#the minds of the common people (answered asks)

[sinfulpanda16]

Amazing Classmate

Midoriya, Bakugou, Uraraka, Todoroki x foreigner reader

You are an international student in U.A and meet all of Class 1-A. What are their reactions to seeing you for the first time? How do you guys bond together despite the differences in nationalities?

(n/l) = native language (y/c) = your country

Midoriya

Is fascinated by you

He tries to learn your language by taking notes

When he saw you for the first time, he was starstruck. Your features are so beautiful, and he can't help but to blush a bit when you make eye contact with him. He decides to be a good friend towards you because he didn't want you to feel too different. You two become good friends and when he asks if you can help him learn your native language it made you feel a sense of warmth. You happily agreed, you would tell him 'The Word of the Day' and he would write it down in his notebook.

Izuku waits for you to think of a word. When you finally do you look at him with a smile, "The word of the day is, (random word in your language)."

Midoriya smiles brightly, "Ok! How do you spell that?" he asks getting ready to write in his notebook. You spell it out for him and go on to translate the word in Japanese. You explain to him how you would you use it in a sentence and Midoriya is writing it all down.

It makes you happy that Midoriya is so dedicated to learning your (n/l). He's learned so much from you and is almost able to have a full conversation with you in your mother's tongue. In a way he makes you feel at home.

He does it all because he wants to. He really likes you and where you come from. He likes all of you.

Uraraka

Strives to be more like you

You are so inspirational in her eyes

She walks into the common room and sees you sitting on the couch. She's hasn't been motivated to do much recently and doesn't know why. You have made it clear to all of Class 1-A that you're a safe space and are there for them. Uraraka figures maybe she can talk to you, so she takes a deep breath in and makes her way towards you on the couch.

"Hey (Y/N)" she waves shyly and sits down next to you.

You look from your phone and give her a smile. "Hey what's up?" you ask.

She looks at your eyes and she finds them so beautiful. She can't help but to turn away shyly. "Oh, it's nothing really. I just figured I could use some advice."

You turn off your phone and give her your undivided attention. You allow her to tell you her thoughts and feelings. You listen closely and after she explains everything, she looks at you, "I don't how (Y/N). What should I do?"

You chuckle a bit and begin to answer her question. "Back where I'm from they have a famous saying." Uraraka listens closely. You explain to her a quote your people back at home say a lot. It's something that people tell each other to help them feel better. After you finish explaining you look at her, "It's ok Uraraka. You're human so there's no need to beat yourself up for feeling more tired than usual. I'd recommend going on a walk. That always makes me feel better and productive". You give her a warm smile and say the quote in you language.

She looks at you with her big eyes and then chuckles. "Thanks (Y/N). Thats means a lot. You and your people are really something." she laughs.

You smile, it's true. You're proud of your blood and culture. And Uraraka is also proud of you for that.

Bakugou

Admires you from afar

At first he could've cared less about you, but your just so intriguing

He's sitting in the common room lost in thought and he sees you come out of the elevator. You two make eye contact and you smile brightly. You say, "Hi Bakugou." in your native language. He and all of class 1-A already know the word for Hi in your language because you always say it.

Bakugou just grunts, but that doesn't mean he's not willing to talk with you. You don't mind him and make your way to the kitchen to make yourself something to eat. You been enjoying cold soba ever since Todoroki recommended it to you. He was onto something cuz cold soba hits every time.

Bakugou knew you've been eating a lot of soba cuz of Todoroki and it bothered him. He wasn't sure why, but it did. He calls out for you "Oi! (Y/n)." you look up from what you were doing and look at him. Your eye contact always makes him feel a certain type of way. He can never hold eye contact with you. He looks away and abruptly says the first thing that came to his mind, "Teach me some curse words. You know...in (n/l)."

His request is so random, but you laugh, "Alright".

So that's what you do. You teach him all your favorite curse words in your native language. It makes you laugh because he honestly sounds and looks good cursing in your language.

This helped you two get closer and after you left, he found himself smirking. Just everything about you intrigues him and that includes your culture and language. And you can bet that after that he yells curse words at any extra in your native language.

Shoto

Is respectful to you and your culture

You and him both have your struggles and are always there for each other

You were feeling down and were in your dorm room. You love Japan but just like everyone else who moves countries, you get homesick. You sat at your desk looking at a photo of you and your friends back home. You miss them like hell. Long distance relationships are not easy. You hear a knock at your door and already know its Todoroki cuz of the way he knocks. You call out for him to come in.

He opens your door and walks inside, "Hi (Y/N). Are you busy-" he's caught off guard cuz he can tell something isn't right. He can tell your feeling down.

You raise an eyebrow at him, "Is everything ok?" you ask when he stops speaking mid-sentence.

"I don't know. Is it?" is all Shoto says in his soft voice, and you're taken aback. In all those months Todoroki managed to read you like a book. Honestly, you learned to do the same with him.

You smile softly, "I'm ok Todoroki. I just feel a bit homesick."

He walks towards you, "Oh. You miss (y/c)?" he asks sitting down on your bed. You nod your head and look back at the photo of your friends, "Yeah. I mainly just miss my friends and family. It's been a while since I've seen them in person." you explain.

Todoroki can only imagine what that must feel like. He sometimes misses his family, his mother, even though they're all with him in Japan. He doesn't want you to feel sad, so he suggests doing something to ease your mind.

"(Y/N) me and our friends were going to go to mall together." he reaches to hold your hand, "Please come. I promise it'll make you feel better." he says looking into your eyes.

You smile softly. Although your childhood friends are back in (y/c), that doesn't mean you're all alone here. You have amazing friends like Todoroki and the rest of Class 1-A to be with. You back into his eyes, "Ok. Thanks, Shoto."

He gives you his soft and cute smile, "You're welcome (Y/N)".

[kayfaae]

Hi,

could you please write a Hannibal one-shot, where Hannibal is Will‘s substitute as an FBI teacher as long as Will is in prison and he falls in love with one of the students? She is one of the best in her class and he also sees she is attracted to him, so he asks her to stay after class?

Polarizing

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x female reader

Details: smut, (reader mid 20's), teacher/student, foreplay, mentions of gore

Minors DNI, 18+

Flashes of the overhead's images on the wall made your eyes squint slightly from the brightness, each photo depicting different scenarios of the surrounding area's murder sprees. You're used to seeing such explicit imagery, though sometimes an image or two will make your skin crawl with discomfort. But you haven't been called the best of your class for nothing, always rising to the top and taking on the challenge with no complaint. The other FBI students were slightly jealous of your natural academic mind, but they also looked up to you for guidance on their own performances.

And Hannibal took note of this.

It was no secret to yourself that you have felt infatuation for the new professor, already knowing of him since he was your former teacher's psychiatrist. You've heard nothing but great things, some even of gossips of how entrancing he was, like a Greek God that stalked the school's concrete walls. It was hard NOT to feel some type of attraction to him. And for the other student's, they had felt the same way.

He was a masterpiece.

But little did you know, that the masterpiece before you thought of the same when it came to you. Which if you were to find out, thought it was absolutely ridiculous. You, of all people, a meek, tired little thing who had an obsession with black coffee to keep you going through the day. To him however, this was a breath of fresh air, and one he would gladly inhale for the rest of his days.

"Now, can anyone tell me why the killer decided to have such a intricate display of the victim's body? Do we have any idea of what the killer was inspired by?"

Hannibal's eyes trace the crowded room with a raised brow, silence filling the air and the occasional tap of a nervous pencil. You sighed to yourself quietly, knowing that if no one blurted out the answer, it was most likely going to fall upon your shoulders. Your hand then raises upward embarrassingly, some eyes rolling because of course the best in the class knew the answer.

How this excited Hannibal.

"Perhaps the killer was inspired by Shakespeare's Macbeth, the drowning of Ophelia? It could be indicated by the water lilies that surround her body, a common flower connected to water and innocence. The opening of her chest could also indicate that she died of a broken heart, plus she is under a willow tree, where the famous Ophelia fell."

More silence filled the air, a cough from someone sounding before Hannibal gave a smile of excitement. "Excellent, precisely. The killer was obviously inspired by the famous Poet, which seems to also be the case when it comes to any serial killer really. Artistry, is the main innovation for their motives."

Your eyes connect for what seems like an eternity, small breaths escaping your parting lips with the harsh fluttering of your beating heart.

Were you, the Ophelia, about to fall into darkness?

The ringing of the bell caused you to jolt in surprise, the rustling of bags and paperwork filling the room as everyone began to depart to their next field. You couldn't stop the slight trembling of your fingers as you pull your things together, the last student's footstep leaving the room before you hear a familiar voice.

"Not you, stay for a moment please."

You halt in place before lifting your gaze towards him, his lithe body stalking with purpose behind his mahogany desk.

"You did very well today, and color me surprised on your Shakespearean knowledge. Not a lot of FBI workers have the comprehension of his complex writings."

A small swallow forms, your cheeks flushing a bright shade of crimson before moving your gaze downward to your fingers. Your nails are obscenely short from your nervous nail biting habit, but it makes it easy to pull a trigger.

"I do a lot of reading in my spare time, Professor Lecter. Shakespeare has always fascinated me, even as a little girl."

His delicate hand lifts with a small chuckle escaping his soft lips, which you did not intend to stare at this long. It's funny, if there was a black shroud upon his frame, he would almost resemble the Grim Reaper himself.

Shouldn't that frighten you?

"Please, call me Hannibal. I am only filling in Will's time for a couple of months, and would rather not fully take on his title."

A smile forms on your face before biting your bottom lip, nodding in agreement before you begin to collect more of your paperwork into your bag.

"Well, Hannibal. You have been doing very well in his stead. He might have some competition when he gets back."

Was that a tease that spilled from your lips? Gods, it came out so naturally that you didn't even notice at first. But once he starts to move slowly towards your frame is when you began to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

"And what kind of competition would that be?"

If you just kept your mouth shut, you wouldn't have this overwhelming desirable feeling to hide yourself in the darkest corner imaginable. But alas, this wasn't the first time your mouth got you in trouble. He's towering over you now, your rear hitting the back of your desk with a slight creak of metal against floor.

"Well I mean, -...um...your teaching methods..."

His head cocked to the side with a sly, devilish grin, those darkening orbs in his skull drawing to gaze upon your slightly chapped lips.

"You believe my teaching methods are superior to Will Graham's?"

A small meek nod forms, your fingers reaching behind you to grasp the desk's wood tightly with white knuckles. He has waited so long for this moment, to ensnare the little rabbit who always just seemed a hand's touch away. A satisfied smirk trails on his gaunt face, for he knows he has finally caught you, the perfect subject to twist and form into his own twisted masterpiece.

"Shall we test that theory?"

He waits patiently while moving a soft hand to caress the side of your jawline, your eyes fluttering from the gentle gesture before meeting his gaze with a deep breath.

"......Yes...."

You have fallen, dear Ophelia.

The sudden feeling of his lips against your own made you gasp in fever, his other hand moves to cup both of your cheeks for guidance. Flesh kneaded against your own in a steady rhythm. He's taking your time with you, not to scare off the poor little rabbit too fast. You're hanging upon the desk for dear life, brows knitting together in concentration of his lead, a waltz of lust that you haven't experienced before in your lifetime.

It was then that he quickens the pace, pushing himself harder into your trembling frame while diving his skilled tongue past your opening mouth. You moan wantonly then, a small growl of his own forming in unison as he moves to pull upon your ponytail with control. It's as if you are melting under his touch, his experience in the art of seduction almost too much for you to bear.

Hannibal release then, breathing heavily upon your jawline before giving chaste kisses and slight bites with teeth, his calloused hands moving to cup upon your clothed breasts in a firm movement. It almost startles you, a shocking gasp escaping before he moves his mouth to assailant yours once again. You don't remember raising your hands to grasp his shoulders, but when you can feel the soft expensive silk under your fingertips, it brings you back to reality.

You are kissing your Professor, and Hannibal of all people.

He pulls away to begin to unbutton your uniform attire, a white button up shirt you thrifted not too long ago. Each movement is calculated, like a pianist wanting to get the perfect note each time.

"Are you ready for your lesson, my dear?"

His voice is hoarse from his own arousal, your eyes widening in surprise from his words. Was he seriously going to try to teach you something, while doing THIS type of behavior? It made your heart flutter wildly in your caged chest, it rising and falling before he reveals your cotton bra.

"What-...what kind of lesson, Hannibal?"

Oh how the devil smirks, his eyes trailing up to meet your own doe ones while holding your tender bust in his hands.

"Recite for me....the Death of Ophelia..."

It was then that you felt some type of fear hit your entire being, like a deer that had stumbled upon thorn bramble and unable to escape. Your breathing intensifies as you stare upon him with parted lips, his hands continuing their kneading while patiently waiting for you to begin. He was TOYING with you, and of course your stubborn brain wouldn't allow that to happen.

You've been through far too much to have this man steal your tongue.

" -....W-When down her weedy trophies....and herself...." You begin with a meek tone, his skillful fingers moving to remove the article of clothing in one swift movement. You can't hold back a loud whimper from the sudden feeling of chill air licking your breasts, his mouth moving to envelope around a hardening bud for protection.

"Her -....c-clothes spread wide... and mermaid like... awhile they bore her up..."

Hannibal praises you with a muffled hum of approval, tongue sliding effortlessly around your sensitive bud and giving a lewd suckle. His other hand moves to dive slowly, carefully, down between your legs, which you open obediently with a roll of your head.

"Which time she chanted snatches-....o-of old tunes..."

After that singular word he dove his hand down your work trousers to rub against your clothed sex, your panties already beginning to soak under his touch as you moan heatedly from the act. He has you in his complete control, and every circular motion of his finger combined with the flicking on his tongue on your breast causes your stomach to tighten and coil with pure arousal.

Hannibal pauses for a moment, his own hair a bit disheveled and falling across his sunken eyes while gazing upward at you. He wants you to continue your rehearsal, and will not proceed his lewd actions until you do. With a huff, you move your hands to hold onto the back of his head tightly, hips subconsciously rolling into his hand as you begin once again in a hoarse tone.

"As one incapable of her own d-distress...or l-like a creature....ah-...native and indued..."

He's absolutely purring now with delight, his mouth retreating from your sensitive nipple to have both hands quickly thrust your pants downward in a harsh movement. It caused you to jump slightly, his usual professional demeanor now replaced by pure hungry desire. Like a wolf that has been starved, finally able to feast on what he has been dreaming most nights alone in his bed.

"Unto that e-element...but not long it could not be..."

You're watching him slither down your frame like a viper, his eyes locked upon you as if you were about to dissipate and never return. But you knew, deep down in your heart, there was no going back. And you did not want to. No, you belonged here, your hand outstretching to brush a fallen lock behind his ear. He takes this gesture with a tilt of his head towards your touch, his hungry mouth opening to breathe wantonly against your thigh with a dash of tongue.

"Till that h-her garments... h-heavy with their drink...."

Hannibal removes your panties while staring into your soul with each word that escapes your lips, his own mouth moving to ghost along the wetting of your folds in a delicious torture. It is mentally noted that you must finish the prose, before getting your ultimate reward. Your blunt nails move to grasp the desk's sides while bending your back slightly in the sitting position for more access, a long sigh escaping your lips while you gaze down before him.

A God....upon his knees....

"Pull'd the poor w-wretch from her melodious lay....to muddy death..."

You were gone before it even began, the sudden wet heat diving into your wanton core causing a strangled cry to escape you. Tight tremors from each sinful lick upon your folds made the desk move slightly in rhythm, a starved growl emitting from his lips that vibrated upon you. More, you needed more, a small series of babbles leaving you as you tilted your head backward in pure ecstasy. Of course he was this skilled with a tongue, a finger moving to rub along your swollen bud in time with his flesh diving inward inside a nectar crevice. You can hear the lewd actions echo in the room around you, another one of his hands moving to grasp your thigh in a tight vice grip, the other fingers moving to spread you open like the most desired prize he has won in his lifetime.

You couldn't think, couldn't fully register what was happening for it was all too much to feel, your toes curling in your shoes as he dove two fingers inside you with purpose.

"H-Hannbial -.... ahn God..."

He chuckled against your folds before lifting his head towards your gaze, slicked with your essence of your coupling in the most beautiful of ways.

"There is no God here, my love..."

And with that, he plunged into you with a faster rhythm, your thighs convulsing from the intensity as he lavished your budding flower. There was only so more you could take, a hand moving to grip his lose locks tightly enough to cause a groan from his lips.

"I-I can't...I'm...."

"Come on me....."

His deep hoarse voice against your throbbing cunt was enough to send you over the edge, your back arching in the most angelic way while you spill your essence on his fingers and face. He's ravenous over it, taking it all in as if he were drunk on it. And when he pulls away and your body shivers from the lack of contact, he can only gaze into your eyes with pools of black that are his own.

His mask had cracked, revealing what truly laid there all this time.

The monster, is finally revealing himself.

[mywitchyblog]

Hi! May I ask what exactly are spirit guides? And how do you contact them and what forms can they take? Thank you ❤️

Hi! Of course, I'd love to answer that for you! ❤️

What Exactly Are Spirit Guides?

Spirit guides are non-physical beings that provide us with guidance, protection, and support as we navigate our life paths. They can be thought of as mentors or helpers from the spiritual realm who assist us in aligning with our higher purpose. Their primary goal is to help us grow, learn, and make choices that lead us toward our soul’s development. Spirit guides are deeply connected to our energy, and they work in subtle, sometimes unseen, ways to help us along our journey.

Forms Spirit Guides Can Take

Spirit guides can take many forms, depending on their role and how they choose to present themselves to you. Some common forms include:

Angels: These are higher-level beings often associated with protection and divine love. Guardian angels are a well-known type of spirit guide.

Ancestors: These guides are often family members or loved ones who have passed on and wish to continue supporting you from the spiritual realm.

Animals (Totem or Spirit Animals): These guides can show up in the form of animals, representing qualities or wisdom that the animal symbolizes. For instance, a wolf spirit guide might represent leadership or intuition.

Ascended Masters: These are enlightened beings who have transcended the physical world, such as Buddha, Jesus, or other revered spiritual teachers. They offer guidance related to universal truths and deeper wisdom.

Deities or Mythical Figures: In some belief systems, deities or mythical figures can act as spirit guides, guiding people according to specific qualities or energies they embody.

Elemental Beings: Some guides are tied to nature, such as fairies, gnomes, or other elemental spirits, offering wisdom about the natural world and its energies.

Light Beings: These guides often appear as pure light and are not tied to any specific tradition. They work on a very high vibrational level, offering deep spiritual insight.

How Do You Contact Spirit Guides?

There are several methods to contact your spirit guides, and the key is to find one that resonates with you. Here are a few common approaches:

Meditation: One of the most popular ways to connect with spirit guides is through meditation. By quieting your mind and setting the intention to communicate with your guides, you create a space for them to come through. Pay attention to any images, thoughts, or feelings that arise during this time.

Dreams: Spirit guides often communicate through dreams. You can ask your guides to visit you while you sleep, and keep a journal nearby to write down anything that comes through. Pay attention to recurring symbols or messages.

Automatic Writing: Sit quietly with a pen and paper, and invite your spirit guides to communicate with you. Start writing without judgment or thought, and allow the messages to flow. This can be a powerful way to receive direct communication.

Signs and Synchronicities: Spirit guides often communicate through signs, such as repeated numbers (e.g., 111, 444), feathers, specific animals, or other symbols that seem to appear out of nowhere. Pay attention to patterns in your environment that feel significant.

Pendulums and Divination Tools: Some people use pendulums, tarot cards, or other divination tools to connect with their guides. These tools can provide clarity and confirmation during your interaction with the spiritual realm.

Asking for Guidance: Simply asking for help and guidance from your spirit guides out loud or in your mind can open the door to communication. Be patient and stay open to how they may choose to respond.

What Forms of Communication to Expect

Spirit guides communicate in various ways. It might be subtle at first, but over time, you’ll learn to recognize their presence. Here are some forms of communication:

Intuition: You might suddenly "just know" something or feel guided in a particular direction. This is your spirit guide gently nudging you.

Inner Voice: You might hear an internal voice or have thoughts pop into your mind that feel like they didn’t come from you. This could be a spirit guide offering advice or wisdom.

Physical Sensations: Some people report feeling warmth, chills, or a comforting presence when their guides are near.

Visions or Symbols: You might receive images, symbols, or visions in your mind's eye, especially during meditation or dreams.

Final Thoughts

Spirit guides are always available to support you, but they respect your free will. They will not interfere unless you ask for their help, so if you’re seeking guidance, don’t hesitate to reach out. Building a relationship with your guides takes time, patience, and openness, but the journey is deeply rewarding.

Feel free to experiment with different methods to connect and see which resonates with you the most. Trust that your guides will reveal themselves in the form that's best suited for you.

Hope this helps! ❤️

[spearxwind]

Job hunting moodboard

[originalaccountname]

Sorry to bother you but I’ve been getting into BSD and Chuuya’s my fave, but I’ve been seeing some contradictory things in fanfic so…

Does Chuuya actually have a god sealed inside him? I thought it was just like his power without limitations and was dubious of those takes, but since eldritch beings can apparently be a thing (and not an ability), I think it could be plausible either way.

Though even if it’s not I can see why people would use that route for some good angst.

This is not a bother at all! This is something I very much like to talk about

if you're really new I do recommend you go read both "Dazai, Chuuya, Fifteen Years Old" and "STORM BRINGER" light novels (but SB especially), not only are they great books with Chuuya as the focal point but they will help answer your question in depth (you can buy the English translations but I can help you find the translation online if that's what you need, just message me again)

The short version is that Arahabaki being an actual god, a separate entity from Chuuya that has a personality/a voice/desires, is a common fanon trope, but not a canon fact. The truth is more complex and much more fun, lore-wise, in my opinion

And now the long version, because I'm passionate about this and this is my excuse to deep dive into it (spoilers for Fifteen)

In Fifteen, Chuuya says this:

Chuuya himself presents "Arahabaki" as nothing more than pure power. No thoughts, no personality, but powerful for sure.

That phrasing in Fifteen created a lot of confusion I think, talking about gods as real but also not:

But I think it's more of a symbolic reference, talking about immense power that seem out of this world. Because in practice, as Chuuya said before, "Arahabaki" is simply raw power, not an entity. You can't pray to it, it can't understand you, it can't perform miracles (which is why he knew the Old Boss couldn't have been brought back by Arahabaki and it was all nonsense from the start)

I'm also putting part of the blame on the anime, where they decided (while not being exactly wrong either, out of context it's weird) to illustrate Chuuya "floating in a bluish-black darkness, surrounded by a transparent seal" and being pulled out by a hand:

like this:

When, if you actually reread that part in the novel with knowledge about Storm Bringer, it's actually this moment that was being referred to:

Which brings us to Storm Bringer! (heavy spoilers I'm serious)

"Project Arahabaki" was the Japanese government's attempt to create an ability weapon from an individual. They wanted to craft a singularity that could be used multiple times, thus granting them access to power that should not be accessible normally. They based their research on what France had discovered through Verlaine. The objective is to create a massive energy output through a self-contradicting ability, for which you need a vessel:

Chuuya is the device. "Arahabaki" is the massive energy. That massive energy can control gravity to the point of being able to create localized black holes! N implied that part of the lab's work for the Arahabaki Project was to modify Chuuya's body to be able to withstand the constant gravity effects on it so he doesn't just die. Chuuya's normal use of his ability doesn't seem to have any drastic effects on him, and his physical resilience (to getting hit, stabbed, poisoned, shot, electrocuted, to going through a black hole) does seem to imply they did succeed at least in part.

And this bit here explains why "Arahabaki" was the chosen name for the project; unexplained phenomena across History that can be linked to an ability going haywire, but were attributed to god-like interventions at the time. So you're a funny little mad scientist, you read research papers from another mad scientist that named their own creation after a mythological monster, and you decide to do the same with your own local folklore.

But!

There's still something to be said about how "Arahabaki" is a singularity, and therefore, has its own set of rules. Chuuya does loose control, Chuuya does regress to a sort of destructive instinct while under Corruption. But "Arahabaki" is still no more than an ability singularity. Here's what is said about Guivre and Arahabaki:

They are both singularity life-forms. They exist because they are singularities; outside of it, they are nothing. The inner workings of abilities are still mysterious, but most of them have a link to their wielder's desires. For example, Atsushi's Tiger is there to protect him, a mirror to his will to live no matter what. Verlaine's Guivre is similar:

Guivre was a beast born out of Verlaine's loneliness and resulting hatred. He felt deeply alone in not feeling/being human, and through Pan's (his "creator") special "programming" of Verlaine's ability, N was able to trigger the true form of his singularity with that flare gun and metal powder, which took the form of Guivre. It's what the hat was supposed to prevent, but Verlaine had already lost it by then.

Chuuya's Arahabaki is probably similar. Its first apparition was when Rimbaud tried to absorb him and use his ability for himself, and any subsequent use is linked to grief and survival. Basically, if they're their own entities, they are still born in a specific context and deeply linked to the original ability user's character. And Arahabaki? Only exists if Chuuya uses his activation phrase to get rid of the limitations put into place to prevent him from exploding:

More about about Corruption: SB is kind enough to give us an explanation on how the nullification process works, right here:

Chuuya's self-contradicting ability makes him able to control gravity through the sheer amount of energy it creates by permanently interacting with itself. It is kept under control through the use of an activation phrase, O grantors of dark disgrace, do not wake me again, which, after being either said or thought by Chuuya, will open his "Gate" (which I'm interpreting as a blocker put in place by the lab so the singularity doesn't just kill him, like those poor people they mentioned existed through History), and by opening it, "free Arahabaki's true power" (aka Corruption). When Dazai uses his ability on him, the base self-contradicting ability is nullified, which cancels out the singularity taking place, which stops Corruption and allows that "Gate" to close again. The red markings are there because they're cool and fun.

To conclude, I'll let Dazai do the honors:

bonus: what does that mean for Chuuya's ability?

bons 2: Perceived timeline of Chuuya's past and what happened to to create confusion around his humanity

[axnewxera]

I dont know if they’ll make him dateable in disc 3 since we’re in post(?) Aerith zone, but if Rufus joins the party, I WILL explode

// All the more reason we need a new dating option. ONE'S DEAD 😎 im a horrible person plz disregard and shoot me

BUT ANYWAY I actually was ranting to a friend earlier today about this??

My #1 big wishlist item for Remake Part 3 is to restructure the Midgar raid toward the end of the game to have Rufus as a party member. THEY DON'T EVEN HAVE TO CHANGE IT MUCH

Picture this. The Weapon attack hasn't happened yet, but Cait Sith makes the party aware Hojo is sabotaging the Sister Ray to help Sephiroth. The party parachutes into Midgar. They fight the Turks in the underground tunnels. Rufus arrives (because the Weapon attack hasn't happened yet) and breaks up the fight. He also knows what Hojo is doing and is going rogue to stop him. Rufus joins your party.

Heidegger and Scarlet see this as Rufus going traitor and take charge and arrest Reeve. They come at the party with the Proud Clod, RUFUS IS IN OUR PARTY FOR THAT BOSS FIGHT, and Heidegger and Scarlet vent their frustrations with Rufus during the fight to make it extra personal and impactful.

Look, I don't even need Rufus involved in the Hojo boss fight. I know Hojo's got personal beef with a LOT of the main party members so Rufus doesn't need to be stealing that spotlight. Maybe Weapon attacks DURING the Midgar raid so Rufus leaves to take care of that while the party deals with Hojo? That way, Rufus still gets his "death" scene leading into his state in Advent Children.

BUT I NEEEEED Rufus on our team. And I NEEEED the Proud Clod fight to be Heidegger and Scarlet just taking ALL their long-built frustrations out on Rufus.

PLEASE SQUARE ;-;

[lightningfilledsaber]

I really wish people would remember that top/bottom and dom/sub are inherently sex terms. Like if you ask a question or make an observation based on those things you are talking explicitly about the kind of sex someone does and enjoys

[mystiika]

@freezegirl asked: feelings realization - receiver realizes they have feelings for sender meme: a collection of situation prompts ( @ any & all mutuals please send more of these they're so good )

the two were tucked into a booth at the paper lantern, the table a mess of papers & textbooks with empty dishes stacked at the side for the moment. khione had her eyes turned downward towards, some lesson on costuming causing a slight furrow in her brow. warren's head rested comfortably on his hand while he had a mad science lab report in the forefront on his half of the table. he glances up at her & the faint clattering & conversations of the people nearby seemed a world away.

it wasn't easy for warren to feel close to people, but with kie it just felt... comfortable. she was the first person in years he'd invited into his home, into his room, his sanctuary ( even if it meant introducing her to his mom ). though he still wonders who it was that had spread that fact around the school.

after the whole royal pain attack during homecoming, things around seemed to have improved some now that there was something unequivocally positive he'd done. he was even getting over his hatred of will, albeit slowly. & after his "moment" with kie at the dance kick-started their.. friendship..? — if you could call it that, frankly, from the start he'd never really known what to call them. but if he was completely honest with himself, she calmed him. she helped cool him down when his hot headed behaviour acted up just as much as his presence warmed her up in its own way.

so he clears his throat, mentally shaking the thoughts of kie from his mind in an attempt to focus on his homework but it was no use. she had glanced up at the noise, flashing a small smile at their eye contact & warren felt his heart skip a beat. it scared him. he knew what it must mean, but the implications were terrifying. he'd never had a crush before, not really, not in this way. he wasn't a monk, he'd had a few dates & shared a few kisses. but the connection he had with kie was brand new. it wasn't love yet, but it could be, he thinks to himself as he response in kind with a smile of his own — so incredibly unaware of the soft hint of a tenderness in his eyes as he does, so small it was almost invisible. but it wasn't, it was there.

he doesn't really know what to do with himself at the moment, his heart not exactly settled while she still looks at him. she really is cute, he has to admit — everything about her was cute to him. her smile, her beautiful brown eyes, the way she looks so at peace when she's skating, her handwriting & how clear her notes were when he'd borrowed them, even the way she struggles with her studies when something especially difficult comes up. he just hadn't realised it all until right then, hadn't realised just how much he'd filed away about her. & how much he picked up the little things that made her so pleasant to be around. but for a boy whose heart had been so closed off for so long, it was almost overwhelming to take these thoughts in all at once. — & so,

❝ i was thinking i should probably get the dirty plates out of the way so there's a bit more room. do you want another dawet while i'm up? ❞ ( how professional of him ). the truth of the matter was that he was looking for an excuse to get away for a few minutes, to take a break from the sight of her in order to calm his heart at least so it wasn't so distracting — he does still have homework to finish after all. ❝ or i could grab you a ginger beer. ❞ a drink that wasn't actually on the menu. but he'd bought a few & convinced his manager to let him sneak them into the walk-in because he knew kie liked them, & knew the pair would be doing school work for a good while despite it being a saturday afternoon — not that kie knew he'd gone out of his way, though. she'd been told ( quite convincingly too ) that it was left behind by one of the cooks after they resigned the week prior & had said that it was available for whoever wanted it. she gives a thoughtful hum in response at first. then, after a few seconds of consideration ( & matched with a slightly bigger smile now ), ❛ i think a ginger beer sounds pretty good. ❜ ❝ got it. back in a sec. ❞ he stacks it all with ease despite the lack of his normal tray, surprisingly swift & comfortable despite how precarious it must seem to someone else.

❛ so, you're finally nice enough to get a girlfriend, ah-woh ren, ❜ comes the cantonese comment from the line cook, chih-ming after he walks into the back. the two were about as close as you'd expect from warren with the other having playfully strong armed his way into what became a pretty positive relationship. & warren could handle a bit of ribbing from a friend without losing his cool. they'd gotten along even better as of late, especially after warren had begun helping out in the kitchen during a rush here & there. chih-ming was also largely the reason warren's cantonese had improved so much. ❝ shut up, ❞ comes an english response, a bit gruff maybe but he's certainly not reacting in anger — & not without a slight twinge of red that dusted the tips of his ears. he drops off the dishes in the sink ( immediately followed by him filling the dishwasher next to it out of sheer habit ). ❝ & she's not actually my girlfriend, ❞ he follows in cantonese after a code switch. ' though i sort of want her to be ' soon appears as a thought swirling through his mind. ❝ i think she could be though... —maybe. ❞

[insipid-drivel]

Horses: Since There Seems To Be A Knowledge Gap

I'm going to go ahead and preface this with: I comment pretty regularly on clips and photos featuring horses and horseback riding, often answering questions or providing explanations for how or why certain things are done. I was a stable hand and barrel racer growing up, and during my 11 year tenure on tumblr, Professional Horse Commentary is a very niche, yet very necessary, subject that needs filling. Here are some of the literary and creative gaps I've noticed in well meaning (and very good!) creators trying to portray horses and riding realistically that... well, most of you don't seem to even be aware of, because you wouldn't know unless you worked with horses directly!

Some Of The Most Common Horse + Riding Mistakes I See:

-Anybody can ride any horse if you hold on tight enough/have ridden once before.

Nope. No, no, no, no, aaaaaaaand, no. Horseback riding has, historically, been treated as a life skill taught from surprisingly young ages. It wasn't unusual in the pre-vehicular eras to start teaching children as young as 4 to begin to ride, because horses don't come with airbags, and every horse is different. For most adults, it can take months or years of regular lessons to learn to ride well in the saddle, and that's just riding; not working or practicing a sport.

Furthermore, horses often reject riders they don't know. Unless a horse has been trained like a teaching horse, which is taught to tolerate riders of all skill and experience levels, it will take extreme issue with having some random person try to climb on their back. Royalty, nobility, and the knighted classes are commonly associated with the "having a favorite special horse" trope, because it's true! Just like you can have a particularly special bond with a pet or service animal that verges on parental, the same can apply with horses. Happy horses love their owners/riders, and will straight-up do their best to murder anyone that tries to ride them without permission.

-Horses are stupid/have no personality.

There isn't a more dangerous assumption to make than assuming a horse is stupid. Every horse has a unique personality, with traits that can be consistent between breeds (again, like cat and dog breeds often have distinct behavior traits associated with them), but those traits manifest differently from animal to animal.

My mother had an Arabian horse, Zipper, that hated being kicked as a signal to gallop. One day, her mom and stepdad had a particularly unpleasant visitor; an older gentleman that insisted on riding Zipper, but refused to listen to my mother's warnings never to kick him. "Kicking" constitutes hitting the horse's side(s) with your heels, whether you have spurs on or not. Most horses only need a gentle squeeze to know what you want them to do.

Anyway, Zipper made eye-contact with my mom, asking for permission. He understood what she meant when she nodded at him. He proceeded to give this asshole of a rider road rash on the side of the paddock fence and sent him to the emergency room. He wouldn't have done it if he didn't have the permission from the rider he respected, and was intelligent enough to ask, "mind if I teach this guy a lesson?" with his eyes, and understand, "Go for it, buddy," from my mom in return.

-Riding bareback is possible to do if you hold onto the horse's mane really tight.

Riding a horse bareback (with no saddle, stirrups, or traditional harness around the horse's head) is unbelievably difficult to learn, particularly have testicles and value keeping them. Even professional riders and equestrians find ourselves relying on tack (the stuff you put on a horse to ride it) to stay stable on our horses, even if we've been riding that particular horse for years and have a very positive, trusting relationship.

Horses sweat like people do. The more they run, the more their hair saturates with sweat and makes staying seated on them slippery. Hell, an overworked horse can sweat so heavily that the saddle slips off its back. It's also essential to brush and bathe a horse before it's ridden in order to keep it healthier, so their hair is often quite slick from either being very clean or very damp. In order to ride like that, you have to develop the ability to synchronize your entire body's rhythm's with the rhythm of the horse's body beneath you, and quite literally move as one. Without stirrups, most people can't do it, and some people can never master bareback riding no matter how many years they spend trying to learn.

-You can be distracted and make casual conversation while a horse is standing untethered in the middle of a barn or field.

At every barn I've ever worked at, it's been standard practice with every single horse, regardless of age or temperament, to secure their heads while they're being tacked up or tacked down. The secures for doing this are simple ropes with clips that are designed to attach to the horse's halter (the headwear for a horse that isn't being ridden; they have no bit that goes in the horse's mouth, and no reins for a rider to hold) on metal O rings on either side of the horse's head. This is not distressing to the horse, because we give them plenty of slack to turn their heads and look around comfortably.

The problem with trying to tack up an unrestrained horse while chatting with fellow stable hands or riders is that horses know when you're distracted! And they often try to get away with stuff when they know you're not looking! In a barn, a horse often knows where the food is stored, and will often try to tiptoe off to sneak into the feed room.

Horses that get into the feed room are often at a high risk of dying. While extremely intelligent, they don't have the ability to throw up, and they don't have the ability to tell that their stomach is full and should stop eating. Allowing a horse into a feed/grain room WILL allow it to eat itself to death.

Other common woes stable hands and riders deal with when trying to handle a horse with an unrestrained head is getting bitten! Horses express affection between members of their own herd, and those they consider friends and family, through nibbling and surprisingly rough biting. It's not called "horseplay" for nothing, because during my years working with horses out in the pasture, it wasn't uncommon at all for me to find individuals with bloody bite marks on their withers (that high part on the middle of the back of their shoulders most people instinctively reach for when they try to get up), and on their backsides. I've been love-bitten by horses before, and while flattering, they hurt like hell on fleshy human skin.

So, for the safety of the horse, and everybody else, always make a show of somehow controlling the animal's head when hands-on and on the ground with them.

-Big Horse = War Horse

Startlingly, the opposite is usually the case! Draft and carriage horses, like Percherons and Friesians, were never meant to be used in warfare. Draft horses are usually bred to be extremely even-tempered, hard to spook, and trustworthy around small children and animals. Historically, they're the tractors of the farm if you could afford to upgrade from oxen, and were never built to be fast or agile in a battlefield situation.

More importantly, just because a horse is imposing and huge doesn't make it a good candidate for carrying heavy weights. A real thing that I had to be part of enforcing when I worked at a teaching ranch was a weight limit. Yeah, it felt shitty to tell people they couldn't ride because we didn't have any horses strong enough to carry them due to their weight, but it's a matter of the animal's safety. A big/tall/chonky horse is more likely to be built to pull heavy loads, but not carry them flat on their spines. Horses' muscular power is predominantly in their ability to run and pull things, and too heavy a rider can literally break a horse's spine and force us to euthanize it.

Some of the best war horses out there are from the "hot blood" family. Hot blooded horses are often from dry, hot, arid climates, are very small and slight (such as Arabian horses), and are notoriously fickle and flighty. They're also a lot more likely to paw/bite/kick when spooked, and have even sometimes been historically trained to fight alongside their rider if their rider is dismounted in combat; kicking and rearing to keep other soldiers at a distance.

-Any horse can be ridden if it likes you enough.

Just like it can take a lifetime to learn to ride easily, it can take a lifetime of training for a horse to comfortably take to being ridden or taking part in a job, like pulling a carriage. Much like service animals, horses are typically trained from extremely young ages to be reared into the job that's given to them, and an adult horse with no experience carrying a rider is going to be just as scared as a rider who's never actually ridden a horse.

Just as well, the process of tacking up a horse isn't always the most comfortable experience for the horse. To keep the saddle centered on the horse's back when moving at rough or fast paces, it's essential to tighten the belly strap (cinch) of the saddle as tightly as possible around the horse's belly. For the horse, it's like wearing a tight corset, chafes, and even leaves indents in their skin afterward that they love having rinsed with water and scratched. Some horses will learn to inflate their bellies while you're tightening the cinch so you can't get it as tight as it needs to be, and then exhale when they think you're done tightening it.

When you're working with a horse wearing a bridle, especially one with a bit, it can be a shocking sensory experience to a horse that's never used a bit before. While they lack a set of teeth naturally, so the bit doesn't actually hurt them, imagine having a metal rod shoved in your mouth horizontally! Unless you understand why it's important for the person you care about not dying, you'd be pretty pissed about having to keep it in there!

-Horseback riding isn't exercise.

If you're not using every muscle in your body to ride with, you're not doing it right.

Riding requires every ounce of muscle control you have in your entire body - although this doesn't mean it wasn't realistic for people with fat bodies to stay their weight while also being avid riders; it doesn't mean the muscles aren't there. To stay on the horse, you need to learn how it feels when it moves at different gaits (walk, trot, canter, gallop), how to instruct it to switch leads (dominant legs; essential for precise turning and ease of communication between you and the horse), and not falling off. While good riders look like they're barely moving at all, that's only because they're good riders. They know how to move so seamlessly with the horse, feeling their movements like their own, that they can compensate with their legs and waists to not bounce out of the saddle altogether or slide off to one side. I guarantee if you ride a horse longer than 30 minutes for the first time, your legs alone will barely work and feel like rubber.

-Horses aren't affectionate.

Horses are extraordinarily affectionate toward the right people. As prey animals, they're usually wary of people they don't know, or have only recently met. They also - again, like service animals - have a "work mode" and a "casual mode" depending upon what they're doing at the time. Horses will give kisses like puppies, wiggle their upper lips on your hair/arms to groom you, lean into neck-hugs, and even cuddle in their pasture or stall if it's time to nap and you join them by leaning against their sides. If they see you coming up from afar and are excited to see you, they'll whinny and squeal while galloping to meet you at the gate. They'll deliberately swat you with their tails to tease you, and will often follow you around the pasture if they're allowed to regardless of what you're up to.

-Riding crops are cruel.

Only cruel people use riding crops to hurt their horses. Spurs? I personally object to, because any horse that knows you well doesn't need something sharp jabbing them in the side for emphasis when you're trying to tell them where you want them to go. Crops? Are genuinely harmless tools used for signalling a horse.

I mean, think about it. Why would crops be inherently cruel instruments if you need to trust a horse not to be afraid of you and throw you off when you're riding it?

Crops are best used just to lightly tap on the left or right flank of the horse, and aren't universally used with all forms of riding. You'll mainly see crops used with English riding, and they're just tools for communicating with the horse without needing to speak.

-There's only one way to ride a horse.

Not. At. All. At most teaching ranches, you'll get two options: Western, or English, because they tend to be the most popular for shows and also the most common to find equipment for. English riding uses a thinner, smaller saddle, narrower stirrups, and much thinner bridles. I, personally, didn't like English style riding because I never felt very stable in such a thin saddle with such small stirrups, and didn't start learning until my mid teens. English style riding tends to focus more on your posture and deportment in the saddle, and your ability to show off your stability and apparent immovability on the horse. It was generally just a bit too stiff and formal for me.

Western style riding utilizes heavier bridles, bigger saddles (with the iconic horn on the front), and broader stirrups. Like its name may suggest, Western riding is more about figuring out how to be steady in the saddle while going fast and being mobile with your upper body. Western style riding is generally the style preferred for working-type shows, such as horseback archery, gunning, barrel racing, and even rodeo riding.

-Wealthy horse owners have no relationship with their horses.

This is loosely untrue, but I've seen cases where it is. Basically, horses need to feel like they're working for someone that matters to them in order to behave well with a rider and not get impatient or bored. While it's common for people to board horses at off-property ranches (boarding ranches) for cost and space purposes, it's been historically the truth that having help is usually necessary with horses at some point. What matters is who spends the most time with the animal treating it like a living being, rather than a mode of transport or a tool. There's no harm in stable hands handling the daily upkeep; hay bales and water buckets are heavy, and we're there to profit off the labor you don't want or have the time to do. You get up early to go to work; we get up early to look after your horses. Good owners/boarders visit often and spend as much of their spare time as they can with spending quality work and playtime with their horses. Otherwise, the horses look to the stable hands for emotional support and care.

So, maybe you're writing a knight that doesn't really care much for looking after his horse, but his squire is really dedicated to keeping up with it? There's a better chance of the horse having a more affectionate relationship with the squire thanks to the time the squire spends on looking after it, while the horse is more likely to tolerate the knight that owns it as being a source of discipline if it misbehaves. That doesn't mean the knight is its favorite person. When it comes to horses, their love must be earned, and you can only earn it by spending time with them hands-on.

-Horses can graze anywhere without concern.

This is a mistake that results in a lot of premature deaths! A big part of the cost of owning a horse - even before you buy one - is having the property that will be its pasture assessed for poisonous plants, and having those plants removed from being within the animal's reach. This is an essential part of farm upkeep every year, because horses really can't tell what's toxic and what isn't. One of the reasons it's essential to secure a horse when you aren't riding it is to ensure it only has a very limited range to graze on, and it's your responsibility as the owner/rider to know how to identify dangerous plants and keep your horses away from them.

There's probably more. AMA in my askbox if you have any questions, but that's all for now. Happy writing.

[burntoutdaydreamer]

Things That May Be Causing Your Writer's Block- and How to Beat Them

I don't like the term 'Writer's Block' - not because it isn't real, but because the term is so vague that it's useless. Hundreds of issues all get lumped together under this one umbrella, making writer's block seem like this all-powerful boogeyman that's impossible to beat. Worse yet, it leaves people giving and receiving advice that is completely ineffective because people often don't realize they're talking about entirely different issues.

In my experience, the key to beating writer's block is figuring out what the block even is, so I put together a list of Actual Reasons why you may be struggling to write:

(note that any case of writer's block is usually a mix of two or more)

Perfectionism (most common)

What it looks like:

You write one sentence and spend the next hour googling "synonyms for ___"

Write. Erase. Write. Rewrite. Erase.

Should I even start writing this scene when I haven't figured out this one specific detail yet?

I hate everything I write

Cringing while writing

My first draft must be perfect, or else I'm a terrible writer

Things that can help:

Give yourself permission to suck

Keep in mind that nothing you write is going to be perfect, especially your first draft

Think of writing your first/early drafts not as writing, but sketching out a loose foundation to build upon later

People write multiple drafts for a reason: write now, edit later

Stop googling synonyms and save that for editing

Write with a pen to reduce temptation to erase

Embrace leaving blank spaces in your writing when you can't think of the right word, name, or detail

It's okay if your writing sucks. We all suck at some point. Embrace the growth mindset, and focus on getting words on a page

Lack of inspiration (easiest to fix)

What it looks like:

Head empty, no ideas

What do I even write about???

I don't have a plot, I just have an image

Want to write but no story to write

Things that can help:

Google writing prompts

If writing prompts aren't your thing, instead try thinking about what kind of tropes/genres/story elements you would like to try out

Instead of thinking about the story you would like to write, think about the story you would like to read, and write that

It's okay if you don't have a fully fleshed out story idea. Even if it's just an image or a line of dialogue, it's okay to write that. A story may or may not come out of it, but at least you got the creative juices flowing

Stop writing. Step away from your desk and let yourself naturally get inspired. Go for a walk, read a book, travel, play video games, research history, etc. Don't force ideas, but do open up your mind to them

If you're like me, world-building may come more naturally than plotting. Design the world first and let the story come later

Boredom/Understimulation (lost the flow)

What it looks like:

I know I should be writing but uugggghhhh I just can'tttttt

Writing words feels like pulling teeth

I started writing, but then I got bored/distracted

I enjoy the idea of writing, but the actual process makes me want to throw my laptop out the window

Things that can help:

Introduce stimulation: snacks, beverages, gum, music such as lo-fi, blankets, decorate your writing space, get a clickity-clackity keyboard, etc.

Add variety: write in a new location, try a new idea/different story for a day or so, switch up how you write (pen and paper vs. computer) or try voice recording or speech-to-text

Gamify writing: create an arbitrary challenge, such as trying to see how many words you can write in a set time and try to beat your high score

Find a writing buddy or join a writer's group

Give yourself a reward for every writing milestone, even if it's just writing a paragraph

Ask yourself whether this project you're working on is something you really want to be doing, and be honest with your answer

Intimidation/Procrastination (often related to perfectionism, but not always)

What it looks like:

I was feeling really motivated to write, but then I opened my laptop

I don't even know where to start

I love writing, but I can never seem to get started

I'll write tomorrow. I mean next week. Next month? Next month, I swear (doesn't write next month)

Can't find the time or energy

Unreasonable expectations (I should be able to write 10,000 words a day, right????)

Feeling discouraged and wondering why I'm even trying

Things that can help:

Follow the 2 min rule (or the 1 paragraph rule, which works better for me): whenever you sit down to write, tell yourself that you are only going to write for 2 minutes. If you feel like continuing once the 2 mins are up, go for it! Otherwise, stop. Force yourself to start but DO NOT force yourself to continue unless you feel like it. The more often you do this, the easier it will be to get started

Make getting started as easy as possible (i.e. minimize barriers: if getting up to get a notebook is stopping you from getting started, then write in the notes app of your phone)

Commit to a routine that will work for you. Baby steps are important here. Go with something that feels reasonable: every day, every other day, once a week, twice a week, and use cues to help you remember to start. If you chose a set time to write, just make sure that it's a time that feels natural to you- i.e. don't force yourself to writing at 9am every morning if you're not a morning person

Find a friend or a writing buddy you can trust and talk it out or share a piece of work you're proud of. Sometimes we just get a bit bogged down by criticism- either internal or external- and need a few words of encouragement

The Problem's Not You, It's Your Story (or Outline (or Process))

What it looks like:

I have no problems writing other scenes, it's just this scene

I started writing, but now I have no idea where I'm going

I don't think I'm doing this right

What's an outline?

Drowning in documents

This. Doesn't. Make. Sense. How do I get from this plot point to this one?!?!?! (this ColeyDoesThings quote lives in my head rent free cause BOY have I been there)

Things That Can Help:

Go back to the drawing board. Really try to get at the root of why a scene or story isn't working

A part of growing as a writer is learning when to kill your darlings. Sometimes you're trying to force an idea or scene that just doesn't work and you need to let it go

If you don't have an outline, write one

If you have an outline and it isn't working, rewrite it, or look up different ways to structure it

You may be trying to write as a pantser when you're really a plotter or vice versa. Experiment with different writing processes and see what feels most natural

Study story structures, starting with the three act structure. Even if you don't use them, you should know them

Check out Ellen Brock on YouTube. She's a professional novel editor who has a lot of advice on writing strategies for different types of writers

Also check out Savage Books on YouTube (another professional story editor) for advice on story structure and dialogue. Seriously, I cannot recommend this guy enough

Executive Dysfunction, Usually From ADHD/Autism

What it looks like:

Everything in boredom/understimulation

Everything in intimidation/procrastination

You have been diagnosed with and/or have symptoms of ADHD/Autism

Things that can help:

If you haven't already, seek a diagnosis or professional treatment

Hire an ADHD coach or other specialist that can help you work with your brain (I use Shimmer; feel free to DM me for a referral)

Seek out neurodiverse communities for advice and support

Try body doubling! There's lot's of free online body doubling websites out there for you to try. If social anxiety is a barrier, start out with writing streams such as katecavanaughwrites on Twitch

Be aware of any sensory barriers that may be getting in the way of you writing (such as an uncomfortable desk chair, harsh lighting, bad sounds)

And Lastly, Burnout, Depression, or Other Mental Illness

What it looks like:

You have symptoms of burnout or depression

Struggling with all things, not just writing

It's more than a lack of inspiration- the spark is just dead

Things that can help:

Forget writing for now. Focus on healing first.

Seek professional help

If you feel like it, use writing as a way to explore your feelings. It can take the form of journaling, poetry, an abstract reflection of your thoughts, narrative essays, or exploring what you're feeling through your fictional characters. The last two helped me rediscover my love of writing after I thought years of depression had killed it for good. Just don't force yourself to do so, and stop if it takes you to a darker place instead of feeling cathartic

[evangelifloss]

Thinking about a certain scene in Dungeon Meshi that completely encapsulates the Autistic experience of making friends as an adult and how hard it is to try and navigate it without ending up getting hurt.

Like IDK about y'all, but this is a common problem ALOT of Autistic Adults face when trying to make friends with other people, because unlike children who aren't good at keeping their opinions to themselves, Adults ARE. In society, we're even encouraged to "keep the peace" "be polite" and etc, which commonly leads to awful scenarios as shown above when Laois finds out his buddy has come to resent who Laois is without actually telling him. All too often the friends that we love to hang out with, people that we're so happy to spend time with, don't feel the same way and in many cases, come to blame us for our social cues or lack thereof.

And when/if we do eventually find out how our friend feels, Dungeon Meshi hits us with another painful panel of how that usually ends up playing out.

It's hard for Adults with Autism to make friends, and even harder to maintain them because alot of the ways Neurotypicals tell other Neurotypicals that they don't like a certain behavior is by quietly disengaging. Whether that involves having one sentence answers, going quiet, or having a certain tone in their voice, all those things signal annoyance or disapproval, but for the Neurodivergents, those subtle cues are completely missed.

And yet when we inevitably discover we DID do something, it is natural to ask "well why didn't you tell me?" because in our minds, it should've been the next step in the equation. However for the Neurotypicals, that's NOT something to bring up. Its important to be SUBTLE about the issue at hand and rely on signals to tell the other person. Blame is placed on us for not noticing the "obvious" signs of disapproval rather than the idea of talking it out as such things are uncomfortable and harder to do. Alot of the time what ends up happening is resentment due to the idea that it was "obvious" and the fact one didn't notice indicates a deliberate ignorance rather than a complete unawareness. It ends up calling into question our quality as a person and our sincerity. We get called "fake" or "malicious" or even "stupid" for failing social cues rather than questioning the decision to be indirect and vague.

For a manga about exploring the dungeon, it seems that the artist would rather explore very real and prevalent dynamics in society with the adventuring premise as a backdrop. I felt VERY seen in these panels, and many others, because it happens so suddenly and dare I say it, plainly. There's no dramatic build-up or spectacle made and in essence, it just Happens.

I think that's what makes the scene hit even harder. It seemingly comes out of nowhere for Laois, like how it always comes out of nowhere for alot of people, and it's never a dramatic twist either. It's always mundane and hurtful. A sudden unforeseen bump in the road that ends up calling into question one's entire friendship with someone and consequent other friendships. It asks "what if other friends feel the same. What if the people that I really like actually hate me and I don't know it?" Or at least that's what I came away with after reading the chapter. I've been where Laois was and the only reason I'm not there now is because I lost the naivete I had and doubt everyone else's sincerity.

[charlesoberonn]

Please read the last two paragraphs of Justice Sonia Sotomayor's dissent to the recent 6-3 decision granting presidents absolute immunity:

Looking beyond the fate of this particular prosecution, the long-term consequences of today’s decision are stark. The Court effectively creates a law-free zone around the President, upsetting the status quo that has existed since the Founding. This new official-acts immunity now “lies about like a loaded weapon” for any President that wishes to place his own interests, his own political survival, or his own financial gain, above the interests of the Nation. The President of the United States is the most powerful person in the country, and possibly the world. When he uses his official powers in any way, under the majority’s reasoning, he now will be insulated from criminal prosecution. Orders the Navy’s Seal Team 6 to assassinate a political rival? Immune. Organizes a military coup to hold onto power? Immune. Takes a bribe in exchange for a pardon Immune. Immune, immune, immune. Let the President violate the law, let him exploit the trappings of his office for personal gain, let him use his official power for evil ends. Because if he knew that he may one day face liability for breaking the law, he might not be as bold and fearless as we would like him to be. That is the majority’s message today. Even if these nightmare scenarios never play out, and I pray they never do, the damage has been done. The relationship between the President and the people he serves has shifted irrevocably. In every use of official power, the President is now a king above the law. The majority’s single-minded fixation on the President’s need for boldness and dispatch ignores the countervailing need for accountability and restraint. The Framers were not so single-minded. In the Federalist Papers, after “endeavor[ing] to show” that the Executive designed by the Constitution “combines . . . all the requisites to energy," Alexander Hamilton asked a separate, equally important question: “Does it also combine the requisites to safety, in a republican sense, a due dependence on the people, a due responsibility?”. The answer then was yes, based in part upon the President’s vulnerability to “prosecution in the common course of law.” The answer after today is no. Never in the history of our Republic has a President had reason to believe that he would be immune from criminal prosecution if he used the trappings of his office to violate the criminal law. Moving forward, however, all former Presidents will be cloaked in such immunity. If the occupant of that office misuses official power for personal gain, the criminal law that the rest of us must abide will not provide a backstop. With fear for our democracy, I dissent.

[fingertipsmp3]

.

[justatypicalwizard]

Bakugo who eats you out because he lost a bet, smut

It all started with a bet. It was this specific chaotic type of bet that you throw over your shoulder when agitated. The one that comes pistoling out of your lips as soon as it comes to your mind, or even earlier, a fog of war limits your common sense.

This was often the case with Katsuki Bakugo who was world widely known as the most annoying person on earth.

Okay, maybe he stood on this podium only in your world (others deemed Denki as the most insufferable) but it was enough to fire the never ending quarrels.

The two of you were similar in many senses, none of which would ever admit. Despite you being way less aggressive, you had your ways of getting under other peoples’ skin when displeased. You had this fighting spirit and competitive nature that could tune well with Katsuki’s. Unfortunately it most often sang off-key.

It was hard to tell what he thought about you. On one hand you’d say he definitely disliked you, to some point maybe? If he did dislike you he wouldn’t keep you around the small circle of his friends. Katsuki proved that he could push away anyone he wished to, no matter the circumstances. That’s what happened with Deku.

So Katsuki Bakugo disliked the fact that he liked you. Or he liked to dislike you. Either way you fought, ebbed and always surged back. Oh, and bets?

I bet you won’t even make it halfway before the time is up. He throws when he passes you down the hallway, spotting you bending your back over a book, minutes before the exam.

I bet your lovely friend will come looking for you soon. You snicker leaving him in the kitchen of the house party you’re both at. He’s currently hiding from a bimbo who really tries to ask him out and doesn’t take no for an answer.

I bet your mum dropped you when you were little.

I bet Miruko will kick your ass over this.

I bet they’ll send this essay back. It’s shit.

I bet it’ll die in this sunlight.

“Huh.” He knit his brows together, throwing you a nasty look. “Old hag didn’t say anything. It looks like it needs light.”

You were currently in his dorm room, analysing a small plant his mother left him. It was tiny, in a small ceramic pot, with three juicy green leaves poking out of the fresh soil.

“Well, I bet it’ll die if you put it in this sun.” You threw, shrugging your shoulders.

“Okay. If I win you’ll shut the fuck up for a single day around me. No words, not even a squeak.”

With the eye of your imagination you could see Katsuki pestering you for a whole day while you’d be unable to fire back. Yet, you had nothing to worry about. The little dude on the windowsill will bear three of four days before wittering. It’s the type that needs more shade.

“Fine. And if I win you can eat my ass.”

He chuckled, throwing a not happening over his shoulder before ushering you to work you both had to do.

A week later you were back in his room. It was a pleasant place to work in - clean, quiet, and always stocked with tea and coffee. Unlike you, Katsuki had the luxury of a single room which always soured your mood when he rubbed it in your face.

You were resting in his desk chair, legs crossed and organising a bunch of sources you were about to use later in your dissertation. It was the least pleasant part of writing essays. Finding academic sources in the library or browsing for them on the internet was not half bad. One could get in the swing of it after some time. And it made you feel like a real student all book heavy bags in a spacious bibliotheca.

Organising them later though? A pain in the ass.

“-by the way.” You caught only the ending of his sentence.

“Huh?” Turning around you spotten Katsuki looking at something in the far end of his room.

There was a closet there, one that didn’t quite reach the ceiling but was massive in shape. Atop of it sat the little dude in his sweet ceramic pot. Unfortunately all that was left of his three juicy leaves was one stem fighting for its life.

You clapped your hands in satisfaction, cracking a victorious laugh.

“Told you.” Fake wiping a tear from your cheek, you turned back to the desk and searched for the box you were about to tick off the long list. “Give it some more water and time. It will be fine.”

“So.” You felt him standing behind you. His shadow disrupted your writing.

“So?” Once again you turned around in his chair, cocking your brow in question.

“You won.” He crossed his arms, tapping his foot on the soft carpet in irritation.

You nodded your head with a grin but still ruffled. “Yes, and?”

“And you told me I can eat your ass.”

“Oh yeah, stuff your stupid mouth full.” You laughed but he yanked you by the arm, standing you up.

He dropped to his knees, pushing your bottom into the rim of his desk. With a shit eating grin he slipped his fingers into the sides of your trousers, grazing the bare skin of your hips underneath them.

“What the fuck dude?” You cursed, grabbing his forehead like the one of a misbehaved dog, trying to pacify him.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” The grin never left his face as he waited for your words, digging his nails into your skin.

It would be a lie to say that you never ever thought of him that way. Of course he was pretty, with his naturally fair hair that gave him a punk kind of look. With his body carved out like a marble statue. With a grin that made people both want to slap him and fawn over him.

Yes, it did cross your mind that he would be a pleasant view in the bed. Who with a sound mind wouldn’t think of that. Maybe people who weren’t attracted to-

No, it was a normal thought to have, one that may occur when you’re alone under the shower or in bed. You just often appreciate the beauty of your friends. Mina’s also cute and Kirishima is bulked as hell. It was a rational train of thoughts.

So why wasn’t your rational mind telling your hand to push him away just now? Why were you looking at his face, so close to your clothed cunt and feeling excitement bubble in your veins.

Tell me to stop and I will.

And you never did. So he pushed you to sit on the desk, pulling both your trousers and pants down at the same time. You kicked the air a few times to get rid of them but they hung from one of your ankles. It didn’t matter because his face was at its place. God bless you showered before coming here because you could have second thoughts otherwise.

“Okay, whatever the fuck you want, psycho.” You breathed as he lapped at your clit, still looking up at you.

His fingers creeped towards the inner side of your tight and you slapped him over the head.

“Uh, uh. I told you you could eat me out, not finger me. Yesterday you didn’t seem like the one to take shortcuts.” You spat, drinking up his frustration and slight… shame? Like a kid who did something wrong and got caught red handed.

“Fine.” He muttered pushing his tongue inside you. “It won’t take long anyway.” The grin was back on his face.

It indeed didn’t take long as soon, your legs were shutting tightly around his face. You weren’t even looking down anymore, the sight was a turn on but you were already overdriven. Your competitive nature was in a bliss and your head played fucking Katsuki Bakugo, on his fucking knees, between my fucking legs over and over like a broken record. You didn’t want to spoil your fun by thinking he may be having a  merrier time than you.

Not now, not when you’re so close and his palms are grabbing your tights, fingers digging into your muscles so much it would hurt if not the tension. Edging your release, you grabbed his hair in a tight fist pushing him in more, crossing your legs like it would take an “open, sesame!” to undo them.

At last, with a final short breath you came chuckling and moaning. A Katsuki may have slipped past your lips but only once.

He tore your legs open, panting like he just finished a marathon. Looking down you covered your lips to hide the laugh. His face was wet, smeared all over with what was a mixture of you both. His cheeks were heavy with blood, an intense red cutting out on his pale face. Classically, his brows were knit together.

“Did you have to make such a mess?” The blonde stood up and went to his bathroom. You caught a glimpse of the bulge in his pants.

The sound of the faucet reached your ears.

“I’m not gonna say sorry. You asked for it.” And you were pretty good at it. No. Such praise would kill your ego.

The water stopped running and you heard him stomp back. You pulled your trousers on quickly, suddenly feeling awfully naked. What would happen now? Your casual friend just ate your pussy like it was his last meal before a death sentence, and you were supposed to go back to organising the sources.

You felt a hard push to the back of your head.

“Stop thinking about it and get back out.”

Eh?!

Time went on quickly and in a weird manner. A huge something was in the air but you couldn’t find a way to bring the topic up. Why did you eat my pussy out of the blue? Was it really just about the bet? Were you feeling horny and I just so happened to be there? Are we fwb now? Do you like me?

Scratch the last one. The man gave you a headache ever since his own head left your tights. Also, he was nowhere to be found. Katsuki didn’t respond to texts, he was absent from the gym during his usual hours, and his dorm room was closed. You couldn’t just go to Kirishima and say: hey, I’m trying to figure out why Katsuki gave me head, wanna help?

The moment you run into his fleeting ass, you're gonna squeeze out the answer.

An opportunity came soon when you spotted him sneaking into the laundry room. It was a cramped space with washing machines and dryers. Fortunately, you had little thieves around dorms so people usually left their washing while it was in progress. There was a big chance you’d be alone.

Running to the door you yanked them open and rushed inside. Indeed, it was only him crouched to the lowest washing machine, putting mostly black clothes inside.

“You’re here for round two?” He smirked and you gasped.

It took you by surprise, you expected yelling or awkwardness. Nevermind. You shook off your initial stumble.

“Can you explain what the fuck do you mean by all this?” You gestured in the air as if all this was a laundry basket and an empty bottle of washing liquid scattered on the floor.

Katsuki hummed, shrugging his shoulders. He dropped the halfway loaded laundry on the floor and crawled closer to you, gripping your hips in a familiar manner. This time, you were wearing a skirt. Your back hit the door.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” It fell from his lips as if he was asking whether you want vanilla or chocolate ice-cream.

Your mind ran in circles like a hamster in its ball. Start a fuss and possibly fight with Katsuki or let him do his thing and cum? Uhh.

He took your panties off completely, throwing them into his washing machine but left your skirt. Halfway in, when your chest was heaving and hips pushed further and further away from the door you heard a sound on the other side.

The doorknob shook and there was a mumble on the outside. You dug your feet into the ground and Katsuki put one of his hands to shut it closed. Yet, he didn’t stop what he was doing. Both of your palms also pushed into the thin wood making you unable to quiet the panting and loud gulps. You bit your lip and it would break if something wasn’t stuffed inside your mouth.

Taking a sharp breath through your nose, you smelled him. He stuffed your mouth with one of the shirts from his laundry. You threw him a dirty look from above to which he only smirked, going back down.

“It’s locked.” The muffled voice on the other side said.

“Maybe maintenance.” A different one answered.

When they were gone, you could finally cum, biting hard into Katsuki’s shirt. You steadied yourself on a drier afterwards while he wiped his mouth with a spare T-shirt before throwing all the leftover laundry inside the washing machine and starting it.

“My pants.” You breathed out, you were still coming back to earth.

“Ops.” He threw and with a single long stride, escaped the murder scene.

Your walk of shame in the short skirt, without panties on was long.

The third time you could talk to him happened only a day later.

You were studying with Kirishima, or more like tutoring him for free, in the library. Kirishima also had a single room in the dorms but his was far more trashy and you didn’t crave to spend time in that man cave. Instead you booked a private study room. It had a small round table, a few chairs and switches to plug in electric devices.

Halfway through your study Kirishima stated he needed to go to the bathroom. You nodded and the man left. Only after a minute did you hear the door open once more.

“A line in the mens’? Unbelievable.” You chuckled but upon looking up, you were met with a nasty grin.

“Kirishima told me you guys were studying.” He cornered you. “You know the deal.”

Katsuki slipped behind your chair as you whipped your head around to stop him. He placed both of his hands on your shoulders, surprisingly gentle.

“Just tell me to stop.”

Oh fuck you you pretty bastard. Is what you thought.

“Oh fuck you.” Is what you said and you wanted to add something but he pushed your upper half into the table simultaneously yanking the chair from under your butt.

It took a lick for your knees to get kinda soft and your morale to stumble between being a decent person or getting this unbelievably lucky chance for a third time.

“Can we at least do it after I finish with Kiri? I can come to your room as quickly as I am able to.” You whispered.

“Or you can call the dumbass and buy me a few minutes.” Katsuki muttered between your folds.

You cursed under your breath and grabbed your phone. Pick up, pick up, pick up, goddamn. Kirishima could be back any second. Although nothing terrible would happen if he came in on you, it would be embarrassing like hell. Finally, you heard his voice on the other side of the line.

“I’m just coming back, literally wait a second-”

“No!” You shouted into the device. “I mean.”

Katsuki seemed to slow down between your tights. Good, the bastard is not stupid and he cut you some slack this time.

“I’m sorry but I just really need a coffee, I thought you’d still be somewhere around the entrance.” You pieced together a makeshift excuse.

“I can go back. ‘Ts the least I can do for your help.” Kirishima laughed so genuinely it made you feel slightly bad for playing him like this.

“Yeah, uh, it really is boring like hell.” You laughed. The whole phone call made you unable to focus on Katsuki who was behind you and you really wanted to go back to minding him. “If I can be honest it would be lovely if you could bring me coffee from that cafe down and opposite of the library. You know which. I slept really bad and need their double espresso.” Kiri, please just say yes!

“Of course, anything for you.”

That sweetheart. Kirishima was really the perfect man, contrary to Katsuki who just now, at the very end of your call, decided to be an absolute asshole.

You felt two of his fingers push past your entrance and force your walls open. A breath got caught in your throat.

“Okay thanks, bye!” You smashed the end call button. “What the fuck are you do-”

But he was turning you around, lapping his tongue over your clit, moving his fingers in and out of your cunt all of which with closed eyes and a blissful look on his face. You gave in, because it felt so good.

After a while you finished all over his face, for the third time this week.

“I told you not to finger me.” You complained, dressing yourself in fear of Kirishima being too neat in his mission to get you coffee.

“I know and I didn’t like it. So I had to distract you.” He smirked, resting his hip on the table.

At that moment, Kirishima came inside with two paper cups, steam escaping the small opening in the lids.

“Oh, hi dude! I didn’t think you’d come here. I’d buy you coffee too.” Kirishima chirped.

“Forget about it, I was supposed to do something anyway. Just came in to say hi.” The blonde flicked his hand in the air. “Oh, and if you want-” He turned to you. “You can come to my room later and finish what we were talking about.” With that he slipped past the door leaving you with a grimace and Kirishima with a dumbfounded expression.

“What were you guys talking about?” The redhead asked.

“Nothing important, just about transplanting a small plant his mum gave him. I’ll help him later, he has already managed to nearly kill it.”

[axnewxera]

I honestly like Rufus

He's a trope inversion of the CEO's son and I love that. He's really something beside the Heir to the Company

Also reading about FFVII lore, especially Sephiroth's, helped me more with building my own OC lore, which is for an OC insert fandom AU, but I might have ideas that just separated from the OG intended OC-insert lore

It's my habit, to avoid canon issues with the OG lore of another creator's OG fictional story or Fandom, hence I made lore that relates my OCs to the original lore while also separating them completely from that lore, hence it becomes their personal lore

I need to take them off the shelves ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ, it's been years

// Yeah!! I truly think Rufus is one of the most interesting characters in all of Final Fantasy. He's a surprisingly deep and complex character, and his nature of not always saying what he means causes you to have to read between the lines and examine his true character a lot, which I find really fun!

Rufus's voice actor in Remake and Rebirth, Josh Bowman, plays a character named Daniel Grayson in a show called Revenge. I recently started rewatching the show (I don't exactly recommend it, it's VERY soap opera-y) and it's funny how similar Daniel and Rufus are. Except Daniel, from what I remember of the show, ends up becoming a lot more the type that you would EXPECT Rufus to be on first glance. He follows a lot more of the CEO's son tropes and expectations for that type of character, whereas Rufus.... kind of goes his own way and has his own morals and direction for the company he inherits.

And hey your OC lore idea sounds pretty cool! I think it's pretty normal for people to draw inspiration from things they love for their own works. I write a lot for fun, and am even working on my own novels and stuff. My mind is always swimming with character and story ideas. Sometimes it really is something as simple as "What if this character did THIS instead of that??"

[zephyrchama]

Dark Past

A common demon on the street caught your eye. You slowed, almost to a halt, just to gaze at them. They paid you no mind at all. You were two strangers with no connection in the middle of a crowded street. As they passed, you turned your neck for one final glance before continuing on.

The seven demons you were walking with noticed your little stare. Some of them exchanged quizzical looks. None of them had ever seen that random demon before. They didn't look special. Leviathan paused in his tracks to glare daggers of envy at the stranger, cursing them in his mind for stealing your attention.

"Someone you know?" Satan asked. It was hard to hear him over Mammon shouting, "Who was that?"

"What?" You fixed your eyes on them, confused by the sudden outburst. Beelzebub tenderly placed a hand on your back and guided you around some uneven pavement.

"Who was that demon you were staring at?" Belphegor asked.

"I wasn't staring at anyone."

"Yes, you were." Lucifer didn't question you, but he crossed his arms expectantly. His brothers would do all the work of wrestling an answer out of you for him.

"I saw you rubberneck so hard, I thought you were going to chase after them!" Asmodeus must have been exaggerating. You only glanced at that demon for a second max, or so you believed.

You didn't think it was a big deal, and brushed the incident off with, "they just reminded me of something." You hoped that would suffice as an answer. It did not.

"And what would that be?" Satan sounded like a courtroom interrogator trying to corner a lying defendant.

At some point, the eight of you had come to a stop in front of a closed and shuttered business, letting the foot traffic flow around you. The seven of them boxed you in and blocked your view of the rest of the street, circling you like a pack of hungry sharks. You waved your hands at the ridiculous bunch.

"I was just looking! What's it matter to you guys?"

Mammon got right up in your face. "I'm in charge of protectin' you! I can't be lettin' you stare at every chump lookin' to take advantage of ya!"

Asmodeus pulled him aside, claiming, "you should just look at me! I'm the only demon you'll never get tired of staring at." He gave you a wink of fan service that would have sent anyone else into a lustful fervor.

"I... also... don't want you looking at other people," Leviathan mumbled while lacking the courage to look you in the eye. His hand fidgeted with the bottom of his jacket.

"There are many dangers in the Devildom. You know that we have a responsibility to keep you safe, both as an exchange student and as someone very dear to us." Lucifer always had a way with words.

"So, who was that?" Beelzebub asked. He was followed up by Belphegor wondering, "do you know them?"

"No! They just..." You took a deep breath before your admission. "Ok. They look like the demon I would pretend to be when I was a kid."

There it was, the truth. Out in the open. There was a long beat of silence.

Belphegor was the first to go "huh?"

Leviathan caught on quickly. "Like, a demonsona? You had a demonsona?"

"It's something a lot of human kids do," you hurried to explain. "On playgrounds and stuff. When we're little we imagine we're secretly vampires and demons and cool monsters. It's fun but we grow out of it, usually."

Belphegor tried to clarify. "So you pretended you were a demon, and that you looked like the one who just walked by?"

You swear you heard Lucifer snort, trying to hold back his laughter.

"That is sooooooooo cute!" Asmodeus did not hold back. He started cracking up, his high-pitched laughter ringing around the street, and wiped a tear from his eye. "So, for years you played pretend demon?"

"Want me to go get them and ask for their picture?" Beelzebub offered. "I can catch up pretty quickly.

"No!" The offer was mortifying. "Lets just go, we have to finish our errands."

"You had a demonsona," Leviathan repeated with a smile and a chuckle. "That is kind of cute."

"Why somebody like that loser? Why not imagine someone cooler, like me?" Mammon flexed his wings in a show of vanity, as if he could make child-you change their mind.

"I didn't know you then, Mammon. I was, like, ten. All demons were cool."

"That's funny. Humans are so silly," Belphegor chimed.

"I was a child!" You spun to look at Belphegor, sticking an accusatory finger in his face. "You don't get to make fun of me, seeing as you pretended to be human when we met. You're thousands of years old! Act your age!"

"Ok, but I can do that because I'm a demon." Belphegor explained. He ran a hand through his hair, making his horns briefly disappear. "It's what we do."

"Yeah, it's different for us," Satan agreed.

Lucifer cleared his throat and stated, "I imagine we should continue this conversation while walking, now that we have an answer. Unless you lot want to spend all night on the street." He took a step back and gestured down the road in the direction you all were headed.

Sensing an escape from this topic, you nudged your way through the wall of demon brothers and followed after Lucifer, hoping to leave this memory behind. One by one, everyone else followed suit.

Leviathan sped up to match his pace to yours. Once the group was back on track and you thought the conversation was in the past, he asked, "so did you imagine having any cool powers?"