#being on a level of sameness is. unspeakably good.

[vexwerewolf]

I’m suddenly getting swathes of Lancer hate across my feed… Has something happened in the fandom? “Union is ______ how could they paint them as even remotely good. They allow _____, and I hate the devs they are ______. The whole thing is just 40k with communist veneer”.

Like am I taking crazy pills…? I thought that all of the problems were literally like right there on the tin “we are a utopia in progress! We will obtain it by any means possible even if it means being everything we say we are not/fighting against. As the player you decide what is right. How much will you ignore for someone else’s idea of utopia?” Like doesn’t it mean all the tools to actually change are there and that is the HOPE aspect of all of this?

(Sorry if this in incoherent grammar is a weak point and I pulled something in my back simply standing up. Now I am sad and crook backed in spasmodic pain)

This isn't an argument I feel super enthusiastic about stepping into, because it gets the most annoying sort of people in your mentions eager to maliciously misrepresent what you say.

However, yeah, there are some pretty terrible readings of Union floating around. I'd invoke "media literacy" because think that a lot of this comes from people not really holistically engaging with the fictional future history of Lancer, but also from a sort of dogmatic purism that requires future societies to be flawless, else they're irredeemable.

It is important to note that ThirdComm is the direct descendant of two highly imperfect societies. FirstComm was formed as a response to the Three Great Traumas of discovering the Massif Vaults (and thus that they were the inheritors of a fallen world), the wars over the Massif Vaults, and the discovery of the lost colonies, all of which collectively showed humanity how close it had come to total extinction.

FirstComm decided that it had a responsibility to ensure that humanity never risked extinction again. It manifested this by trying to colonize every habitable planet it could find, pumping out ship after ship to seed the cosmos with as much human life as it possibly could. This led to problems when it encountered civilizations like the Karrakin Federation and the Aun, who had been carrying humanity's torch just fine by themselves, thank you very much.

SecComm was an Anthrochauvinist fascist state. The book defines it thusly:

We can see a lot of Anthrochauvinist historical romanticism in the mech naming schemes of Harrison Armory, SSC and IPS-N - the fact that Harrison Armory names its mechs after great military leaders of pre-Fall Earth history, IPS-N does the same with naval figures, and SSC uses the names of Earth animals. Even the GMS Everest is named for a mountain on Earth. It's very Cradle-centric.

Anthrochauvinism was, to be clear, largely just an excuse for colonialism and hegemony. Atrocities could easily be justified under by stating that whoever they're being committed against were a threat to the Continuance of Humanity - a term that SecComm got to define.

It's also at this point that we have to zoom in from broad sociopolitical points to address one very specific piece of history: the New Prosperity Agreement. This was signed to prevent the outbreak of a Second Union-Karrakin War, and mandated that the Karrakin Houses would maintain privileged levels of autonomy within Union, and that they would be granted colonial rights to the entire Dawnline Shore. This agreement, struck in 3007u, basically defines much of the current political situation today.

ThirdComm was a final and inevitable reaction to the atrocities, abuses and excesses of SecComm. The unspeakable horrors of Hercynia were the spark, but I need to stress how little Hercynia actually mattered in the larger Revolution - at the start of NRfaW, it's explicitly stated that almost nobody in the galaxy even knows where it is, let alone what happened there. The Revolution was a generalized response to SecComm's tyranny, with no single rallying cry.

The Revolution might also have failed entirely, but for a critical error by Harrison Armory: pissing off the Karrakin Trade Baronies. After getting kicked off Cradle, the Anthrochauvinist Party organised a fleet at Ras Shamra to try and retake Cradle. Simultaneously, however, they were attempting to secure protectorate agreements to steal worlds in the Dawnline Shore out from under the KTB. Putting these two together and making five, the KTB assumed that the fleet was pointed at Karrakis, and started the First Interest War.

The First Interest War initially favoured the KTB. They smashed the fleet above Ras Shamra and simultaneously conquered the moon of Creighton in the Dawnline Shore. However, they underestimated just how ruthless Harrison I was - he "retook" Creighton by relativistic bombardment, and then conquered four of the 12 worlds of the Dawnline Shore with mechanised chassis, a technology the KTB had not adopted and had no counter for.

To prevent further loss of life, Union was eventually forced to broker a peace agreement that saw Harrison I handing himself over to Union justice in return for Harrison Armory's continued sovereignty, and the KTB joining Union as a full member state.

So, with that historical context out of the way, let me get to the second part of this absurd essay I'm writing.

Third Committee Union isn't a civilization that arose from whole cloth. It's shaped by five thousand years of Union history, six thousand years of post-Fall history, and six thousand years of pre-Fall history before that. It is, ultimately, an extremely well-thought-out and well-worldbuilt fictional polity, in that all of its imperfections come from traceable root causes in its history.

Why does ThirdComm permit the abuses of the KTB? Because to stop them, it would likely have to go to war, and such a war would butcher billions. Worse, to do so, it would probably have to ally with Harrison Armory and make horrific concessions.

Why does ThirdComm permit the expansionism and cryptochauvinism of the Armory? Because to stop them, it would likely have to go to war, and such a war would butcher billions. Worse, to do so, it would probably have to ally with the KTB and make horrific concessions.

Nobody in CentComm likes that Harrison Armory are empire-building expansionists. Nobody in CentComm likes that the KTB has a hereditary nobility and enforces blockades against planets that rebel against it. The problem is that ThirdComm is, in historical terms, still relatively new. They've been around five hundred years, and compared to the 1600 years that SecComm was around and the 2800 years FirstComm existed for, that's not very much.

ThirdComm is attempting to decouple itself from the Cradle-first politics of its predecessor, and to amend the many, many atrocities committed in the name of Humanity. It is not easy to do any of these things. SecComm was defined almost entirely by the fact that if it didn't like what you were doing, it would send in the military as a first response. Every time ThirdComm chooses to do the same, its legitimacy erodes, because the mission of ThirdComm is to prove that diverse, vibrant and compassionate human civilization can exist without devolving into war and bloodshed. ThirdComm always tries diplomacy as a first response because if it doesn't, millions of people could die.

[vaguely-concerned]

it probably says something either sad or deeply unfortunate about me as a person, but I'm darkly amused to see some people react to the reveal of the ultimate permeability of souls in tlt as a triumphant thing -- the "you can't take 'loved' away!!!" side of it all -- when my first reaction was such an immediate wave of 'oh, oh so this is why this series is horror, I truly understand now' distress haha. ngl the final confirmation of the self not being inviolable in the deepest way freaks me the fuck out far more than any moment of body horror in the series has managed. (these two elements are of course the two sides of one thematic coin; it's about the horror of our bodies and minds and selves not being inviolable things, and about the effect of violence on them on so many different levels. violence psychological and interpersonal, physical, subtextually sexual, emotional, medical, political, a whole unlovely smörgåsbord of indignity and violation a person can be exposed to, and on a broader scale the spectrum of violence colonialism wields). The world and other people being capable of leaving indelible marks on us for good or ill through their presence in our lives is of course a pretty self-evident demonstrable truth in the real world, but somehow having it be proven metaphysically just uh. Fucks me up! 

It also drives home to me just how perfectly Muir has captured the dilemma at the heart of human connection and intimacy: the fact that the thing that gives us life and meaning is also capable of harming us so deeply. the same thing that can be so beautiful — even in a bittersweet, violently transformative form like with the creation of Paul — when done mutually and consensually and compassionately, is the same process that means someone like John can touch someone else's soul and 'after he's put his fingers on something, you'll never find anyone else's fingerprints on it; too much noise'. I think the text itself — the whole series, because to me this is what it is ultimately about, this tension between individuation/self vs. love/connection/enmeshment — is far more ambivalent in its treatment of it than saying it’s inherently a good thing or inherently a bad thing. The only thing it says for sure is that it is always a thing, that thinking you’re ever getting away from it is the height of futility, and that through being alive (or even through being dead lol) it is something you have to engage with in some way no matter what. Contact with other people is deeply necessary — without it we sicken and die. it can be the most beautiful and meaningful thing in a human life, and the most unspeakably horrific. All of these people are searching for some way to be whole, whether in total self-contained sufficiency on their own or in melding with someone else as their ‘other half’, and stumbling around in the dark they reach for each other and score deep wounds into the thing they’re trying to touch even when they don’t mean to. Taken to horrific extremes with the form of lyctorhood John guided his disciples to when they were ‘children — playing in the reflections of stars in a pool of water, thinking it was space’, because while people hurt each other all the time with differing levels of intentionality behind it, what John did was deliberate. It weaponizes the misapprehension of what closeness must be and destroys everyone involved in the process… and all because it leaves John the one sun their ruined lives have left to orbit around, because that’s the closest thing his soul will allow to connection. He doesn’t understand that to truly touch something you have to truly let it touch you back, and then wonders why he’s never satisfied.   

‘The horrors of love’ has been memed to death, I know, but… yeah. That is what it is, isn’t it.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Also don't think anyone has said this (thats a joke) but like, art styles aside:

The animation, expressions, movement, everything of ATSV is IMPECCABLE.

Like insanely, ridiculously, almost mind bogglingly good.

[This is a MEDIUM length post]

The main strength is the Emotion -

In terms of animation, the range of emotions Miguel is capable of expressing is like... crazy good. Gwen's emotions ARE UNSPEAKABLY IMPRESSIVE.

LIKE...ANIMATING HER FUCKING BREATHING???? AND BLINKS!! AS AN EMOTIONAL CUE. HELLO???!!

And the movie hinges on this - almost every scene has an emotional cue that HAS to hit. Whether is Jess's looks of hesitation or Peter B.'s looks of horror.

And this may seem like the most ridiculous comparison ever made but like...

The Bee Movie and Across the Spider-Verse came out FIFTEEN YEARS APART.

THE BEE MOVIE...THIS MONSTRASITY that has plagued humankind - was made less than two decades from THIS:

The fact that we progressed that far as a society (pun intended) in that short of a time will never not baffle me.

I genuinely cannot name any other animated movie that:

Has multiple styles throughout the duration

Can seamlessly change styles without the viewer immediately noticing (like Gwen returning to her universe)

Show two or more animation styles on screen at the same time (and no, Roger Rabbit and Space Jam don't count - that's half live action lol)

Just off the top of my head - ATSV shows up to three styles in one scene: I'm mainly thinking of the scene that shows Hobie (customized - style 1), Peter B. (standard - style 2), and Miguel (a light stylized - style 3).

It can be brought to four if you want to count Miles/Gwen, though their style isn't visible.

I can think of a couple scenes that genuinely blew me away in terms of animation -

One being Rio's 'What-EVER?!' because of the little stance correction and head bob she does, because it's such a natural thing to do. And it adds so much to an already perfect line.

It's something someone would genuinely do IRL without even noticing.

Another I LOVE is Pavitr and Hobie roughhousing.

Like, I can't yell about these five seconds of animation more.

It's SO fluid it looks like Motion-Capture and I left the theatre googling is any Mo-Cap was used in the movie (and from what I can tell - no, it's all original animation).

The way Pavitr falls to the side and bumps them - This not only being a natural reaction to Hobie and his weight, but it also LOOKS natural. So much so you can see it affect Hobie's model too. The movement has kinetic energy on both models -

Which is AMAZING CONSIDERING THEY'RE ANIMATED ON LIKE FOUR DIFFERENT TIMES.

In this shot alone, there's the guitar, vest, AND Hobie, all of which have their own animation rules. Plus the outline on his guitar AND him. And then there PAVI too, who's running at a higher frame rate, touching and interacting with Hobie.

So much so that Hobie's model nearly wraps himself around Pavi. Pavi's hair is moving, Hobie's guitar is moving, there's movement in the background - and it looks GREAT.

PLUS THE CAMERA IS MOVING AND GOSTLING. IT'S NOT A STATIC SHOT. The models and camera are moving AS IF THEY'RE REAL when they're not.

That's - My..I CAN EVEN COMPUTE THAT.

But by far, I think the range of expression used on Miguel is like... Chef's kiss.

(of course I was gonna trick you into reading another post about Miguel. Uh-huh that's what's about to happen)

Like... are you kidding me?

NAH DEADASS ARE YOU KIDDING ME?????

The whole later half of the movie hinges on Miguel looking buckwild crazy insane and they NAIL that. And like-

Oh my god what the actual fuck

?????????????????????????? I........ I have nothing to add. After that picture......Nah... LMAOOO

(left: actual photo of Moche watching this happen)

But Anyway chile, This movie is like.. genuinely a modern marvel.

If Marvel gave Tim Gunn 4 billion dollars and five years, whatever live-action rendition he would have made would not even compare to ATSV on any conceivable level - that's how good it is so jot that down.

And like...don't even get me started on Hobie..his design..his representation...girl I will start crying in this Arby's do not play with me

I just felt that needed to be said.

you get what I'm saying yall know what I mean iight coo

Here's a picture of Hobie to cleanse your palette.

Bye.

[hockeymenarehot]

"Prove it." feat. Bill Kaulitz

bill kaulitz x fem!reader

warnings: smut, riding, p in v, unprotected, hinted inexperienced reader, innocent? reader, corruption kink, degradation, name calling (slut), semi-public sex (nobody hears you two), outdoor sex, fem masturbation, implied oral at the end, not proofread i got lazy, let me know if I missed anything!

you're wearing a dress in this, here's the inspo pic: [pinterest link]

summary: bill kaulitz is known for being the leader of a garage band popular in your small town. he's always piqued your interest, and your friend is able to get you into one of his shows. problem is, he's way hotter than you imagined.

wc: 2.1k

You've always lived in a small, relatively quiet town. You're the "girl next door" type, always willing to help those in need, putting others before yourself. But you do carry your flaws, one of those being your insatiable appetite for the bad boys. One specific bad boy has recently caught your eye, and your lust and desire for him is becoming almost unbearable.

Bill Kaulitz, the man every father in your town knows to keep his daughter away from. He's the leader of his own garage band, Tokio Hotel. Him and his band are the only thing disrupting the peace in your quiet little town, and you find him and his black eyeliner unspeakably hot. You love how he breaks the rules, but what you really want him to break is you.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" you almost whisper. "Completely positive." says your best friend before she grabs your arm, dragging you to her room. Your best friend had just revealed to you that she knew where your favorite band, Tokio Hotel, was playing tonight. They don't give the location out to just anybody, and they typically play in relatively secluded areas, only making a true show of themselves when they want to get caught and chased for the adrenaline. Tonight they just wanted to play, and your best friend knew the address. "But what if he sees me?" you exclaim, still being practically dragged up the stairs. "That's the whole point, and also why I'm here to make you look as hot as possible. Honestly I'm doing you a huge favor." "But I don't own anything that's-" you trail off as the two of you enter your bedroom, and your eyes widen as you see the skimpy dress laid out on your bed. "Oh no no no, this is not happening!" "Why not? You're already smokin', you just need something to show it off! Plus, if you're serious about this, you need something to grab his attention. Now put that dress on and sit down so I can do your hair and makeup." You contemplate for a second, weighing the outcome of your decisions, before you decide that you've been abiding by the rules for far too long now. If you wanted Bill to notice you at all, you needed to bring yourself up to his level. So, you grab the dress before motioning for your friend to turn around.

The dress was a little bit tight around your waist, but you assumed it was to accentuate your curves. It sure as hell did the job though. The dress was perfect, a cute black and white dress that screamed "I'm sweet and innocent" and "Fuck me" all at the same time. As you stared in awe into the mirror, your friend let out a small giggle "I told you it would look great on you. But also we don't have much time, hurry and sit down so I can finish you up." You glared at her for her tone, but complied and sat down.

It took around 2 hours for her to do your makeup and hair, finishing with a glittery yet smokey makeup look and cute updo. Your overall outfit was very you, but also super sexy. Before you knew it, your friend was dragging your arm again, except this time you were being drug away out the door and to her car.

You and your friend had been in the car for 45 minutes, blasting music to try and ease your nerves. You were admittedly very fidgety, your main worry being rejected or not noticed at all. Hell, what if he ignored you? If that happened, you were sure you would buy the next flight to the other side of the country. "Hey," your friend finally spoke up, "You're shaking the entire car, ease up, won't you? You look amazing, he's going to notice you, trust me." "And if he doesn't?" She gives you a quick smile "He will."

After an hour in the car you finally pulled into a small grassy lot in the middle of the woods, where there were about 30 other cars and a bonfire lit in the distance. You could already hear the blasting of music. Your friend pulled into a parking spot, well more like made her own, and you two got out and started walking towards the crowd of people and the fire. You kept trying to pull your dress down, it seemed to have a mind of its own and kept riding up your thigh as you walked. Your friend grabbed your hand, "The more skin, the better. Trust me." and gave you a wink. You two entered the crowd of people, and the music rung in your ears. The smell of alcohol was pungent. It wasn't long before your friend saw somebody she knew, and she said a quick "I'll be right back" and darting off before you could complain. You stood there for a second, before deciding that you definitely didn't come all this way for nothing, and you were no longer going to be a pussy. You elbowed your way through the crowd, getting some rude glares and a couple "watch where your fucking going"'s before you finally reached him. It was your first time really, truly seeing him. Him and his band were surrounded by people, and to be honest, his music was amazing live. It didn't compare to the SoundCloud quality you were used to. You were able to get a front spot, unbearably close to him. You could practically smell him. Standing there for a while, you were able to take in the full sight of him. He was wearing tight skinny jeans, a black & red shirt, and a black leather jacket. His spiky hair was perfect, you had to stop yourself from taking a couple more steps to reach out and touch it.

You had been full staring at this man for a while before he glanced over at you, and you locked eyes with him. You swear you could actually feel your heart pound against your ribcage as he looked you up and down like you were his next meal. He gave you a subtle smirk before continuing his song. You were still staring at him, your face heating up. Except this time you weren't imaging how soft his hair would be to comb through, rather how nice it would feel to pull and tug on it while he ate you out. You could feel yourself becoming wetter and wetter in his presence, and the dull ache forming in your stomach was becoming more and more unbearable. You knew you couldn't go on like this, you might actually explode. You quickly shifted around and sped walk through the crowd again, making a break for the woods, trying to find the tallest tree to hide behind.

You honestly couldn't help it, he was just too fine. If you really thought about it, the predicament you were currently in was totally his fault. Your fingers were knuckle deep in your pussy, trying to curl your fingers into the right spot. Your dress was rode all the way up to your stomach, your panties moved to the side. You were trying to do anything to alleviate the knot in your stomach, but maybe your mind was telling you how much this was not a good idea. You stopped caring as you found a good rhythm, your other hand coming down to rub your clit in sync with your fingers, coming closer and closer to bliss. You were so lost in your fantasies about you and Bill that you didn't quite catch the stopping of the music, the cars driving away, and you certainly didn't catch the way you moaned loudly moaned his name.

This went on for a while, your eyes screwed shut and your fingers just not being enough before you became frustrated. You pulled your fingers out and opened your eyes. At first, you thought it was just your eyes adjusting to what little light there was, causing you to see things. But you could actually feel yourself stop breathing when you realized Bill was quite literally standing in front of you.

"Well what do we have here? Are you having fun? Well, by what I've seen you haven't been able to hit the edge have you?" He spoke in a tone full of lust. "I-..." But you stopped yourself, realizing you didn't have an excuse for what you'd been caught doing. You looked up at him with pleading eyes, not wanting him to tell anybody. You would've missed his very prominent boner if it weren't for him palming himself through his jeans. "C'mon now, don't be shy. You can't get me all hard like this and not talk to me. What is it you want?" You thought for a second before responding "You. I want you." he smirked, taking his belt off before he said "Prove it."

That was how you found yourself in your current predicament. Bill was sat down, his back to a large tree, while you tried your best to ride his cock. "Come on, pretty. I know you can do better than that." he breathed. You grabbed his hips, trying your best to lift yourself up. You had been going at this for quite some time now, and your legs were shaking, your pussy spent. Your hair was dishelved and you were practically sticking to him because of your sweat. His cock was insanely large, you had never felt so full in your life. "Please-! I can't take it, please just fuck me!" you begged. He let out a small laugh before grabbing your chin, forcing you to make eye contact with him. "Didn't I tell you? You have to prove yourself. Are you already so cockdrunk you've lost your memory, or are you really just that dumb of a slut?" You could feel tears welling, but because of the pleasure you were feeling. You clenched hard around him at his filthy words, finding new strength to bring yourself up before you slammed back down onto his cock with a loud moan. "Wow you really are a slut, getting off to me calling you names. What a bad girl you are." You moaned again at his words, and even more as he started thrusting his hips up to meet your new found rhythm, obviously wanting to cum from waiting this long. You tried your best to keep up, slamming down onto him harder and harder, feeling that sweet spot being brushed every so often. You had never felt a sensation like this before, never felt so full. You were beginning to leak onto his pelvis, leaving a glistening spot. The air was filled with grunts and moans, and chants of his name. Bill began growing more and more impatient, and eventually decided you and proven yourself. He muttered a "Good girl", making your walls flutter before he flipped you over and you found yourself on all fours. "Ass up," he ordered before he started pistoning into you at an ungodly pace. His name fell from your mouth like a mantra, and you only had the strength to hold yourself up on your elbows. Bill watched as his cock disappeared into your willing pussy over and over again, admired the way your ass bounced a little each time he would enter you. Your moans became louder and louder, and you screamed as he abused your sweet spot, feeling the pleasure ripple through your body. He could feel the way you squeezed around him and reached down to pinch and rub your clit stimulating you even more. "Just like that," He moaned at the sensation of you squeezing him, and you could feel him twitch inside you. The pleasure was unbearable and you continued to moan his name, your vision becoming fuzzy and little stars forming. He gave one last deep thrust, brushing your cervix before you came hard, screaming his name. He came with a grunt, shooting his load deep inside you.

He rolled you back over, lifting you up a bit to keep your body safe from the elements of the woods. You smiled up at him a bit for the small gesture, your forearm covering your forehead. You watched his heaving chest as it glistened with sweat before he spoke,

"You honestly thought that was enough to prove yourself?" Before he sat you up on your knees.

Thanks for reading! Remember to take care of yourself. :)

[linkspooky]

BSD VS LITERATURE: NO LONGER HUMAN

The second entry in my long running series to analyze every single book referenced in Bungou Stray Dogs, to try piece together the author’s intended meaning in referencing the work. 

Osamu Dazai’s ability name comes from the author’s final novel “No Longer Human”, you may have heard of it. The novel contains several events from the author’s real life, but is considered semi-autobiographical because it depicts the life of a fictional character “Yozo” who much like the real life author attempted suicide a total of five times in his life before utlimately succeeding. Many believe the book to be his will as Dazai killed himself shortly after the last part of the book was published. As for the connection to the fictional character, more under the cut. 

1. Disqualified from Being Human

Dazai as a character borrows several traits from Yozo the protagonist of the novel. He has the same habit of clowning and engaging others in a false persona, while it happens mostly offscreen the audience and Dazai’s coworkers are aware of the fact he regularly indulges himself in vices like drinking, having illicit relationships with women (its often referenced he has a long line of exes and women he’s left upset over him) and that he’s also constantly in debt. 

Deeper than those surface level traits though, Dazai shares the same motivation as Yozo for his antics. They are both people who feel utterly alienated from the people around them, unable to connect with their thoughts and feelings and because of that they resort to always engaging them in a false, and comedic facade. They are fundamentally uncomfortable with ever presenting their true selves around others. 

As a child I had absolutely no notion of what others, even members of my own family, might be suffering from or what they were thinking. I was aware of my own unspeakable fears and embarrassments. Before anyone realized it, I had become an accomplished clown, a child who never spoke a single word. No Longer Human. 

Dazai is described as a child in the same way by Oda, who is arguably the character who knows him best. Even with Oda though, and the rest of the Buraiha trio as a whole though they were friends it carries the tragedy that they never were truly honest with one another, Oda never overstepped the clear boundaries between him and Dazai, Ango never let either of them into the secret that he was a government spy all along. Even that friendship which Dazai found comfortable, and was so significant to him he changed his entire life’s past around Oda’s dying words, he still placed an uncilimbable wall between the two of them. 

“I thought you were similiar to Dazai at first, rushing into battle and wishing for death without even considering the value of your own life. But he’s different. He’s sharp witted, with a mind like a steel trap. And he’s just a child - a sobbing child abandoned in the darkness of a world far emptier than the one we’re seeing.”

He was too smart for his own good. That was why he was always alone. The reason why Ango and I were unable to be by his side was that we understood the solitude that surrounded him, and we never stepped inside no matter how close we stood. 

But in that moment I kind of regretted not stepping in and invading that solitude. Bungo Stray Dogs, Volume 2. 

There’s a supposed difference in Yozo, who is a drunken layabout constantly in debt who fails out of college and Dazai the super genius who is apparently one of the smartest members of the cast, but honestly if you peel back the layers of Dazai’s “Superhuman / Godlike Genius” status his and Yozo’s behaviors and treatment of other people is actually pretty similar. 

Here is the secret of No Longer Human that a lot of readers miss in their interpretation. While Yozo can be a sympathetic character, because he’s genuinely miserable in his life, and the way he tells his story is highly relatable to the unhappiness of many readers, Yozo sucks. 

If you look at his actions outside of his self-pitying narration, Yozo is a serial manipulator of people, especially those with a status weaker than him in society (women, and even chidlren) he strings them along often taking money from them until he abandons them. Yozo is considered to be so pretty and likable, people often relate to his misery and give him what he wants without him giving anything in return.

There’s four major women he interacts with in the novel. A married women he gets to pay for his drinks a couple of times, doesn’t see for months, and then commits suicide with her. His reaction to her death is very minimal and he doesn’t even seem to mourn her. Then, he becomes a kept man for a woman with a child for awhile gets her to pay for his drinking habit, has multiple affairs on her while living at their house (or at least it’s implied).He also comes to view the child as an enemy of his. 

“I would like my real Daddy back.”  I felt dizzy with shock. An enemy. Was I Shigeko’s enemy, or was she mine?

No Longer Human.

He abandons them. (Surprise, surprise). Then moves on to marry a seventeen year old girl, specifically because she is a virgin. I probably don’t have to mention the predatory subtext there. 

Yoshiko’s pale face was smiling as she sat there inside the dimly lit shop. What a holy thing uncorrupted virginity is, I thought. I had never slept with a virgin, a girl younger than myself. I’d marry her. [...] I made up my mind on the spot: it was a then-and-there decision, and I did not hesitate to steal the flower. No Longer Human. 

That wife then gets raped and not only does Yozo feel little to no sympathy for her whatsoever, he then proceeds to just leave and abandon her because his image of her as a perfect image is ruined. He even refers to her as a possession he lost far earlier on in the novel. 

Once in a while, it is true I have experienced a vague sense of regret at losing something, but never strongly enough to affirm positively, or to contest with others my rights of possession. This was so true of me that some years later, I even watched in silence when my own wife was violated. No Longer Human.

The last woman he gets involved with only because he has a morphine addiction and he wants to string her along so she can keep supplying him with morphine. If you strip away the thin veneer of Dazai as a master manipulator and superhuman genius, you are just left with his actions which include his constant manipulation of other people (children younger and more vulnerable than him) and even his own allies. He is a user, much in the same way Yozo is. This is just named characters, it’s implied offscreen that Dazai has Yozo’s same habit of burning through relationships and women like jet fuel. 

Of course, there is a tragic reason for Yozo’s behavior it is implied he was violated by a female servant as a child, but that further adds onto the underlying point of the novel that Yozo’s genuinely miserable but he’s also the architect of his own misery. He is a victim who basically continues the cycle of abuse. His two primary methods of interacting with people is either manipulating them / stringing them along, or abandoning them. Even the Dazai who works at the agency keeps Akutagawa his biggest victim wearing the coat that Mori Gave him that represents the cycle of abuse just... wrapped around his little finger because it’s more convenient to use and dispose of him that way. 

Akutagawa’s so insanely devoted to Dazai that he believes being abandoned was just a secret little test and if he performs well than he’ll finally get the carrot that Dazai has been dangling in front of his head for a long time. Dazai’s treatment of Akutagawa as someone to just conveniently use and then dispose of is something that leads to Akutagawa getting himself killed trying to earn that praise. 

Dazai and Yozo have a similiar problem where they are pitiable in the fact they are victims themselves, they have been used in the past and it’s left them feeling alienated and unable to connect with others, but then they jump right into treating others as less than human too. Dazai has this strange paradox where he scolds Dostoevsky for believing in god and seeing himself as an agent of god or some kind of omniscient manipulator and that the real people who make a difference in the world are the people living in the world and struggling in it but Dazai... still doesn’t see himself as one of those people. Dazai’s like “You shouldn’t manipulate people like pieces on a gameboard...” but Dazai still views himself as one of the players sitting and watching things from on high rather than one of the pieces. 

Dazai and Yozo are incapable of seeing themselves as human beings and eternally feel like outsiders when they try to be around others. However, at the same time they give no respect to the humanity or the feelings of other people. They don’t treat others like humans. Which is why they are essentially the architects of their own misery, they are alone because they choose continually over and over to either only engage in other people with lives, or treat relationships as transactional. These flaws of Dazai’s have been toned down since the dark age, but even Detective Agency Dazai still has this habit of looking down on other people. He has good intentions he tries to live by, but also in crisis situations tends to fall back on old habits. 

2. Lover’s Suicide

Finally, there’s two relationships in the book that parallels Dazai’s two most significant relationships in the story. The tragedy of Oda in the dark era, actually mirrors what was Yozo’s most significant suicide attempt in the book. Yozo runs out of money and on a whim attempts to commit suicide with a married woman who had been more or less a longtime but distant acquiantance. 

We threw ourselves into the sea at Kamakura that night. She untied her sash saying she had borrowed it from a friend at the cafe, and left it folded neatly on a rock. I removed my coat and put it in the same spot. We entered the water together. 

She died. I was saved. No Longer Human. 

This event mirrors the defining tragedy of Dazai’s backstory as depicted in the second light novel, and his reason for leaving the mafia. Essentially, Dazai finally becomes close to someone his longtime acquaintance Oda, who unlike him has a reason to live in raising children and dreaming of one day becoming an author. However, by the end of the novel it’s Oda who commits suicide and Dazai who lives. 

“You’re such an idiot, Odasaku. The biggest idiot I know.”  “Yeah.” “You didn’t have to do this. You didn’t have to die.” “I know.” 

Bungo Stray Dogs, Vol. 2

If you want to sprinkle in an additional homosexual subtext what Oda basically does is commit a lover’s suicide with someone else, by choosing to die with Gide. Which means that not only does Dazai survive while Oda dies, but Oda chose to commit a lover’s suicide with someone other than him. 

Then there is Yozo’s acquiantance to longtime friend Horiki. HOriki is his only real significant friend in the novel, but Yozo absolutely despises him. Nothing healthy ever comes from their relationship, he gets Yozo addicted on cigarettes and alcohol, he drags him to secret communist meetings, however Yozo who frequently just abandons people never really gets rid of him. 

Horiki and myself. Despising each other as we did, we were constantly together, thereby degrading ourselves. If that is what the world calls friendship, the relationships between Horiki and myself were undoutably those of friendship. No Longer Human. 

The reason being that Yozo despite loathing Horiki senses that the two of them are alike in nature. There’s also something to be said about Yozo getting along more naturally with someone he hates, rather than the people in his life who constantly attempt to love him. 

Horiki and myself. Though outwardly he appeared to be a human being like the rest, I sometimes felt he was exactly like myself. No Longer Human. 

His relationship with Horiki reflects both the partnership of the double black duo, two individuals who loathe each other but had near perfect cooperation in their teamwork but also the foiling between Chuuya and Dazai. They are both people who do not view themselves as human, Chuuya because of the mystery of his origins as the host of Arahabaki and Dazai because his intelligence leaves him feelings isolated from the world. 

He looked up in the direction of the sudden voice. It was a familiar voice, one that belonged to the person he hated most in this world. 

Your birth itself was a mistake. We’re the same. Is there a really a point to suffering through all that pain for a life that isn’t real?” 

The voice was taunting him. 

[...]

“Screw you Dazi.”

Chuuya wanted nothing more than to slice off the ear the voice was whispering right into. He could see Dazai’s wavering shadow by his side, and he wanted to gauge out his eyes. 

“That’s just proof that you at least somewhat believe what I’m saying. Because deep down inside you’re the same as me.”

Like, they hate each other, but they hate each other for the real person they are deep down on the inside. Which results in him and Chuuya having an entirely antagonistic relationship and yet at the same time Chuuya is the one person that Dazai can’t really bullshit or lie to, because sharing so much in common gives Chuuya some insight into Dazai’s darker tendencies. 

Which results in a relationship where neither of them like each other, and yet both of them are just a little bit obsessed with each other. Despising each other and constantly together. 

So in summary, No Longer Human is a work about a character’s difficulty to form relationships with others because not only do they not see themselves as human they also treat the others around them as lesser than humans. Yozo is a character clearly stuck in that cycle of abuse, whereas Dazai Osamu himself is someone struggling in the story to break that cycle and curb his own manipulative tendencies inside of himself, ironically because of the close relatonship he had formed with the one person he was ever even a little bit honest with Odasaku. 

[towriteloveontheirarms]

The other woman (I could protect you part 2)

part 2 of 4 || series masterlist || previous part || next part

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x maid!reader

synopsis: King Viserys is finally gone, but with his passing the troubles for Aemond and you have only begun.

warnings: mentions of performing sexual acts, period typical mysoginy, secrert marriage

word count: 1.4k

The night Aemond leads you down to the sept of Baelor, long after everyone had gone to sleep ironically enough is the night of Viserys´ death. The only person beside the two of you there is an intimidated looking Septon, that swears he would not tell anyone of what they were about to do. You can see in his eyes that he thinks this is wrong nonetheless, but what does it matter. If the seven wanted to judge you for the things you had done, so be it. You were not scared of them. The ceremony is held short. Only the necessary words are exchanged as to decrease the danger of a guard or anyone else catching you. Aemond holds your hand the entire time. His single lilac eye glassy and wet with unshed tears of happiness over the fact that you had agreed to wed him. Overjoyed in fact. When he leads you up to his chambers, that you now share, you are surprised to see all your things there already.

Through your surprise, you feel his trembling fingers undoing the laces of your dress. The dark blue satin slides down your body to pool at your feet. You step out of the fabric and turn towards him. Your lips capture his in the first kiss you share as newlyweds, while your hands make quick work of his clothing. The leather is cool underneath your finger pads.

“I must admit I am not as experienced as other men my age.” Aemond whispers his confession into the dimly, candle lit room.

“I will teach you.” She replies in a low rasp. From then on make sure to take it slow.

Aemond is different from Viserys, you can´t help but notice. All Viserys did was take. Even things that you never would have wanted him to take under any other circumstance, without any regard for your pleasure, let alone your well-being. The only care you received from him were the gifts he sent the following day. Alongside a tea, that as the maid told you, was brewed with the most care by a maester. Aemond on the other hand was gentle and sweet, yet passionate. He asked if what he was doing made you feel good and let you guide him to were you wanted him. He beckons words of praise from your lips continuously and once you had both finished, he holds you close until you both drift off to sleep. Still the image of Viserys doing unspeakable to you haunted you in your dreams that night.

It is a wonder that your marriage stays a secret for as long as it does, which is not very long at all.

However the day of Aegon´s coronation everything goes south fast. The day had been a mess from the moment it started. Beginning with the common folk being rushed into the sept almost forcibly, to Rhaenys hurting gods know how many during her escape on Meleys and now this. Your new husband and you had been called to Alicent right after the end of the ceremony, where she questioned your place at his side for everyone to see. The queen dowager was pacing furiously in front of you and Aemond, trying to process what her son had just told her, while Otto Hightower´s face was expressing only one readable emotion. A very clear distaste pulled the corners of his mouth downwards.

“I cannot believe this. This level of defiance is unheard of. Truly, this is something I would have expected from your brother, not you. And to think of the shame. First Viserys parades her around, bringing shame and humiliation to our family. Your father willingly put my reputation at risk. And now you wish to do the same. Despite seeing how her presence has affected us for years.” Alicent´s words are broken up by unbelieving chuckles. To say she wasn´t happy about what the two of you had done was a harsh understatement. Not that either of you had expected her to be.

“Mother…” Aemond tries to get a word in to calm her down, but it is to no use as she continues to speak in a frenzy.

“Not to speak of the fact that it was entirely improper for her to be alone in a room with any man. We thought more of you, Aemond.” Otto finally gets a word in between Alicent´s enraged rant. His voice is equally as cold as the look in his blue eyes and it sends a shiver down your spine, where one of Aemond´s protective hands rests.

“I have heard enough. Did you stop to think once that she might have done this solely to keep her non existing claim on our money? That she does not truly love you, but the power that is attached to your position as a prince of the seven kingdoms?” She massages her temples, as the crease between her eyebrows deepens in exasperation.

“With all due respect, your majesty, but I fail to see how you are able to speak about my feelings towards your son. As you have never truly looked inside my mind. Or spend a day in my body. I admit that what I did with the late king was wrong, however he decided to treat me the way he did himself. I did not ask to be given gifts or be paraded around.” You finally find your words again to defend yourself.

The newfound courage is met by an outraged look on both the Queen dowagers and the hands face and surprise by Aemond.

“The love I hold for prince Aemond is much bigger than the love the two of you could ever be capable of feeling for anything.” Your voice raises and for a moment you aren´t even sure if all you did this for is your own selfish gain. For as the words leave your mouth you feel your heart beat higher and a warmth spread throughout your entire body.

You realize you had felt like this for the past days. Ever since Aemond and you had consummated your marriage you felt your cheeks heat up whenever he so much as laid his eyes upon you.

“She is right, mother. Whatever I do with my life is none of your concern. I am a man grown now and I love her. That is all that matters.” Aemond speaks up as well now. Judging by the reaction it gets him, it is the first time he has spoken up against his mother and grandsire.

“Aemond…” Alicent tries to say something though she has to cut herself short due to still bring speechless at the whole situation. Otto however does not.

“You will stop with this nonsense this instant. On the morrow we will get this marriage annulled. You will get married to Floris Baratheon as you have promised Lord Borros and you better make sure we will never have to see this… harlots face in the keep or in King´s landing ever again. Have I made myself understood?”

The way the hand towered over you from his height alone would be impressive enough to shut you up under any other circumstance, but right now is not the time to stand down. If you aren´t sure of it before, Aemond´s headstrong gaze further assures you of it. Even though his hands tremble even worse than they had in your first night together, the palm of his hand that holds yours starts to sweat and he swallows heavily.

“I will do no such thing. I understand you are angry, mother. I know you cannot understand me for the choices I made, but I do not care. For the first time in my life I am happy. Truly happy and understood. And you can say or do naught to change this. I will stay with my wife.”

You squeeze Aemond´s hand reassuringly while he speaks. The look you give him is filled to the brim with gratitude. You let your husband lead you out of the room. Your gaze hardening consistently as a realization strikes you.

No matter your or Aemonds true feelings, all of them would only ever see you for your mistakes. To the whole of the red keep you would always be the woman that king Viserys used to embarrass Alicent Hightower and now to break the promise towards Borros Baratheon. You would always be the other woman.

[sillyromance]

Good day everyone!

Some predcanons (Pred!cybertronian/Prey!human) for transformers who I really like. Hope you'll enjoy!

TFP

1) Optimus Prime

This gorgeous, big Autobot leader would be quite gentle and careful with his prey. I think the main motive for him to swallow someone down would be a wish to protect them, especially if it comes to defending Jack, Raph or Mico. If he has time, he will definitely explain why he is doing it and how safe it is, so the person won't get frightened; in another case, Optimus will talk to the human inside him straight away after the danger is gone and stroke his middle a little to comfort his small friend who would be truly scared after being suddenly tossed into the mouth of a giant robot. Also he surely would be glad to help you with insomnia or bad mood, keeping you safe and warm in his soft, spacious fueltank (of course, if you give you permission). As for Prime's emotions, I suppose he would feel awkward walking around his team mates while having someone inside, although it would never stop him from chatting with his prey from time to time to be sure they're fine and rubbing his "stomach" in reassurance. He likes having his friends so close to his spark, loves how they taste and move in his tank, but he would never say it out loud because it's too personal information in his opinion.

2) Ratchet

Sweet, grumpy medic is very worried about his human friends' health and safety, so I think he would be the one who uses vore as panishment for those who skip sleep periods or put themselves in risky situations too much. At the same time, he would be a brilliant comforting pred who never fails to help someone escape the world when it's really necessary (especially if it comes to Raph). He would mentally prepare the person he's gulping down before everything happened because as "an emergency vehicle" he knows exactly what would scare them. While swallowing, this autobot would trace his prey's path through his tough body and sigh in relief when they fall in his fueltank; the little one would always feel some pressure of a giant hand from the outside which would pat and massage them, checking if everything is OK. Ratchet would be glad to be given some caresses from the inside too; he would smile wide if he did, surprising everyone around with soft and oddly loving face expression. But the bot would never admit he ate someone even to his friends (only to Optimus perhaps) because of deep embarrassment which he hides behind a perfect "poker face".

3) Ultra Magnus

This autobot is a severe type. He wouldn't let just anyone random enter his insides; this is unspeakably ridiculous for him. Showing someone the most fragile part of the body, his soft spot! Please! Are you crazy?.. However, if he has no other choice (his human combat is badly injured, unconscious or there is a threat of being captured for them) he will hide them within his body without any hesitation. Meanwhile, when the things are normal, he would be an unwilling pred; only a human he is really attached to, like a lover or the best friend, would be allowed to go down his fueltank. This way he would express the highest level of affection and trust he has for this person. In this case, his favourite time to do that is right before recharge when no one can see him and his soul mate; all lights are gone, there are just two of them. Magnus silently opens his mouth and puts his darling in, then gently swallows, concentrating on a stretching, wiggling weight which travels along his esophagus. When it reaches its destination, he lies on the berth, closes his optics and holds both servos on his middle, feelings his friend settling in. That all would be a casual, but important act between him and someone he cares about so much that even he can't deny it.

TFE (Earthspark)

1) Megatron

Ex-leader of the decepticon is undoubtedly a teaser who will bring you close to his carmin eyes and grin, intentionally showing his sharp dents, every time it comes to sending you down his throat! Although his jokes are never offensive for a prey. He gets a lot of pleasure from the whole situation and tries to prolong it as much as possible. At the same moment, Megatron would never do anything that could make his human friend uncomfortable; and the funny comments he gives to the prey always finally turn into some kind of appreciation of their taste, warmth, shape, delicate skin, how good they feel deep in his core etc. Like Optimus, he is very protective. As for his behaviour among transformers and humans, he wouldn't be bothered by their presence nearby while he's carrying someone inside him, but he wouldn't let anyone know until it's necessary 'cause he clearly understands how freaky it would sound. He is not a talker, but the prey would always feel that he remembers about them by small, light touches from the outside and double-meaning phrases he sometimes drops in front of others.

As an addition: this mech would be happy to teach his friend's bullies a goood lesson (if there are any) by swallowing them and keeping this fools inprisoned for some time without any respond to their shouting and crying. Of course, Megatron wouldn't mean any real harm and he would let them out later, but at least the guilty ones would see their mistake quite clearly...

2) Bumblebee

I think this kind-hearted, optimistically-yellow autobot is a cuddle enthusiast. He wouldn't mind making vore a casual ritual to make bonds with his human friends even stronger. Moreover, it would give him some comfort to know that someone he cares about is hidden in a place no one can reach without crushing Bumblebee himself apart first - what is not that easy! His spark just melts when it comes to inner rubbing - it inevitably sends shivering through all of his systems when tiny hands move across his sensitive fueltank's metal "flesh"... He doesn't mind multiple "passengers", but it's simple to make him sick by moving too much, so at the start Bee always asks for being cautious and still inside him. If someone questions him about the person he has swallowed, young autobot will calmly tell them the truth (and stop this poor fellow from panicking after); usually he is OK with his other friends to be aware about the situation (nevertheless if he was asked to keep everything a secret he undeniably would). Bumblebee is very comforting, thoughtful and caring pred, but there are times when he needs attention as well - so, for him vore is a kind of comfort and relaxation too.

[word-wytch]

tldr: extremely sappy and vulnerable post ahead

My baby, Don't Stand So Close To Me, turns one year old today.

After a lifelong history of abandoning creative projects, my love for the story I wanted to tell and my newly found passion for the art of writing finally surpassed my fear of rejection, and so I stepped out of the Shire and onto this very long road.

Listen, I know I'm talking about a fanfiction and being very dramatic, but in my opinion every creative endeavor holds the same amount of weight no matter if you're writing books for money, or writing songs for the radio, or songs played only in your bedroom. It all requires you to dig deep and face yourself.

This is the longest and hardest I have ever worked on a creative project in my life.

Over the course of the past year I have come to know myself in a way that I think only writing a novel chapter by chapter for an online community could accomplish. There have been some very dark times, but facing your shadow is always illuminating. Through it, I have grown exponentially both as a writer and as a person.

If I could offer one piece of writing (and life) advice it would be this: Let yourself be where you are. Love yourself here, now. You have been good enough, are good enough, and will be good enough, always. You have nothing to prove to anyone. Your only responsibility is to keep the flame of your joy for creating alive. And that's it. The rest will take care of itself.

I know this is easier said than done. I know this from the painful experience of having believed the opposite about myself at one point.

All artists want to be seen on some level, we need to be. But ultimately, no amount of external validation can supplement the intrinsic love you have for creating. It's even better shared with others, but it comes first from within. I would argue that even if all you had was an idea that made you so giddy that you had to run laps around the room, then you have it all. Your only job is to keep that love alive. It's what I'm chasing every day. More than followers, or notes, or any superficial measure of success. That feeling is everything. The love that I have for my art and this character is everything. The love that I have for myself is, ultimately, everything.

It is a natural part of the journey for all creatives to encounter blocks and adversities, so when it feels like you've lost that joy or you're dragging your forehead against your keyboard in the thick of it, please do not fret. The real secret is that you can never really lose the spark, because you are the spark. You'll feel it again. You're not broken. You haven't failed. Just love yourself anyway and let yourself be where you are, even if that's crying into your ice cream.

Because the gap between how you feel and how you want to feel is not something that once closed, will stay closed forever. It's something you love yourself back to again, and again, and again, and again. And maybe, after your muscles build and your blisters heal, you'll come to enjoy the journey.

For the first time in my creative life I truly feel seen. Thank you all for seeing me, for coming on this journey with me. Thank you to every reader who's left a kind word, every friend that I've made as a result of pursuing this. There are too many to name. I have never been a part of a fan community in this capacity and I feel so unspeakably lucky to have found such a home in this one.

I want to thank, most especially, the people who have both figuratively and literally held my hand throughout the last year behind the scenes. Thank you for sending me coffee, letting me bounce ideas, send massive emails, text feverish voice messages back and forth, keysmash spoilers at you, cry on your shoulder, and fangirl over our boy (and his teacher) @toxicjayhoo @storiesbyrhi @the-unforgivenn @munson-blurbs @jo-harrington @rip-quizilla

I love you.

[niofifirio]

tw incest (m x d)

my stuff is also on ao3 and cohost

what doesnt occur to you after you give in to the burning passion of an affair with your daughter is the feeling after. the night of giving in to what mommy and daughter have been inching closer and closer to for a long time is a release unlike anything else. but waking up the next morning...

incest. the feeling of it being real is almost indescribable. its disgusting, its wrong, its humiliating, its guilt on a level youve never felt before.

a mother and a daughter having sex with each other. it shouldnt happen. you have crossed a line you can never go back from. its real. you hope its not and you can take it back, that it could just be a fantasy that stays inside your head. but no, it was all real. your daughter is next to you in her bed, still naked, your seed dripping from her. it was real. the guilt is all consuming, burning up inside of you.

your wife didnt find out after that first night, she cant find out that you defiled your daughter with the girlcock that made her.

when coworkers ask how your daughters doing, all you can think of is your sin. when your wife comes up, or those moments when you see her wedding ring on your finger, all you can think is that you ran around behind her back to fuck your daughter. sometimes its so much you want to scream. that you're a monster trying to be normal now. it hurts even more thinking about what your daughter must be feeling when anyone asks about her family. knowing that mommy is fucking her, that shes fucking mommy while mama is completely oblivious to it. do her friends have any idea? none of your friends do. youre both good at appearing normal.

maybe it is normal. maybe there are many others like you, having secret affairs with family members. you know it probably isnt normal though. still when you fuck her, it feels like just another aspect of life. like fucking your daughter is as much of the routine as anything else.

it isnt just a fantasy for you. you know what it feels like now. you know what its like when your daughter blows you, how she looks when shes pleasured, what she says when you cum inside her, the way she tightens around you when you do. what her cute little holes taste like. unspeakable things a mother should never know about her daughter.

and even still, with that pit of guilt so immense you cant think clearly, you still keep going. youve had plenty of chances to end this, when you and your daughter started spending more time together, when you started exploring each other, when your daughter started asking for more, for you to teach her about sex, about how to use her pussy, about how mommys girlcock works. you could have stopped this and you didnt, all building to that first night when your sweaty naked bodies slapped together.

and now every chance you get when you have a moment alone you kiss her. every night your wife is deep asleep you sneak out to your daughters room and rail her. and shes the same. every chance she gets teasing you, flashing you, whipping out your girlcock in secret to get you off with her hand or mouth. every chance you get you bury your bare girldick inside her, the guilt weighing on you making the pleasure of the act even hotter, even more freeing. the way she wants this so badly that she wouldnt let up when you did try to end it. the way shes so much brighter and happier with this. its so hard to keep a secret, but what you share together is worth it. the world is so painful when youre in it, trying to not be a monster, but with her you can be monsters together.

[unhinged-summer-fun]

common grounds (oshamir) - chapter 9

Pairing: Osha Aniseya x Qimir "The Stranger"

A/N: dividers by @cafekitsune

series masterlist

Sol’s apartment was too big. In recent years, he had repeatedly tried for something approaching minimalism. Every time the empty beige walls would echo harshly at any disruption in the silence, his sentimentality would creep back in. Like kudzu, functionality and aesthetic would become choked by nostalgia. News clippings, photographs, pressed flowers, and sometimes even torn pages from books.

Sol’s house was also too quiet. All that space made the silence seem like another being was in the room, unspeaking but observing. It unnerved Osha at first. After the accident, she wasn’t released from the hospital for a week. Mae had already been living with Sol, and by the time Osha got there, it felt like there had been no room left for her to exist.

Just Sol, Mae, and the silence.

It was the opposite of her stranger’s apartment.

Right now, she wished she was there and not here.

A dark raincloud hung over the dinner table. It was full of everything that had happened over the last week: the issues with her job, her access to gym classes, not to mention the entirely new person in her life. The drama with the junior trainer job seemed like a goddamn lifetime ago. It made the buildup of this family dinner feel fraught with tension: any topic could be on the table, and with how long it had been, Osha wasn’t confident which secrets were off the table or not. 

She was thinking about her first training session with the stranger that evening—good motivation to survive the meal. She had been looking forward to it all day, resting just like he’d told her to. She even admitted she felt relaxed for the first time, and then—

“Are we not going to talk about it?”

Osha stabbed her food a bit violently in response to Sol’s question.

Mae said nothing.

“Why aren’t we talking about it?” he tried again.

“Because we don’t want to talk about it,” Osha said with forced lightness.

“Oshie, come on…”

“Whaaat?” Osha groaned. “I’m fucking over it. Take the job, I don’t care anymore.”

“That’s not what we’re talking about,” Sol said. He set down his utensils, abandoning any pretense that this was to be their usual scripted dinner conversation. 

She sighed and did the same. “If you want to do an intervention, you’re a few days late. I’ve already gone cold turkey from the gym.”

“So you did quit?” Mae said softly.

“It was more that I was quit on. For fucking boxing classes.”

“Vernestra’s request wasn’t unreasonable, Osha,” Sol sighed. 

Very well. They were talking about it.

“Vernestra didn’t request shit from me. Is that what she told you? She restricted my membership to the fuckin Groupon level for no reason! No upper-level classes, no more than twice a week? Those classes literally happen during my shifts. I’d have to come in on my three remaining days off to take any classes. Why, what did she fuckin’ tell you, Sol? What did the fuckin’ group chats tell you, Mae?”

“Language, please,” he said in a pained voice, rubbing at his eyes. “You were obviously upset in my class the last time I saw you. Is training at the Temple really somewhere you want to be four days a week if you are so upset?”

“Have you asked yourself why I was upset yesterday? I was upset when I walked in. Ask Mae about it.”

Osha got up from the table despite protests from her sister and her dad. She ignored them and went to the bathroom in the hall, frustrated to all hell. Her phone was back in her bag, so she couldn’t just waste time until she could leave. Still, she managed to fuck around doing nothing for all of ten minutes before Mae came knocking.

“I have to talk to you.”

“Mae, just go away—”

“It’s about—well. You know who.”

Osha opened the door and came out quietly. “Where’s Sol?” she murmured, crossing her arms and leaning on the doorframe.

“He said he had to get something in his car. I think he needs a second to himself.”

“You mean he’s avoiding an uncomfortable situation.”

I didn’t hear from Vernestra or any of the other trainers at the Temple once.

Part of Osha wanted to feel bad for snapping at her dad like that, but the louder part said that she was hurt more. She spoke the truth to her stranger yesterday; she was tired of this shit. Besides, it wasn’t her job to suppress her emotions just for a grown man to feel better about himself.

“What do you want, Mae?”

“I need to ask you if all this, all the lashing out, was done on purpose because you wanted to train with Qimir.”

Huh. What?

“…who the fuck is Qimir?”

Mae looked like Osha had grown another head. “The guy I trained with for two years?” she said slowly.

Qimir.

When Mae said the name, dripping with disdain, it didn’t suit him. Osha’s mind completely rejected it. If it truly was his name, it only suited part of him—a mistranslation of who he actually was. The new information slid off Osha’s impression of the stranger like water on glass.

No, that suited him better—the stranger.

“What about him?” Osha asked, trying to control the shake in her voice.

Mae crossed her arms, matching Osha and leaning on the wall opposite her. Osha didn’t meet her eyes; instead, she looked at the frames behind her shoulder and above her head. Mae’s frustration mounted, and after Osha’s deliberate obtuseness, she huffed, “Did you quit the Temple to train with him?”

Osha’s eye twitched. What right did Mae have to her personal life when she’d been so prohibitive about her own? She matched her sister’s pose but still refused to look at her. “Weren’t you listening? I didn’t quit, I was quit on.”

“You don’t think Vernestra has a point?”

“No.”

Mae stuttered a bit, clearly meaning it as a rhetorical question but getting an honest answer anyway. “I mean, you’re not—” Mae shifted from foot to foot. “It’s been a long time since you, uh.”

“You don’t think I can fight competitively either?” Osha said, finally meeting her eyes with a glare. “What did I do to you to make you lose your faith in me?”

Mae flinched a little, hurt but unable to refute Osha’s claim. “Listen, that’s not what I’m talking about. So are you—”

“It’s what I’m talking about. I’m not telling you anything for a while, Mae. If I want to tell you something, I’ll tell you. And like I told you yesterday, when I ask you something, I want honesty. I don’t think you’ll give me that, so that’s why I haven’t asked you anything at all.”

“Well, if you are training with him—”

“I don’t want your advice about this, Mae. Can you just drop it? For, like, maybe an actual week? You had two years to tell me all about him. Give me a while to process it without being supervised.”

“You know what? Fine. Have it your way, Osha. I just wanted to remedy things and warn you about who you’re getting involved with.”

He hasn’t lied to me yet, she didn’t say. Mae walked away, and Osha watched her for a few seconds before rubbing at her chest and pacing the hallway.

She approached the room they used to share. Sol had converted it into a guest room after they’d moved to their new apartment downstairs, but he never had overnight guests. His social circle was the same as the ‘old guard’ trainers: they kept things within the Temple and didn’t make friends from other gyms on principle.

Still, the baseless hope of having someone stay remained.

Osha sat on the end of the bed, with pretty memories of the past warring against the fucked-up present. The light purple walls of childhood, adorned with ribbons and proud accomplishments, had been replaced by model-home greige and even more photographs. Two beds, now one. Pictures of strangers where there used to be pictures of friends.

It hurt to hold onto the nostalgia for too long. Osha abandoned the bed and looked at the pictures hanging on what was once her side of the room.

Sol had no rhyme or reason for the wall decor in his guest room. His more impressive memories and keepsakes were in the living room—the things here were most likely moments that didn’t fit in, but he couldn’t throw them away for whatever reason. Photos of a younger Sol on his college boxing team sat above another photo of Osha at high school graduation, and next to that one was—

There were many children she didn’t recognize in that photograph. As if in a trance, she approached the small frame. She recognized the Temple, of course, but the marked youth of each person she recognized told her it was from a long time ago. Sol was in the back, beside Vernestra, Kelnacca, Indara, and Torbin—who hadn’t yet lost his eye. The five children standing before the coaches smiled with varying enthusiasm, but her eyes remained focused on the grinning little boy in glasses standing before Vernestra.

He looked older than the other children but seemed the most excited of them all. His eyes almost disappeared under the force of his goofy grin, toothy and familiar—he’d grown up since then. This little boy suited the name Mae had told her. Qimir.

Like the frame at the Temple, she popped open the back. She moved carefully as she removed the newspaper clipping from behind the glass, and held it gently as she unfolded the rest of the article.

TEMPLE GYM OUTREACH PROGRAM SETS CHARITABLE STANDARD

Vernestra Rwoh, 36, has owned and managed Temple Gym for ten years. She has started the Padawan Training Program in collaboration with the Federal District Orphanage to provide community support to the underprivileged. “For most children, their first mentors are their parents. For children without parents, finding that kind of personal guidance to navigate the world is much harder,” Rwoh said in an interview. “Though the initial scope of our program is quite small, the biggest changes start with the smallest of actions. We hope to expand to provide more opportunities to underprivileged children in the city.”

The rest of the article felt sterile and self-congratulatory, providing little information about the program.  Osha gathered that it was an outreach program training orphaned children to box. She looked back at the photograph. Beneath it, she found his name listed after Torbin’s in the smallest font.

Qimir Loharne (13)

When I was thirteen, the rods were removed, and the doctors at the spine clinic said I should join this… outreach program that was starting at the Temple.

He was thirteen. Imagining the abuse he went through over the next four years made her stomach turn. Osha refolded the news clipping and carefully tucked it under her shirt, against her skin. Her hands shook with barely repressed anger.

Hastily, she covered up where the article had been with a framed photo of herself winning third at the science fair. Looking around the rest of the room, she wondered if he was hiding—being hidden—in any other frames, but she couldn’t find anything.

She didn’t know why she was disappointed.

He was waiting for her when she came down from her apartment a few hours later. Night had fallen in the city, but city nights were never as dark as she wanted. The crescent moon that had walked her and the stranger home the night before had grown into almost a waxing quarter moon—she’d started keeping track of the moon phases as a brand-new member of Unknown Planet.

His car idled as he leaned on the passenger-side door casually. He looked like a cool, dangerous love interest in a romance movie: dressed all in black, with his hair somewhat falling into his eyes above his glasses, arms crossed, one leg bent slightly in front of the other. Osha couldn’t look that cool if she tried. All that remained of the small cut on his face was a small red line on his cheekbone. His attention was on a little device in his hands she couldn’t see, so engrossed in it that he didn’t look up when she stopped at the sidewalk. 

“Hello,” she greeted him. 

He looked up, watching her approach. “Hello.”

Osha felt rooted in place under his gaze, the weight of his name sitting heavily on her mind. “Hi,” she said, cringing inwardly. Would she ever interact with him where she didn’t act like a fool within the first ten minutes?

“Hi…” His head tilted to the side, his eyes flitting over her frozen state. He pocketed the device and approached. “Are you alright?”

The incident at Sol’s had thoroughly fucked up whatever measure of calm she’d gained from the day’s rest and recovery. Her mind was all over the place, unable to focus on one thing for long. The folded-up newspaper weighed heavily against her heart from inside her jacket. She nodded tightly in response to his question.

His smile faded a little. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“No! No.” Osha sighed and pressed her cold hands to her face. “I’m so scatterbrained today; it’s not you.” Some of it’s you.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked, his voice dropping into that soothing tone he used when she was in pain the other day.

“Maybe,” she said. “Can we get out of the cold first?”

“Of course.”

Before she could protest, he’d taken her gym bag off her shoulder and walked back to his car to open the door for her. She followed him like he had her on a damn leash. Wait, did she like that? She really was a goddamn mess tonight.

Once he loaded her bag into the backseat, he paused before getting in. He reached into his pocket to retrieve the device he’d been playing with, only then getting inside.

“Is that an iPod mini?” Osha guffawed.

“If it ain’t broke…” he said with a grin. “I prefer more analog things, if you couldn’t tell.”

“You use a flip phone and drive a car that could survive a nuclear apocalypse. I don’t know why I’m surprised you have an actual iPod. You probably also have a pocket watch and a VHS collection.”

“I resent that,” he huffed. “I have two pocket watches.”

Their banter set her at ease for the rest of the drive to Unknown Planet. The music on his iPod wasn’t what she usually listened to, but she enjoyed it enough not to speak over it. They passed the bar’s street entrance, and he drove down a side street to a private parking lot. He parked but didn’t move to get out just yet.

It’s your call, the silence said. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.

Osha got out of the car.

Her stranger held the door for her as she walked in and followed behind as she took the stairs. This was the path they’d taken after she watched him fight for the first time, the stairs leading up to the third-floor dressing rooms. He unlocked the black door and ushered her inside with a hand on her lower back.

As they removed their winter jackets and shoes, he told her the plan for the evening: “I need to establish a baseline. I told you I’ve seen you fight, but it was only recorded footage and obviously nothing from after your injury. Seeing you move in person will give me a better idea of where to focus first.”

“How much of tonight involves jumping or running?” she asked, eyeing the rolls of tape in her bag.

“None,” he said, digging through his backpack for a pair of shorts. He tossed his glasses on top of the bag before entering the bathroom to change. Osha scrambled to do the same while he’d given her some measure of privacy, peeling off her jeans and t-shirt.

“There are plenty of ways to do cardio without exacerbating injuries,” he continued. This felt a little like their second meeting: when she changed her shirt behind a wall, and he mopped up at the cafe. “Repetitive exercises like jump rope, running, and machine workouts risk worsening your condition the more you rely on them.”

That was promising.

“Then what are we doing for cardio?” she asked, shimmying into her tank top.

“For now, swimming. Eventually, sparring. Can you swim?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know there’s a pool here.”

“There isn’t. You don’t have to worry about that until tomorrow, but we’ll be using the one at home.”

His wording had her hands nearly slipping on her shorts as she pulled them up her thighs. She corrected the fumble, snapping the waistband around her hips and folding it like usual.

“Swimming is easier on injuries,” he continued. “It uses every muscle group, and adding resistance to workouts is much safer.” He emerged from the bathroom without a shirt, going through his bag while he spoke—as if she wasn’t poleaxed seeing him like this from such a short distance. He had nothing on but low-slung basketball shorts and his socks.

“Cool,” Osha said, mind a million miles away. “Cool.”

He pulled a shirt on, followed by his glasses and a black baseball cap that kept his hair out of his eyes. “Let’s get you ready for me, hm?” He gestured to the chair when she didn’t move in response to him.

“Cool!” She wanted to slap herself. She needed to get it the fuck together. “I’ve got tape in my bag—”

“Have you used KT tape before?” He opened a drawer at the small desk beside her, revealing several thick rolls in various colors.

“Kinesiotherapy tape?”

“What’s with the face?”

Osha tried to quit scowling, but she’d already been called out for it. “Well, isn’t it… not as good as athletic tape?”

He placed several rolls beside him in a neat line, along with scissors. “Each has their benefit,” he said. “Neither is wholly better than the other. I’m guessing you haven’t used it before, then?”

“No.”

“Tell me how you wrap your ankle.”

As she explained her usual methods, she couldn’t help peeking at the colorful tapes he had brought out. Some even had little designs on them—shooting stars, rainbow stripes, and the feral river otter mascot of the college he worked at.

It was definitely much cuter than the standard white athletic tape and flesh tone pre-wrap.

He nodded. “Would you mind trying something new? Just to see if you like it.”

Osha was growing familiar with the urge to perform well for him, and it didn’t irritate her as much as it probably should have. She nodded, and he gave her a brilliant smile. Her heart fluttered in her chest like a bird taking flight.

He talked her through what he was doing, first measuring out pieces of tape, then cutting them up and applying them to her foot, ankle, knee, and thigh in bands of red and black. Aside from the aesthetic advantage, she appreciated that she didn’t have to loosen up her sneakers the way she did after layers of pre-wrap and athletic tape.

She also appreciated how his hands felt on her bare skin.

“There. Walk around a bit. If you want it off, the adhesive won’t fully set for another fifteen minutes or so.”

The method she’d been taught to use before had been good for reducing swelling and preventing sprains and strains, but sometimes, it felt like her ankle was just being squished, not supported. The KT tape felt like how she wanted her ankle to feel. With so much more freedom of movement, she almost felt like a newborn deer, amazed she could stand and walk like this. Holy fuck.

“That good?”

Shit, she’d said that out loud. He was still on the floor, putting away the rest of the tape and tugging on his shoes.

“Yeah,” she laughed. “This is crazy.” She bounced on her feet a little. She must have looked silly as hell doing lunges around the dressing room, but he only regarded her with a look of fond amusement she was growing accustomed to. He asked for a hand up.

When he got to his feet, they ended up inches apart, their height difference made glaringly obvious. Osha was surprised to find she liked it. His height, his arms, his broad fucking shoulders—they didn’t intimidate her like they probably had done for Mae. She took a breath, settling into a comfortable, calm mindset.

“Let’s go,” he murmured, touching her waist and spinning her toward the door.

The gym above Unknown Planet looked completely different from the last time she saw it. The cage had been dismantled and replaced by a large sparring mat, where pairs of people faced off—wearing anything from singlets to gis to clothes similar to what Osha was wearing. While a few individuals were locked in at the punching bags or machines, many were clustered in small groups, working together or encouraging one another. They were laughing and having fun.

Osha could count on one hand the number of times she heard laughter at the Temple. She’d need no hands to count the number of times she’d had fun in the last six years.

He led them to an empty area. Her nerves were going wild, and the prospect of disappointing him felt terrible and inevitable. But he trucked ahead. “For our warmups, we’re going to…” He showed her a series of stretches and light calisthenics to get her loose and warm. He never spoke down to her or overexplained his choices. When they were finished warming up, he checked in.

Honesty came easier with him.

“I feel like my ankle’s a little weaker. It’s not weak like failing, but not as strong as I thought. The tape helps a lot.”

He nodded, looking her over. “Can you go up on just your right foot? Flat.” He knelt before her to see better, then put her hand on his shoulder so she’d be balanced. “Up on your toes. Flat. Good. Again.”

Osha was going just a little fucking mad. Just a little, though. He seemed to like flustering her. He tended to get himself into situations where she was above him, and he was on her knees beneath her. She followed his instructions, doing a few calf raise holds on her good leg, then her injured one. Her body obeyed his instruction on autopilot, but her mind was elsewhere. Her mind was honed in on two precise places: where his thumb rubbed back and forth against her ankle, and where her hand lay flat against the shifting muscles in his shoulder.

“I see what you mean,” he said, letting go. He adjusted his glasses and tugged down his sock. “There are a few muscle groups attached to the Achilles tendon…”

He explained exactly what she was feeling, even having her put her hand on the back of his calf while he repeated the same moves she had just done. For once, the uncontrollably horny part of her brain remained silent, instead fascinated by his intelligent explanations. It was a mystery how he could even pretend to be a bumbling idiot.

She asked him so many questions, and he patiently answered each one to her satisfaction. Osha had never felt so respected and cared for in a training setting and wondered when that would change.

The rest of their session passed just like that. They hadn’t done much training overall, but by the end of things, she knew more about her ankle and knee. The formless pain now had names, faces, and weaknesses that could be exploited for her benefit—maybe even defeated.

By the time he brought her back to his dressing room, midnight had already passed. She was more worn out than she expected after so uneventful a training session.

“On the mat, Osha.”

Oh, there was her horny brain—back with a vengeance.

She tried her best to look graceful and attractive as she lowered herself to the mat, but her ankle had finally had enough of her, and it ended up being more like a slow-motion ragdoll collapse. She supposed that was what she deserved, trying to be cool in front of him. Shit, she was more tired than she thought.

But still, the yoga mat felt nice. Being flat felt nice. Her body, for once, felt nice. She groaned happily. “Yeah, mat. Great idea.”

He laughed softly and knelt beside her. His hand went to the back of her right calf, pressing his thumbs into her muscles with light pressure at first, then deeper when she didn’t flinch away in pain.

“What are you doing?” she asked, turning her head.

“You might be two and a half years out of practice, but most call this a massage.”

She kicked blindly at him with her other foot. His hand caught her quickly, avoiding any of her injured areas. She calmed down, and he continued his massage.

“Unlike athletic tapes, the KT tape can be worn for up to five days. It’s waterproof, too, so when we go to the pool tomorrow, you’ll still have the same support correcting your ankle and knee to the right tension. You can take it off at any time with a bit of oil, and if you need me, I’m never too busy to help you.”

It was harder to pay attention to him when he had his hands on her, and between the relief he gave her and the soothing tones of his voice saying such lovely things, she almost fell asleep right there. When he finally finished, she felt like her bones had gone al dente. He gave her time to change in the bathroom, and she was surprised to see the silly smile adorning her face.

You are sooo fucked, she mouthed at her reflection.

She only smiled back.

It was a little after one in the morning when they returned to the apartment complex. He parked in front of her building, idling in one of the covered spots he didn’t own. Neither of them spoke, and she didn’t move to get out. Something in the air felt taut with tension, obvious but unacknowledged. He inhaled like he would break the silence, but her anxious mouth got there first.

“I found another picture of you.” She unzipped her jacket to the inside breast pocket, where she’d carefully tucked the news clipping from Sol’s place. She gave it to him, and his jaw flexed as he looked it over.

She expected all manner of responses from him—So now you know my name. Do you believe my story now? What a long time ago—but instead, he asked her, “Why do you give me these?”

She’d been asking herself that same question. Looking at the little boy in the picture, she said, “You told me, before you took me to the bar the first time, that there was a time that you had no evidence you existed besides your pain. You shouldn’t have been—it’s just—” She exhaled harshly, staring out the windshield and fidgeting with her hands. “You do exist beyond what happened to you. And you deserve to have proof of that.”

After her halting explanation, her mind felt clearer. The nervous buzzing of her thoughts had ceased—at least temporarily. When he—when Qimir—no—when her stranger didn’t say anything for a while, she turned to look at him and was immediately caught in the snare of his gaze.

He’d leaned in toward her, lips slightly parted and eyes a little unfocused as they flitted about—eye to eye, then down to her mouth. Osha couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. She could only endure the wildfire he ignited in her body, heat licking through every inch of her. His teeth slowly sunk into his lower lip, and he moved forward another inch—

“Osha,” he whispered, soft as a prayer and most likely unintentional. The sound of her name on his tongue made her shudder, and her eyes fell shut. He inhaled quickly, reality and reason coming back to him all at once.

She opened her eyes when she felt him sit back in his seat and found him straight-backed and controlled. “Thank you,” he managed to say after some silent seconds. His voice sounded rougher, full of an emotion she couldn’t place. She hoped it was desire and not regret.

“You’re welcome,” she whispered. “I can, um. I can stop pushing them on you if it makes you—”

“No.”

She blinked. “No?”

“I appreciate you bringing them to me. They… you’re right. They’re signs of a life I had taken from me. It’s more than I had of myself yesterday.”

Osha smiled helplessly, leaning back against the headrest to look at him. For the first time in a long while, she felt proud of herself.

CHAPTER TEN

[kbrick]

Peak Drarry: Celebrating Incredible Writers - lettersbyelise

Peak Drarry is a series of posts celebrating the absolute treasure trove of talented writers in this fandom, and a reminder of how lucky we are to have them here with us. Find last month’s post featuring @aibidil​ here. This month features a fan-and-personal-favorite, @lettersbyelise​.

✨lettersbyelise✨

I was introduced to Elise’s writing when they returned to the fandom in late 2021 after a little haitus. Being fairly new to Drarry at the time, I had not yet heard of Elise, though plenty of other readers were chomping at the bit to get their hands on Elise’s new work. I kept hearing good things, so I figured I’d check it out—and immediately fell in love after reading Burn the Witch. The fic was poignant, exciting, and, above all, full of dreamy, delicious romance. So, why should you read Elise’s fic? Here are a few reasons:

The ungodly levels of UST

Elise’s Harry and Draco are fully in lust from the first, even if they still despise each other. In Unfold Me, Harry hates his roommate Malfoy so much that he can’t stop thinking about him or the smell of his laundry detergent. And then, when Malfoy accidentally includes his own t-shirt in Harry’s clean laundry pile, Harry has had enough. He sleeps with Malfoy’s t-shirt under his pillow (and does other, unspeakable things while sniffing it) as retribution. In Cabin Fever, Harry doesn’t like Malfoy or anything, but he can’t help but notice when a sudden gust of wind “whipped through Malfoy’s burgundy, standard-issue Auror cloak and exposed his shapely posterior for Harry to admire.” Okay, and fine, he’s also noticed the way Malfoy laughs, how he strides “through the Auror department corridors like a young prince perusing his future kingdom” (Harry’s words, not mine), and sometimes runs a hand through his “short, stylish, impossibly blond hair.” But don’t worry! Malfoy’s also lusting over Harry, a fact that he accidentally lets slip when he calls Harry ‘pretty’ out of nowhere (which obviously makes Harry lose his damn mind).

Sometimes Harry and Draco’s lust is very inconvenient, like in Draco Malfoy’s Stupendous Seduction Seminar, when Draco recalls a time Potter was pressed against him in the lifts and afterward, Draco had to “walk around with a manila folder held in front of his crotch for a good fifteen minutes.” Poor Draco. Sometimes, Harry is so hot that Draco’s body can’t handle it, like in Burn the Witch, when Draco sees Harry for the first time in years and his heart skips a beat. Literally, “[s]kipped a fucking beat, like in a cheap romance novel.”

Thankfully, Harry’s usually in the same boat. He’s cursed with having a sort of sixth sense when it comes to Malfoy. He can “walk into a room and know Malfoy is there before he even sets eyes on him.” (Draco Malfoy’s Stupendous Seduction Seminar). The back of his neck prickles whenever Malfoy’s around, okay? It’s not his fault. Malfoy only encourages it, doing things like wearing body-con leggings during a play (Upstaged) so that Harry is basically forced to go and see him perform a bagillion times in a row.

Further complicating matters, Elise’s Harry has typically been thinking about Malfoy for a very long time, in very R-rated ways, like in Laws of Gravity, wherein he muses over the fact that Malfoy kneeling in front of him in a cloakroom is “every fantasy Harry has ever blocked coming to life with an incandescent lack of warning.” Oh, generic gay fantasies, you ask? Hardly. We’re talking Malfoy-specific fantasies that involve “the version Harry’s always kept in the back of his mind, all these years—a hungry, debauched version…” Mm hm. This lust has been brewing for ages.

Occasionally, Elise likes to throw in they-almost-go-there-but-stop-themselves moments that make the UST levels fly off the charts altogether. I literally wrote in my notes on Had To Be You, “oh my god! No!! No! Just have sex! Oh my godddd!!!” (look what you’ve reduced me to, Elise). But Harry and Draco did not have sex at that time. Instead, they proceeded to eat dinner together, sporting what I can only imagine were horrendously painful blue balls. Don’t worry, though—it’s worth the wait when it happens.

Because, listen, if you’re sitting there thinking that all this UST buildup must lead to some scorching hot smut, then you are one hundred percent right. I’m not going to spoil these sexy, delicious, smutty scenes for you here by telling you too much about them, but as a preview, here’s Harry narrating in Had to Be You:

Harry’s heart keeps wanting to escape his ribcage, or at least burst it open, it’s beating so loud. He’s never felt anything like this — this anticipation, like the second before a kiss, only drawn up for minutes, for hours, for bloody months, if Harry’s perfectly honest with himself. There hasn’t been anyone else than Draco for months, maybe years...[T]he back of Draco’s hand brushes his, soft and warm and secret, and Harry nearly gasps, because just that tiny touch of Draco’s is the most erotic thing he’s experienced.

A brush of Draco’s hand does that, ladies and gentlemen. So, yeah, the smut is good.

All that sweet, sweet pining

Listen, I’m not going to say that Elise enjoys torturing readers—I can’t see into their mind! But if I had to guess, I’d say maybe they enjoy it a little? Because Harry and Draco pine so hard in Elise’s fic. Oh, sure, they’ll eventually come to experience a life-changing, soul-filling love for the ages, but first they are going to suffer. If you are anything like me, though, you’ll eat it up because it’s beautiful in its own right, and because it makes the payoff so, so sweet. But first, the pain.

Sometimes jealousy is involved, like in Had to Be You. For years, Draco and Harry watch each other date around and absolutely hate it. This results in various degrees of tantrum-throwing. When Harry makes out with Draco’s friend at a music festival, Harry notes that Draco is in a black mood the next day, and that it has “nothing to do with the weather.” Draco stops talking to Harry for a month after that. A month! When Draco sets off on an Italian holiday with a boyfriend, Harry stomps around until he gets a text from Draco that says Draco misses him (yes, Draco’s texting Harry that he misses him while on a holiday with his boyfriend, and no, neither one of them realizes what this means at this point).

Other times, there is no one else in the picture, and yet our dear boys still pine. They yearn for the thing they think they cannot have (even though they definitely, definitely can have it). In Laws of Gravity, Harry is completely obsessed with Malfoy from the start, although he’s sure it won’t work out because Malfoy’s a pickpocket, and also because he’s Malfoy. Harry thinks maybe the feelings will fade? Fat chance, when he readily admits that his life is “bisected into before and after Malfoy’s mind-boggling blowjob.” Harry. Buddy. You’ve divided your entire life (which included a starring role in a war, mind) into pre-blowjob and post-blowjob. I’m pretty sure your feelings are here to stay.

And the reality is, sex is never enough for these two. Nothing short of lifelong love and devotion is ever enough. After Malfoy keeps putting out for Harry in Laws of Gravity, Harry tells him he’s sending mixed signals. Malfoy points out that he’s given Harry not one, but two blowjobs at this point, and he very clearly wants him. Harry argues that it’s “not the same as liking someone.” Because see, Harry and Draco want everything from each other in Elise’s fic. Not just blowjobs, not just friendship, not just casual dating. They want everything.

They’ll make you believe in true love

Which brings me to my final point. Elise’s stories are about the most unabashedly romantic things I’ve ever read. In their first fic on AO3, Had To Be You, Elise notes that it’s inspired by When Harry Met Sally, a film they admit to having watched ‘a hundred’ times. This is not surprising to me. Because if you love When Harry Met Sally, you are someone who loves love, who has a tender center and a soft heart. And after going through Elise’s fics one by one, let me tell you: Elise loves love. Elise loves romance. And this comes through in all their stories, which are, at their core, tender and beautiful depictions of true love.

In Elise’s fic-universe, Harry and Draco were always meant to be, and literally everyone around them knows it. In Had To Be You, Hermione has a heart to heart with Harry in which she makes him acknowledge his feelings for Draco. “I’ve seen how you’ve been practically drooling over Draco for months now,” she says. “And you’ve been obsessed with him…for years. It was the weird thing you had for him in Sixth Year, and now it’s this very intense friendship.” Harry argues with her about the intense friendship, but eventually has to concede the point. In The Generation Who Lived, Neville and Luna scheme to get Harry and Draco alone in their house so that they’ll reconcile (again, because everyone knows they’re meant to be). My favorite fic in this vein is Re: Harry’s Crush, wherein the entire Ministry is emailing back and forth about how obsessed Harry and Draco are with each other. It’s common knowledge. Everyone else can see it, it just sometimes takes Harry and Draco a while to catch on.

But Harry and Draco do know, deep down, even when they don’t admit it at first. It comes out in flashes, like when they have sex for the first time in Had To Be You and Harry notes that “the connection was something [he’d] never felt, not with any of the many lovers he’d had in the past, and it left him feeling raw, exposed and shy, despite the deep pleasure coursing through his veins.” Or in Paper Rings, when Draco reminisces about his Eighth-Year fling with Harry and how he knew, even at the time, that it had been both “inevitable” and that he would never recover from it, emotionally. Or in Laws Of Gravity, when Harry realizes he doesn’t want Malfoy to go, even though he doesn’t know what that means. (It means you love him, Harry!).

One of the things I adore about Elise’s fic is that there is always this fantastic, pivotal moment when things click. It’s the moment when our guarded main characters let their walls fall, let themselves see what everyone else has known for so long. And then this thing—this love—that has felt so impossible suddenly seems easy. There’s a surety that comes flooding in, a recognition that yes, this is the person for me, and yes, they want me too. It’s even said tongue-in-cheek (although we know it’s hilariously real) in Kill, Fuck, Marry when the boys wake up after their first night together. They’d been playing the titular ‘marry, fuck, kill’ the night before, and Draco says, well, you’ve already tried to kill me and you’ve already fucked me, so “[t]he only thing left to do is marry me, I suppose.” Does this scare Harry off? Not at all. “You’ve already got more birthday presents than you deserved Malfoy,” Harry says. “This one will have to wait until next year. If you’re good.” One date and shag, and they’re already joking about getting married. God help us.

But lest you think this is some sort of shallow insta-love, it’s not. Elise, particularly in their long fic, depicts a love of equals, of two men who root for one another and stand up for one another, who have each other’s backs. It’s lovely, the way they see one another so clearly, the way they advocate for one another. Whether it’s Harry in Burn the Witch fighting against a Ministry that’s unfairly targeted Draco, or Draco in Paper Rings advocating for Harry in Harry’s divorce, these are two people who admire and respect each other. It's evident in Harry’s thoughts about how brave Draco is regarding his sexuality in Draco Malfoy’s Stupendous Seduction Seminar. Or, beautifully, in Draco’s thoughts in Paper Rings, when he contemplates that “Harry had spent so many years not being appreciated for who he was…not being loved.” He wonders how “blind Ginevra Weasley must have been not to see how good [Harry was]…how utterly perfect in every one of his complicated ways.” They know that the other is not actually perfect (after all, they, more than anyone, are familiar with the other’s faults), but they love them just the same. In Fire Meet Gasoline, Draco spells out his shortcomings to Harry—all of them—and Harry just says, “Do you think that frightens me? ‘Cause it doesn’t. I told you already. I want everything you are.”

Incidentally, after that gorgeous bit of dialogue from Fire Meet Gasoline, Harry asks Draco to stay with him. Draco thinks about how he doesn’t do love, but Potter was the exception (sort of like how Harry muses that he’s “Draco-sexual” in Paper Rings). Then he says, “I couldn’t leave you if I tried…I’m afraid you’re stuck with me now, Potter.” Cue the violins. Le sigh.

Ahhh, Drarry in its best and most natural state. Soulmates, each other’s one and only, together forever and ever, amen.

And one of my favorite things about Elise: they will get you there every time, no matter how improbable it seems at the start.

You can count on it.

Recommended For…

Lovers of love. Connoisseurs of quality, emotional smut. Anyone who wants to get swept up in an epic sort of romance, who believes that romantic partners should lift you up and bring out the best in you. People who believe in soulmates. Those who believe (or want to believe) in happily ever after. Here are a few you might want to check out, but honestly, you can’t go wrong with anything Elise has written.

Top 3 Fics Over 25,000 Words (by kudos)

Burn The Witch (E, 96k) - When Harry Potter is sent in to investigate Draco Malfoy’s successful potions company, posing as Draco’s bodyguard, he doesn’t know the case will launch a series of events that will change his life — and Draco’s. A story about choices, scars, Chopin piano pieces, and finding all kinds of love in the most unexpected places.

Had To Be You (E, 59k) - Draco Malfoy is possibly the last person Harry expects to find at the wheel of a Muggle car, on a beautiful summer day on the road to London. This is the story of how Harry runs into Draco once, twice, three times, and how he doesn’t leave their next meeting to chance. A fic inspired by When Harry Met Sally.

Paper Rings (E, 50k) –  When Harry’s in need of a divorce lawyer, he has no choice but to turn to the best in the trade. Draco Malfoy’s reputation for discretion is flawless, and his track record for winning cases is close to perfect. But he’s also ruthless, passionate, and as infuriating as ever, and the brief relationship he and Harry had in Eighth Year still feels painfully fresh despite two decades spent apart.

Top 3 Fics Under 25,000 Words (by kudos)

Kill, Fuck, Marry (E, 4k) -  Harry and Draco unexpectedly meet again on Draco’s birthday, years after their last encounter.

Draco Malfoy’s Stupendous Seduction Seminar (E, 2.7k) - Draco Malfoy offers to help his coworkers to improve their seduction techniques, with unexpected consequences.

Re: Harry’s Crush (T, 1.9k) -  Ever get that feeling you're being talked about behind your back? Harry doesn't, he's too busy being stupidly, obviously besotted with the guy in the lab downstairs. A fic where the interdepartment betting war at the Ministry gets out of hand, Millicent and Hermione get scheming, Harry Potter ends up wearing black eyeliner, and everybody ends up getting more than they bargained for.

Kbrick’s Picks (in order of obsession)

Paper Rings (E, 50k) –  When Harry’s in need of a divorce lawyer, he has no choice but to turn to the best in the trade. Draco Malfoy’s reputation for discretion is flawless, and his track record for winning cases is close to perfect. But he’s also ruthless, passionate, and as infuriating as ever, and the brief relationship he and Harry had in Eighth Year still feels painfully fresh despite two decades spent apart.

The Laws of Gravity (E, 31k) - When he runs into Draco Malfoy picking pockets at a charity gala, Harry Potter is forced to face the desires he’s avoided for years — at the risk of shattering the public image he’s so carefully curated since the war.

Fire Meet Gasoline (E, 63k) -  When Draco’s anger management issues land him in St Mungo’s, he thinks his Quidditch career is over. But Harry, A&E Healer and notorious workaholic, is faced with a similar predicament. To save their jobs, the two of them decide to fake a relationship. All they have to do is convince their friends and employers… and not fall in love in the process. Simple, right?

[tennessoui]

I think the therapy questions at the end of the chapters are what really twist the knife for me. Their feelings are so close but their reactions are so differentand they are blind to the other and themselves. Are we going to see Sheari's reaction to the question packet or have her bring up their answers in a session, might be a good way to shake out some rational thought from The Team

the questions at the end are probably like one of my favorite formatting/storytelling decisions i've ever made for a fic ever, so im glad that people are really enjoying them too -- they're a great way to cut through the bullshit of what obi-wan and anakin are saying to each other or those around them (even when they're trying to be honest) and get right down to the very, very, vulnerable truth of the matter that they would never actually say aloud

(from a writing perspective, sure, they could say it out loud - after all, there have been moments of pure honesty between obi-wan and anakin already during fights or during reconciliations, but even that honesty pales in comparison to what the questionnaire says. the answers to the questionnaire are like. unspeakable levels of honesty. you write that shit in a diary levels of honesty. having one of them try to share it in a conversation out loud would, imo, sound clunky and overly dramatic like grandiose declarations that don't fit into natural dialogue......but adding them at the end of each chapter forces the reader into the pov of the counselor for a few paragraphs, reading it for the first time and getting only the absolute, vulnerable truth from the two clients and going damn these guys are sorta insane)

i'm not sure yet what role i want their answers to have in the actual sessions they attend - i don't know how i'd write obi-wan or anakin really actually sitting through and allowing sheari to read their answers out loud in a room that contains the guy they were thinking about. i think it would feel like some sort of betrayal at first. but maybe after they've had many sessions? or maybe if she only read out a bit or asked them to expand on a few points they made?

i'm torn because you're right it would be a good way to cut through their bullshit and show them both that 'hey, this is how he feels about you when he's just alone with his thoughts and being completely honest. how does that make you feel?'

but at the same time would that burn more bridges than it built?

i imagine sheari asked for a second copy from each of them with more detail because she wanted to read through and take notes on 'problem areas' that she could then bring up separately (ie, they have problems in their sex life, let's have a whole session revolving around sexual and romantic intimacy)

but then she probably just highlighted like. every question lol good luck sheari my beloved

[sofoulandfairaday]

Lupin hc I’m begging!

Okay, so.

I hate Fanon Moony with a passion. So before I even say anything here are some Remus Lupin posts so we're on the same level with his characterization: 1) the best marauder characterization post, 2) canon Remus, 3) CANON Remus p.2

Good? Great.

Loving parents. Was absolutely the apple of both his parents' eyes; they loved him immensely and would have given him the world. The guilt Lyall felt over Greyback's attack was unspeakable and he did everything in his power to make Remus' life as comfortable as possible. Overprotective. Overbearing even, but always for his own good. They tried to protect him and comfort him with all that they had.

There were definitely incidents when Remus was a kid. Not only were his transformations extremely painful when he was a child but they were also hard to manage. Lyall and Hope did try their best but it broke their hearts to see him hurt & it was very difficult for them to deal with young Remus' injuries. They couldn't take him to a Muggle doctor after all and

The stigma towards werewolves in the Wizarding World is huge. There aren't enough stories that deal with what it's like to be one. If you're looking for a good read that integrates (not so) small details of the thousand small obstacles that being a werewolf poses while integrating them in an overarching (marvellous) plot, read Moonlit Marriage by @celestemagnoliathewriter (Remadora).

Constantly worrying about money.

He didn't even grow up poor, that's the thing. He grew up fairly decently (his parents weren't rich by any means but they had enough to stay afloat). However, they had almost no savings and when they died (First Wizarding War period) he was left with nothing. Being a werewolf also meant that he couldn't hold down a job.

So many insecurities. So many. About his appearance, his magical talent, his place in the wizarding world, himself.

Speaking of. Not a Greek god. Not a smooth-talking seven-foot-tall Casanova type. He was shorter than both Sirius and James, thin, covered in scars. Kind face.

Awkward. Might have even had a little stutter as a child.

Kind. Helpful. Grateful. Glad and still a little incredulous, after years, that James (& SIrius) might have picked him to be their friend.

The day James&Co announced they had become Animagi so that they could be with him was the best day of his life. Running with his friends under the moonlight is still the memory that first comes to mind when he's trying to cast a Patronus.

Disliked Sirius and James' mistreatment of Snape to a certain degree, but never enough to say anything, never enough to try and stop them (I doubt they would have, even for him).

Like the other Marauders, he adored James.

Sorry to break it to you, but Sirius and Remus were friends through James. They became extremely close only after Azkaban when they were all the other had left from the happiest time of their lives.

Could not grow a whole beard for the life of him.

The ultimate people-pleaser.

Polite.

The definition of passive-aggressive. (Y'all make him plain aggressive.)

An introvert.

A sub if I ever saw one.

Kind. Did I say kind? Maybe he didn't do enough for the victims of the Marauders' bullying because he definitely didn't have the balls to stand up to James & Sirius (and we clearly see this in SWM), but he would be helpful to any and all younger students who needed him.

Lily's study buddy, especially the last years. Remus was like her: good in school, but not as naturally gifted as Sirius and James. He wouldn't be the type to do well even without studying and he definitely had much better grades in his written tests than in practical classes.

This, combined with the fact that he was a massive bookworm meant he had a Hermione-like encyclopaedic knowledge of various subjects.

Unlike Lily, not the best at Potions (he says so himself in PoA)

Loved Care of Magical Creatures, they were always his area of interest as we see in PoA. Also (unrelated), something I've always asked myself: is there any curriculum at all for Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts? Every teacher just seems to teach whatever they like/enjoy more or their particular area of interest. I would have really liked to know what Lupin taught sixth and seventh years for example.

Tea over coffee for Remus (he's a bit of a tea snob, and drinks industrial quantities of the thing)

Not a big alcohol drinker - he doesn't like how it makes him lose control, and has never drunk alone without the Marauders in his youth. However, when times were tough after October 1981 he did indulge too much in it.

I can see him smoking a little bit of weed, not even for the feeling itself but because it helps him with some of his chronic pain.

Sweater vests and old comfy jumpers

If the Marauders had a Feminist king TM (WHICH THEY DIDN'T) it would have been him.

The Prank soured his relationship with Sirius exponentially. It was one of the reasons he thought Sirius was the spy. Everyone was paranoid at the time, questioning friends and allies left and right, but after spending seven years sleeping, eating, living alongside meek, shy, snivelling Peter Pettigrew, he could not picture him as a Death Eater.

The truth is that Sirius, for reasons we've already said, would have made Remus into a murderer. He would have killed Snape. One of their classmates, and when Remus was at his lowest too. It was such a huge betrayal of trust that their relationship fundamentally shifted forever.

He did not love his lycanthropy, would not wear it proudly. He was scared of himself in those moments, and extremely full of self-loathing. If they discovered a Cure tomorrow, he would take it without thinking twice.

[septembriseur]

Depressing political stuff

So this week I got a text from a refugee kid in the US who was like, “My brother who lives in France wants to come to my college graduation, and he paid $700 to apply for his family’s visitor visas, but there are no visa appointments until 2025 and they don’t know what to do.”

For Americans who might not know: this is actually extremely normal and common for people who require visas to enter the US. Good luck getting an appointment in the same year as your trip, even if you are applying through an embassy in Canada or Europe! Your best bet is to check the website every single day on the off chance that an earlier appointment date gets released. Otherwise, you’re just not going to your brother’s graduation/sister’s wedding/grandchild’s birth.

I think what has been weighing on me is that I was so frustrated with him for not doing the research before getting himself in this situation. If he had looked up any information, he would have known that this was the situation. And yet: why should he have known to look up the information? Nowhere in public do we acknowledge that this is the reality. If you watch films and TV, you would never know it. In his college classes, in his friends’ dorm rooms, this is not the reality, or if it is (as it actually almost certainly is for students who have family members in Latin America), it is not spoken of because it carries a stigma.

There is something vaguely Sara Ahmed in the conceptualization of stigma as something that sticks in your path, stigmatization as a condition of having-obstacles. To be stigma-free is to be free, unimpeded in movement, to exercise unstopped and unstoppable agency. But also there is this sense of the source of stigma as unspoken and unspeakable because it does not harmonize with the hegemonic narrative. It strikes a sour note. Amitav Ghosh talks about the “great derangement” of climate crisis being unrepresentable in the novel, but I think actually that is a mid-level derangement. The great derangement is something broader. And there are all these other derangements too.

[transitofmercury]

The thing about Katherine is that I am really defensive of how she is in canon. Like, she is absolutely flawed but she’s also at most 18 (IMO), the daughter of a very selfish man and fundamentally a good person. And the way a lot of the criticism I see of her comes across is very “GIRL has FLAWS? she must be EVIL!” which is misogyny when all the boys get to be flawed without suddenly becoming supervillains. So when I’m talking about canon Katherine I’m very leave her alone, she isn’t perfect but she is a good person with the capacity to improve!!!

At the same time, all my headcanons about her as she gets older are not about her improving, they’re about her getting worse. I think Katherine absolutely could become a lovely person but I also think she’s a lot more interesting if she doesn’t. Katherine who manages to right her father’s wrongs on a journalistic-business level but just becomes him on a personal level.

She dedicates her journalism to workers’ rights after the strike and spends 30 years getting incredible at it. Then, when her brothers are trying to sell The New York World, she forces them hand it over to her and she doesn’t just save it, she makes it better than it ever was. She dedicates it to actually serving the working class and standing for the values it pretended to have when she was a child. On that level of how she uses her influence and her talents, she is better person than her father.

But towards the people she loves, she ends up just as bad as he was to her. The thing you need to know here is that while a lot of things about Pulitzer in Newsies are very inaccurate, he was absolutely a bad father. To quote James McGrath Morris: “He was so cruel to his children, unspeakably cruel.” In my head, Katherine in canon has some Pulitzer-esque traits deep down that she is self aware about and wants to not have. After she moves out, she does get better in how she treats people. For 11 years she’s learning how to express love in a way that people who aren’t her, her father and her siblings can actually understand. Pulitzer dies in 1911 and something breaks inside her and it’s just a downhill spiral into the Pulitzer-esque from then. She is nice to people who are further away from her but she slowly stops being able to express love to the people closest to her in un-Pulitzer ways. Those who knew her when she was younger, especially the older newsies, and her siblings, who are just like her, understand that this is what’s happening and that she loves them. But (in my headcanon she has one daughter, you don’t need the details) her daughter doesn’t really get it and feels exactly how Katherine did when she was younger.

This whole post is just me waffling about how interesting I find the idea of a Katherine who is doomed by the Pulitzer family generational trauma (which did exist)… but I really do find that idea so interesting, she’s so miserable to me :(

[displaysisbored]

Some Recent Art (Wakfu Fan OCs)

Some recent doodles on my Wakfu OCs + info dumping about them lol. Mostly gonna be focusing on my main OC Solaris (They/She) but some of my other OCs are gonna show up too.

This is Solaris!! They're a Xelor which are basically lowkey time wizards (but they can have other abilities like being able to float and manipulate Wakfu - the game's magic source - into temporary weapons). Although most Xelors are, like, smart and strategic with most of the class focusing on strategy, they're like super stupid and honestly more Iop-ish (basically the game's warrior class) than a Xelor but they don't gaf lol.

Despite the game literally focusing on combat, Solaris takes after me whenever I play the game (aka they can't fight for shit). Because their class focuses on strategy which is something they almost never do, they're usually the one party member that is sorta there to have fun and then die 2 seconds later.

Solaris also loves cats!! That's the whole reason why they have the mechanical ears and tail. Both are mostly for looks but the tail is also used for balance cuz Solaris is a bit of a klutz lol.

In this drawing they're holding Fadezo's first cat - Shitface. Even though Fadezo has like a billion cats in his possession, Shitface was the one Solaris connected to the most and she insists to take care of them whenever given the chance (though Shitface lives up to their name and is kind of a dick to Solaris lol).

The character introduced here is the one I was talking about earlier - Fadezo! He's the first character I created in the Wakfu game (and is also my first Wakfu OC) and he's sort of like the brains of the party next to Ria. He tries to take the game and his class seriously but he does enjoy messing around sometimes.

Oh also this drawing is more of an example of Solaris' behavior when it comes to combat lol. She's the type to just run right back into a dungeon after her health regenerates (or if she loses enough she just does some side quests to level up to unspeakable levels and then beat the dungeon in like 3 hits lol).

Like any other version of my sona, Solaris only has one eye that actually works but I decided to put the other eye to something that fits a Xelor and made it a clock! Canonically it only really moves when Solaris is casting spells but I like to imagine that in some reality the clock is also used as a makeshift watch.

The character next to her is named Ari! She's Ria's sister and is an Eliatrope (basically she can make portals and stuff lol). She's the life of the group and is a lot more lighthearted than everyone else - sort of like Solaris except she's actually decent at combat and uses her high energy to her advantage.

So fun fact! Solaris actually has a face under that mask lol. I haven't really thought of what it looked like but I think I'd like to just keep it up to imagination. I just imagine that whatever her face looks like Ria would probably be an asshat about it (aka the Dream face reveal "HES UGLY" reference lol).

Also the character introduced here is named Ari! She's Ria's sister and is sort of the more reasonable/the brains of the party. If it wasn't a group of friends she'd probably be the leader because of her maturity (despite her being the same age as Ari). She's a dragon but usually takes a more humanoid form because it's like way more convenient than being a giant dragon 24/7.

To end off this post, I have a quick doodle of the types of robotics Solaris would make!! Despite her not being the smartest, she's pretty good at creating little Wakfu-powered robots like the Sinistro (a small robotic owl that can be summoned in game). Solaris would spend most of her free time creating and working on making a fully functional robotic cat (but she finds real cats to be more fun to be around).

That's about all!! If anyone got this far tysm for reading actually I love developing and writing about my characters. I'm probably gonna post pretty frequently but I have like 50 billion OCs with 50 billion different stories so it'll probably take a minute to see the same OC twice (however, Solaris is part of the different versions of my sona so you might see her around more often)!