finally, after five long minutes, Plum finally stopped, letting his friend regain his composure and letting go of his arm. Dust quickly put his shirt back in place and sat up straight, his arms around his belly as his attacker got up to put the brush back with the others.

- You know I really prefer you being all giggly than grumpy.

- Shut up !

Yelled Dust, hiding his blushing face under his hood, making Plum chuckle.

But he was right though, Dust WAS in a better mood, it felt good to giggle like that. So maybe it wasn't all that bad ? But even so, he would never admit it, he had his pride. At least what was left of it.

~ end ~

[agentartemus]

🥀🐞🎸 for Artemus! :D (Do you have a masterlist of characters anywhere, I wasn't sure who else I could ask for!)

Eeeee thank for asking!! I don't have an official masterlist, but the next best thing I got would be my ArtFight (here). I'd say the most plot significant characters are Artemus/Providence (the main man), Mercury, Axel, Adam, and Vanilla! Now the questions :D

🥀"How does your character deal with stressful situations? Is their fear response fight, flight, freeze or fawn?"

It honestly depends on what KIND of stress Artemus is going through. If it's just mild anxiety, he doesn't really do anything to relieve it besides doing more work. If it's PTSD, then he goes really quiet and zones out, and his hands start to shake. Usually in that scenario, if Cross and Maverick are there to help ground him, it doesn't get bad. If they aren't, then at some point he'll just leave without saying anything to anyone and sort of hide away.

For depression, he doesn't bed-rot like some folks, he actually works MORE. Whether it be taking extra hours on battle reports, obsessively cleaning the house, or simply going out (wonder why he's so sleep deprived all the time 🫠). Now in a dangerous situation, Artemus typically chooses to fight most of the time. But if the situation requires him to flee, he will (not without trying to give a few blows)

🐞"What does a perfect day look like for your oc? What do they do? Who do they see?"

As far as weather, Artemus LOVES a dry, breezy, overcast day that is cool in temperatures. The ultimate autumn day if you will. To be fair, any day that is cooler in temperature is a plus to him. His species is adapted for colder climates due to his home planet's sun being a young star.

What he likes to do, honestly just a relaxed workday is perfect for him. Whether it be running errands, doing a little bit of military work, or simply at home chores.

As far as who he enjoys to spend a perfect day with, his top choices would be his former Padawans->Lucas and Lilac, any of his closest clone troopers, or Vanilla (depending on the point in time).

🎸"What's your character's music taste like? Do they have one or two artists they play on repeat or do they have a varied and eclectic collection of music? Do they like mainstream artists or prefer underground musicians? What genres do they enjoy?"

Artemus's music taste is pretty much a mixing bowl. He likes to listen to anything he enjoys, but also what his valued people enjoy. He's not much of a hater for music. As far as artist he enjoys, whatever the Star Wars equivalent to the Beach Boys, Elvis, Meghan Trainor, Rob Zombie, and Mariah Carey are his favorites.

As far as genres, his favorites are opera/classical, oldies beach music, old school hip hop (courtesy of Vanilla), and elevator music. He also enjoys the occasional metal/rock.

THANK YOU AGAIN FOR ASKIIING 💕💕💕💕 FEEL FREE TO ASK MORE :DD

[littlefroginthegarden]

Sold to Heartsteel 1/24

its a liiiittle bit late but whatever... im trying to write an advents calendar fic, theres some buffer but ill write during the month so im also open to input if you have any good ideas :)

hope you enjoy!

Tags: semi-ironic adaptation of 'sold to one direction' trope so yeah theres obv selling involved, angst, fluff, friendship, romance, maybe smut, mlm, transmasc character, some transphobia but mostly just parents being shit but nothing explicit or slurs or stuff, yeah i think thats about it, ill update this if anything changes xoxo

Part 1

Hi, my name is Hwei and I’m a misunderstood artist. Well, that’s not exactly true. My Parents hate my art and they think it’s just a waste of time. But under the name DemonBrush I’m known all around the world, my art account just recently hit two million followers. Which didn’t help me at all in my real life. I’ve been 18 now for a few months but my parents still act like I’m 16. I haven’t finished school yet and I can’t move out because my anxiety has made working impossible so far. My parents don’t allow me to get therapy or meds and I’m on their insurance so there’s nothing I can do. I sigh and try to think about something else but looking out my small window into the dark December morning isn’t helping. I go and pull the curtains, turn on my fairy lights and sit at my small desk that is crammed between the bed and the heavy wooden dresser. 

My reflection stares at me in the mirror, dark shadows under my amethyst eyes, a sign that I slept terribly, once again. The nightmares wouldn’t leave me alone. I sigh and start doing my makeup, nothing bright, just some smudged dark eyeshadow and black eyeliner on my waterline. My mom was probably gonna complain again but I don’t care. Last week she told me “People might think you’re gay!” Yeah, sure mom. I mean, why do you think I have all these Heartsteel posters hanging in my room? Because I love their one song so much? But when she says "gay" she means "lesbian". She would have an aneurysm if I tried to explain to her that I’m trans. And then she would probably throw me out. As if she could read my thoughts, I hear her shouting from downstairs “Come down immediately, Hwa! I can hear that you’re up.”

Ugh.

I throw on a black oversized hoodie that matches my skinny jeans (also black) and put my dark juniper green hair in a messy bun before I run downstairs as quick as I can. Better not make mom wait, she’s awful enough as is.

When I enter the kitchen, I almost bump into a large man in a suit that is standing next to my mom.

“Oh fuck, sorry!” I quickly say, getting a death stare from my mom but for once she doesn’t even berate me for swearing. She just looks between me and this dude, who was wearing dark sunglasses (in December!) for some fucking reason.

“Who is this?” I ask after a few moments of awkward silence.

“My name is Mr. Mundo, nice to meet you, Hwa.” His voice fits his impressive stature perfectly.

My mother steps forward and puts her hand on my shoulder, looking at me more seriously than I have ever seen her. “You know that we haven’t had the easiest time since dad lost his job. And since you refuse to work and pay your share, we had no other choice.”

“What do you mean? What choice?” I ask, slowly starting to panic.

“You’ll go with Mr. Mundo, he has a job for you where you’ll work for six months. You’ll get a room and food and the money goes to pay back all the debt you owe us.”

“Debt? What do I owe you?”

“Darling, you've been living and eating here for free for 18 years!”

“This is insane!” I yell at her. “You’re selling me? You are a monster!”

“Selling? It’s just temporary honey, and it’s a decent job, don’t make it sound worse than it is!”

“You can’t do that, I’m an adult, you can’t force me!” At this point I’m full on panicking. This can’t be happening, it should just be another nightmare. But I know it’s real. My nightmares are way different.

“You are right and nobody is forcing you. But think about this, it would give you the perfect opportunity to get some good job experiences while at the same time helping out your family! Also –” she adds “if you don’t take this offer then you’ll have to pack your bags, we can’t pay for you any longer.”

“If you stayed off the booze you could.” I press through my teeth, anger winning over panic.

She just ignores it and tells me “Please Honey, think about it. If you go with Mr. Mundo at least you’ll have a roof and food. We just want what’s best for you! You’ll thank us in a few years, mark my words.” With this she turns around and leaves me alone in the kitchen with this absolute hunk of a man.

“Go pack your stuff, we leave in an hour.” He hands me a big suitcase before sinking down onto the washed-out red leather couch in the living room, turning the TV on, unfazed by all of this as if it was his daily job. Which it probably was.

Still in shock, I go back to my room and just stare at the mirror for a solid minute. I still haven’t processed what just happened but I start throwing my most important stuff into the suitcase. I have a lot of clothes but most of them are from my parents and I hate wearing them. So it’s not too difficult to fit all my favorite pieces into the suitcase, some skinny jeans, flowy tops and hoodies and of course accessories, I can’t leave my choker collection here. Then I go to my bed and from under the mattress I pull my binder. I put it under all the other things so it won’t be visible if my mom checks my suitcase. She would freak out. I gather the rest of the stuff, making sure I have my laptop, makeup and favorite books, and check the time. I still have 15 minutes left but at this point, the quicker I’m gone the better. I grab the heavy suitcase and try to carry it down the stairs. Two steps in I nearly slip and the suitcase crashes onto the step with a loud Thud. Before I’m even up I can hear heavy steps on the stairs.

Mr. Mundo grabs the suitcase without saying a word and carries it down. I awkwardly follow him, hoping my mom is distracted and hasn’t noticed the commotion. For once I seem to be lucky, she’s nowhere to be seen. At the door, Mr. Mundo turns around and asks me “Are you sure that you have everything? You won’t be able to come back here anytime soon.”

“Yeah I’m not planning on doing that anyways. Can we go?” I ask impatiently.

He doesn’t answer and just opens the door and walks down the driveway towards the black car with darkened windows that is waiting at the end of it. He puts my suitcase in the back of it with ease and opens the door in the back, gesturing for me to get in. I hesitate for a second, but when I can hear the front door of the house open again, I quickly get in before I can hear whatever my mother wants to tell me. He slams the door behind me and gets into the driver’s seat, which I can’t even see from back here because there’s a divider between the front and the back of the car. Like in a limousine. Or a cop car. It feels more like the latter, like I’m a prisoner.

The car rumbles to life and even though the windows are heavily tinted, I can see the shadows of trees racing past us. Where are we going?

[aspoonofsugar]

have you. heard of the fairy tale known as ‘the juniper tree’. it’s among the stories in the grimm brothers’ collection, and today while i was looking for people talking about oscar pine’s bandages, i.

what the crap.

fair warning, the juniper tree has depictions of child abuse, gore and death, but also has *checks notes* reincarnation, and all the children involved living at the end, as a bright spot if you choose to pursue it despite these factors

in. in any case. if you’re down for speculation, how do you think this might come into play

person that was talking about the juniper tree again; what if, right. oscar has bandages more as a symbol of the connection rather than it being something in his past, and it has more to do with his oncoming dynamic with the remaining members of jnpr, since ‘the juniper tree’ does include rebirth after loss

i’d be very interested if it does hint to oscar’s character specifically, of course, but also. there’s a multitude of ways it could be interpreted

heheheheho

Hi!

Sorry for the late reply.

Yes, I know about the Juniper Tree, but tbh I don't think it is referenced directly in RWBY... at least not yet, but it is definately a story I am keeping an eye out for ;)

That said, Oscar is not my top candidate to get the reference, but Jaune is tbh.

Team Juniper is Jaune's team and it lost a member. I know the fandom likes to see Oscar as JNR's fourth member and for symbolic purposes he is. However, I think the narrative is going rathe slowly when it comes to integrate Oscar into Juniper.

So far, RWBY is treated as a team and JNR as another team. Oscar is an important part of the group, but doesn't belong to any specific team. Rather he works with everyone and tries to step into the role of "Wizard". He is basically JNR's fourth member, but also isn't. If that makes sense. This also illustrates rather well the process of grieving JNR goes through and them slowly overcoming Pyrrha's loss.

I would also add that even if structurally Oscar "replaces" Pyrrha as our 8th main character, he doesn't have much to do with her. Like, he foils Penny much stronger, for example. Moreover, even if he is clearly a foil to Jaune, he is so far much more intertwined to Ruby's story.

In any case, JNPR is Jaune, Nora, Pyrrha and Ren. Pyrrha dies and the other 3 are left struggling with it. Jaune more than anyone else. This is why if RWBY intends to adapt the fairy tale in any form, I think it will be with him. I mean, we are even in a volume which centers around a tree :P

That said, I don't think the fairy tale will be adapted literally (if it is even referenced). Rather, it is probably going to be a thematic nod. Its main topic is after all the idea of death and rebirth. The Juniper's tree is able to resurrect the brother and the Ever After will probably regenerate Jaune's sense of self.

On a very extra note, which probably means nothing... the Juniper Tree's fairy tale takes elements from both Snowhite and Cinderella. This is funny because I think both Weiss and Cinder are gonna be especially important for Jaune's arc.

So, we have 2 different interpretations (both very loose of course and just headcanon by this point rather than meta-analysis):

The Juniper Tree represents JNPR's healing and resurrection through them "adopting" a Pine :P

The Juniper Tree represents Jaune's struggle with grief

Both can work, but also... the fairy tale may not mean anything at all :'')

That said, i think team JNPR being called after a tree is in itself interesting and meaningful. I am asking for @hamliet help, but I think in alchemy there is something called a Philosophical Tree, which is seen as a precursor of the Philosopher Stone:

Known to alchemists as the arbor philosophica, or philosophical tree, the tree of life stands for the opus alchymicum, the alchemical process regarded as a preliminary stage of the perfection to which alchemists aspire.

(Also, this is where we are in the story, as well :P the characters are going through a stage to refine themselves and going towards silver and gold)

Team RWBY is called after the philosopher stone (ruby = a stone) because they ARE the stone. They are all the ingredients and phases (black, white, yellow and red) that make up the final product. Team JNPR is then called after another way to define the process, which is the philosophical tree. They are just as important and are going through the same refinement journey. This may also be why Ren and Nora especially are so linked to flowers, which often accompany the process and the tree itself. Ren is the lotus and Nora is a pink flower. Finally, this team is welcoming Oscar Pine (pine = the tree).

So, we have:

Team RWBY with Ruby > the stone

Team JN(P)R with an innested Pine > the tree

Two ways to illustrate the alchemical process.

Thank you for your ask!

[everlastiingiimmortals]

You said ask questions and THUSLY I SHALL >:D 1) How do you personally see Lan's view on those who stride in their path? Are they capable of any form of feelings for their people (if they are indifferent like Qlipoth or removed from understanding like Yaoshi OR can tangentially understand human feelings in an unnatural self serving way like Aha) or have all former traces of who they were been erased and consumed by the HUNT itself?

2) We know Aeons can "die" by either being assimilated by another or being killed etc. But do you think there is a possibility that even Aeons aren't invulnerable towards the concept of "corruption" or "existential destruction"? For example: Lan's perpetual instinct to hunt is fueled indirectly by the continued existence of stellarons, Yaoshi's abominations, Nanook etc. But, what were to happen to them if there is nothing else left to hunt (as improbably as it may seem)? People can adapt and change to times of peace. But could they? Is it even possible?

About Lan. Always accepting! | @grislyintentions

HI YES FINALLY GETTING TO THESE THINGS I ASKED FOR A HOT MINUTE AGO!!

So to address the first question: Lan's view of people who stride on THEIR path and Lan's view on the Xianzhou are very distinct and must be separated. Take the Galaxy Rangers, for example— they are more or less to Lan what the Annihilation Gang is to Nanook. They may follow Lan's philosophies or worship THEM but it doesn't mean Lan is particularly invested in them, unless an exceptional Ranger attracts THEIR attention. I cannot say that any feelings tied to THEIR past has been erased, because otherwise THEY would not invest so much into the Xianzhou Alliance, but no doubt these feelings have been warped and exaggerated to certain extremes upon Lan's ascension to Aeonhood. THEY care as far as investment goes, ensuring the survival of the Hunt and its goals, and on that front you could probably say THEY are closest to Aha or Nous in terms of care; very self-serving, but due to the nature of the Xianzhou striding so closely along the Path of the Hunt, the Alliance benefits from THEIR self-interest so it doesn't necessarily seem all self-interested. To say that Lan can hold compassion for any one individual feels... difficult. Loyalty? Yes. Favoritism? Certainly, that's how the Arbiter-Generals came to be as they are now in the first place. I think my favorite way the extent of Lan's "care" has been described by anyone is: Lan is not prone to possessiveness; however, THEY do not cede what is THEIRS. And the Xianzhou, particularly the Arbiter-Generals, are THEIRS. To that extent, THEY will invest as much as THEY can into THEIR generals that give THEM voice.

Onto the second: I've thought about this a lot, and I've actually alluded to it I believe in a prior thread with Starry's Luocha. I am fully of the belief that when there is no longer anything to hunt — not if, when, no matter how distant that future may be — Lan will cease to exist. The Path of the Hunt will remain open, of course, as a Path's concept never ends with the Aeon's death or destruction, but THEY will most certainly die as THEIR purpose becomes extinguished. I don't imagine it to be a very spectacular incident, like with Tayzzyronth's death, unless Lan is somehow killed. Rather, I see it as THEM steadily growing weaker until they fade out of relevance entirely, fully vanishing once the last prey has been hunted. It's an ironically peaceful end of existence to something so destructive and ruthless.

[dronekitty]

Thanks for the reblog!

Here's a question for ya

If you got dronified or could drone someone what do you prefer

A. Body suit and visor. A classic combo, one to show off every curve your body has. Plus really easy to tell if anything changes with you. Your choice from a semi transparent visor where you can vaguely see the eyes of the victim drone or a full face helmet with a screen!

B. Mechanical suit and helmet

A bit more fun, maybe it was once science equipment now corrupted by an AI to be a prison for a human, forced to be lost in lust as their reprogrammed into the suit to be a servant to their overlord ai. On the outside it looks like a robot, but inside it's a human! Maybe combine it with the body suit for once the reprograming is finished they can be free and someone else can have a turn!

3. Just a visor. Sort of a possession thing like a CRT TV spider thing latches on to someone's head and they try their best to pull it off, but you can see on the screen how far the mind takeover is taking, and the closer the progress bar gets to 100 percent the less the person struggles. Until boom, 100% and a new face appears on the screen, in control of the body now!

Ui, thanks so much for such a detailed Ask (๑/////๑" )

I love all of these options very, very much. I'd honestly take/use all of them, no hesitation.

the short answer: A and 3/C are probably my favorite combined I must say, but maybe I'm just helplessly in love with the concept of progress bars, the slow drain on will and resistance and the bodysuits >////<

A is of course the long term classic, but is generally better off being combined with something else. But a full face helmet is a must for me personally.

And B as a concept I had completely overlooked for a long time until recently, until I started obsessing about Mechs (the Lancer RPG does that to people, I've heard). So yeah, already had something similar in mind with mechs

C/3 is of course one of my favorites, probably because of the possession aspect as well. It's also always nice when the Visor ends up changing or modifying the body to a certain degree, adjusting it to fit the Machine's vision and needs. After all the body is Its now and It gets to do with it what It wants.

I know you didn't mentioned it here, but I feel like Hacking Ports and Cybernetic modifications really deserve an honorable mention, goes well with any method mentioned here. And they are always nice touch, no matter if they were added after the process to make the Unit better suited and adapted or the person had them beforehand and gets them corrupted repurposed in the process.

Writing this entire thing really gave me some ideas, thanks alot again I have some stuff to sketch now ^^

Also what do you mean " If I could drone someone", I already caught 2 Cuties with gasmasks, my world domination plans are fully in motion ¬‿¬ (though this ask gave me some nice inspirations of how to go at it now)

[xarrixii]

to those of inquiry,

my introduction

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hello, fellow traveler of the hellscape that is this website (or app, if you happen to be on your phone using such)

my name is @xarrixii, and i am better known as "arri"

i have a separate blog from this one designed for reblogging other peoples' work. if that's something you're more interested in (my taste in writing), then i suggest you visit @the-arrikive

masterlists a long way under the divider

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i have come from a land not so far away (planet earth) to share the nonsensical nonsense of my brain (my writing).

i write both longer, novel-like stories and responses to writing prompts when i'm feeling it (feel free to send me one, if you'd like). my brain is random, though, so i can't guarantee i'll get something out right away.

i am irregular. do not expect something like weekly uploads. you get a story when i remember to post one and have one available. i shall not rush the accidentally filled plotholes genius i breed.

sometimes i make edits. i've made a lot of edits recently, like layout/ease of access and also wording on some of the earlier chapters. (already read chapter one of cinder? i changed the beginning because i hated it and i personally would put down the book immediately if i'd found it in the library)

i still hate the first sentence but honestly, the noggin can't think of anything better so we'll cry about it later

also, grammarly hates me because i don't like its grammar rules and i don't capitalize my "i"s when i'm casually speaking. i hate grammarly because some of its suggestions are stupid. i just don't want to turn it back on every time i eventually end up needing it.

less important: i am cisgender. i identify with she/her, but i could really care less (not quite sure that counts as any). i am pansexual. (frying pans don't have enough personality, don't ask about them)

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what i like reading:

i love, love love love love love love love it when a book focuses on its characters. there's nothing wrong with taking in the fantasy world they built for the people to live in, i'm all for that as well. it's just a trend i see that the more a book focuses on following its plot, the less it focuses on the people riding out that plot.

i'm a firm believer in characters "building a plot" based around their actions, even if that means an author built a plot and then designed the perfect character for enacting it.

also, i grew up a gacha kid (gacha studio/life/club). that means i'm familiar with cliches and love it when people throw them on their heel. it's also (unfortunately) made me enjoy love stories less (which makes things difficult since books that focus on characters almost always have some love plot that works out).

i'll read a hero x villain, sure. but sometimes i might think up the ending where they don't love each other (platonic and rival)

ask me any time about what i enjoy reading if i've confused you (it happens a lot).

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what i like writing:

this one's a lot simpler, i like writing what i like reading. because if i wouldn't read it later, why would anyone else?

due to me being cringe once upon a time, i spent several years writing out roleplays (yes, i was the edgy roblox kid too) with some friends, so anything super long i write for a very long time from now will be my personal adaptation of something that's already existed before

writing prompts are the truest test of my creative abilities, though. making up new characters, a new environment, and a new plot based on the whims of a few sentences from time to time is what keeps my rewrites from being copy-pastes.

that also just keeps it fun for the friends who wrote it with me once and will read it from my fingers typing it again

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also to note, i'm not afraid of writing about blood, gore, violence, and the like, and i'm also insensitive to what all needs to be tagged, so any help with that goes a long way

most of my writing prompts will be written with non-binary characters

if you find me fucking up pronouns please notify me where i diddled it up thank you!!

so about being a gacha kid

i suck at drawing. the physical descriptions of my characters are laid out in gacha apps, and yes i am mildly embarrassed about it. but putting their designs down somewhere means i have something reliable to refer to while writing.

thou shalt not judge me for it.

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hobbies

writing. i guess a bit obviously. i also still enjoy playing video games and listening to music. i like watching horror games, but can't bring myself to play them. i also make a lot of jokes about violence. i mean a lot. but i know when to take something seriously.

favorite roblox games including: entry point, scp: site roleplay, funky friday, robeats, 3008

i also play genshin impact occasionally, and no i'm not elaborating.

if you couldn't tell by now, i talk too much. moving on:

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masterlists

hey, me! i know you're reading this, because i know you're the most likely suspect for looking for these links all the time.

"Cinder" Masterlist writing prompts

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looking for more? ask me! send me prompts! FILL MY INBOX!!!

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

           Shinomiya Reina, a 25 year old daughter of Freyr.            She is a piercer at Marimo Ink.

FC NAME/GROUP: miyawaki sakura / le sserafim CHARACTER NAME: shinomiya reina AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 25 / october 15 1998 PLACE OF BIRTH: oosaka, japan OCCUPATION: piercer at marimo ink HEIGHT: 163cm / 5'4" DEFINING FEATURES: dyed blond hair; faint scars on her knuckles that she covered up with flower tattoos, piercings on both ears, bottom lip, tongue and belly button; tattoos around her arms and torso.

PERSONALITY: with a carefree bordering on inconsequential energy, not really seeming to be bothered by most if not all things in life, reina has a more easygoing personality with a teasing striek and therefore being able to get along with most if not all kind of people. she's also rather adaptable, not seeming to be able to get frustrated regardless of how much things don't go her way or when she doesn't get things that she wants, also partially because of her more pragmatic side that simply accepts that things that must be done will be done and impossible things are impossible; that sometimes giving her the impression of someone very detached, bordering on apathetic towards things and even people around her. however, she's still enable/encourage any and everyone who comes to her asking for advice and/or if they should do this or that thing, coming back full circle to her carefree nature and just i do what i want so why shouldn't you do too sort of person.

   and, well, that end is a little more than an impression considering she does feel rather detached from the people around her, almost being unable to feel like she genuinely fits in whenever she goes since she never felt like that in the (admittedly few) places that she has been; simply being the type that has a lot of friends but few (if any) are people that she genuinely cares for and would put above her own needs and wants. reina doesn't necessarily keeps things about herself to herself, but won't talk about them unless prompted, however it might feel like she's telling stories of someone else, as if she was more of an witness than an active participant. she also used to have a much worse temper that mellowed down as she matured, though she still carries the scars of those times and will still break someone's nose if they tempt her enough.

   reina is a little of a flirt— that playful type that doesn't really mean it and is doing it more for the sake of getting a reaction from the other person than actually trying to pursue anything. she also isn't necessarily against casual sort of arrangements, but considering how she vehemently rejects any inheritance that she might've gotten from her father and how he walked away from her and her mother, she doesn't let herself indulge too much into them and would rather just pursue a proper relationship.

HISTORY: [tw: bullying, violence, death]

there are three (3) lessons that life taught reina so far.

lesson number one (1): do not fall for pretty faces.

   because mom did and that ended up with her carrying a child she didn't want, then getting kicked out of the family not long after. japan isn't a kind place for single mothers; neither is korea, however there were only so many times that you and your mother could take of her coming to school and bow her head because you picked yet another fight with someone who said something mean about your hair or the way you spoke. your mother is tired of having to raise a child with no support, juggling two jobs to make sure you two stay afloat and you're tired of people pointing faults at her for your raising as if they aren't the one with bad manners, talking shit about things they don't know anything about.

   there's an old friend in seoul, your mom says one day, offering a job that pays a little better and the weather is supposed to be a little nicer; there are a lot of great options for school and korean shouldn't be too hard to learn, even more so when it'll be a language that they'll be exposed a lot. she also says that a change of environment might be good, that you might finally be able to make some friends without the reputation of having broken someone's teeth at the age of fourteen because they looked at you weird — you don't have the courage to tell her that it was because they said something about her, questioning her character and her abilities as a mother. it'll be good, yeah? she holds your hand with so much hope and exhaustion in her eyes that you don't have the courage to say no; not that you would considering you had nothing in japan but resentment anyway.

   she never talks about your dad, not really, and after the first time that you tried to bring the subject up — because your school was organizing an event for father's day and it made her curious, not necessarily yearning, but curious — and the only thing that she had to say was don't fall for pretty faces, reina, they'll only ruin you with this weird look on her face, an expression that was between resentment and longing, you decide that it isn't really worth it.

   there's one time though— mom is doing first aid to your scraped knuckles, a soft tut that you're too young to have scars like that, but there's also a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, small and amused. you don't seem like your father's daughter, she says like it's a good thing or maybe it's because she's reminiscing something; either way you simply huff because i'm your daughter, you say like this nullifies who your dad is and that only makes mom smile a little wider.

lesson number two (2): do not pick up fights you can't win (and that fists aren't the only way to fight).

   not only physically (because you can win most of those anyway) but also socially. you learn the hard way to not punch someone whose parents donate a lot to the school and/or have a prestigious job in society— or you should at least beat them up enough that they won't have the courage to tell on you to their parents or the teachers. japan wasn't a kind place for the daughter of a single mother; neither is korea— you still hear whispers about your broken korean, the character of your mother, speculations about the reason you had to move out in the middle of the school year, the reason why your nose looks so ugly. you still have your belongings messed with and cold milk spilled on your head.

do not pick up fights you can't win because losing leaves a bitter aftertaste in your mouth, because the floor that you and your mom press your foreheads on as you apologize is freezing, because that's what your mother tells you when she grits her teeth and swallows down her pride because they don't have the money to move out again, because you two are hanging on a thin thread in this new country and coming back to japan isn't really an option.

   maybe your pretty face is the only good thing he has left for you, your mom comments without specifying who this he is but you know anyway. then you grit your teeth while swallowing down your temper and play on your pretty privilege instead; that's how you survive the rest of high school.

lesson number three (3): no one will care for yourself besides yourself.

   well, there was mom, but then she dies all of a sudden and now you're all alone.

   the world seems to be in the way to its end with how hard is the downpour outside while you pick up your mother's bones after the cremation; it was hard to find a funeral home that made the ceremony under japanese traditions but your mom's friend helped. your japanese family came all the way from japan for her funeral but you refuse to let them come in and participate; were tempted to kick them out of the ceremony as well however not even yourself was that petty. besides they seem regretful enough while promising that they'd never leave you alone again, that they'd do things properly this time.

   rationally you know that punching an old lady, even more so when she's your grandmother, is going to land you straight on jail, but you almost forget lesson number two when she starts talking about how they'd go back to japan with your mom and you; when she looks at the tattoos on your hands and arms and tuts, saying how it's a pity that you tainted your body in that way but nothing that long sleeves won't resolve, and they'd get the ones on your knuckles removed with treatment, the piercings on your face being able to be removed without much struggle either and a list of other things that at that point you aren't listening anymore; when she apologizes with a condescending sigh that she was too late, that she should've picked you up sooner because then you would've been raised "right".

   the rain outside gets even worse. there's an argument when you throw water at grandma's face in lieu of breaking her nose. you tell them to fuck off if they don't you want to throw the glass in your hand on them as well. they leave.

   still you aren't left alone; there's another person who seemed to be watching the whole spectacle, someone that you vaguely recognize that was also at mom''s tsuya. they offer their condolences that are easily brushed off, then they offer a place to start anew— a place away from all of this, all of the things that you struggled with so much so far. you don't accept the offer right away, not really, but in that moment the rain finally seems to give in, even if just a little.

PANTHEON: norse  CHILD OF: freyr POWERS: 

+ weather manipulation: through her emotions, when felt strongly, she can manipulate the weather — i.e. causing a downpour when upset, and prompting a sunny day when happy.

+ enhanced charm: due to her affinity to physical forms of affection combined with her easygoing personality, she does end up attracting more people to her than an average person is able to.

STRENGTHS: is very adaptable to the environment and people around her; always aims to excel in whatever she puts herself to do and has a good control over her emotions so usually when she ends up changing the weather it's on purpose. WEAKNESSES: so pragmatic that she can feel detached (bordering on apathetic) to the people around her; will always prioritize herself over other people and her carefree/teasing nature can rub off some people the wrong way.