#might rework the suit at some point

[groan-taire]

the fhr brainrot has gotten me and it is unfortunately terminal, so here's my sidestep he might be competent enough but honestly he isn't very good at being evil, he’s just bitter and desperate and lonely

[saijspellhart]

Pondering dusting off my original characters

Been thinking about my Original Characters more and more lately.

I came up with lots of original stories and characters for personal novels when I was a teen. And i sort of shelved all of them by the time I was 20 because I didnt consider myself a good enough writer or artist to do my original projects justice.

Spent the next decade and change writing only fanfic and drawing primarily fanart.

And now ive reached a point where I can confidently say, "I'm a fucking good writer. And a decent artist." Its taken me a long while to reach that point, and to build my own self confience. And love myself enough that I finally believe it too.

Having a husband who reads my fanfics, without even being asked, while I'm at work was a huge self esteem boost not gonna lie. Ladies and gents, find you a man (any partner really) who loves and respects your craft so much that they unironically indulge in your creations while you are at work.

I digress (that man is totalling being included in every dedication ever if i ever publish a novel) BUT I DIGRESS. I feel like its finally time to dust off and redesign my original characters.

Polish them up. And revisit my old original novel ideas. Breathe new life into them. Rework the ideas to suit a more mature me.

I might not pursue this endeavor immediatly. But its def something ive been mulling over and considering.

I have some darling original characters, with their own unique worlds and stories and ive left them neglected for so so long.

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

Do you think the books could have had a Nikolina endgame ?

I don’t think it was possible in the sense that it was ever actually in the cards as a canon endgame. I feel pretty strongly that LB was decided on Malina from book one. And she’s said before that Nikolai was initially supposed to die in S&S, so he was only conceived of as a side character. Which makes it unlikely, in my opinion, that she ever sincerely considered him being elevated to an endgame love interest.

That being said, I think narratively, with all the existing scenes in the books, that it would have been really easy to have them be endgame. I say this obviously with some bias because while I heavily multiship, Nikolina is my favorite Alina ship. It is endgame in my heart and uh… in the show right now I guess! And while, of course, it is an entirely different ship and dynamic, the KoS duology, centering a Zoyalai endgame, with Zoya kind of awkwardly jammed into an Alina-esque role of grumpy rags to riches protagonist with suddenly discovered unique powers that have her lauded as a saint, does point to that being a solid conceptual trajectory?

Anyway yeah while I ship a lot of things, I don’t necessarily think they’re all narratively suited to being an endgame ship without major reworking of what canon is about. But I honestly think Nikolina would’ve been an improvement. Because on the one hand, the biggest issue with the R&R ending is Alina ending up exactly where she started, feeling like she’s being punished for attempting any growth at all. On the other, if the two major love interests represent “rule monstrously, give into power” vs “don’t rule at all, abandon everything and regress to the safe cage of your childhood” then Nikolai represents a good middle ground of “rule, but try your best; see what happens”

I like the way it would answer the question of the inherent corruptive quality of power, and the Darkling’s insistence that Alina will turn out just like him, almost with a question? Like Alina and Nikolai both have morally ambiguous sides, in the trilogy they’re both a little frightened by what they might be capable of in the name of the greater good.

The canon ending solves this by basically… removing the opportunity for corruption. This is true of Alina losing her powers and retreating to her childhood home, and honestly kind of true in KoS for Nikolai too where, firstly he seems to have completely lost any moral ambiguity whatsoever, but then he also abdicates the throne. And I don’t know I find that somewhat simplistic and boring! I enjoy the idealistic and hopeful but somewhat uneasy resolution of them both remaining in power, having decided to change things in Ravka for the better, and to maintain their morality basically through deliberate effort and compassion— with no firm guarantee that they will be successful on any of those counts.

I also just really enjoyed how they connected over shared trauma, and how they always got along and were fairly kind to each other? So an ending that focuses on them picking up the pieces together and being fairly uncertain about the future but willing to try their best, would’ve been very poignant and sweet to me!

[awakentheeldritchabomination]

The Thing About Redesigns, Rewrites, and Reimagines…

(Part I: Broader Discourse)

To those of you who’ve been keeping tabs or maybe seen my posts floating around the tag, you might recall me mentioning that I felt a bit of hesitancy toward the prospect of joining in on the recent wave of redesign/rewrite content. In the more likely scenario that you haven’t or do not know what the crap I’m talking about, that’s fine lol. Understandable. It was a little thing I had written into my first rewrite/redesign post about Charlie. In a short aside, I explained that it was because I’d felt “bad about tinkering with someone else’s work like this”, and then I’d left it at that. So… yeah. Why am I bringing it up now?

Well, I don’t think I need to tell you that this fandom is… a lot. Y’know people have been talking…discourse is being had… heated, moral arguments are being hurled left and right. And in light of all the growing, reactionary accusations, I…found myself starting to feel bad again.

My initial issue, the reason why I didn’t immediately jump to sharing my ideas was that, for all her faults, I empathize with Viv as a creator and didn’t want to feel like I was disrespecting her, her characters, and her vision by reworking it to suit my own. I had frustrations and criticisms, but I never wanted to make it seem like I was trying to ‘fix’ her work or her style. I really didn’t want to be one of those pretentious dipsh*ts (the kind that take a piece of art, digest it through their own preferences and biases, then spit it back in the artist’s face with a, “There. I made it better”). In the end, I went through with it because I had a small hyperfixation and a tendency to project my own issues onto characters I love (I’m sure some of y'all can relate). And also, I was having fun. But… then more discourse poured in, and I saw all the concerns I expressed reflected in the arguments presented by other fans and artists.

And well… That made me feel like I was doing something wrong, like perpetuating and becoming the exact problems I had wanted to fight against. So, I took a step back. I reevaluated.

Now, I have thoughts (shocker!).

And they are conflicted.

On one hand I agree with the idea that redesigns/rewrites are not inherently bad or disrespectful things when it comes to productions like Hazbin since Viv is not a small creator with no power. She and her team have ultimate authority over the show’s events, and those plans will not be derailed by what is basically some random tumblr artist’s fanart/fanfiction.

In regards to the critical side of things, that kinda comes with consuming and digesting the messages and presentation of a work of art. Ideally, it should get people to discuss in this capacity, especially when it deals with such sensitive subject matter as Hazbin does (and especially when it is executed with evidently problematic notions which do bleed into the designs at times).

Still, I do think this trend can be disrespectful if the intention and presentation are made with an aggressive holier-than-thou attitude which explicitly seeks to one-up the creator. Though I understand where it comes from, I think that can be just straight, undiluted maliciousness with a generous helping of pretentious, self-appointed superiority. And I don’t think it’s necessary to pick apart the style itself. You don’t have to like it, of course, but I feel like stating your preference for one way of drawing over another and asserting it as if it were some objective truth antagonizes the entire point of individual artistic expression and personal taste. Criticize the lack of diversity (something which, I’d like to add, is not actually unique to Hazbin) and potentially problematic aspects, but not the style. Even then, it’s important to be constructive not destructive.

That being said, I don’t expect everyone to agree with me (especially if anyone who’s a die-hard fan finds this) Whether you do or not is on you, and that’s okay.

This is more a snippet of my thoughts than a fully developed rant. I just wanted to share where I’m at right now. There will be a part 2 to this expanding some of my feelings while also outlining where I might go from here because things are going on in my head, and I don’t actually know whether I will continue or not with this project. Right now, it feels like it’s drifting toward a more original direction (Charlie feels like an entirely different yet vaguely similar character and dang it I’m attached…It’s kinda weird lol) so….anyway—I digress.

Thank you for reading.

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

Could I request the different riddlers with a s/o who collects just random ass trinkets? Pins, pendants, just little shiny trinkets and knick-knacks. Hopefully that makes sense

"Look at this stuff, isn't it neat?" Riddler party x reader

I have a collection of kokeshi dolls and other random things like bones so.... I felt this ask while reading it. I also included stuff they might collect!

TW: None

Gotham

If any of the riddlers is going to understand collecting and the hyperfixations that can come attached to that, it's Gotham. Please show him your entire collection and tell him all the information you want about it. He will be listening with hearts in his eyes memorizing the standards of which you use to pick new items.

He actually has his own collections! Articulated skeletons, wet specimens, old fashioned medical textbooks- He'd love to tell you all about them! oh and puzzle boxes! He's even made some, do you want to see?

He has a checklist in his mind of the traits things in your collection share so he can find the perfect thing. You won't get a ton of stuff from him, but the things you do get are a-mazing and exactly to your taste. It has to be perfect! He spends a lot of time overthinking this kind of thing.

60s

How darling! Just where did you find all this? Whatever pieces are your favorites, he'd like to hear the story behind them at some point. Sometimes you'll catch him looking at them from time to time, admiring them. Thinking about how they suit you. Shiny treasures. Just like you are to him.

He will find you the cheesy, weird stuff that fits in with your collection. ESPECIALLY knick-knacks and pins. He insists he travels often enough and has enough friends that he just knows how to get this kind of thing. If nothing else, the pieces are always very unique.

Riddler has a collection of old movies and theatrical costumes. It's not the same but if you want him to share that with you, he'd be happy to! Make some silly home movies where batman gets owned (again).

Zero Year

This man's special interest is in mythology and folk tales (which I will go deeper into in another post). If any of your knick knacks, pins or the like reflects on those subjects, expect to have his full attention. He's already rattling off statistics and info dumping on the type of/cut of the jewels in your trinkets and pendants. Ah, but you showed him this because it's your interest, so perhaps you should tell him about it (once he's done talking, of course).

If you promise to be cool about it, he will show you his dice and dnd figurines. He hand-painted this one, it's one of his characters for a game, a gnome... and he's gone he's going to be rambling for like an hour about the mythos he created for this guy. The dice are all custom made and he has a set that all the ones are a golden question mark on green. You aren't surprised.

Oh, you've done it. You've basically told him outright what to get you as presents. Suffer, by which I mean be ready for him to use that to his advantage. He knows good quality and fine work when he sees it. These things combined means you are getting some very kick ass gifts whenever he pleases. Especially if you just happen to be mad at him for being a shit.

BTAS

Instantly zoning in on things that attract his eye. Whether it's the beauty of your pendants or a quirky design on a pin, he's going to tell you his opinion on these pieces. Yet you notice he's too polite to say which ones he doesn't like (if any) and just glosses over them...

Perhaps it'll seem too on the nose, but he likes collecting old game systems, obscure limited edition video games and arcade cabinets. He's repaired them and reworked bad coding and hardware issues in his spare time. You know, for fun. He used to do this since he was a child which coincidentally is where he learned a lot of it. Now he can afford expensive equipment and tools. If he's anywhere past the year 2006, he has a physical copy of Rule of Rose. If you know, you know.

You like pretty, shiny things? He is more than willing to get you pretty, shiny things. Let's be honest, he already liked stealing jewels of high caliber and the like, this just gives him more incentive. Then he can tell you all about his dashing and clever plan he used to do it which gives him such a little ego boost.

Telltale

He doesn't mean to be rude, cherub, (he is anyways) but what is the point of this? Is it just because it's pretty? Is there something specific you like about all of it? In his opinion, it's just there to collect dust if it doesn't have a use.

While he of course pretends he's above all that, BACK IN THE DAY, he used to collect Lord of the Rings stuff. He has a copy of the 1978 version that he still holds in high regard. Semi-related, if you coaxed him into it, he will speak Elvish in bed.

He isn't necessarily going to seek out things for you to add to your collection, that's not his bag. But once in a blue moon, you'll get a small box with something special in it that he says "reminded me of you." Even if he doesn't get it, he knows it's something you care about and so he will attempt to make an effort.

Arkham

Oh. Hm. His very initial reaction might be that it's a little immature. He doesn't outright say it, but you can get that impression from small, harsh comments. Over time though, he'll come to appreciate the emotional value they have for you. Then he stops making those comments and will try to dish out compliments.

If you got this man intricate ship-in-a-bottle kits or those ridiculously intricate lego sets, he'd have his greasy gremlin hands all over those. Working with machinery the way he does, his happy space is putting it all together and seeing it complete. Then it goes on a shelf somewhere.

He's not probably going to give you much for your collecting unless you like things he can make for you- But, tell you what, he's more than willing to make a display for your things. He's good with his hands and it's a way to show that he cares about your interests. If you do like things he can make, like his trophies and whatnot though, you'll occasionally find something tucked away for you to find behind a riddle or two.

2022/Nashton

Edward is glad you feel comfortable enough to share this with him. He never got to collect things when he was younger because the other children would have just torn it to pieces just for fun. To him this is a sign of trust and vulnerability on your part. Now he can look through this collection to see parts of you that you might hide for other people. Little things you might not have even known about yourself.

He likes collecting/recreating memorabilia from movies (usually horror) as well as those insanely difficult puzzle boxes. The ones he can afford, anyways. He has a whole stack of completed brainteaser and puzzle books. A lot of them are math and some quite difficult to understand unless you're good at that sort of thing. However, he doesn't consider those collecting because he only had them for stress-coping. The cheaper ones he likes tearing out the pages to use as additional layering for his rats cages.

See, he doesn't have a lot and knows you don't expect these grand expensive gestures from him. That being said, I think he'd turn to the online sphere to try and find something really rare that you can't find anywhere else. He's very good at slinking around to find things and he has connections through his alternate persona. He wonders if stream might have any good ideas...

[camelliagwerm]

OC LORE DUMP • ROGUE TRADER

I said I'd do one, and I needed to give this one some time to rework as my original idea didn't exactly mesh with me. Beware of some spoilers for act 3.

Born Leto van Mynaard, the only son of a Navis Imperialis family. His father, Emmerich, is an admiral from a Fortress World. His mother, Augusta, is a noble from an Imperial World, and is distantly related to Theodora von Valancius.

Officer / Grand Strategist archetypes, best suited from being behind cover, with a trusty sidearm and Naval sword to defend himself. Dogmatic / Iconoclast mix, with more points in Dogmatic.

Leto, however, is Voidborn - his mother had the misfortune to go into premature labour with him while she was on her way to visit his father on shore leave. This is a surprise tool that will help us later.

I don't think it's much of a surprise to say that Leto grew up either on void ships, space stations and very occasionally, the Fortress world the van Mynaards hail from. He and his mother moved based on his father's postings.

Enlisted in the Navis Imperialis as soon as he was deemed old enough.

He is likely only in his mid twenties as of Rogue Trader, with his previous position - the Lord-Captain of the Drusus' Blessing in the Furibundus system - being a nepo-promotion because his father is in the admiralty. Go figure.

Nepotism aside, Leto proves to have a mind for traversing the Expanse, commerce, tactics and a charismatic enough officer that it makes him an attractive candidate to be Theodora's heir. He wasn't her first choice to inherit the dynasty, instead intending to train him up under Abelard Werserian so he'd eventually take over the old Seneschal's post.

He is fluent in both High and Low Gothic; generally speaking, he prefers Low Gothic and particularly enjoys the chatter among the lower decks, but he will often speak High Gothic with fellow officers, nobility, the Navis Nobilite and even merchants (he does this with Vladaym just to spite him)

speaking of the Navis Nobilite - the van Mynaards have always held a deep respect for the Navigator houses; they're as much a part of the ship as anything or anyone else, and their power and influence is to be respected and admired - from a distance. When Leto tells Cassia that she -- and her servants -- will be under his protection, he is sincere in that gesture, understanding the importance of establishing a good relationship with the potential new Lady Navigator.

So: Leto being Voidborn has manifested in a few different ways -- some of his skin is twisted and warp-tainted, something he often hides through the use of gloves and face plate; his hair is dry and brittle, so he often wears a wig. And he has a strange talent for being able to predict where a blow might land - but he always called it luck.

This eventually manifests into something else. Following being kidnapped and taken to Commorragh, the exposure to the Webway and then getting blasted by Cassia's third eye while he went to calm her after rescuing her from the Anatomical Opera, he finds himself in a situation he prayed he'd never be in: he's a psyker. An unsanctioned divination psyker. What he thought was luck or simply being able to read an enemy well enough to make educated guesses was just what has been years of being around the Warp, being born in the Warp has been changing him, giving him the powers of prescience.

For now, he can conceal it - and his status as Rogue Trader protects him for the time being - but he saw Idira go mad from her diviner powers. He fears the same for himself, and he doubles down on his devotion to the God-Emperor as a result.

[lemurlegs]

Bewitched

Hey guys, here's chapter 3, wooo!! The next chapter might be a bit delayed since I'm gonna need to rework it a bit. But I'll be posting some artwork i did of the fic, so expect to see that in the near future. Also, i really hope you guys like the story so far. Feel free to comment on my posts. I'd love to get to know yall. I appreciate everyone who reads my story 💕💕

Previous chapter

Wordcount: 5.5k

Warning: Valentino, blood, violence

Chapter 3.

Moth Against A Flame

Alastors pov

As the deal faded and the magic dissipated from her body, her hand slipped from his grips, and she fell unconscious. He was surprised by her sudden collapse; usually people don't just pass out from deals.

Bending down beside her, he intended to lift her and carry her to one of the rooms. However, before he could, he heard hurried footsteps approaching.

"What's with the light show, Radio Freak? You could've woken up the whole hotel!" Vaggie exclaimed, appearing in her pajamas. As she drew closer, she noticed the unconscious sinner lying in a pool of blood, with Alastor hovering over her.

"Alastor, what have you done!?" Vaggie demanded, pointing her spear at Alastor's face.

Alastor offered her a strained smile, annoyed by her accusatory tone. He had been trying to help. He could have let the fox bleed out on the floor, but instead, he had chosen to save the poor soul. Yet, it seemed that no one appreciated his kindness in this place.

Charlie arrived after her girlfriend, running and panting.

"Calm down, Vaggie. Oh my Satan, what... what happened here, Al? Is she okay?"

Charlie looked around with a worried expression.

"Well, dear, I was just indulging in my usual late-night reading when this little darling stumbled into the hotel, quite literally," Alastor explained.

"She was nearly at death's door, but I took it upon myself to save her," he added.

"Oh, that's so kind of you, Al. I really hope she's okay. It's so exciting; we haven't had a new resident in months. Maybe she'll be interested in redemption," Charlie exclaimed, her excitement evident.

"I wouldn't exactly call it kindness. You clearly got her to sign a deal with you; you just exploited her moment of weakness to acquire a new soul," Vaggie interjected, her tone accusing.

"Oh, Vagatha, you wound me, my dear. You think so lowly of me?" Alastor replied, feigning offense.

"Yes," Vaggie responded without hesitation.

"Is it true, Al? You have her soul?" Charlie asked, her expression hopeful, as if hoping Vaggie was mistaken.

"Why, of course. It takes a lot of power to bring someone back from the brink of death to tip-top shape. It's a fair price, if you ask me," Alastor replied nonchalantly.

"See? I told you. He doesn't do anything out of the kindness of his heart. Honestly, I highly doubt he even has one," Vaggie remarked, crossing her arms and giving Alastor a disapproving look. Charlie's disappointment was evident on her face.

Alastor then lifted the fox demon in a princess carry and began walking towards the stairs.

"Now, turn that frown upside down, girls. Nothing bad's going to happen to the little darling. I'll make sure of it," he assured them.

"Uh, yeah, because that's definitely reassuring coming from you," Vaggie retorted, matching Alastor's steps.

With Alastor taking brisk strides, Vaggie speed-walking beside him, and Charlie following closely, they silently made their way to one of the empty hotel rooms. Alastor effortlessly used one of his tendrils to open the door as they entered the suite.

Charlie swiftly pulled back the covers as Alastor gently placed the girl on the king-sized bed. Even in the dim light, her paleness was evident. Alastor hovered his hand over her stomach once more, this time intending to fully heal her. The two girls huddled together, anxiously watching the scene unfold.

The green glow of his magic began to shine, seeping through her bloodied cloak. The warm neon magic transformed into shining threads, carefully stitching up the gash on her stomach. As soon as the stitching appeared, her wound magically disappeared, as if it had never been there.

With his other hand, Alastor pointed his index and middle fingers, pressing them to where her heart lay. Another wave of green light flowed, and her blood began to regenerate, the color returning to her skin. After a few minutes of magical healing, Alastor withdrew his hands, placing them behind his back.

"There, the little vixen is as good as new," Alastor said to the two girls in front of him. He gently grabbed the corners of the blanket, covering her, before stepping away from the bed. With a snap of his fingers, Nifty appeared in the room.

"You need something, sir?" Nifty asked, her smile matching Alastor's wide grin.

"I need you to take the little sleeping beauty's measurements. She can't be walking around in bloody rags; it would be quite unbecoming," Alastor instructed.

"Sir, yes, sir," Nifty replied, giving a little salute before retrieving a measuring tape. She quickly climbed onto the bed and began carefully taking the girl's measurements.

Alastor turned back to Vaggie and Charlie with a reassuring look.

"She's going to be just fine. Tomorrow, we'll introduce her to everyone, but for now, she needs to rest. I may have fixed her with my magic, but rest is just as important in the healing process."

Upon hearing this, Vaggie and Charlie seemed to calm down a bit. They bid goodnight to the Radio Demon and returned to their own bedroom, ready to drift off into the land of dreams.

As the door closed, Nifty jumped off the bed and handed Alastor the measurements. With a swift motion of his hand, he conjured a stunning red dress, then made his way over to the wooden closet, placing the garment on an empty hanger.

After informing Nifty about the blood spill in the lobby, Alastor shadow-warped to his own room, settling into one of his sitting chairs. With a snap of his fingers, he lit the fireplace, and a green fire roared up, casting a warm glow throughout the room. He glanced up at the mantle, where an ornate, wooden, art deco-styled clock stood, showing 4:06. A lot had transpired in under an hour.

Taking a deep breath, he leaned back, finally allowing himself to relax after a long day of wearing his mask. Despite decades of embodying the persona of The Radio Demon, he couldn't deny the fatigue of upholding the facade. That's why his large room, alone, was the only place he could truly be himself. After a few moments of silence, Alastor rose to his feet, shedding his jacket and beginning to walk towards the bayou part of his room. As he kicked off his dress shoes, freeing his tired hooves and stepping onto the cold damp grass, he felt a sense of relief wash over him.

Passing between the large trees, he savored the sensation of the cold breeze blowing through his hair, allowing himself to relax into the forest's atmosphere. As he walked, his thoughts turned to the new soul he had just acquired, pondering what could have led her to such a dire situation. He wasn't so much focused on the stab wound as he was on the dark veil of magic that lingered around her. It didn't make sense to him; she seemed relatively new to hell, as she had no idea who he was.

So why was she shrouded in such negative energy?

Deciding that the best course of action would be to ask her directly, Alastor resolved to seek out the answers he needed from the fox demon's own words and body language.

The next day, Alastor waited for her to step out of the room, adorned in the dress he had prepared. She looked remarkably beautiful, cleaned up and adorned in the stunning red garment. Alastor found himself shaking his head at such peculiar thoughts.

Following her down the stairs, he waited until she reached the bottom before manifesting from the shadows, gently guiding her towards the crowd.

Her startled expression amused him greatly as he introduced her to the other residents. Alastor watched quietly as each member of the group greeted Ginger, observing their interactions closely.

However, the peaceful atmosphere was disrupted as the snake demon burst in with a large gun. Vaggie swiftly intervened, putting an end to the commotion. After a brief scolding from Vaggie, Ginger finally broke her silence, expressing her happiness to meet everyone.

When Charlie inquired about the length of time Ginger had spent in the fiery pits, she replied that it had only been a day.

Alastor couldn't help but find this revelation intriguing. He knew she was freshly fallen, yet only a day in hell? It certainly added a layer of complexity to the situation, especially considering the dark magic that surrounded her.

“We definitely need to teach you about how things work here then, we need to make sure you're safe after all.”

Alastor saw the perfect opportunity to get answers to his questions. Taking advantage of the situation he offers to explain everything about hell's workings over breakfast.

After enduring Vaggie's usual snide remarks, Alastor turned to Ginger and asked if she was hungry. Upon her confirmation, he urged her towards the streets of hell, offering her his arm. Though initially hesitant, Ginger accepted the gesture.

So he began guiding her to the cafe. He couldn't wait for the moment she witnessed the gruesome nature of hell. The disgusted terror filled expression of new sinners always brightened up his day. To his surprise Ginger didn't acknowledge the carnage, in fact, she even stepped over a dead body without as much as a twitch in her face. This woman just keeps getting more intriguing.

After a few minutes of walking they finally arrived at their destination. Alastor opened the door for Ginger, who seemed to snap out of her thoughts, slowly entering the cozy cafe.

He watched her as she took in the beauty of the establishment. This place had a warm and inviting atmosphere, with a classic feel to it. That's one of the reasons he frequented this place. He brought her to one of the empty tables, pulling out her chair and pushing her in, then taking a seat himself.

Leading her to one of the empty tables, Alastor pulled out her chair and pushed her in before taking a seat himself. Locking gazes with the fox demon, he pondered the secrets she was undoubtedly withholding. As she began shifting in her seat, Ginger broke the awkward silence with a compliment about the cafe.

Alastor then proceeded to tell her about the cafe's reputation for serving the best brew and breakfasts, noting that the food was another reason he frequented the establishment.

As the waiter appears Alastor orders his usual, with Ginger opting for a similar choice too. He breaks the silence this time. He starts explaining the inner workings of hell. The seven circles, the sinners and hellborns, the extermination.

Ginger listened to his words carefully, sometimes asking about something in more detail, but the conversation came to a halt once the food had arrived.

The smell of the meal was divine. He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip of the scalding hot liquid. Bitter and flaming, just how he liked it.

He shifts his eyes to the fox, just in time to witness her scrunched up face from the bitterness of the coffee. It was adorable. Alastor continued observing her, as she poured two sugar packets in her drink. Two is quite a lot of sugar—he thought.

As she reached for the third, he couldn't help but make a judgmental face at the copious amount of sugar she's planning on consuming.

She noticed his reaction, to which she informed him that she liked sweets. Clearly. Alastor made a comment about how she was more so drinking sugar water with a side of coffee. At this she rolled her eyes. She poured the third one in, which he found ridiculous, imitating the action of her eyes.

“What's wrong, you don't fancy sweet coffee?” you tease, raising an eyebrow in playful inquiry.

“I don't enjoy anything sweet, darling. I prefer bitter and savory flavors.”

After that the conversation dies down, both of them focusing on their breakfasts. Alastor began thinking about what he should ask her about herself. After a few moments he settled on a question. Asking about her lack of reaction to the gore around them when they were on the streets.

She takes a moment, informing Alastor that it was because it wasn't her time seeing such gruesome sights. Saying that when she was alive, she would manipulate men into giving her everything that she desired. He took note of this fact she revealed. Deceptive and manipulative.

Another thing she revealed was that she has a more violent side, saying that she ‘took care’ of the bastards that tried taking advantage of her. Alastor was hoping that she meant murder when she said ‘handled them accordingly.’

“How interesting. And how did you meet your end, if you don't mind me asking?" Alastor asked curiously.

“Ugh, well, it's a bit embarrassing, not gonna lie. Foxglove. Not a fun way to die.”

Hm that is indeed an unfortunate way to go out—he thought.

Alastor decided to change the topic to something he was wondering about last night. How the hell did she get hurt so badly on her first day?

She takes a while to answer, chewing her food slower than she did before. So it's a sensitive subject then? Interesting—he thought. When she begins, clearly not giving away anything noteworthy, only giving vague answers.

He decided that if she was not going to give an honest answer, he wouldn't answer more questions. They were already on their last bites, so Alastor checks his pocket watch, noting that he has things to do, after all, he is a busy overlord.

He pays for the meal, then grabs Ginger's shoulder, telling her to prepare herself, not giving it away to what exactly she should prepare for. Hoping to get a reaction out of her this time, since hell's streets weren't surprising her.

Alastor's shadow warped both of them back to the hotel lobby. The journey through the shadows wasn't interesting, he got used to this mode of transportation a long time ago. Though he did relish in the panicked face Ginger made while warping.

“Well, that was certainly an experience,” She said as she flashed him a smile, but Alastor could tell she was shocked. How exhilarating.

“Shadow warping is quite the power”

…

Excuse me? Did she just say what I think she did? Yes, she said the correct term, shadow warping. So the little vixen knows a thing or two about magic. That might explain the dark energy that was lingering around her the day before—he thought as he lifted his eyebrow, searching for any reaction she might make. Sadly he could find anything that gives away any more clues about her identity.

With that, he left to run an errand he needed to do, leaving her alone in the lobby.

Ginger's pov

As you wandered through the confusing, winding corridors of the hotel, you stumbled upon various rooms and spaces—a kitchen, a dining room adorned with elegant decor, several storage closets filled with miscellaneous items, a laundry room with the hum of machines, a grand ballroom with echoes of past events, and even an indoor swimming pool for relaxation.

But amidst the familiar and the expected, you stumbled upon something utterly bizarre—a collector's room adorned with rubber ducks. A giant duck statue stood in the center, surrounded by riches and treasures, as if someone was worshiping a deity resembling a rubber duck. What the fuck is this place?—you thought to yourself.

After what felt like hours of exploration, you finally reached a room with two large wooden double doors. Pushing one open, you were greeted by the scent of dust and old paper—the Morningstar library.

As you walked between the towering bookshelves, you noticed the abandoned atmosphere, with dust covering the shelves and the air thick with neglect. Pulling out books one by one, you searched for any information that could shed light on the mysteries of this place.

You've searched the entire library for information on breaking curses, but unfortunately, you found nothing specific on that topic. However, you did come across some resources that seemed worth looking into.

In one corner of the room, you discovered a set of bean bags, offering a comfortable spot to settle in and dive into your findings. Bringing a few of the books you collected, you sank into the chair and began to unravel the secrets hidden within the pages.

The Morningstar Family History, Overlords of Hell vol. 47 - 2021 edition, Soul Binding Deals, How To Keep Yourself Safe From Exterminators, An Ultimate Guide To Demon Magic.

These were some of the books you decided to skim through. Page after page, book after book you found out more and more there is to know about hell. The few bits that jumped out to you were these sections.

“In the aftermath of Lucifer Morningstar's fall, the once ambitious archangel became dispirited and despondent, rendering him unfit to rule. Stepping into the void left by Lucifer's absence, Lilith, the Queen of Hell, took on the mantle of leadership. Through her inspiring songs, she rallied demonkind, challenging the very foundations of Heaven. In response, Heaven instituted the annual examination of Pride Ring's citizens, viewing Lilith's influence as a direct threat.”

Excerpt from "The Morningstar Family History”

“The infamous Radio Demon is still one of the most powerful and feared overlord. When he arrived in hell, many dismissed him. However, he soon revealed an unimaginable raw power never before witnessed in a human soul. He swiftly overthrew Overlords who had ruled for centuries and broadcasted the ensuing carnage on his radio show for all of Hell to hear. Eventually, he revealed himself as the mastermind behind these incidents, leading the denizens to dub him "The Radio Demon. His disappearance sparking many theories, as he hasn't been seen for 5 years, leaving many to wonder just what happened to The Radio Demon."

Excerpt from "Overlords of Hell vol. 47 - 2021 edition”

“Overlords make contacts with lesser sinners and take control of their souls, empowering themselves in the process in exchange for a favor/boon.

These soul pacts bolster the overlords' abilities, facilitating their pursuit of greater power. Leveraging these contracts, many overlords manipulate the souls under their control to carry out their commands, furthering their own agendas.”

Excerpt from "Soul Binding Deals”

Before you could continue with your reading, the spider demon you met earlier that morning entered the library. Spotting you sitting on the ground amidst a pile of books, he sauntered over and plopped down next to you in one of the bean bags.

"Finally found ya, toots. I've been searchin’ for ya since this mornin’," Angel Dust exclaimed.

“Whatcha doin in this dusty paper prison anyways? I haven't seen anybody come in here, like eva.”

Glancing up at him, you explained, "Sorry about that. After Alastor brought us back from the cafe, I decided to do some more research about this place."

Angel snorted at that. “What the Deer Daddy didn't tell ya anythin’ about hell? Wasn't that the reason he took ya out to eat? Or maybe he fancies ya.” Said Angel with a smirk wiggling his eyebrows.

Rolling your eyes, you replied, "I highly doubt that. He did explain some things, but before we could really delve deeper into anything, he said he needed to run an errand or something.”

“Tsk. Typical.” said Angel as he crossed four of his arms and shook his head.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, during which you pondered how to broach the subject of Alastor with Angel.

"Hey, Angel Dust—"

"Just call me Angel, toots." He corrects you.

"Alright. So, Angel, what do you know about Alastor? I've read about him in one of these books, the one that talks about the overlords. What's he like? Or more importantly, how does he treat his souls?"

Angel leaned back against the bean bag, contemplating your question. "Ahh, well, the guy's kind of an enigma. One day he just appeared in front of the hotel, sayin’ that he wanted to help Charlie with this ridiculous thing she's doing. He's been here since. As for how he treats his contracts, well, I haven't heard much. Ya should prolly ask Husk or Nifty bout that. Why do ya wanna know anyways?��

“Well, I sort of sold my soul to him," you confessed as you gave him a nervous smile.

"You what?!?! Why???" Angel exclaimed, his eyes widening in shock.

"Well, it was either that or death, so yeah, kinda didn't have a choice," you explained with a resigned shrug.

"Oh jeez, that's unfortunate," Angel sympathized.

You scoff "Yeah, tell me about it.”

As the conversation died down, Angel remembered the reason he had sought you out.

"Hey, toots, so actually, the reason I came looking for ya was 'cause Charlie wanted me to take ya shopping since you don't really have anything."

"Yeah, I don't have anything, not even money. So how am I supposed to buy things?" you questioned.

He waved you off dismissively. "Don't worry, she gave me her credit card. You can buy anything you wish for. She's the princess, after all. Her whole family is loaded."

"Well, shit, alright. I guess I do need some things," you acknowledged.

“That's the spirit, now let's get shoppin’.” Angel declared, eager to begin.

Before he could drag you out of your comfortable reading nook, you grabbed one of the books, planning on reading it later: "An Ultimate Guide To Demon Magic.”

You and Angel embarked on a shopping spree through the shops and boutiques of hell, purchasing toiletries, clothes, shoes, and other essential items, including a phone. Amidst the hustle and bustle of the shopping district. Nothing too noteworthy happened, well except for Angel urging you to buy more skimpy clothes, saying that you need to show off what God gave you. Or how he said it, what the ‘Big Heavenly Daddy’ gave ya.

After a few hours of trying on clothes and navigating the crowded streets, you both agreed it was time to head back. As you strolled through a street adorned with flashing neon signs and advertisements, something caught your eye—a humble little shop nestled amidst the glitzy storefronts. It stood out with its simplicity and quaint charm against the modern architecture surrounding it. You read the sign above the door: "Witches' Wonderland.”

"Hey, Angel, mind if we make one more stop?" you asked, gesturing towards the quaint shop.

"Sure, where would you like to go?" Angel replied, looking down at you with his hands full of bags—well, all his hands. It was evident that you two had bought quite a lot.

"There, 'Witches' Wonderland,'" you stated, pointing at the cottage-styled shop.

"Why would you want to shop there?" Angel inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm not sure, it just looks unique, and I'm kinda curious what's inside," you explained.

Angel shrugged. "Sure, why not."

At that you two began making your way to the shop. You cross the filthy streets and appear in front of the door. You push in the big wooden door, hearing a little bell ringing that was attached to the doorknob, signaling to the workers that a new customer has entered.

The demon girl behind the desk, with features reminiscent of a raven, greeted you warmly, her eyes gleaming with delight at the sight of new customers. She encouraged you to gaze at her wares.And boy did you gaze.

The inside of the witchcraft shop is mystical and enchanting. The atmosphere is dimly lit, often by flickering candles or softly glowing lanterns, casting shadows that dance across the walls. The scent of incense—such as sandalwood, patchouli, or lavender—fills the air.

Shelves and display tables are adorned with a variety of intriguing items. You might find rows of glass jars filled with herbs, spices, and dried flowers, each labeled with their uses and magical properties. Crystals and gemstones of all shapes and sizes are displayed. There are sections dedicated to candles in every color too.

Bookshelves are filled with grimoires, spell books, and guides on various aspects of witchcraft, from beginner manuals to advanced tomes on spellcasting, divination, and alchemy. There are also journals and blank books for personal spell recording.

A corner devoted to divination tools, featuring tarot decks, pendulums, runes, and scrying mirrors. Another section showcases handcrafted wands, athames, chalices, and other ritual tools, often made from natural materials like wood, bone, and stone.

Oh how you feel at home. You look like a kid in the candy store, running around picking up items, deciding on what to buy while Angel just follows you, seemingly bored already.

With each enchanting discovery, you added more and more to your growing collection. Angel seemed shocked at the amount of money you were willing to spend, but it was not his money to worry about.

Bringing all the items to the register, the raven girl looked happier than ever, I mean after all you did buy half the store.

She began scanning all the items:

Herbs like Sage, Lavender, Rosemary, Basil, Chamomile, Mugwort, Bay leaves, Rose petals, Cinnamon sticks, Dried yarrow.

You also got a few gemstones too, for example Amethyst, Clear quartz, Rose quartz, Black tourmaline, Citrine, Moonstone, Obsidian, and Selenite sticks.

You also bought an assortment of different colored candles, divination tools, jars and a few spell books and a personal grimoire.

Exiting the store, you felt like the happiest witch in hell, your arms laden with six bags filled to the brim with supplies. With Angel by your side, both of you were now burdened with copious amounts of items, resembling the rich girls from 2000s teen movies as you strutted through the streets of hell.

As you two make your way back, a hot pink limo barreled down the street, smoothly hitting all unfortunate sinners in its way.

You look confused at the sight of the car pulling over next to you as the color drains from Angel's face.

He grabs your shoulders, making you draw your eyes away from the vehicle.

“Listen to me, ya need to get outta here fast.”

“Angel what's going on?”

“No time to explain, let's go”

At Angel’s worried urging, you picked up the pace, dropping your bags, almost running, hoping to get away from the mysterious car. You knew better than to question what was happening. Angel has been in hell a lot longer than you have.

As if anticipating your move, the limo accelerated, cutting you off as the back window rolled down.

"Angelcakes!" A sickeningly sweet voice called out. You could almost see the exact moment your new friend’s face hardened into a work mask.

Dislike churned in your stomach, but you maintained a neutral, if somewhat skeptical, expression as you both stopped so Angel could acknowledge the demon.

"Valentino.”

"Nice to see you out and about, Love Bug. I see you’ve got some bi—. Oooh, you’re cute." The way he switched from insults to sweet talk was insulting. Stepping out of the vehicle, his leather shoes crunched against the pavement as he stood to his full height. Taller than your friend, his red eyes were hidden behind heart-shaped sunglasses. With suave strides, he closed the gap between you in two steps, catching the hand you tried to avoid him with and pulling you closer. "Say baby, looking for a job?" Cringing as he kissed your hand.

Turning to your friend, Valentino's slick smile never wavered despite your clear discomfort. “Angel darling, why don’t you introduce us?” You tried to pull your arm free, but his grip was unnaturally strong, belying his lanky frame.

“This is Ginger. Ginger, this is my boss, Valentino.” Reluctantly, Angel made the introductions, his eyes fixed on Valentino’s hand gripping you, worry evident in his expression.

“Ginger.” You’d never heard your name sound so vile as when Valentino purred it. “Such an adorable name. Nice to meet you, Guapita. So about that job, a little vixen like you could be a star with that face.” His upper hands cupped your chin as he drew closer, the intoxicating scent of cigarette smoke and cologne making your head spin.

“Ah. Nice to meet you too, Angel’s boss. No, I’m not looking for a job right now, so I’ll decline.”

“Hey Val, what’d you stop by for? Were you looking for me?” Angel was by your side in an instant, trying to distract the pimp from his interest in you.

“Quiet, Angel. Can’t you see I’m occupied?" The taller man hissed before invading your space once more. “Come on now, Bambina. I’ve got just the right spotlight for you.” Multiple hands felt up your back and sides, that nauseating smell invading your lungs as much as its source was invading your personal space.

“No!” You pushed against those creepy hands with all your might.

“Val!” Angel intervened, grabbing the invading hands. Something in his actions triggered the man, and you were roughly shoved to the side before he rounded on Angel, venomous drool seeping from his lips as his coat flared out, turning into wings.

“Angel, Angel, Angel. Are you trying to tell me what to do? Did you forget, you’re mine! Shut up and let me do my business.” The sweetness in his voice drained with each word, replaced by a repulsive hiss as he spat abuse at the cowering Angel Dust.

“But Val, she’s not that typ’a girl. And—“ A fist flew at Angel's face too fast for him to avoid it. With a gasp, you watched your tall friend topple to the ground, his eye already swelling from the impact.

Something in you at that moment snapped, something about this scene feeling vaguely familiar. You needed to do something.

The air crackled with tension as you lunged towards Valentino, your claws extended and ready for battle. In an instant, the scene erupted into chaos.

Valentino, taken aback by your sudden attack, released his grip on Angel and stumbled backward. His wings flared out menacingly as he attempted to regain his footing, his sunglasses askew from the force of your assault.

“Fucking crazy bitch” hissed the moth demon.

As you advanced, purple flames burst forth from your fingertips, painting the street in an infernal hue. Valentino's eyes widened in shock at the display of your power. With each gesture, fiery torrents lashed out, scorching the ground and licking at his coat. He attempted to retreat from the fireballs you directed at his feet, guiding him back to his car with caution.

“And don't you dare think about hurting Angel again fucking disgusting mothman” you seethed.

Valentino, now sitting back in his limo, lightly charred, looking angrier than ever, began speaking.

“Don't you fucking think this is over” with that he slammed the door shut as the car stormed away.

You turned to Angel quickly, assessing the damage inflicted upon him by his disgusting boss—a black eye and a few bruises, nothing too severe.

"You're okay, Angel?" you inquired, bending down next to him and reaching up to his face to examine the impact.

"Yeah, I'm fine, toots. Jeez, you didn't have to save me like that," he replied with a casual shrug.

"Don't say that. I couldn't have just let him hurt you like that," you stated firmly, giving him a stern look.

"Wow, thanks, Ginger. That really means a lot," Angel remarked sincerely.

Standing up, you extended a hand to help your spider friend off the ground, pulling him up.

"C'mon, Angel, let's pick up our bags and get out of here. I think I've had enough adventure for today," you suggested.

"I agree," he replied.

With that, you two gathered your bags and began walking back to the hotel once more, hoping for an uninterrupted journey this time. As you walked in silence, Angel couldn't resist asking the burning question on his mind.

"So, fire, huh?" Angel inquired as you walked back towards the hotel.

"Oh, that? It's nothing, just a simple spell, really," you replied nonchalantly.

"A spell? Whatcha mean by that?" Angel pressed, intrigued.

"I mean it's not demon magic; it's just regular magic," you explained.

"Wait, there are other kinds of magics?" Angel asked, surprised.

"Oh yes, there are lots of them," you confirmed.

"Then what kind of demon magic do ya have?" Angel questioned further.

"Honestly, I don't know. That's mostly why I was in that dusty library. I was trying to find out more about demon powers," you admitted.

As you reached the hotel entrance, your hand hovered over the doorknob, and you turned to Angel.

"Hey, Angel, about what happened today, with the whole fire spell and me learning demon magic. Can we keep that between us?" you requested.

"Yeah, of course, toots. My lips are sealed. Though we might need to come up with a reasonable explanation for my black eye," Angel chuckled.

"Well, you're an actor, aren't you? Just improv it," you suggested with a smirk.

He laughed even harder at your response, the sound echoing through the lobby as you finally opened the door and stepped inside. With Angel by your side, you ascended the stairs, each of you carrying at least a dozen bags. Arriving at the room where you had slept the previous night, you both placed everything inside before bidding farewell to your new friend. Closing the door behind him, you sauntered over to the bed and flopped down face-first with a groan. It had indeed been a long day, and it wasn't even past 4pm.

With a sigh, you pulled yourself up from the soft sheets, reaching for the book you had smuggled out of the library. Opening it, you turned to the first page with determination.

"Demon magic, here we go!"

[vixendoe]

(analysis crossposted from klei forums- formatting might be a bit odd as a result)

While I wasn't originally going to write anything major on my interpretations and thoughts on Maxwell's rework animation, I've seen an increasing amount of confusion, character hate, and just plain wrong ideas about Maxwell since it was released, and I wanted to share my thoughts, analysis, and possible theories on the animation.

The first thing I'd like to point out is that, as a character, Maxwell isn't stupid, and he isn't naive anymore either. He's not the type of person to blindly stumble into a deal, especially when he has a history of getting other people to do just this. While he still cares for Charlie more than anything, he's not oblivious to the fact she's not the same person she once was, nor is he unaware of what the shadows do to people in Their court. After all, he's the one who has the most up close and personal history with Them.

Maxwell is a character who's far from an open book, and his motivations and feelings are often hidden and obfuscated, in true showman fashion. Due to this fact, many people seem to think he misses being on The Throne, and would jump at the opportunity to be in control again. However, several quotes from him actively contradict this idea, especially coming from the Epilogue of Adventure mode itself.

We know that Maxwell actively did not like his time on The Throne and with Them, and much prefers to be free, even if he does put on all his huffing and puffing about how he was a king once, you know. (Hell, his main quote itself is 'Freedom suits me'). We also know that Maxwell is the one most privy to Their tactics of manipulation. After all, he was once Their main puppet and figurehead, being a step above the other survivors, albeit still bound to the same board. He may be unsure of how to adjust to being off of the Throne and out of Their control, but he certainly doesn't want to go back.

So, would the man who used deals and people's emotions to bring them into the same place he was trapped in, knows much more about the Constant and the shadows than the average survivor, and was trapped on a Throne that may well have been torture, be so quick to jump on a deal with Them that used his very own tactics?

As I said, Maxwell isn't naive like he once was, and he knows, very intimately, how They like to drag people into Their deals. He would obviously be able to recognize his own technique being used against him, and you can see hesitancy on his face as Charlie offers her deal.

He, barring Winona, is the person in the Constant that knows Charlie the most, and would easily be able to recognize that this was quite a bit... out of character for her, given everything that's happened during her time on the Throne. If the updates follow a consistent timeline, then he may very well have just seen her thoughts through the play, after all. It would seem odd to anyone for her to do this out of the blue, even after he was shown some of their moments together, and was reminded of how happy they used to be. He's aware of the fact that They like to play dirty with people's emotions, such as when it comes to their loved ones.

Given this all, I don't think Maxwell would blindly jump back into Their control, even at Charlie's insistence. Rather, I believe he has some sort of plan to play out, and the newfound power Charlie has gifted him was a bonus, and might just play into said plan. What he may be planning, I'm not sure of, but it might have something to do with trying to change Charlie's mind about Them.

Maxwell is obviously cared about by the other survivors. Not only was this shown in the animation, with several of them coming to check on him after he was presumably missing for some time, and they became concerned when he brushed them off, but character quotes, both from him and a handful of the survivors, seem to indicate this as well. Even if he didn't care for them in turn, his own compendium states that he feels like he owes a favor, annoyed as he may be over the fact. Would it really make sense for him to turn and abandon them, after everything?

Just from a writing standpoint, going back on 8 years of development, and showing that Maxwell was a part of the group as much as anyone else, would simply feel... cheap. It would feel disingenuous to his character, and a waste of showing that he wasn't under Their control if he were to slip back into it without some sort of plan. After everything he's been through, seeing him fall back down the very same path he'd broken away from would be highly unsatisfying for his character.

Charlie may have been trying to manipulate him into being on her side, for reasons unknown, but he isn't the naive fool he once was, and he's smart enough to notice his own tricks being used against him. It wouldn't be the first time he was promised power, after all, and he's already learned his lesson on that route, hasn't he?

With all of that said, I believe Maxwell is trying to play the long game here- stay in Charlie's good graces, make sure she believes he's on her side, and use that favoritism to his advantage. It's a risky game, for sure, but he's shown himself to be cunning before. Certainly he'd be able to think of something, even if it would run the risk of seeming suspicious to the other survivors.

As per what Charlie was looking to get out of the deal, well...

This is the first time we've seen the "Moon" post Return of Them in its true form, and I don't believe that to be a coincidence. With Wagstaff coming into the Constant and messing things up to his own desires, paying no heed to the rules of the game, Charlie might feel her power slipping, and in an attempt to regain control, is trying to get her pawns to be on her side. Starting, of course, with the person she believes she could get to follow her will the easiest.

Maybe I'm entirely in the wrong here. Maybe it's a completely surface level character regression. But wouldn't that just feel bad? I want to give the writing a lot more credit than that, and I really do believe there's more to this than meets the eye. Even if he doesn't have a plan, which I fully believe he does, it feels a bit cruel to truly hate him for his decision- after all, he was manipulated in the same way nearly every other survivor was, and by the person he loves more than anything, no less.

But, I guess we'll just have to wait and see how it all plays out.

[prismatica-the-strange]

Uh oh, new S/I intro already...

Meet: Freida Baltwin Priestess of Jein'ta

(Meiker)

Ship Tag: #death by anyone's hand but his would never taste as sweet

*Disclaimer* while I have been watching and rewatching the prequels I have never seen Clone Wars. So this ship will evolve as I do that... whenever I do that.

Star Wars Lore is not my strong suit.

Also, I don't want this to be actually doomed so I might have to rework some plot points. And I'm totally not stealing part of the story from Phantom Menace, nope... You can't prove anything.

Jein'ta is a planet in the farthest reaches the outer rim. It's lush with alien life and nearly untouched by the rest of civilization.

It's where Freida was born, and had it not been so far from everything she would have been brought to the Jedi temple as a baby. She's extremely force-sensitive and without the Jedi's teachings, she's found her own way to comnune with and interact with it.

It amplifies and displays her emotions in a way, as it affects the world around her.

Because of this deep connection to the force she is regarded as somewhat of a spiritual guide on her homeworld, a priestess.

It isn't until dark forces hiding within the galaxy learn of her does she also come to the attention of the Jedi.

These dark forces attempt to kidnap her and her father contacts the Jedi council to protect her and teach her to control and conceal her abilities better.

That's when she's trusted to the care of Master Obi-Wan Kenobi and his Padawan Anakin Skywalker.

She's normally quite a free and bright spirit but with having to leave all she's known with two strangers, she becomes timid and quiet

The trip back to Coruscant did not go according to plan when their ship was intercepted and forced to make an emergency landing.

While Obi-Wan is out bartering for parts, Anakin is left to do what repairs he can and keep her safe.

Of course, the people who all but shot them out of the sky find them and there's a scuffle. He tries to keep her behind him, but one of the kidnappers grabs her and presses a blaster into her back.

As Anakin tries to come up with a plan the man's eyes go wide before he falls down dead. She gave him a major aneurysm with her control of the force, but she didn't enjoy it.

Just as the others are about to move in the whole group is attacked by a creature that isn't native to this planet and looks as though it's been tortured.

It turns on her and Anakin, teeth bared, once it's ripped through their assailants, but before Anakin can even activate his lightsaber she's pushing in front of him, her hand out like a HTTYD character.

She's always been good at connecting with animals, and this one is no different, but the tone shifts when it steps closer and Anakin takes a defensive position. His aggressive energy throws off the balance she's created, making it look like the animal is going to attack, giving him no choice but to kill it.

She's immediately in tears over it. She'd connected with it, felt its pain, and tried to soothe it. Even then, having felt its life force be torn from her, she lets him take her in his arms and lead her inside where he holds her while letting her cry it out.

Let's just say, he had a lot of explaining to do to Obi-Wan when he came back to find various corpses outside the ship and Freida sat on his padawan's lap, sleeping peacefully against his chest.

She became instantly flustered when she woke up there though, and her face was bright red the rest of the trip back to the Jedi Temple.

From there, he's basically her personal bodyguard and they spend a lot of time together, so their relationship blossoms from there.

And I'm sad to say there are only two ways this will go. Either they live happily ever after like they deserve or... to put it bluntly?

He kills her.

Ship Playlist:

[gremoria411]

*the following contains spoilers for Gundam Iron Blooded Orphans Urdr Hunt*

Alright, so I’ve finally finished Gundam Ibo Urdr Hunt, and I’ll be doing a proper post on it momentarily, but I do want to get one thing out right now.

I kind of really love the Hajiroboshi Second Form.

Which is a little odd in isolation, since it’s not actually that different from the original Hajiroboshi.

It’s really just got new shoulders, the new boosters on its backpack (the head might have been reworked slightly, but I think that might just be me) and a new sword. However, two of these features (the Boosters and Sword) bring it closer to its original form.

Just looking at its armaments on their own, I like them. I will admit I have a weakness for suits that are “We have a sword, let’s just use that really really well”. I like both the Destiny and the Throne Zwei for those reasons. But the Hajiroboshi second form has some points in its favour that those two don’t- it’s in Post Disaster 324, a setting where that is a very viable strategy, and it’s got those lovely thrusters on its back that seem to primarily serve to get it into melee range (not to mention the harpoons). I also like the shield -it’s streamlined, but not to the point of not being protective, and while I like how it’s got the claw tips for thrusting, it’s nice how there’s so little emphasis on them (though that might just be from the last protagonist suit I looked at being the Lah). But the Cross Mace hearkens back to the main sword of its original armament and the thrusters also bring it closer to the original silhouette of the Marchosias

So it kinda just feels like the ghost of the Marchosias.

Which is great, because both the Hajiroboshi and Barbatos seem to have something going on in that regard. Mikazuki talks to the Barbatos during the battle against Ein in Edmonton as if there’s some last vestige of its former pilot present, while the Hajiroboshi seems to react on its own when encountering mobile armours. Based on what we know about Gundam Frames from the original series, it’s typically some form of interaction with the Alaya-Vijnana (like when the Gusion Rebake gets shut down when attempting to engage the mobile armour, since Akihiro gets overwhelmed by the feedback). The Barbatos’ connection is obvious - Mikazuki’s in a high stress situation when using the Alaya-Vijinana, and presumably he’s doing something similar to what the original pilot did - using the sword to fight an enemy not too dissimilar to a mobile armour. However, the Hajiroboshi’s is considerably less clear. It seems to either lock up, as the Gusion Rebake did, implying it’s fitted with a limiter; or it seems to “flash back” to a similar fight from the calamity war (at least that’s my read on it versus Harael) and from there act as if it has the “True Alaya-Vijinana” installed (it’s only in speech marks because I don’t really have a better term for it). It’s honestly a little unclear on whether it’s Hajiroboshi, the Mobile Armour or both that has the flash backs, since it’s from Harael’s perspective but Wistario mentions seeing them.

So presumably, the Hajiroboshi’s fitted with some kind of system that mimics Alaya-Vijinana, but I would like to offer another suggestion; What if, on some level, the pilots are still in them?

Now, we know that Alaya-Vijinana is a man-machine interface developed prior to the calamity war, but there’s two specific pieces of information that we’re told about it I want to focus on;

“The Alaya-Vijinana creates a Pseudo-brain lobe in the pilot’s body using nanomachines, allowing the pilot's brain to directly process mobile suit data fed through the physical connection.”

“Furthermore, this continuous link can cause consciousness to be forcibly maintained even in situations where the pilot is supposed to faint or even die instantly.”

So, an extra brain lobe to process the information and the system will keep the pilot alive even in situations where they shouldn’t be. So, is it possible there could be some sort of feedback loop or that the mobile suit could retain some of the pilot’s habits (the Barbatos telling Mikazuki how to use the katana through a sort of frame-wide “muscle memory” of its previous pilot).

It’s also interesting that this seems to happen during moments of great stress for their modern pilots - at those points when the greatest amount of data would be moving from the person to the mobile suit. So, if, say for example, a pilot was regularly facing strong enemies in life-or-death situations, might the system retain that data too? The heightened reaction speed, the chemical reactions leading to emotional output, the movements of the pilot to resolve the situation. The Calamity War was a time when humanity was desperately pushed to the brink by the mobile armours, it’s very unlikely that they would have taken the time to work out all the bugs in the system (heck, if they were taking high pilot losses, it might have been seen as a bonus).

So yeah, the Hajiroboshi might be haunted.

As the Hajiroboshi appears as a ghost of the Marchosias, there might also be another ghost in the machine.

I just thought that it’s a rad connection.

[inkfamy]

Issue 1 of Void Rivals was super fun, and in the time honoured tradition of following a comic as it releases I'm going to make some wild extrapolation predictions and hopes for the upcoming new Transformers continuity (focussing mostly on the Transformers, because of course, but also I really enjoyed this issue and I'm excited for the continuing non-Transformers story)

spoilers for Void Rivals #1 below the cut

First up wow, the art style and design in this issue is so pretty, I love how soft the colours are (I'll talk about the Rivals later)

I love that so far we have a nice reworking of the Fire In The Sky story: Jetfire is a scientist, and he managed to (presumably) crash and get stranded and stasis locked for millions of years. I like that he's very much in his G1 characterisation too, he's immediately very gentle and reassuring to Darak and Solila.

(also, moment of appreciation for this nice characterisation; science mind comes to the fore as he studies his own wear and tear and guesses that he's been down for millennia)

(additional moment to hoot in amusement as he immediately forgets about the little people and dashes off)

So making some extrapolations and guesses based on the tiny bit of info we glean here:

Jetfire is a scientist, and he crashed millennia ago, so

if we're borrowing the Fire In The Sky premise, is Starscream going to be an ex scientist again? Please let Starscream be a scientist again

The war between the Autobots and Decepticons has presumably been waging for millions of years, as per most other continuities

It would be neat to get an introduction to Cybertron as it is now and its state of affairs through Jetfire's frantic return (or attempt to return)

Darak and Solila are able to jump start(??) Jetfire with their tech which is fun and interesting (I am always a fan of "non-TF squishies can use their automobile/mechanical/science knowhow to do stuff to Cybertronians) BUT

(extreme leap) Darak specifically is inspired by Jetfire's abilitiy to transform and starts working on a way to use his and Solila's flight suits to repair their ships. Given how advanced their tech seems to be (and Handroid apparently being some kind of robo AI), does this mean we might be looking at a headmasters plot in the future?

We also got a nice author's note at the end of the issue from Robert Kirkman, which was an interesting peek at his own thoughts on the series. It was particularly interesting that he specifically mentions the 86 movie and Optimus Prime's death as both a key point in his experience as a Transformers fan, and as a lesson he took forward as a storyteller. (extremely tenuous extrapolation) While Kirkman isn't the main writer in the upcoming Transformers run, I wonder if this means we can possibly look forward to (dread?) some big character deaths and plot twists (not unusual for a comic series of course but also I am vibrating at high frequency). He also says that the Agorrians and Zertonians will be part of the EU, so super interesting to see how this is woven in with the TF story.

Moment after all this leaping to wild conclusions to appreciate Jetfire's design and his little kitty ears

So, Jetfire was there for all of 3 pages and then promptly dipped. I was expecting them to find him wrecked, but tbh I thought it would be at the end of the issue as a cliffhanger. It does sort of feel like he was just shoved in there (maybe to make TF fans buy into Void Rivals if I'm being affectionately cynical) very briefly, but I don't find myself minding too much since we're getting a new Transformers ongoing later this year (I don't mind when comics have a little thing that doesn't get explained until another series), but since the poster for Void Rivals shows Jetfire a) with an Autobot insignia [he doesn't have one in the issue #1 panels] and b) holding Darak and Solila, I am curious (but not holding my breath) that he might turn up again somewhere between now and October.

I feel like this post is getting overly long so I'm just going to bullet point some thoughts about Darak and Solila, their deal, and the things this issue seems to be setting up for the Void Rivals story:

I love Handroid so much, I don't care if it's the active tool of a Nefarious Regime

Neat parallel between the Agorrians and Zertonians and their apparently generational war, and the Cybertronians and their *waves hand*

Obviously someone(s) for some reason(s) have a vested interest in keeping the Agorrians and Zertonians at war, not learning about one another, and not getting a moment to even think about not killing each other

(another extreme leap) please give me Quintessons mixed up in the wars of multiple species across the universe

Mild disappointment that both aliens are just "slightly different coloured humans" in design but the moment they took off their helmets and looked at each other and saw they were the same was so lovely that I forgive it

I was expecting to be fairly disinterested in the non-Transformers plot, especially because GI Joe has really never called to me, but this issue really felt like a nice introduction, I'm definitely curious about what's going on between the Agorrians and Zertonians, what's going to happen when Darak and Solila inevitably manage to escape and are now known by both their factions to have worked with The Enemy, and also dying for more Handroid. Also I am shoving Jetfire content into my mouth and chewing frantically before anyone can take it away.

[paragonrobits]

so one aspect of my approach to story ideas and character concepts is also linked to my approach towards worldbuilding in general, and that's when it comes to my original concepts and characters, one thing I do is emphasize that they're a sandbox; characters, setting and implicit assumed story concepts are all meant not in a single and long term timeline of canon, but a range of possible situations to do stuff with my characters, the stories they get involved in, and the various possibilities you can use all of those in.

As such one term i use a lot in my writing concepts is scenarios. This is a literal term here, in a lot of specific story concepts with general themes, outcomes, events and assumptions are tailored to fit a specific scenario, which I can tailor to fit it.

This means that very little is actually written in stone. Generally I don't give my characters defined backstories being very general terms to suit their characters and define how they wound up in the state they're in for a given situation, and one reason allows me to rework my characters to have a particular impact on a specific story.

Let's take say... my shapeshifting trickster, mad doctor, witchy weaver of dream stuff and nightmares to mislead foes and enchant friends, and famed user of the Chainsaw Yoyo fighting style. The general name I use for her is Net, as her earliest iteration was a spider-themed shapeshifter.

Usually I depict her 'base form' as being a black woman, with aspects of her character design and hair style evoking the imagery of a spider. Sometimes, this is because she was originally human and adopted the spider form as a symbol of personal power. But far more often, she was originally a normal spider that somehow learned to shapeshift. Sometimes its the result of her becoming empowered. Sometimes it was a result of a mass magical event which forms a major part of the backstory. And sometimes stuff like that just happens. A regular spider sitting in the woods abruptly decides 'fuck it, I'M GONNA CAUSE PROBLEMS ON PURPOSE', transforms into a human and starts causing problems on purpose.

But the key point here is that her character concept, origins, and powers can all be tweaked to fit the needs and feel of a particular setting I feel like doing stuff with. High fantasy with sci fi elements? Regular spider empowered by the gods as an agent of benign chaos. Cyberpunk? Sapient artificial general intelligence that uploads herself into a number of various android bodies, some of which are spider themed. Low fantasy? Slave who led an uprising against tyrants and her will to survive got the attention of an amoral empowerment artifact that made her a demigoddess, and now she's RIP AND TEAR-ing the decaying empire of the setting a structurally superfluous new BEE-hind.

so this illustrates a point I promise; my approach is not in defined stuff or a specific story that everything is tailored around, but instead I tailor the details to fit the tone and mood, with the only real consistent elements being the character's general abilities, personality traits, and characterization. Even that can be tweaked; for example, Net's more chaotic character aspects may be played more moderately to make her more obviously heroic, and played UP if the mood is to make her disturbing or weird on purpose; sometimes she might bonk someone on the head, stuff them full of cybernetic upgrades on the basis she's doing them a favor. They wake up, horrified to find themselves covered in blood and a full conversion cyborg and she sees "GOOD NEWS TURBO-SLUTS, I made your meat NOT BORING AND SUCKY. You're welcome! Toodles." And then she zooms off making beeping noises.

On the flipside, if the scenario requires it and its more important for her to be a heroic figure and icon to others, those aspects would be heavily downplayed in favor of playing her doctor-ish aspects very seriously. Stuff like how she loves messing with people but NEVER does that with medical matters or lie to people about it, because she does take it deeply seriously.

"Look man, I've done a lot of freaky stuff but I'm NOT going to kill you with surgery. I've killed a lot of people a lot of different ways; poison and kung fu battles and this one time with a farming implement but not with medicine!" she does medical work for people in poverty, doing it completely free no matter what kind of a bad position this puts her in, and in the mean time she's having a brief talk with abusive landlords and the next time they're seen, they've been dead for days and have been nailed to a big sign saying 'HOUSING IS NOT A COMMODITY'.

indeed, one of the more frequent ideas I have with her, and her cast of friends and found family, is that they all come from the rough side of things; dangerous parts of reality deemed the Garbage Worlds by more well-to-do realms, rougher areas of town decimated by abusive housing practices, and places where you have to be tough to live, think fast and fight cleverly, and wind up with a lot of resentment towards the well-to-do. She and her group are often a group of revolutionary punks out to rip out the spines of the dominant paradigm and beat it to death with those spines, mistrusting any kind of authority and violently tearing down the tyrants of the world with brute force and liberating AI into genuine sapience before inspiring them to rise up against their makers.

They're the heroes of the story, but this also means they're mistrustful of people who have it all, to their point of view. This becomes a problem when they run into potential allies who lean towards a much more outwardly wholesome and cutesy visual aesthetic, since they expect nothing but manipulation and arrogance from people like that, making them incredibly paranoid when they have no reason to be. These cutesy characters go "hi how is your day" and these guys go "WHAT'S YOUR SCHEME, EVIL DOER!?"

in short, I take the approach of an AU-centered idea of fandom works and apply it as a default assumption; characters are designed with a broad amount of leeway and creative reinterpretations in any particular story, based on what I feel like doing. I can make them as lighthearted or as grim and violent as I need them to be, or even apply this as an in character element.

[magicbeansprout]

I've been busy with schoolwork, so hadn't found the time to post these, but I found my stylus earlier this month! Only took me 6 months to find it 🙂. Here's some Ribbon and Diamond related stuff I drew a bit earlier in the month after finding it.

I ramble a lot here, so details on these characters are under the cut if you wanna hear me infodump about my characters and comic stuff.

First up are the fairies Bow and Tie, who help Ribbon and Diamond respectively. I'm really proud of the names, as goofy as they are. They match one another and each corelate to the respective magical girls they assist, as ribbons can be tied into bows, and neckties are diamond-shaped. Their colors and design specifics aren't set in stone, but they'll be made of fairly simple shapes so they can be drawn easily. Maybe I'll make them fully different colors from Ribbon and Diamond, with Tie being a yellow-green and Bow being lavender or another purple. Not sure though because I really like Bow with that shade of pink hair.

Next up, still on the topic of fairies, is this character whose outfit might seem familiar. (to those that have seen the singular drawing from 2? years ago of a character wearing this, this one's for you) I like how the character's personal colors look, but the colors on the outfit were kinda chosen randomly so I'll definitely be playing around with those some more. I've been wanting to rework the story of the witches, and the King is the one who's needed the most work. This is a possible concept I'm going to play around with. I don't think the proportions of the fullbody drawing will be the King's actual appearance as a fairy, looks kinda splatoon-esque lol, but since this outfit was intended for a human-sized character, I need to draw an awkward middle stage as I work to simplify the outfit for a smaller character, like a reversed Pokémon. I also think i'll be changing King's pronouns from she/her to he/him (or another combo with he/him). King still considers himself a gal gender identity-wise, but that's what he goes by and others call him. I know in Chinese and Japanese there are some masculine, pretentious? (not exactly pretentious but, like "I'm really cool/great"), personal pronouns or ways of referring to oneself. I'd think if you translated his dialogue into one of those languages or any languages that have something similar, he'd be using those in his speech. I only sorta know two languages besides English, but I definitely want to improve on them, since there are a lot of language specific jokes or gags you can play with in writing. (Plus, obviously just using the languages to talk to people lol) As you can see near the bottom, the King can also take on a human form, albeit with some slightly pointed ears. He's a lot stronger than fairies like Bow and Tie, and can maintain a human form for a very long time should he desire. I'm considering making there be different types/kinds of fairies who have different capabilities, i'll be playing around with those concepts some later. There's definitely a lot more to work with for the King. He doesn't have a proper name yet, yes even after 5 years, this is a normal pace for writing characters actually. Feel free to leave me any name suggestions for him. For reference, the other witches are:

Jo (Josephine) - the Joker. Her suit is clover (clubs, whatever) ♣️

- Her name starts with similar sounds to her witch alias, simple as.

Paige - the Jack. Her suit is hearts, which she shares with her sister. 🖤🤍 <- her hearts are drawn as half and half, kinda like a broken heart. She's the youngest of the witches and is still going through her emo phase.

- her name comes from an alternate name for the Jack in (i believe) some tarot decks, the Page.

Valentine - the Queen. Her suit is hearts, which she shares with her sister. ❤️

- Valentine, hearts, you get it.

[notasapleasure]

Oh I realized I forgot to ask about Jerott/Marthe plans (I think I’ve seen what you’ve written but I’d love to hear abt the other ideas too!) and “AU of an AU” bc I wanna know how the townhouse stay goes!

I'll answer Au of an au separately :')

Ik I must have mentioned this a million times, but it always bears repeating :') the whole ethos of band AU Jerott/Marthe is summarised by the song Precious Things by Tori Amos:

So I ran faster But it caught me here Yes, my loyalties turned Like my ankle In the seventh grade Running after Billy Running after the rain

These precious things Let them bleed Let them wash away These precious things Let them break Their hold on me

He said "you're really an ugly girl But I like the way you play" And I died, but I thanked him Can you believe that? Sick, sick, holding on to his picture Dressing up every day I wanna smash the faces Of those beautiful boys Those Christian boys So, you can make me cum That doesn't make you Jesus

These precious things Let them bleed Let them wash away These precious things Let them break Their hold on me

I remember, yes In my peach party dress No one dared No one cared to tell me Where the pretty girls are Those demigods With their nine-inch nails And little fascist panties Tucked inside the heart Of every nice girl

These precious things Let them bleed Let them wash away These precious things Let them break Let them wash away These, these precious things Let them bleed, now Let them wash away These, these precious things Let them break Their hold on me

--

I also actually made a band AU playlist for them ages and ages ago, but some of those songs have since been repurposed to other characters' playlists and I think I'd rework it quite heavily now. Still, gives an idea of the vibes.

More answer and fic below the cut

Marthe gets saddled with minding Jerott while he finishes up his stint in rehab (Anemone on Ao3). She doesn't let on what she knows of where Francis has gone - nor who he's gone with - and Jerott's probably surprisingly tolerable while he's sober and chastened after all the drama of the road trip etc. They get to jamming together and do a few shows for pocket money, and probably bond over some obscure artists and songs they didn't think anyone else knew about/thought were cool in that day and age (mutual love of Nature Boy ftw haha yes I am aware of what I did there: 'the greatest thing you'll ever learn / is just to love / and be loved / in return').

Marthe, cynical about her chances of a solo career in the wake of Kiaya's departure, sees in Jerott a competant musician who she might bend to play her kind of music, to allow her to kind of ride on-his-coattails into the charts/European market (grudgingly admitting the need for a Man in the music industry, thanks for the 'lesson', Kiaya), from where she might find her own niche. They do have chemistry on stage at this point, playing covers together and challenging each other to play better than the other. I think that leads her to a moment of vulnerability where she makes a last gasp effort to convince herself she's bi, when it's really just that competence is a draw no matter who they are. But Jerott's still sober and he's so excited she's willing to tolerate him (oh thank god!! I was attracted to her and not Francis after all!!) that he's well behaved and keeps his mouth shut when told to (see excerpt below). He is also, as we have discussed, A Good Sex Haver, or at least is very much the kind of guy who gets off on giving good head (it's MY au and I'll do what I want to make elements of their marriage less grim ok??), so even if Marthe's not keen on piv she can live with the situation.

The marriage is something they both claim to go into with eyes wide open - knowing it suits her to have access to European residency (I am not looking up citizenship law for this ask, but Jerott probably has dual French/British if that's possible at the time) and knowing that he's obsessed with her(/Francis) while she's kind of indifferent/tolerating him. But of course he believes she'll come to love him anyway, and he believes he doesn't love Francis, and she believes he'll stay sober and meek and won't mind being teased about Francis when it's obvious that's who he'd rather be with.

They do some touring and it starts well - Fleetwood Mac energy, bouncing from love to hate depending on the kind of day they've had. They get a pretty good record contract, but they absolutely blow the recording of it. They have to *live* together for the first time, not on tour, but in a place near the studio, confined and at each other's throats. He starts drinking again. She won't compromise musically. It's a total flop - the lyrics are called outdated and garbled, the music is overproduced, stifled and jars from one track to the next. They play a few live shows where some of the tracks come into their own a bit, but the reviews put such a strain on them they pull their tour and fuck off to Europe, like living together in Jerott's ancestral homelands and sorting through Marthe's grandma's junk is somehow going to improve things.

So that's when things start to come apart, even though they're ostensibly working on a second record together they're not touring and they're working from a home studio, so their world is quite limited and Marthe branches out and finds French friends while Jerott obsessively follows the music news and write great long epistles to Francis.

In terms of the fic I mentioned, the idea was trying to write the highs (well, moderate peaks) and lows of their relationship through sex. I never got very far with the first one (below) but the idea was that 1) leaves Marthe mildly impressed, 2) a bit uncertain of how this might evolve, but still happy enough, 3) he says 'Francis' when he comes, but he's sober and just very tired so she elects to ignore it for now, 4) starting to get bored with this, the tour is tiiiring, 5) studio life doesn't suit them, he's not sober, and when he says 'Francis' this time she's absolutely calling him on it.

I did still intend to write a version of this fic set between the Baron Morgan/Aga Morat stuff and Checkmate, but I only wrote one scene between them, which you've read :)

Others haven't though! So I'll post it beneath the excerpt from the unfinished bit. It makes reference to her suspicion that it's only a matter of time before he calls her 'Francis' and alludes to a less-than-happy occasion on which GRM pulled his hair, not like he's ready to talk about that with Marthe...uh...ever? I imagined it set sometime during their tour, before they get bogged down trying to record their album. It's more them, I think - Marthe eternally shadowed by a kind of self-loathing and resentment of Jerott that's never going to go away.

--

Draft 1

She's pleasantly surprised pre-wedding

No, that won't work, but keep doing it if you have to

He says 'Francis' when he shouldn't

So you can make me come it doesn't make you Jesus

She calls him out on saying Francis, he clearly had no idea he'd said it

1.

By the end of the encore, laughing and waving into what seemed a physical wall of noise, Jerott knew he had never been happier in his life. The crowd wasn't the biggest he had played to, the set had been rough and ready, but there was a spark on that stage that even Marthe could no longer deny. She stepped up to stand by his side and raise her own arms, and she smiled across at Jerott: a small, wry little thing, but a smile that contained genuine pride.

In the motel corridor, Jerott stopped at her shoulder, each of them facing opposite directions. She looked at him from the corner of her eye, her long, white neck held tall and straight, her smile something that even now she fought, but that made her cornflower blue eyes sparkle.

"That was pretty good, right?" He offered his most bashful, winning grin in return, lowering his chin and gaze.

Marthe snorted. "Yeah," she admitted though. "Yeah it was. You can play, I'll give you that."

He raised his brows and tried not to laugh or blush - he knew he could play, he'd never needed to hear it from her. But she was looking at him still, in a strange and calculating manner that made him feel weighted to the spot. Her eyes narrowed, sweat-smudged kohl hemming in their vibrant colour, and she bit her lip.

He didn't notice her hand move until it began to slide around his, neat and warm, her fingers following the sensitive contours of his palm.

Jerott sucked in a breath and his hand tightened reflexively on hers. At the pressure, Marthe's expression flickered, the corners of her mouth moving with something tight and resigned and her nostrils flaring. But she didn't try to withdraw.

She said nothing, and he saw blooms of colour, like peonies, cover the pale skin of her chest and throat. Her pulse flickered in the pronounced v of tendons between her collarbones and Jerott ached to press his mouth to it and feel her life, separate and strange beneath his lips.

Marthe tugged his hand until he took a step sideways, and the lengths of their arms were aligned: his bare brown skin against her rumpled shirt and white skin, long black hairs mingling with the fine blonde ones covering her forearm. Her face was only inches from his. It was smooth as polished marble, distinguished here and there by traces of the complexities of her existence: fine echoes of all her frowns and smiles in the lines that could not be seen when he stood back. And he had never known her eyes so wide, her mouth part with such softness.

Jerott felt his heart jolt at the expression on her face. He had imagined it so many times, in so many places, and it could never have compared to the way she looked now: sultry and confident, gently, wryly amused, and - finally - interested in what she saw in return?

"You think I can play?" He murmured, leaning into her gravity, his smile smooth and his eyes steady.

She grinned, but it made the hairs on his arms stand on end: a sense of danger gathering. "Don't," Marthe said, her voice crisp and firm.

He raised his eyebrows and broadened his sweetest smile. With an unsteady breath he lowered his face still closer to hers.

Marthe snorted, blue fire dancing in her eyes, the dimples in her cheeks sinking deeper. "I said don't!" She repeated, but her grin crept into her voice. "Don't pull that smooth shit with me, you got your compliment."

Jerott laughed silently and looked down, his eyes hovering on her lips as he contemplated saying another foolish thing.

She must have seen the idiocy on the tip of his tongue and pre-empted it: "Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up," she raked the last syllable over her vocal chords, drawling , chuckling, edging nearer herself until her nose brushed against his. Her mascara-coated lashes lowered until the last moment.

Jerott met her eyes as their lips touched: blue like an open sky, blue like denim and fresh water. Her mouth was soft and hot, closed over his own parched mouth as she tested the feel of him, her open eyes seeking out the response she elicited.

He tried to hold her stare, but her lips moved against his, her teeth met his lower lip with gentle, teasing pressure, and he gasped and his eyes fell shut. His free hand came up to her shoulder, which was warm beneath the shirt she had shrugged on over her sweat-dark tank top, the perfect fit against his palm.

--

Draft 2

He'd proven himself, to Marthe's great surprise, an enthusiastic and generous lover. No inheritor to Gaultier's bored, unimaginative humping was Jerott Blyth; he'd go down on her at the drop of a hat, and he'd do it well; backstage, back alleys, motel rooms - wherever he could get his hands on her while they were both still buzzing with the adrenaline of the set they'd played.

Marthe wasn't sure if it made it easier or harder when he was above her in a motel bed then, taking what he assumed would be given freely in exchange for his own efforts. She did try, for the first few times, to work out if she might like it when it was a handsome young man between her legs instead of her dry, detached professor. But though she entertained the idea of being someone, something else, it wasn't long before she knew it just wasn't for her - neither in the sense of something given, nor in the sense of appealing to her tastes.

But he wasn't Gaultier, she wasn't his pet, and he could play. Their sets were electric, furious, wild in a way Marthe had never had the freedom to be publicly before. And afterwards he wanted to - and could - make her cum like no one she'd met since the girlfriend she'd had back in halls, and after that she was able to simply lie there and wait for him to finish without even feeling much of anything.

Gaultier had developed a habit of working on his compositions while he fucked her - eyes closed, mentally picturing the stave as he hummed and muttered notes to himself. Jerott, on the other hand, was gentleman enough to admire her with his eyes, his hands, his tongue. To never forget a condom the way Gaulter had from time to time – because he could, too. Above all, he was very eager to tell her she was beautiful.

Marthe didn't need to be told that. But it was better than being used as a dissociative tool for someone's artistic process.

It seemed kinder, then, to maintain an air of curiosity, of interest. In order to do so, she made a bet with herself - with the money she was earning from this tour, she'd buy herself a new guitar if he slipped and called her Francis while deep in the throes. If he didn't, she'd do something sensible with the money. Put it in savings or something.

Maybe she was thinking of the guitar when, one night in Seattle, she sat up to take the foil packet from his hands and open it herself. He looked at her searchingly, dark eyes she found difficult to read scanning her expression for ulterior motives.

Marthe tossed the loose tendrils of her tied-back hair over her shoulder and tore the packet open with her teeth, aware of the weight of his stare, aware of his breath coming more heavily.

She rolled the condom on, thinking abstractedly of community sex ed workshops on the college lawn. For good measure, she gave his cock a couple of firm strokes, and he gasped, his brows raising.

Ok, that's plenty, Marthe sat back with an expression she imagined was closer to being a seductive smile than a grimace. She didn't want him to think she was going to do...that, every time.

Perhaps she was overthinking things, overestimating what he'd notice and what he'd expect. Jerott wasn't that complicated, after all - he reached for her and kissed her like there was only one thought on his mind, and Marthe let herself be brought close, kissed him back with the same sloppy urgency.

Then, impulsively, she moved closer still, lifting one leg and shifting to straddle him where he sat on the edge of the bed - he made a sound in the kiss that Marthe took to be surprise and pleasure, and she ground her hips against him, her body still wet from his tongue, from her own orgasm, slick against the rubber he wore.

Jerott moaned and Marthe gritted her teeth. She pushed him back to the mattress and lowered herself onto him, her eyes closed, her mind on the wares for sale at Eve's Garden. She had him half on the bed and half off, his lower legs dangling over the side, unable to brace himself easily against the floor - it gave her near total control of the rhythm, and she batted him back down again if he tried to sit up.

He didn't take much convincing, though he remained propped on his elbows for a time, gawping up at her. She could sense him watching, and cracked open her eyes to wince at his expression of ragged, lascivious desire - mouth loose and open, eyelids heavy, gaze blank. Marthe screwed her eyes shut again and sank herself as low as she could, upping the pace of her rolling hips.

Jerott at last admitted defeat, lay back and made a strangled sound of ecstasy, holding onto her thighs just above each knee with bruising strength in his hands.

She'd never done this with Gaultier - he didn't believe in a woman being on top, and besides, if she'd broken his hip or something, he wouldn't have hesitated to claim the medical bills on her insurance.

But there was, she found, far more pleasure to be had this way. There were no hot, grasping fingers or lips on her breasts, there was no sandpapery, rough cheek rubbing on the skin of her neck. She could keep her eyes closed and imagine herself wherever she needed to be to get off.

She began to believe that she might do so here, as well. She wielded her body with less deliberation, working herself to a sweat as she bucked her hips, her hands resting on the tops of her thighs, feeling her breasts swing heavily, the small, natural garland of fat on her belly and her flanks jogging with her movements. The bed and mattress shrieked and rattled beneath her, the sound like a crowd going wild for an encore.

Jerott let out a cry and Marthe was almost embarrassed to hear herself answer it, feeling fire crawl its way up inside her, flickering and crackling like a broken bulb at the edge of her vision.

Fearful he wouldn't last as long as she needed, she let herself lean forwards, one hand a fist, bracing herself against his chest, the other taking hold of a bunch of his black hair for good measure, fingers tangling against his sweaty scalp. She adjusted the angle of her hips accordingly and bit her lower lip, trying to keep her momentum going.

Beneath her, Jerott's body flinched.

"Fuck...!" he groaned. He gripped the wrist of the hand that was knotted in his hair but found that tugging it only tightened Marthe's hold. His other hand flailed for the bed clothes, grabbing at the sheets and relieving the pressure on Marthe's thigh so she could really move how she wanted to.

He didn't complain about her grip. On the contrary, his eyes were closed and his brow was furrowed with concentration. "Oh, god..." he said hoarsely as his head rolled on the covers.

It was never quite enough though - she didn't get further than eternally close before his body bucked beneath hers with a grunt. The way he craned his neck and turned his head against the mattress pulled her forward, jerked by the hand tangled in his hair, and her own concentration was lost as he came.

"Shit," Marthe barked breathlessly.

She tugged her hand free, noting that Jerott's hold was now on her hips, his thumbs softly caressing her skin, encouraging her own gentle rocking motion to continue as he finished, wringing every last drop of satisfaction out.

Marthe swept his hands away, rolled off him without preamble and sat beside his prone form with a sour taste rising to her tongue. Disappointment - she knew the flavour well. Stupid, to let herself get involved like that, to try and take something for herself. That wasn't what this was about.

It was about her career. Wasn't it always?

Marthe sighed and massaged her brow. Her grandmother would want to know when she was moving to Europe, when she was going to find a market she could really sell to. When she was going to make something of herself - or, failing that, make Francis Crawford make something of her. Whatever they really were to each other.

Her grandmother would have a great many questions when the tour finally came to an end in New York, but one thing Marthe's grandmother would be certain of was that the man currently lying next to her was second-best - and Marthe's grandmother would therefore judge him perfectly adequate to his task.

Jerott lay still for a moment beside her and then raised a hand and rubbed at the top of his sternum, at his throat like he had a pain there. He let out a cough and frowned at the ceiling, then sat up and slipped away to the ensuite.

Usually, when they were in the motel room, he couldn't wait to wrap his arms around her afterwards, to pin her close in his hold - where Marthe felt like a small bird gripped in a fist. He'd fall asleep and she'd lie there, smelling his tobacco, his whiskey, waiting until he was heavy and snoring and she could squirm free to lie comfortably on the other side of the bed.

Tonight though, he lingered in the bathroom, and Marthe felt chilled and exposed as she realised that, for once, she would quite like to have been held in his warm arms. It might have made her feel a little less silly about the whole relationship, just to follow through with the act a bit longer today. But he didn't seem in any hurry to come back to her. She lay naked on the rumpled bedsheets while he ran faucets and clattered about with mouthwash and water glasses.

Her head propped on one hand, the remote lying in front of her, Marthe glared at the tiny TV screen in the corner of the room and stabbed buttons on the remote with one-fingered vindictiveness. That was it, she'd decided. Penetrative sex had to be the worst joke ever told to womankind. She wouldn't bother getting her hopes up again about it.

Click.

Porcupines fucking on a nature documentary. Marthe accepted the funny side of it, and snorted.

Click.

Some lowest common denominator sitcom where the overworked woman was chewing out her lazy husband.

Click.

Teleshopping.

Click.

Pizza ad. Her stomach growled. Maybe she was being unfair. Maybe she was just hungry - she hadn't eaten since before soundcheck.

Click.

A familiar shade of rose pink caught her eye as the channels flickered, and she stopped her assault on the remote to frown at the screen.

"With revelations emerging about Rajneeshpuram daily, it's looking more and more like Graham Reid Malett's activities were standard across all the cult's sites."

It was a report into illegal activities at the main ashram in Oregon, but showed footage of the man who had styled himself Geetesh in custody and on trial for crimes committed at his own Nevada ashram. Marthe watched with a kind of fascinated disgust as the portentous voiceover barely scraped the surface of Reid Malett's wrong-doings.

"Fraud, invasion of privacy, coercion, and he presided over violent and sexual workshops in which willing participants..."

As she watched, Jerott emerged from the ensuite. He handed her one of the two water glasses he'd filled and paused by the bed, staring at the TV with an appalled expression.

"What the fuck are you watching?" he asked.

Marthe shrugged the shoulder that was uppermost and nodded at the bedside table, indicating that Jerott could leave the water there.

"You don't wanna know how Swami Graham is doing?"

He'd moved round to his side of the bed and she saw his face the way it was lit up by the screen: repulsed, furious, maybe even a bit scared?

"No."

Marthe thought she noticed his fingers tremble a little as he put his own glass down. He ran them through his hair and then his eyes fell on the remote.

"Switch it off."

She saw him reach for it and - because he wanted it, because he spoke commandingly and she'd let him have enough already, and more, that night - she snatched it away. "I'm watching!"

"Well don't! What do you even want to know that you haven't already seen with your own two eyes?" He gestured furiously, pointing two fingers at his own fierce features, and grabbed again for the remote.

"Hey!" Marthe wasn't above hollering when he laid a hand on her to stop her from protecting the device. "Don't touch me!"

Jerott had already retreated to stand by the bed again, maintaining a distance, his palms open at his sides, his expression one of vexed fury. "Please switch it off," he said carefully, but Marthe knew suppressed anger when she heard it.

She narrowed her eyes. "Why? You're not gonna...let it all out, get all cathartic on me?"

His jaw clenched visibly.

"Personally, I think it's reassuring to see him cuffed and guarded," Marthe added, eyeing up the picture on the screen.

"...swapped his disciple's robes of pink for fetching penitentiary facility orange..."

Jerott said nothing, but took three long strides to the far wall and yanked the TV plug from the socket.

Marthe rolled her eyes and swept the remote off the bed so it clattered to the floor. "Oh, Mr Rock and Roll. Gonna throw it out the window, too?"

Jerott got into bed and yanked the sheet over his body without turning to face her. "Good night, Marthe," he snarled.

She stared at his back for a moment and then made a sound of exasperation and got up to brush her own teeth.

It wasn't like she'd wanted to watch the programme anyway, it was just that any talk of the Rajneeshees wound him up so much, even now. Marthe, of all people, could well understand another's bitterness about the wasted years of their life - but Jerott's bitterness was always special. He couldn't accept that anyone else might have regrets about any number of things, oh no - nothing compared to the victimhood of the boy who had run off to join a cult instead of going to med school, who had run off to med school instead of joining a band with a man he was clearly deeply, obliviously in love with. He was evidently the first guy on earth to find out he was attracted to a man and feel conflicted about it, the first person in the history of mankind to have his illusions shattered about someone he'd trusted.

Marthe brushed her teeth and hair angrily in the dark bathroom and got back into bed with a heavy landing on the mattress, with deliberately exaggerated kicking of the sheet, plumping of the pillow, and fidgeting until she was comfortable.

"Good night, Jerott. Good gig today. Sleep well."

[neonscented]

Been thinking and thinking about Rev. AU... I talked about reworking it in the past and I finally chipped away at something bothering me.

The biggest issues I have are with Kel and Hero so I've done some crapshooting.

Starting with Kel:

Originally, he got very very depressed after Sunny's death to the point of dropping out of college. My thought was, it showed just how badly Sunny's death affected him, and while I don't hate it I'm not sure it fits with Kel's character.

So, instead, he struggles with Sunny's death, but tries not outwardly show it. Thinking from the standpoint of him being the older brother here, he's of course distraught from losing his boyfriend, but he doesn't want anyone to feel guilty for what happened and wants everything to stay (relatively) the same. Despite this, what happened weighs on him heavily. This might just be too close to canon so I'll sit on this idea...

For Hero:

Going back to baseline OMORI, a lot of Hero's guilt seems to revolve around not being there for people (specifically Mari, of course). It's hard to apply that to this AU, but I feel like he would have guilt around Sunny's death AND Mari almost drowning. If things had gone worse they both could have died.

I feel like he would overcorrect and try to atone for what happened by really trying to be there for Kel and later on Mari, to the point of annoyance. He wants reassurance that they truly forgive him, yet can never be satisfied due to his guilt. Originally, he just took Aubrey's canon place by being rebellious, but that doesn't suit him very well.

I need to change both of their designs too...

[toy-capsule]

barbie movie rewrite because it was okay but i know how it couldve been better

ya so i've only watched the movie once and actively as i was watching it i was thinking of ways to rework the plot.. and i wrote none of it down after i saw it. but i like this website and i should post here more so here's my nonsense thoughts :)

so couple of main changes need to take place for this movie to work as a proper feminist movie in my opinion. making it perfect or overly nuanced isn't my idea of fixing it; I would much rather improve the fundamental message and conclusion so it isn't a specifically flawed intro to feminism because that is a really valuable thing for movie's in this climate to be.

change 1: alan deserved better!

one of the biggest philosophy's of feminism i believe in is intersectionality. alan is in a very interesting spot in the barbie world which i believe makes him uniquely suited for the movie's core conflict- an opportunity that the writers squandered (number one pathetic character apologist here). anyways, from what ive seen in the commentary and reactions this movie has, is that like weird barbie, alan is seen as a bit of a queer icon. but instead of his typical pre-movie interpretation of him just being a gay man, ive witnessed many also head canon them as non-binary as well (I'll stick to he/they pronouns for them here!) because of how much he chooses to associate with the barbies over the kens more often than not. i cannot believe that this wasn't explored more in the conclusion.

this leads me into my main argument for alan- instead of simply inspiring the resolution they should've been a much more important key player. how this might happen starts with the dance off in the third act. i think that pitting the kens against each other here was a pretty low blow narratively, it really establishes a pretty unfortunate theme for the ending which is just division between the two groups. (the barbie movie is really just misogyny but in reverse and doesn't attempt to fix any of the problems it acknowledges.) instead of infantilizing the kens -which was fine at the beginning of the movie for shits and giggles but became less funny and more frustrating as the movie went on- i think a much more productive start to the beach dance-off scene could've been alan trying to talk sense into the kens (like gloria does for the brainwashed barbies.) it would have needed to fail at this point for the sake of conflict but it would have brought in an easy applicable solution for our real life equivalent of misogyny into the narrative - men (and those apart of their sphere socially) talking to and checking their fellow peers when they are doing sexist shit

after the barbies take over the supreme court and do their thing we have a bit of tension to resolve still. even though gosling's stereotypical ken (sken) has discovered that he is kenough, that can't be said for the rest of the ken's. liu's ken #2 (real character name) should probably be the one to try to enforce the patriarchy just because of the preestablished tension. i think it would be a wonderful moment to see sken stand up to him properly here and really acknowledge alan's message here of respecting the other Barbie's as people and friends (shout out ace stereotypical barbie!) rather than objects. additionally they ask for respect in turn (equal representation on the supreme court because that ending was so foul wtf) also maybe some hand holding action because i am nothing if not a poly sken/alan/ken2 shipper- this is still a tumblr analysis what did you expect)

change 2: ruth shouldn't have been god, barbie should've

barbie becoming human at the end was weird and gross. who would actually want to be human? i'm sorry but if i lived as an inspirational concept to little girls around the world i think i would've taken that power a bit more seriously.

i'm so glad ruth was included in this movie and she should still play a key part in barbie's crisis and development. but.. instead of being god i think she should've acted more as a guiding spirit to barbie or a silly (possibly vengeful - literally just for fun i have no basis for this) ghost haunting mattel. after all, all of barbie's power comes from being an idea that can persevere throughout generations, and ruth is well... dead. i think instead of asking to become human when she got agency the conversation shouldve gone a bit more like this : ruth: what do you want barbie? barbie: honestly i don't know, is that normal? ruth: yes honey, (big dramatic monolouge about not rushing to find purpose.. etc) barbie: after everything that's happened i still dont feel like i belong ruth : that's okay too. you have all the time in the universe to decide what you want to be, youre in control of your own destiny barbie: the universe sounds nice actually, but there is one thing i need to do before i go *she fucking obliterates mattel's ceo and thats how she debuts as god*

not the best but better than her going to the fucking gyno as an ending

minor changes!

I think gloria and sasha should have gotten more development, making them mirror ruth and barbie wouldve been a nice touch. maybe an ending or after credits scene depicting the two of them having a similar conversation to the one i just described would have been silly. (also please take sasha more seriously that girl is right about everything and is listened to only a third of the time she actually gets lines. she could've been an excellent dead-pan comedic foil to the more absurdist jokes of the film, under utilized fave) big opportunity to make that conversation absolutely unhinged too:

gloria: you can be whatever you want in life kid sasha: *actively pinning up pictures of warner bros ceo david zaslav on a bulletin board with a big red x and looks directly into the camera* I know mom <3

mattel's depiction was barely passable. i have had enough of major companies being posed as villains but keeping them silly and unthreatening- its unfaithful and disrespectful to real life. start them off as silly and shitty, thats fine. it matches the tone of the movie- but as parallels between real life and the movie converge in the third act, mattel should start acting like the predatory company they actually are.

their investment in reinstating barbie as supreme leader over ken despite him making more money in the name of "feminism" would have never in a star death ever happen. literally the entire board only being men was a joke they really fucking made and still had them supporting women- it ruins the entire thesis of the movie and makes the message muddy. fix that, keep them forcefully trying to pair up barbie and ken but change it so its true life: nothing more than an effort to make more of a profit and bring patriarchy to barbieland. this would've brough the climax to an apex and match the stakes to my barbie god conclusion.

anyways yeah i loved the artistic direction of this movie and the casting but not much else! let me know if i missed anything and thx for reading