#this is IT THE PINNACLE. MY IDEAL FAVORITE

[mejomonster]

If our writing is to a degree the influence of what we have read, I'd like to know particularly what fucking authors I read that rubbed off on me that I write the particular way I do.

I Know to a degree Edgar Allen Poe has got to be why I do the particular emotional descriptions and specifically poetically rhythmic sentence choices. He did this thing of sentences breaking in places to feel like poetry almost, and I definitely picked that up at age 12 and never stopped.

But I also got into this specific habit of going not just biased pov third person (which plenty of authors I most enjoy tend to do), but also this sort of very thought-heavy biased pov where I don't tell the reader all thoughts but what I write is a hint to what's not said, and i write emotionality of the pov (again a lot like poe I know I picked up some word choice and sentence style from him) but it doesn't say it all it sort of makes a shape. I cannot figure out what writers I picked it up from. Maybe some fanfic writers I liked? I know at some point mid college, I swung from writing Really Minimalistic to enjoying going in DEEP into each scene to enjoy and savor it. And that's when those sections went from same style but curt, to very in depth and scenes got 5 pages long when they used to be 1 page. But I can't think at the moment of who writes like that.

Also, the emotional biased unreliable way I do description is something I can see I was doing all through High school, very early, so I picked that up from something I read probably soon after poe. Really early on.

[kittwix]

First Kiss with the Joestars

Jonathan Joestar, Joseph Joestar, Jotaro Kujo, Josuke Higashikata, Giorno Giovanna, Jolyne Cujoh, Johnny Joestar, Josuke Higashikata (Gappy), Jodio Joestar x Neu! Reader

word count: 5.4k , it's long if you read all of their parts >_<

tags: very sweet; cavity inducing fluff, jodio is a little mean, reader stand isnt specify or implied, reader is gender neutral!

Jonathan Joestar

Your suspicion grew when he had invited you for a picnic out to the vineyard. He had made it obvious that he liked being around you, even at the times when he would be practicing for his Rugby tournaments, he would always encourage you to be there to cheer him up.

He would have everything all planned out, he had his maids prepare the basket for him and even went ahead to pack some of his favorite lunch items; resisting the urge to just eat them right then and there before he could meet up with you.

Upon meeting, he gracefully held the basket with one hand, offering his other arm for you to grasp. He greeted you with a kiss on the back of your hand, a faint blush gracing his cheeks, eliciting a chuckle of amusement from you.

"My, my, Jojo.. Have you contrived this all on my behalf?" You stood there, curiosity in your eyes and a small smile, as you watched your boyfriend carefully spread a beautifully sewed quilt over the uneven patches of grass. It was clear that this moment, simple as it might seem, was shaped with intention and care, setting the stage for the intimate afternoon you were about to share together. "Could it be that there is a significant event which has escaped my memory?” 

"No, nothing of that sort." Jonathan replied, his smile casting a warmth over you that felt as comforting as sunlight caressing your skin.The sheer sight of him made your tummy flutter with butterflies; his handsomeness was evident, and his disposition was the pinnacle of gentleness. He was the nicest and most sincere boy you'd ever met. "What a delightful day out, wouldn’t you agree? The weather is simply ideal for a luncheon outing with my beloved.” 

"Well yes," You hummed, now it was your turn to be embarrassed as you fidgeted with your hands for a moment and watched him take apart the lunch. "I cannot shake the suspicion that you are plotting something. Quite the mischievous schemer, are you not?”

"What? Me? That’s absurd! Do you truly believe me of being capable of such baseness?" Your boyfriend teased, mimicking a frown which prompted you to gently push on his shoulder as you shared a laugh. It was times like this where you could genuinely admire him. You noted the sharp outlines of his chiseled face, and how his kind blue eyes, reminiscent of the deepest sapphires, seemed to sparkle even more under the natural light. And oh, that smile...

You gradually moved closer to him, inch by inch, until there was almost no room between you. He twisted his head, appearing surprised by the sudden closeness, yet there was no sign of disinterest in his reaction. Silence encompassed you both, the world around you dissolving into a distant hum. 

Within seconds, you closed your eyes and closed the final gap, your lips meeting his in a sweet, short kiss. It was a brief encounter, lasting only a few seconds before you pulled back, but in his gaze, you could swear you saw stars twinkling back at you. He glanced at you, completely taken aback, his mouth slightly parted as if about to speak, capturing a moment of wonder.

"Wow..." He reacted. "That was certainly not within the scope of my intentions, but I must admit.. It was rather pleasant."

Joseph Joestar

It was mostly his initiation, he likes to joke around with you a little too much but that was just part of his personality that you like so much. Not to mention that he can be pretty unpredictable, making him blunt in ways that just makes you like him even more. 

"What do you want now, Joestar?" You asked, crossing your arms at the sight of your tall boyfriend creeping up on you with a stupid smile that could only mean that he was up to no good.

"Ouch! Can't a guy stroll up to his darling and turn on the charm?" He asked, seeming to have pretended to his offensiveness with a hand on his chest as he bats his eyelashes at you. “Anyways, got any plans later?”

“Oh, what’s it to you? Gonna take me out for dinner? Miss Lisa Lisa isn’t going to like the fact that you’re slacking off on your training.” You reiterated back with a little smirk and a hand on your hip. "She doesn't need to know! I can handle almost anything, baby! Just give me a shot, or else you might get kissed." He wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, leaning in a bit closer, and you couldn’t help but conceal the smile that was growing on your face. With a playful push, you gently nudged him back, enjoying the flirtatious banter between you. “Is that a threat?” You raised a brow. “Or are you asking something out of me?” “Perhaps.” He answered back and for a second, silence enveloped both of you, heightening the tension in the air. It didn't help matters that he was so close, his scent filling your senses. Glancing around briefly, you released a small sigh, shaking your head in a playful manner. With a tender gesture, you reached out and cupped his cheek, the intimate moment shared between you intensifying.

“You’re impossible.” Your voice was a faint whisper, closing the distance between you as you moved in to give him a gentle kiss on the lips. The kiss, delicate and sweet, lasted far longer than you had anticipated, but you found yourself loving every moment of it. As you got closer, the temptation to melt into his embrace overcame you, and you could feel his eagerness through the curious movements of his hands, which became bolder by the minute.

However, just as you were about to voice your feelings, the distinct call of Caesar’s voice pierced the intimate bubble you had created, forcing you to regretfully break the kiss. Turning your gaze back to Joseph, you were met with his trademark snarky smile, a look that teetered on the edge of being both endearing and infuriating. He wore his joy openly, quietly bragging to himself about having gained something as simple as a kiss to you. It was a moment that triggered a playful irritation in you, making you want to slap his smug grin away.

As the moment between you faded, you watched him depart with a playful wink cast over his shoulder in your direction before returning back to Caesar. Even as he walked away, his cheeky demeanor left a lingering warm feeling in your heart, a silent promise of more moments like these to treasure.

Jotaro Kujo

On the contrary, it was an accidental kiss and wasn't something that neither of you had planned. It was in front of everyone as well, especially in front of his grandfather, which only heightened the embarrassment of the situation.

The situation had taken an unexpected turn, with suspicions that an enemy Stand user, possibly one of Dio's underlings, was involved. This required everyone to be attentive, continuously on the lookout for signs of an attack or sabotage, no matter how bizarre the situation may be at hand. Despite the tension, the moment had allowed for a brief lapse into normalcy as Joseph generously offered to cover the cost of lunch for everyone. You conveyed your gratitude gracefully, humming blissfully to yourself as you devoured the pasta you'd chosen, enjoying the flavors 

However, your delight was cut short when you felt an unusual sensation in your throat. It swelled quickly, making it difficult to breathe and speak. Panic came in when you realized you were choking, and the situation quickly escalated from uncomfortable to life-threatening. It was Iggy who had caught on to this, the small dog emerging from beneath the table and began barking loudly at you.

The abrupt escalation of events threw the group into a state of alarm. As you began to drool excessively, struggling for air, a small, rabid-like bug emerged from your mouth, adding a surreal horror to the scene. Your attempt to cry out was muffled, choked by the intrusion. Polnareff and Joseph let out a collective scream, their voices blending in shock and terror. Despite the panic that was clouding your eyesight, you could see Avdol and Kakyoin rush into action, summoning their Stands with an eagerness.

In the midst of the chaos and fear, you suddenly felt a strong, reassuring grip on your shoulder, spinning you around until you were face-to-face with Jotaro. His presence was imposing, the brim of his hat casting a shadow that obscured the upper half of his face, rendering his eyes invisible in the moment. Before you could process the situation fully, Jotaro's lips pressed firmly against yours. Shock and a surge of adrenaline caused your eyes to fly open wide, your hands instinctively curling into fists against his muscular chest. As he pulled back, the realization hit you: Jotaro had taken the stand from your mouth, now holding it between his lips. With a look of disgust, he spat it out to the side. In an instant, Star Platinum was summoned, its fist blurring into motion as it delivered a powerful punch that sent the stand hurtling into oblivion.

Everyone was taken aback by Jotaro's action. It was a bold move that had you gasping for air. Your cheeks flushed with warmth as you processed the sensation; his lips had been surprisingly soft, and the kiss had carried a level of passion that left you questioning its intent.

The lingering sensation of his lips on yours created an array of emotions swirling within you, mixing gratitude with confusion and a hint of curiosity. The lingering sensation of his lips on yours sparked a range of emotions within you.

You cleared your throat, the unexpectedness of the circumstance made you feel instantly self-conscious, forcing you to put your plate aside as your hunger faded in the aftermath of the experience. “Thanks…” You said hoarsely.

“Yare Yare…” 

Josuke Higashikata

You and Josuke attended the same school, and it had become a regular occurrence for him to offer to walk you home. At first, you didn't think much of it, considering it a friendly gesture. However, things took a different turn when your school friends started teasing you, hinting that Josuke might have a crush on you.

Today was like any other day, with Josuke offering to walk you home once again. However, a nagging feeling of guilt crept over you as you realized how many times he had gone out of his way for you without expecting anything in return. Despite your gratitude for his kindness, you couldn't help but feel like you owed him something more substantial.

As the two of you approached your house's doorstep, you fidgeted with your hands, an anxious yet grateful smile forming across your face as you turned to face the boy. "Is this like, the millionth time you've walked me to my door?" you teased gently, resting against the doorframe and looking down at your feet. "You're really sweet," you said, genuine admiration coloring your words as you met his gaze again. His presence was familiar and comforting, making every trip to your door a special part of your day.

Josuke rubbed the back of his head, a bashful smile playing on his lips as he blushed slightly at your words. "Hey, I was raised to be a gentleman, y'know," he replied with a hint of self-consciousness, his genuine sincerity shining through. "And, uh, I think you're pretty cool to hang out with." he added, trying to play it off casually but unable to hide the warmth in his eyes as he looked at you. 

"Yeah? I think you're pretty cool too," you replied, crossing your arms and allowing your gaze to linger on his figure, almost as if you were studying him intently. Josuke, with his trademark pompadour, couldn't help but chuckle softly at your lingering look, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

You fought with the thoughts that raced through your mind, urging you to take the risk and make your move, especially after leaving Josuke visibly flustered. He was now haphazardly kicking at a pebble under his foot, avoiding direct eye contact as if quietly expressing that he was waiting for something else to happen before returning home. The tension in the air was obvious, and you could sense the weight of unspoken words hanging between you.

"I wanted to thank you for walking with me every day," you began, your voice wavering slightly with nerves. "A proper thank you," you quickly corrected yourself, hoping to drop a subtle hint about where the conversation was heading. "I feel like my words aren't enough. I think you deserve something more meaningful."

As you spoke, Josuke's gaze shifted back to you, curiosity and anticipation flickering in his eyes. He didn't know what to expect, but the moment he felt your hands holding onto his biceps, everything seemed to fall into place. His heart skipped a beat as realization dawned on him, his mouth going dry and his lips quivering slightly in response to the sudden surge of emotions.

Without hesitating for another second, you leaned in and gently pressed your lips against Josuke's, savoring the sweetness of the moment. The taste of cherry chapstick lingered on your lips, adding to the enchantment of the kiss. When you finally pulled away, a soft giggle escaped your lips as you admired the lovestruck expression on Josuke's face, his goofy grin speaking volumes about his happiness in that moment. "S-so, uh... I'll pick you up tomorrow?" Josuke asked, a hint of nervousness lacing his words. In response, you gave his cheek a soft tap, a reassuring gesture that brought a smile to his face. With a final glance and a warm smile, you opened the door to your house, leaving Josuke with a sense of anticipation.

“Definitely.”

Giorno Giovanna

During another date that he had arranged, Giorno bought you ice cream as the two of you walked hand in hand. It was a rare occasion when he wasn't caught up in his responsibilities as a mob leader and actually took the time to be with you. Being outside of the mansion felt refreshing, and you were grateful that Giorno shared the same sentiment.

"You know," you started, a playful lilt in your voice as you attempted to coax him into sharing the dessert, "it's one of your favorite flavors. Are you sure you don't want a taste?" Your attempt was light-hearted, an effort to draw him into a small act of normalcy, something as mundane as sharing ice cream on a date.

Giorno's response was a chuckle, the sound warm and rich, filling the space between you. "I'm quite sure. Today, I'm more than happy just to see you enjoy it," he replied, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that made your heart flutter. 

It made you wonder if he'd ever considered taking the relationship to the next level. Nothing extravagant, simply the fact that you've been dating for a while now and he has never initiated a kiss. How you ached to feel his lips on yours. Given his soft-spoken demeanor, you wondered if his lips were also soft and moisturized, providing an intoxicating lasting sensation with each kiss. Given that you were staring a little too long, Giorno had turned to meet your eyes as an evident grin spread across his lips as he cups his own cheek out of embarrassment. “Is there something on my face? You look like you have something you want to say.”

“Mmm, yeah actually.” You responded back with lidded eyes as you gave his hand a small squeeze and stopped your tracks. "There’s been something I’ve been wanting to do for the longest.” You admitted as the ice cream in your hands slowly melted from the bright sun above. You continued, “If I have your permission to touch you, will you trust me?” 

"You always have my permission, you don't need to ask," Giorno reassured you with a gentle smile, his eyes watching you carefully. As you wrapped one arm around his neck, the distance between your bodies shortened, creating a more intimate atmosphere. Your cheeks were flushed, and the way he met your gaze without much of a reaction made butterflies flutter in your stomach. You felt his arm snake around your waist, and it almost seemed like he knew exactly what you had planned to do next. The anticipation and closeness between you added a thrilling suspense to the moment.

Eventually, the both of you lean in to share a passionate kiss. Much to your pleasure, his lips were soft and so were his hands as it continues to explore the rest of your body. You felt weak in the knees, your hand rested on his chest and once the two of you pulled away you were left starstruck. “Giorno...” “Shall we get going?” The question, simple and gentle, jolted you back to reality, yet the magic of the moment lingered like the afterglow of a sunset. His hand, warm and reassuring, squeezed yours. You nodded your head in response, letting the blonde lead the way as the two of you continue to enjoy the rest of your date. 

Jolyne Cujoh

Well, it was more of a dare than something that was just intended. Whenever she was in a good mood, she hardly took herself so seriously, especially when she was messing around with her friends. Though it was pretty easy to break down the tough exterior that she occasionally displays on herself. That’s just how Jolyne is and you admire her for that.

You were seated comfortably on the carpet of your apartment, surrounded by your friends and the lively energy of the gathering. The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement, fueled by the risky game you had all decided to play. With each round, bets were placed, and allowances were on the line as you wagered on the most obscure acts and challenges.

However, things took an unexpected turn when Ermes placed a cash bet on Jolyne kissing you. The room fell silent for a moment as everyone's gaze focused on you and Jolyne, the heightened tension palpable as the game appeared to have strayed into personal territory. 

“Where’d that even come from? You tryin’ to make fun of us or something?” You asked Ermes, your cheeks felt warm,

Ermes just laughed, a knowing twinkle in her eye as she observed the sudden tension between you and Jolyne. "What? Can't handle a little dare?" she teased, her grin widening at your discomfort. You couldn't help but feel a mixture of embarrassment and anticipation, especially when you caught Jolyne's eye. Her usually fierce demeanor seemed softened by the flush of embarrassment, making her look unexpectedly vulnerable.

Jolyne let out a deep breath, her gaze shifting from you to Ermes and then back again. "Fine," she finally said, the word coming out more as a challenge than a submission. She leaned closer, her eyes locked with yours, a mix of defiance and something softer you couldn't quite place. The room fell silent, the playful teasing of moments ago replaced by an almost electric anticipation. You could hear your heart beating, loud in the quiet of the room, as Jolyne's face came closer to yours. Her eyes flickered closed, and for a moment, everything else seemed to disappear.

The kiss was brief, a simple press of lips that felt like a spark through your entire body. When she pulled back, her eyes met yours again, searching for a reaction. The room erupted into whistles and laughter from Ermes and Foo Fighters, but both you and Jolyne were caught in a moment of silent communication, a question and answer passing silently between you.

Jolyne broke eye contact first, turning back to face Ermes and the others with a nonchalant shrug. "See? Just a kiss," she said, her voice steady but you noticed the slight pink still coloring her cheeks.

You were left a little dazed, warmth spreading through your chest. Although the kiss was part of the game, it felt like it carried more weight than either of you would admit. As the game continued and the evening wore on, you found yourself stealing glances at Jolyne, wondering if the moment had meant as much to her as it did to you.

Johnny Joestar

Just as he was about to join the big horse race, you had to pull him back a bit as you couldn’t help but worry about his own well being. It was a big deal, people can get way too competitive and you tend to worry over the littlest things. Of course, he had to reassure you that he was gonna be fine and that he would just have to be away for a few days, perhaps a few weeks or even months. The thought of being so far away from him already made you anxious and he noticed this, so he held your hands and looked up into your eyes. 

"I'll be fine, promise," he responded, his voice full of confidence and calmness. You wanted to believe in his statements and that he would carefully go through the challenges. You knew deep down that despite the distance and time away, he had the courage and determination to return to you.

Before you could say anything else, an obnoxiously loud horn blared, causing both you and Johnny to flinch. The announcer's voice boomed over the speakers, signaling that the horse race was about to commence. You observed Johnny, noticing how his gaze fixated on a man in a hat, attending to a horse. While you were curious about his sudden focus, you decided not to inquire and instead diverted his attention back to you.

You stretched out and cupped his cheek, gently turning his face toward you. The touch was both calming and anchoring, a gentle reminder amidst the chaos of the race. Johnny's gaze met yours, and everything else disappeared into the background. The clamor of the crowd, the excitement of the race, everything went incidental.

In the heat of the moment, you let your body take control as your brain lagged behind. You wrapped your arms around Johnny, pulling yourself closer to his pretty face and eventually your lips locked with his own. You could tell you caught him off guard with the way his body jumped but he immediately melted into the kiss.  The world around you seemed to fade into a blur, leaving just the warmth of his lips against yours and the rhythmic beating of your hearts in perfect harmony. It was a frozen moment in time, with every touch and sensation speaking volumes about your relationship.  

After the lingering kiss had finally ended, Johnny's lips retained their puckered form for a moment longer, as if trying to capture the essence of the intimate moment. His eyes remained closed, basking in the residual warmth of your embrace. It wasn't until you let out a playful giggle and lightly tapped his cheek that he snapped out of his reverie, realizing that the kiss had come to an end. Johnny's face broke into a sheepish grin as he opened his eyes, the delighted twinkle in them reflecting how deeply he had lost himself in the experience.

"Having fun there, loverboy?" you teased with a playful grin, unable to hide the amusement dancing in your eyes.

"Shut up, and kiss me again before I go for real this time," Johnny mumbled in a half-serious, half-playful tone, already leaning in with closed eyes, anticipating the next kiss. You couldn't help but roll your eyes playfully at his eagerness, knowing all too well how much he enjoyed these moments of intimacy.

Granting his wish, you leaned in closer, planting a series of small, teasing pecks on his lips. Each kiss was light and fleeting, just enough to leave him wanting more but sufficient to see the satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Josuke Higashikata (Gappy)

His embrace was overwhelmingly tight, his clinginess something you adored in him, yet you hadn't quite anticipated the sheer strength he possessed. It left you feeling somewhat overpowered, as if you were about to be compressed into nothingness. Your reaction was a series of light giggles, and although you attempted to push him away gently, it only led him to draw you closer once again. Looking down at you, Gappy gently held your face, his thumb tracing your cheekbone.

"Josuke, what's gotten into you?" you question playfully about your boyfriend, but Gappy's arms remained tightly around you. Sure, you had grown accustomed to his affection, though it may occasionally take you by surprise with its intensity. You were also aware of his memory loss and continued search for his identity and purpose. Being one of the first people he met after losing his memory, he quickly developed an emotional connection to you, which you accepted wholeheartedly. 

“You’re warm...” He muttered quietly, his fingers tracing patterns across your skin, inducing involuntary shivers. His acts toward you were noticeably compassionate, in stark contrast to his usual approach. Really, he had charisma, a natural capacity to attract those around him, as well as characteristics that made him unique. Nonetheless, he was ready to get violent at any given moment. But with you, he was someone completely different. He treated you with tenderness and care that spoke volumes, distinguishing you to be special in his eyes. It was this sharp contrast, this respite from his rougher side, that made you feel sincerely appreciated and cherished.

"Jojo..." Your words was just a whisper, a sweet utterance full of care as you softly lifted your hands, cradling his face with the utmost care.You allowed your eyes to wander over his features, memorizing each detail—the curve of his brow, the depth in his eyes, the subtle strength in his jawline.  As you leaned closer, your lips discovered the warmth of his forehead and planted a delicate kiss. With each kiss, you followed a line across his face, from his forehead to his cheek, and finished with a peck on his chin.  He reacted with a slight start to your boldness, a small but noticeable jump, yet he remained silent, his eyes speaking volumes of the surprise and warmth he felt.

You wanted to giggle, a sense of satisfaction at getting such a reaction from your boyfriend. You were about to say something witty and sharp, the words almost dancing on your tongue, eager to tease him even more. However, before you could make your smart remark, the scenario took an unexpected turn. His hands, echoing your previous move, rose to gently cup your face. The world seemed to stop for a time as his eyes fluttered shut, sending a subtle indication of his intentions.

Then, with unexpected boldness, he closed the gap between you, pushing his lips against yours in a daring kiss. His unexpected action left your eyes wide open in shock for just a second, leaving an unspoken query hanging in the air. But as the surprise wore off, a warmth flowed through you, and you found yourself easing into the kiss, your body's tension melting away as you reacted with equal passion.

Once the two of you pulled away, you were left breathless, your cheeks were warm and it was hard to really look him in the eyes after such a passionate kiss. You were at a loss for words as well, it was hard to really think about what to say next. It seemed like he was on the same page, his eyes simply looking at yours as he tried to read the expression that you had on your face. Rest assured, there was definitely going to be more kisses after that. 

Jodio Joestar

Your frustration was palpable when you stumbled upon him yet again engaged in the act of selling drugs, this time to a group of unfamiliar faces. The sight of him engaging this illicit exchange stirred a flare of anger within you, prompting you to confront him directly. Standing there, your posture rigid with your arms tightly crossed over your chest and a frown etching deep lines of disappointment across your face, you were the picture of discontent.

Jodio, seemingly unconcerned by your appearance or the dissatisfaction etched all over your face, simply snickered to himself dismissively. He nonchalantly shook a baggie full of dollar notes, flaunting the goods of his trade right in front of your eyes, all before he had a chance to properly register your presence or understand the depth of your anger.

"Again?" You couldn't help but shake your head in disbelief, a heavy sigh escaping your lips as you observed his repetitive behavior. It was a mix of frustration and disappointment that colored your expression, a silent plea for him to understand the significance of his actions. However, his response was careless, with a mere shrug that appeared to indicate a lack of regard for your issues.

"What's the big deal?" he asked, his tone tinged with casualness as he continued walking, dismissing your concerns. He passed you and headed in the direction where Dragona had parked his car. However, you were not going to let him off the hook so easily. You followed closely after him, the mean expression still engraved on your face as you gazed at his back. Your steps were deliberate, each bearing the weight of your frustration you had for him. His relaxed demeanor simply bolstered the urge to confront him and make him realize the weight of his actions that he had on you.

"What's the big deal?" For god's sake, you're a 15-year-old selling drugs to a couple of dickheads!" Your frustration spilled out in words, your voice infused with fear and exasperation. "You'll get in big trouble, and they'll take you away, and—" Before you could continue, you were interrupted by his irritatingly loud yawn. The interruption left you speechless, your eyes narrowing.  The boldness of his attitude, yawning as if your issues were nothing more than a little annoyance, was frustrating. "You're unbelievable," you said under your breath, your words filled with disappointment.

"What's unbelievable is that you care so much," he spat back, his tone defiant as he stuffed the bag of cash into his pockets. He stopped in his tracks and turned around to face you directly. "What? Cat's got your tongue? You're kinda funny," he added with a hint of sarcasm, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Your initial instinct was to lash out, to give voice to the frustration swirling inside you. But in a split second, something shifted, and before you could fully process it, your impulses took over. Without a second thought, you grabbed him by the collar of his hoodie, pulling him closer, and pressed your lips onto his.

The kiss was impulsive, a burst of emotion that manifested in the heat of the moment. You could feel the texture of his slightly chapped lips against yours. It was a surprise even to yourself, this sudden act of intimacy amidst the tension and conflict that had defined your interaction moments ago.

“I’ll… see you around.”

[leclercsredhelmet]

The Alchemy ♛ Charles Leclerc

A/N: Hi! I'm back after being away for a bit but I come bearing a gift! I was so unbelievably happy after Charles's Monaco win and inspired to write about so here it is!

“Honestly who are we to fight the alchemy?” 

Monaco is known for being the playground of billionaires among many things. This is the ideal destination if you want to see multi-million dollar supercars and yachts. If you are a fan of the pinnacle of motorsport then you know that the Monaco Grand Prix has been rewarded as the crowning jewel of Formula One and for great reason.

To you, Monaco was much more than a playground for the rich or the crowning jewel of your favorite sport. Monaco was home, the principality held half of your heart. You had not intended to stay here while on a trip fresh out of grad school but by fate’s hand, you now called this place home. As a formula one fan, you always dreamed of seeing the principality and walking its streets. When the opportunity arose you decided to take a little detour to visit the principality. 

Little did you know that the detour would turn into more than one visit during the summer. You were wandering the streets when you ran into your now boyfriend Charles Leclerc. Just now after a few months of dating it still sounded crazy but it was true, your favorite driver had turned into your best friend and love of your life. 

Flashback

Your camera was in hand as you marveled at Casino Square, after taking some pictures you decided to find someone who could point you in the direction of the Princess Grace Japanese Garden. Turning around you found the closest person to you, whose back happened to be facing you, and asked for directions using what little French you knew. It just happened that Charles was that person and once he turned around realization dawned on you. He looked at you and he swore he had just seen the most beautiful girl on Earth. 

He stuttered a little as he gave you directions and you were a little confused so you were just nodding along. “It seems that my French isn’t as good as I expected,” you said with a chuckle. Charles laughed, “It’s okay my English isn’t the best either which makes us even,” he said. “Considering that  I have nothing better to do and could use some peace and quiet, please let me take you,” he said kindly. 

His offer earned him a kind smile from you and a nod, smiling you decided to follow his lead. Surely he had taken you there as he offered and ended up walking through the garden with you while you chatted. “Had I known it was you I wouldn’t have disturbed you,” you said a little embarrassed. Charles looked at you and lifted an eyebrow, “It’s no trouble really, for what it’s worth I’ve had a great time, how long are you here for?” he asked. “Just today, I took a little detour from the group trip which means that I’ve got to head back soon to pack,” you said.  Charles felt his stomach drop, there was no way he was passing up a chance with a girl as beautiful as you. “Let me invite you to lunch before you leave,” he said. He looked at you and dreaded your answer but a grin spread across your face, “Consider your invitation accepted,” you said with a wink. 

He’d bought some pizza from his favorite place and invited you into his apartment where you kept chatting well into the late evening and he walked you to the train station. Unbeknownst to him you had left your number written on a napkin pinned to his bathroom mirror. 

When he found it he couldn’t help but grin and he called you, before leaving Europe you took the train and met up with him for a few hours. Weeks later you were talking and had started your early stages of dating which had to be long-distance. You decided to fly out and surprise him for the Monza Grand Prix. Once the season ended you decided to spend it with him while you waited for news of your job application to arrive. 

Charles was next to you when you found out and had been approved and you mentioned looking for a small apartment in Italy that was within distance from Monte Carlo but he asked you to move in with him instead. 

End of Flashback

“Mon amour, we have to head out!” Charles called out from somewhere in the apartment and you smiled. “Just a second! I’m almost done,” you called out as you slipped on your sandals and grabbed your bag. Meeting him by the front door he kissed you sweetly and you slung Leo’s carrier on your shoulder grabbing his leash on the other. “Who’s an excited boy!” You said as you bent down to pat Leo who was happily barking. “He represents us both,” Charles said with a smile and you grinned. “You got this chérie,” you said reassuringly, he smiled before replying, “I hope so mon amour, we can’t lose this,” he said. “And you won’t,” you added. 

You had to part ways once you left the apartment because Charles needed to get into the motorhome once he arrived. Before parting he pressed his soft lips against yours and kissed you sweetly. As he usually did he kissed your forehead making you giggle and kissed Leo’s head. 

Walking into the hospitality you were instantly greeted by Pascale, “You look gorgeous as ever darling!” Pascale gushed. “You look great as always!” You replied. Pascale kissed your cheeks diverted her attention to Leo and took him from you so you could greet Lorenzo and Charlotte. You stayed there and went down to the garages to wish Charles luck and get the headsets you were always provided with. “I love you, you got this chérie, now go bring that trophy home,” you said after you kissed him and helped him with his gloves, he squeezed your hand three times before leaving to head on track.

Arthur was going to be watching the race from the garage so the rest of you went back up to the hospitality and sat down at the table. You let out a steady breath when you saw that he had finished the formation lap and said a silent prayer as you waited for the lights to go out. Pascale automatically reached for your hand and your eyes were trained on the screen. After the accident on the first lap, the start had to be delayed while the barrier was repaired and the cars were taken out of the track.

Once the race started again you found it difficult to calm your anxieties so you talked in hushed tones with Pascale, Lorenzo, and Charlotte. The entire team he was leading and you could not wipe the grin from your face, on the last five laps you were finding it hard to contain your excitement and the cameras had panned in to show you and you smiled. On the last lap, you were fidgeting with a bracelet while looking at the screen you could feel the cameras on you but you were so focused on the screen. 

The moment he crossed the line and the checkered flag was waved you all erupted in cheers and hugged each other while wiping the tears that were starting to fall. Your thoughts drifted towards Charles and you knew how happy and proud he must be feeling. This win meant everything to him for various reasons and you knew his thoughts had undoubtedly gone towards his father. 

You all gathered under the podium next to the Ferrari mechanics who were holding flags. All of the people standing there were so proud and you had texted his friends who had gathered in the balcony to watch him win and were sharing how proud they were of him. You looked around and smiled knowing that his family, friends, and all those gathered here were so unbelievably proud of him. You clapped once Carlos and Oscar made their way to their podiums, when Charles walked out you cheered as loud as you could and saw Prince Albert crying as well.

Seeing Charles at the top step of the podium, with the flag draped around his shoulders brought you to tears, you knew how much sentimental value this win had for him and his family. Winning this had been Charles and Hervé’s wish and after the previous events in which Charles was close to winning this race and not getting it, you knew that this victory felt a million times better for him and it meant everything.

Your eyes met and you smiled and waved, Charles’s eyes crinkled as he looked down 

at you standing next to his mother and brothers. 

When the anthem started playing you were all singing and you lifted a hand to wipe your tears as you used the other to film. Pascale put her arm around your shoulders and you leaned into her a little, a proud smile spread across her face as he watched her son on the podium he so dearly loved. 

The Italian anthem was up next and you sang along with the mechanics who were waving the flags around. The city that had seen him grow was now watching him win and the pride could be felt on every single corner, chills ran up your spine as you thought about it. Clapping once the podium was over you moved to join the rest of the team who was waiting for him. 

“Where’s the trophy? He just comes running over to me” 

Charles came running towards everyone with the trophy in hand.  “You brought it home!” you exclaimed. “I brought it home!” he shouted and you laughed. Handing the trophy to Lorenzo, Charles placed both hands on your cheeks and kissed you. 

His lips tasted like champagne but they were soft as always, pulling him closer you kissed him again and pulled away to look at his sparkly eyes before pressing your foreheads together. “I’m beyond proud of you, we all are,” you whispered and he nodded and kissed your forehead. 

Lorenzo, Pascale, and Arthur hugged him and you took a picture of the family with a fond smile on your face. Charlotte congratulated him with a hug. The team celebrated the win by hugging him and patting him on the head. The mechanics were singing and you smiled at the joyous scene. 

After the round of pictures and more champagne sprays, you accompanied Charles and the team to the harbor. Everyone cheered when he pushed Fred in and dived after him, you laughed at his perfect diving form and knew he’d ask you later if he had done it right. 

His eyes sparkled every time he smiled and the smile never faltered all through the night. This type of happiness was one of your favorites and you adored to see him like this. It was the time of happiness that you would love to see every single weekend, it was worth every single aspect that came in to make sure a moment like this would happen here of all places. Nothing tasted better than a home win with a deeper meaning.

Charles had endured so many ups and downs to get to this moment and after countless hours of work, and every single amount of passion poured into it the moment was finally here and it was his to celebrate. You couldn’t have been prouder of him and never faltered in telling him the truth. 

The trophy might’ve been in the room but the real trophy had come running over to you and had been next to you all night smiling from ear to ear.

(all photo credits go to the respective owners)

[gamejoypod]

Confession time: I think Dark Souls 2 is my favorite of the trio

Yes, even though there were genuine missteps in design that made the experience worse

Yes, even though Soul of Cinder and Slave Knight Gael are narrative pinnacles of the series that (almost) redeem ds3's backpedaling

(I also really really like the way ds2 handled dual wielding)

There's just something so much more compelling about ds2's atmosphere & framing. It's like a swimmy, heady, hyperreal dream that you can't wake up from.

Instead of a roll-call of all the epic guys you're gonna fight, ds2 opens with "you've become nothing. you're cursed, lost, alone and addled. you're about to go through hell and you better figure out what's going to keep you from going Hollow right quick."

From the ones I've played, the white-hot core to Fromsoftware's stories seems to be a consistent question. "What goals and ideals will you hold on to tightly enough to be able to firmly plant your feet in an impossibly bleak and hellish world and walk forward?"

Ds2 aims the question inward. It's introspective, but tauntingly so. It shows you the fate of would-be monarchs and conquerors, of kingdoms that rise and fall like tides. For all your effort and accumulation of power, you too will be just another footnote in the unending cycle. So why are you REALLY here?

It's that challenge paired with an oddly warm, almost fairtyale type setting in Drangleic that keeps pulling me back, like a moth to a flame.

And good god it's nice when my character actually looks like they know how to use their weapons

[darsynia]

Dragonfly (Steve/Reader fantasy AU)

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE ROGERS MASTERLIST | Ro Roll

Summary:  Evil has prevailed. Your mentor’s dead, home destroyed, family scattered--you’re all that is left. At the last second, a stranger is called by magic to save your life. Can the two of you defeat the villain before he reaches the pinnacle of power?

Words/Warnings: 4,700 | canon-typical violence

draGONfly is 3/7 of my birthday gift set for @ronearoundblindly and is an action/adventure, angst with a happy ending story set after the blip. I know right now is a hugely busy week for you, Ro, and there's no pressure to respond right now, they'll all be here when you have time!

NOTE: it's MCU Steve in here! 'Worlds Collide'

Excerpt:

“You’re afraid,” Steve says from only feet away.

You close your eyes. “Yes.”

“Sometimes fear is a friend. It was definitely that in the army. Kept us sharp. You could tell when a soldier lost his fear because he was suddenly very brave. Problem was, we needed the brave ones sometimes.” 

He falls silent, and you can’t help but look at him. The bleak look in his eyes is clear, despite the distance between you, and in that moment you decide to trust him. If he’s another monster construct, if Micht can understand you that well, then the villain deserves the win, and all is lost.

Dragonfly

You’ve been on the run for ten days, with no safe haven to look forward to. The magic hunting you is relentless, fueled by hatred of your now-dead mentor and everything the two of you stood for. Your only reprieve is sleep; your enemy wants to witness the horror on your face in your moment of death.

All you can do is forge a path deeper into the forest, away from any innocent who could be harmed by Jovann Micht’s conjured creatures. As if watching Bram die hadn’t been torture enough, it seems you’re destined to die in the wilderness, alone.

You lean back on a tree and risk a pause to drink from your flask. Deep inside you feel your magic tremble; rest, food, and hydration is needed to stay powerful, but that is the point of Micht’s pursuit. Eventually you’ll falter, and he’ll achieve the last of his goals.

Does he know you bear the vial of his destruction? Those few teaspoonfuls are a potent culmination of your mentor’s study of the arcane, a life’s work of gathering and refining the most dangerous, mystical ingredients and combining them to make a weapon. You’d been able to see just two of the substances interact before being sealed into the final mixture, and the light they’d emitted had lingered in your vision for almost an hour afterwards.

There are three ways this can end: ideally, you’ll pour the vial into the glacial source of the valley’s drinking water and let the power propagate amongst the population Jovann Micht means to control. If that fails, you might be forced to break the vial with your dying strength, spilling its beautiful potential into the ground rather than empower one of Micht’s monsters-- or Micht himself.

The worst, most horrible option is for you to drink it yourself and spend the rest of your life battling to control the power Bram Ersk warned you about.

Heavy buzzing nearby sends your adrenaline racing, but it’s only a dragonfly angling its way past you toward the stream you've been following up to the mountains. They’re your favorite insect, brightly colored and free, with wide wings that decorate tree branches too delicate for a human’s weight.

You tuck away your canteen and check to see that your weapons are ready. The bow and arrows had only served to slow you down, so you’d sent them towards the plains with a burst of precious magic, a misdirection that hadn’t worked. Bram’s sword is cumbersome but necessary, and the daggers scattered through your clothing are a last resort.

Seconds later your preparedness pays off. The barest rustling of the leaves above your head has you crouching down with one leg stretched out for leverage if you need to run. You draw a dagger from its sheath at your back and watch in fascinated horror as your newest attacker reveals itself.

It’s a huge snake, fast and menacing. It strikes out and you dodge sideways, performing a half-roll to distance yourself, dagger still at the ready. Smoke rises from a splash of venom on your padded trousers, and a stab of fear strikes your gut. The snake can spit, likely with magic-enhanced distance. Is this how you finally die? Worn down with nowhere to hide from this acid toxin, then slain once exhaustion drops you?

You curl into a protective stance and tighten your grip on the dagger, drawing the creature in. Once it’s close, you spin up from the ground in a flurry of slashing blades. One dagger connects, but it’s glancing, enough to send the snake into retreat, but not enough to kill.

That only makes things worse. Your field of danger has increased to include the entire forest canopy.

There may only be a few minutes before the next showdown. You wipe your dagger on the nearby moss and place it back in its sheath for now. The forest around you is new growth, full of brambles and other scutgrass that tear at your armor, with a hundred branches arching over your head. You fight your way through to the stream with fear choking your throat, worried that you’ll have to expend more of your depleted magical energy to save yourself. If you need to use magic to survive his enchanted attackers from this point on, there won't be anything left. 

You’ve kept that power in reserve for some kind of final showdown, but there's at least a day left before you get where you're going.

Despair hits, and you scrabble at your neck, suddenly furious at the friend and mentor whose plans have brought you to such misery. The locket he’d given you has always been a talisman, a symbol of hope, but now you look at its silver concentric circles and feel nothing but betrayal.

Movement catches your eye, and you swing out blindly, the locket flying from your grip. As it spins, a blinding golden light spills out, growing larger and brighter until finally a figure steps forth--just as Micht’s devil-snake launches directly at you.

“Down!” a voice commands, and you drop, watching in shock as the glowing figure hurls a disk through the magical snake. The horrid thing lands in pieces that immediately shrivel and writhe. They melt into the ground, leaving only a low-lying, putrid fog behind.

The man stalks towards you, still obscured by the now-fading golden light. Instead of finishing you off, he strides past and pulls his disc-- his shield-- free from the tree it had sliced into. When he turns back your way, the man tucks something into a pouch on his chest, and the glowing light diminishes enough to see him. He looks you over, brows furrowed not in anger, but obvious confusion.

“Are you all right?”

“Thank you,” you say, struck near-dumb by the imposing presence of the man. He’s tall and broad, handsomely clad in padded armor with leather accents, but it’s his shield that has your attention. Its concentric circles and inner star look just like Bram’s locket, but in color.

He seems self-conscious about it, spinning the shield around and attaching it to his armor at his back. “Was that-- did I interrupt some kind of re-enactment?” your savior asks, curiously examining the last remnants of the toxic fog. He turns to look at you with the same studious intensity, but your head is spinning. Did Bram conjure this man with some sort of latent magic? “You should sit down,” he declares, thrusting out his hand with the confidence of a commander. The man clearly wants you to take it, but your hesitation prompts him to give up and walk over to a cluster of rocks. “Here. Do you have something to eat?”

Bemused, you pick your way toward him, deflecting your ‘I usually have to forage for something to eat’ answer with a question of your own. “What’s your name, hero?”

The word turns up a shy little smile that flies like a joy-tipped arrow right through your chest armor. “Steve. Yours?”

“Well, Steve, you’ve shown up for a battle, but I’m still fighting a war.” There’s no more time for niceties. You walk past the rocks he’d suggested you rest on, and pick up a sturdy-looking walking stick. It’s safer to stay close to the stream, and you’ll need the stability. “You’re welcome to come?”

There’s a chance that this summoned savior will disappear soon. You only have so much physical strength left, and you can’t spend it like this.

Steve turns in a circle, taking in the trees, the stream, and you, then nods, squaring his shoulders. “All right.” He certainly doesn’t seem at ease here, and you wonder if he’s real, whether he was somewhere fighting with that shield of his before Bram’s magic plucked him away.

Truthfully, you’re afraid to ask, as if naming the magic will destroy its cohesion.

Instead you lead the way along the uneven stones and brush that edge the stream, and he follows in clearly baffled silence. Sometimes you pause to adjust your armor or fill up your canteen and catch his brow furrow as he looks around at your surroundings. Once, he lunged forward to steady your steps on a slippery stretch of rocks. The warmth of his hand through your many layers was enough to bring rare tears to your eyes.

It's been so long since you’ve been touched in comfort.

Steve sees the tears but can’t know their context. You’re not willing to tell him, so you speed your pace, and he remains silent. If he’s been summoned as support, you question what triggers the magic might use to determine you’re no longer in need. If it’s words shared, you’ll hold yours in reserve. If it’s help provided, you’ll labor beside him with every ounce of your remaining strength until you finally ask for that help. If it’s distance traveled… well, you can’t think about that now.

Countless birdcalls and shared silence later, the landscape starts angling up more, and the trees thin out.

“Oh,” Steve says. His stunned tone makes you stop and look back at him. “I came to the forest--a forest to retrace my steps, looking for the echoes of what we lost. I didn’t want to. I didn’t know what I’d do if I found that the dust of my lost friends had fertilized plants that their shadows never--” he faltered, and you make your way to him, powerless to help, desperate to try. 

You recognize this grief. It's the hopeless kind, where a person just stands desolate in the aftermath and looks for the signs of their own death.

“Steve--” 

“It’s not the same forest,” he interrupts, a catch in his voice. “That’s a mountain.” He tears his eyes from the now-revealed peak in the distance and looks at you, concern and an odd sort of exhilaration in his eyes. “I kept walking because I thought we’d eventually get where you’re going, but we won’t, will we? Not today. Where am I? When am I?”

“‘When’ is easy: my waking nightmare. ‘Where’ is tricky. Who’s to know you won’t be pulled back where you came from if I tell you?” You can’t keep the bitter fear from your voice.

Steve steps forward to look down at you with gentle kindness. He’s so handsome you can’t help but feel self-conscious, clad as you are in shapeless armor, sweating with the exertion of carrying Bram’s sword (actually heavy) and Bram’s vial (metaphorically heavy)-- but you drift closer to your unexpected savior, catching the earthy scent of his sweat. You can see the sheen of it on his forehead, and you lift your hand to draw a finger across and feel the moisture of it.

“You’re real,” you breathe, surprised despite the snake, despite his steady presence behind you for this stretch of your journey.

He moves his hand to touch the drops of freshwater that have spilled from your canteen, going as far as to taste the tip of his finger. “So are you.” As though realizing that’s an intimacy the two of you haven’t agreed on, he steps back and squares his shoulders, the picture of a warrior again, despite his lack of weapon. Perhaps he is the weapon. “So what’s the plan? Camp for the night?”

You sway on your feet at the thought (both that he’d put aside his own situation and at the idea of rest), but shake your head. “Micht will send something else soon. I must reach the base of the stream. Everything relies on that.”

He looks askance at the darkening sky, then back at you. “What would make you willing to camp?”

A promise that you won’t leave me! you scream in your mind. A look of determination crosses his face, and you realize you may not have spoken the words aloud, but your body language has done that for you. You pull in a breath to prevaricate, but he brushes past you, headed into the forest.

“There’s a clearing,” he calls out, a minute later.

“Steve, I can’t--”

“You can.”

A terrible, insidious, horrid thought crosses your mind: that Steve is not from Bram at all, but an illusion with the same purpose as all the others that Jovann Micht has sent you. That his attack is formed from trust this time, rather than fear.

The shape of Bram’s locket is the only thing you can think of to refute your fears, but couldn’t Micht have torn that knowledge from Bram before killing him?

“You’re afraid,” Steve says from only feet away.

You close your eyes. “Yes.”

“Sometimes fear is a friend. It was definitely that in the army. Kept us sharp. You could tell when a soldier lost his fear because he was suddenly very brave. Problem was, we needed the brave ones sometimes.” 

He falls silent, and you can’t help but look at him. The bleak look in his eyes is clear, despite the distance between you, and in that moment you decide to trust him. If he’s another monster construct, if Micht can understand you that well, then the villain deserves the win, and all is lost.

Steve can hold a lot of supplies in his ‘tek’ suit, as he calls it. He gives you a few dense grain bread things, full of dried fruit and nuts that revitalize you. While you eat he lights a fire for the two of you, meaning you can save your newly bolstered energy rather than using it for warmth-- and best of all, he has a strange silver blanket that seems to hold heat so much better than anything you’ve used at night, even the homemade blankets from your cabin. Despite all this, you find it hard to relax, and Steve can tell. You are reluctant to explain and thus relive the trauma that sent you into the forest, and he doesn’t elaborate on his own.

He seems surprised when you want to sleep right away. That surprise morphs to a quiet, concerned anger when you explain the thin agreement you have with your aggressor, that he’ll only kill you when you’re awake.

“That won’t happen,” he declares, and you believe him. Just like a parent who promises they’ll always protect you, his words have an unspoken caveat; ‘for as long as I’m here to stop it.’

It’s enough.

You wake with the light, finding to your surprise that Steve has slept at your side, his broad back acting as a wall between you and the dangers of the woods. It’s been a week since you’ve been able to lay still in the morning, but your respite is marred by a large worry: why hasn’t Micht sent something else? Had he sent his most fearsome conjurations early on in your journey because you’d been stronger? It would be like him to conserve his energy and insult you at the same time. If you die to something more mundane, that would just add to his narrative, after all. The alternative is that he knows about Steve, and his new plan is to create something fearsome enough to destroy them both.

“You’re barely breathing,” Steve rumbles.

Selfishly, you want him to turn over. You want a memory to cherish when he’s gone. Just once, you'd had someone lying beside you whose sole purpose was to ensure your safety.

He does roll over. He’s no less real for it, and that thought lets you release everything you’d held back since Bram, since the village, since the slain, tortured lamb that was the harbinger of all the horrors that followed.

Wordlessly, Steve pulls you to his chest and lets you cry.

The next attack comes within sight of the glacial moraine. You were right. Micht had sent his worst to finish you. 

Steve pulls his shield from his back as soon as you pass through a group of boulders and see the creature. It’s twice as tall as he is, a four-legged monstrosity with the same number of snarling heads. Each serpent-like head is riddled with teeth, and like snakes, they bob and weave easily, able to turn and react with lightning swiftness.

“Your sword, please,” Steve says grimly.

“It’s armored--”

“So am I.”

Adrenaline mixes with the magic surging inside you. “Listen. I have a thing to do. It’s all that matters,” you tell him breathlessly. “After that, I don’t care what happens. Do you hear me?”

He’s looking at the creature, and you can see his soldier’s mind. You watch the fear dwindle, replaced by bravery, and you cannot let that happen.

“Steve!” you beg-- and he looks at you, still alert and ready to fight. “This was always going to end one way, okay? I just need you to--” The thing screeches with many voices, each wielding a knife that slices away some of your resolve.

You swallow hard and start taking off any extra weight, dropping your canteen, the sheathed dagger at your back, even the heavy brigandine leather that covers your blouse. It isn’t a match for a hydra’s teeth and claws anyway, and you must be fast.  

“I need to get to the base of the stream. That monster is here to stop me.” It probably isn’t. If Micht knew you bear this potion, he’d have long ago crushed you into paste and taken it for himself. “Don’t you dare lose your fear!”

Steve laughs ruefully. “I wondered if you would remember that.”

“Something sent you to me, and this is why. If there’s any justice, it should send you back, once I succeed.” The words stick in your throat, but you get them out.

“It’s a hydra,” Steve says with a hatred in his voice you didn’t think he was capable of. “I was created for this.”

You both turn to face the horrible creature. Steve lifts the sword and you ready yourself to run.

“Wait,” Steve says, a manic happiness in his eyes. He steps close and dips his head, kissing you. It’s awkward, with the sword and shield held wide at his sides, but that just makes it more real. “Go get him.”

Then he charges toward the beast.

You’d planned to wait until the two were fully focused on each other, but every fragment of magic in your body is screaming for you to help Steve. You tamp that down and hold still, certain that the hydra will only focus on Steve if bloodlust blinds it to your existence.

That’s even harder when there are multiple sets of eyes to look for you.

Steve makes first contact, roaring up and smashing his shield against the first head that lunges toward him. The thing reels back in obvious surprise, the injured head lolling to the side. The other heads rear up, and you take the moment to run far to the side, sticking to the treeline, even though it means farther to run. You weave between trees, catching glimpses of the battle but always hearing it. Screech follows screech follows the smash of metal against armored skin, over and over and over.

Just as you’re forced to cross into the rockfield, the hydra lets out an agonized scream, and you risk a look over. Steve’s holding his shield protectively above himself as he hacks at the two heads he’d sliced from the hydra. He’s panting from exertion, and as you watch, magic bubbles at the sliced necks, growing two new snarling heads from each stump. They sink down to the body of the beast and then stretch back out as individual, fully-realized necks right in front of your eyes.

You can’t send any power to Steve, not yet. Instead, you send it to your own legs, and the burst of resulting speed tears through the remaining distance. You reach into your shirt--

“You could have given it to me right away, foolish child.”

“Liar!” you spit at your enemy, furious and fragile. “You wanted this.” Of course he’d known. Micht had always loved theatrics.

“You’re right. That’s quite a guardian you’ve found for yourself,” Jovann Micht muses, leaning casually back against a large boulder. He’s standing between you and the stream.

You’re done with this. One way or another.

“Move.”

“I don’t think so.” He moves towards you, confident, commanding. “Hand it over.”

Behind you, the screeching gets louder, and oddly, Micht stumbles sideways, hissing. You risk a look over your shoulder and see that Steve’s sliced off more of the creature-- a leg this time. It brings the deadly heads closer to him, and you can’t watch.

Micht has conjured a walking stick that he’s now leaning on with a vicious look of delight on his face. “I prefer an intelligent adversary.”

He doesn’t mean you.

He’s always underestimated you. Everyone does.

Your fingers close around a vial, and you pull it free. It’s been shaken up by your headlong run, as evidenced by the blue glowing light.

“If you want this, you have to catch me.”

Your burst of speed still sings in your veins, and you start to run-- toward the hydra, not the stream. Gathering up all of your magic, you hurl it toward the back legs of the hydra, meaning to destroy them and hopefully disable Micht, if your hunch about the connection between them is correct.

The fireball hits home. The ground shakes as the terrible beast falls sideways, all seven heads turning to assess the damage. One catches fire, its agonized scream piercing your ears even at this distance. You can’t see Steve, but the desperate flailing of the inflamed head soon spreads the fire. 

You hook around, satisfied. Micht is in a heap not far from where you’d left him, recognizable by his signature blood-red suit. All that’s left is to get as close to the headwaters as you can. Bram had confided in you about the rip current that swirls right at its base, sucking the water down into a secondary stream that he’d helped the village tap into.

It serves as the drinking water for the whole valley, surfacing down past your former home and bubbling down to the sea, or so it’s said.

If you can get even half of Bram’s concoction into there--

A powerful blow knocks you to your feet, and you lose your grip on the vial. Dazed, you struggle to your knees, watching as a hand curls around the vial.

Get up! You have to be convincing! UP!

You’re unsteady as hell, but you lean into that, begging with a suddenly raw throat for Micht to stop. Your magic is almost gone again, but you grit your teeth and start for the vial. Behind it is your goal, the origin of the stream. Just ten strides, and he’ll think you’re giving up and throwing yourself in instead. Eight strides…

A rough hand curls around your neck and pulls the true vial from your bodice before shoving you to the ground.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” Steve roars. Through tears, you can see him running toward the two of you. He swings his arm, releasing his shield. 

Micht stands triumphant with the vial, unstoppering it in preparation to drink. It’s all of your worst fears realized, and the moment seems to hang in time, more misery for you to experience right before he kills you face to face, just as he’s always wanted.

Steve’s shield smashes into Micht’s midsection, knocking him backwards. The vial flies up, its contents fanning out in a glowing blue rain over Jovann Micht. Everywhere it lands, white lightning and red flames erupt. He’s screaming, you’re screaming, thunder and agony crashes all around you, until finally, he’s gone.

The silence is oppressive. It’s as though your blood’s stopped pumping, the air’s trapped in your lungs, and your muscles are frozen solid. The pressure builds until Steve stabs the bloody sword into the ground beside you and slumps over to rest his hands on his knees.

“We won.”

Your body's working again, but you don’t know whether to feel happiness or horror. “Yeah.”

Both of you are exhausted, the kind of bone-weary that isn’t possible without having experienced something unspeakable. The smell of burnt hydra is horrendous though, so Steve pushes to get as far away as you can before collapsing beside the placid stream. You let your hands dangle in the frigid glacial meltwater, needing to feel something bad that isn’t horrible.

“Don’t fall in. I’m too wiped to go back for the rest of your armor, and that’s a white shirt.”

He’s speaking in riddles, and honestly it's the first regular thing Steve’s said to you since… all of that. “What?”

“The water makes it transpar-- Never mind.” Embarrassment drips from his words, and it’s enough to make you scooch around so you can see him.

Steve’s black armor hides most of the blood, but he’s almost drenched in it. He’s got his legs stretched out in front of him, and he’s wrapping a once-pristine white bandage around a gash on his leg, pausing every few revolutions to rest. Noticing your scrutiny, he offers you a weak smile.

“That fireball was something.”

“So’s your swordsmanship.” You search your resources and make a decision. “Want me to heal that?”

“What?” he says, then laughs, the sound genuinely joyful, though astonished. “I just fought a real hydra. Did you know that’s the second bad guy that’s disintegrated right in front of me? Of course you can heal. This place is… this place is something.”

His voice breaks on ‘something.’ You don’t know him very well, but the trauma you’ve shared tells you he needs a moment. Avoiding eye contact, you reach out, sending your magic in a gentle golden trickle across the ground between you. It slides smoothly over his boots and up the fabric of his trousers, finally sinking into his wound. You send a little extra, too, even though it makes your chest ache with warning. It’ll soothe his mind, and that’s worth it.

That done, you turn back to the water, staring past your fractured reflection into the stream’s shallow depths. Across the stretch of rocks and bubbling froth a dragonfly twists and dips, reacting to shifts in the air too subtle for you to notice. It’s a reminder that not everything’s been affected by the life or death struggle you’d just experienced. It helps, so much so that you don’t notice that Steve’s come to sit beside you until he speaks.

“Did you know that dragonflies are a symbol of grief and rebirth?” He doesn’t wait for your answer. “Part of their life cycle is underwater, I guess, and the story goes that each one reaches a point where they need to surface. They each promise they’ll come back and tell the others what they find up there, but--”

“--but they can’t. They’re trapped either side,” you breathe.

“Trapped, yeah, but not dead.” The word is ragged, and you look up at him, even though it hurts your neck. “I lost friends in my forest. They turned to dust. We lost.”

Your hand is freezing, but his armor is thick. You reach out and squeeze his leg, and Steve stays still, clearly moved to quiet reflection.

“There’s a second life, is the moral. I don’t know if this is mine, but I wouldn’t mind if it was.”

You don’t dare hope, but you pour yes please into your expression. He smiles and pats his chest.

“There’s a pocket here. When I first showed up, you threw a locket--” he shakes his head curtly, enough to stop you from speaking. “I only caught a glimpse, but it looks like my shield.”

You squeeze his ankle, and determination hardens his expression.

“I think you might-- I think this place might need me. Do you have enough magic to, I don’t know… freeze it? Put it in stasis so it doesn’t send me back? I know just where I’d like to put it.”

You feel brave, but it’s not due to a lack of hope this time. This time, you have an abundance of hope.

“I’d like that very much.”

[wianes]

Unveiling Griffith's Motivations

A considerable time had passed before I decided to embark on this series, though I must admit that I was undeniably eager for this moment. With this post, I begin the series in which I will delve into my understanding of my favorite character. I will primarily follow a chronological progression with the manga, though minor deviations may occur. I hope that my interpretation will resonate with someone and that others might appreciate this kind of perspective.

Let's go!

A Short Introduction

Griffith and Guts, the central figures in Berserk, are both defined by their intense obsessions—Griffith with realizing his dreams and Guts with mastering his sword. Even so, Griffith’s motivations remain enigmatic, inviting varied interpretations. Visual narratives showcase the castle image as a vivid embodiment of aspirations. This metaphor, beyond its architectural significance, can represent various goals—from personal elevation to creating a world of harmony and collective well-being. Nonetheless, precisely defining Griffith’s vision is challenging. Is he aiming to establish a sovereign nation, rule a kingdom, or create a metaphorical fortress in the clouds? Furthermore, it is unclear where Griffith might choose to say "stop." Be that as it may, reducing his vision to just a stone edifice on a hill seems to oversimplify it. This interpretation fails to capture the full depth of his character. The elusive nature of Griffith’s dream, its origins, and, more importantly, its ultimate scope, add layers of complexity. His vision likely retains its enigmatic quality from the past and remains unclear even today. Its full nature might only become apparent when it ultimately reaches its culmination. This encourages a deeper exploration of the symbolism and meaning of castles within the narrative, highlighting the intricate relationship between Griffith's dreams and their greater ramifications.

Speculations about Griffith’s background add depth to his journey, highlighting its narrative significance.

Griffith vol. 10

The statement lucidly juxtaposes the shadow and the light. The darkness symbolizes a decrepit alley filled with brothels, inns, and taverns—a place where safety is questionable, particularly at night, when the joy of carefree indulgence wanes. In sharp contrast, a castle resplendent with light stands atop a mountain amidst the clouds, where the sun shines perpetually. This vivid distinction between shadow and light symbolizes the clash between harsh reality and an idealized, euphoric realm. "It was the brightest thing I had ever seen"—the pinnacle of his aspirations, the highest summit he could hope to ascend.

Next to the castle lies a realm where sunlight scarcely reaches, offering only fleeting respite. The character remains caught between hope and despair. Castles, with their impressive and resplendent presence, epitomize achievement—distant, majestic, and shrouded in mystery. For someone of a lower social class, they may seem unattainable—as if an aspiration is forever out of reach. In metaphysical terms, such castles embody the ultimate achievement of spiritual perfection or greatness. Yet, for those born into humble circumstances, viewing such aspirations as unattainable might be an erroneous notion. Perceived distance should not overshadow true greatness, should it?

In a 2000 interview, Miura confessed that, as a child, he grew up in an environment of domestic violence inflicted by his parent. In this context, Miura's reflection on Griffith’s character suggests that he may have similarly endured a tumultuous and abusive environment. According to another interview, Miura noted that Griffith’s inspiration came from friends who had suffered through a loveless infancy.

With this in mind, it is worth emphasizing that young Griffith bears a resemblance to another character in Berserk, Rosine. Both were peculiar children who amassed treasures or junk and spent their days roaming the streets. Despite their youthful appearance, they skillfully concealed their troubled minds behind smiles, dreaming of a better world through fantasies. Similar to many unfortunate children in Berserk, both Griffith and Rosine left their family homes early in life. Remarkably, both characters acquired a Behelit; Griffith possessed the rare and unique red one. It seems clear that Miura deliberately employs a psychological model here.

The author also examined the characters as trauma survivors, exploring their efforts to either gain control over or eliminate abusive factors. This suggests that these individuals might seek stability, authority, or mastery to overcome the powerlessness and instability they experienced. They may also attempt to dismantle or destroy the sources of their past suffering. This analysis reveals various responses to trauma, including efforts to control their environment or to eradicate the symbolic sources of their mental devastation.

In my personal interpretation, the castle draws a parallel with Guts' relentless obsession with swinging the sword.

This comparison convinces me that the boy grappled with profound internal struggles, and his dream signifies an indescribable desire to shield himself from both external threats and internal fears. Symbolically, the castle stands as a bastion; "it was the brightest thing I had ever seen"—this reflects how the psyche defends against anxiety and suppressed emotions, showcasing a method of adaptation. Though not tainted or spoiled, it represents one of the unconscious tools employed to cope.

The central issue lies not in Griffith's perceived deprivation, but rather in his background as a slum-dweller in a strict feudal society. In this context, he lacks the resources and opportunities to rise to a leadership or top warrior status. Despite his ambitions, Griffith faces significant barriers due to his socioeconomic status, which limits his access to essential resources, education, and influential connections.

"Only those who work deserve the bread." It is somewhat ironic that this proverb does not entirely fit the world from which it originates. In the external realm, imperfection predominates, and it is often the case that even those who do not labor for their bread—or those who slumber—possess more than those who toil. In the material world, everything belongs to the possessor; they labor under the indifferent gaze of the law, whether they possess a magic ring like Nureddin or Aladdin, or wield the world’s treasures, irrespective of how they were acquired.

The situation, however, differs considerably in the spiritual realm. Here, a divine order prevails, which does not treat the deserving and the undeserving equally. The sun does not shine impartially on the good and the bad. The principle asserts that only those who work receive sustenance, only those who face fear attain peace, and only those who enter this realm gain true understanding. Throughout the series, the narrative unfolds against a backdrop of degeneration, abominations, and atrocities, fostering a sense of foreboding. For a child, growing up in such a harsh reality is excruciating. There are only "small victories" and "small battles we fought," "sparkling spoils that turn into mere junk when playtime is over," and "the back alleys of brothels and taverns where the sun never shines." His metaphorical visions are undoubtedly esoteric, intricate, and perplexing. They resemble a labyrinth without an exit, where every path is a dead end, making it easy to lose one's way.

The boy runs with his arms extended, almost as if preparing to take flight.

Miura portrays Griffith uniquely compared to other characters, imbuing him with a sense of mystery, symbolism, and elusive qualities. He envelops himself in an aura of extrasensory mystique, surrounding himself with symbols, images, and cryptic elements. Griffith's story resonates like a legendary saga, similar to figures like Christ. Their origins, early lives, and remarkable gifts shrouded in mystery heighten their historical importance—almost as if these gifts were granted by God.

In Casca's memories, we see glimpses of Griffith's early years, during which he leads adults and exhibits outstanding warrior skills. Yet, these glimpses raise more questions than they answer. The portrayal remains intriguing and enigmatic, complicating our understanding, respect, and sympathy due to the absence of concrete details. Griffith’s enigmatic nature persists, with his objectives revolving around a castle. Observing his engagement in "playing war," one infers a deeper motive. This conduct does not mean he perceives life as a mere game, nor does it imply that Griffith is only a puppeteer controlling others. Instead, I believe this form of wordplay serves to illustrate that his actions are a facade—an artificial portrayal of his true self that lacks authenticity. His involvement is not trivial; rather, it appears somewhat superficial, marked by elaborate attire, political maneuvering, manipulations, grandiose rhetoric, and social roles, all contributing to a veneer.

Symbolic contrasts convey subtle hints of Griffith’s darker side, though it is never explicitly depicted. His character remains shrouded in mystery and ambiguity, leaving us to ponder the true essence of his dreams and ambitions.

The Selfish and Selfless Essence of Griffith’s Vision

Griffith consistently maintained a clarity about his idealistic goals and pursued them methodically and rationally. His visionary dream has been revolutionary over time. His profound disdain for the social hierarchies and his curiosity about his own potential drive his intense desire to reshape the world. From a young age, he fostered inclusivity among his followers, transcending barriers of race, gender, age, previous lifestyle, social class, and origin. Griffith welcomed individuals based on their unique skills, nurturing and rewarding their contributions. He aimed to create a realm where the weak would not be exploited by the higher, wealthier classes. Despite his humble beginnings in the alleys, he actively challenges entrenched feudal hierarchies. His leadership style instills appreciation, safety, and solidarity among his supporters, setting a progressive precedent. Wherever he goes, he leaves a sense of connection and meaning through his dream.

While Griffith’s fantasy includes elements of egoism, it also embodies selflessness through its commitment to serving others. The manga unmistakably portrays Griffith’s sense of responsibility and genuine suffering—attributes that I will explore further. What defines him as a leader is a consistent pattern evident from the outset: people join his cause voluntarily, he refrains from initiating aggression, and he resorts to harm or killing only when absolutely necessary.

Griffith does not make decisions solely based on his own ambitions; he also considers the collective unconscious desires of his followers. This symbiotic relationship between a leader and his followers shapes his vision, aligning it with broader societal aspirations of leadership, ambition, and the attainment of greatness. Griffith stands out not only as an exceptional leader but also as a figure who, in an almost supernatural manner, influences those around him.

Conversely, Griffith’s willingness to risk his life for this dream stems not only from selflessness but also from seeing his followers as integral to his vision—he views them as essential to his kingdom, akin to loyal subjects. Thus, Griffith personifies the collective will of his followers, embodying their shared hopes and dreams. His ascent to power and the pursuit of his vision mirror broader societal struggles and ideals, resonating with themes of ambition and leadership.

Griffith’s dream of establishing a kingdom was not solely his own; his soldiers also believed in its promise. Thus, his kingdom encompasses not only his vision but also the aspirations of those who support and benefit from it. The parallel between Griffith’s personal dream and the collective desire of his followers reflects his role in representing humanity’s aspirations and fulfilling them as if they were his own.

The Symbolic-Psychological Layer of Griffith’s Vision

Castles and fortifications universally symbolize an inner refuge—the heart's sanctum, where the soul connects with God or the Absolute. Psalm 59:16 depicts God as a fortress, providing protection and sanctuary in times of distress. Psalm 60:9 questions, "Who will bring me into the strong city?" Theoleptus of Philadelphia urges individuals to strive toward entering the innermost castle of the soul, the dwelling of Christ. Meister Eckhart’s sermons describe this inner castle as so pure and singular that even the Triune God cannot penetrate it.

The Bhagavad Gita (5:13) employs the metaphor of "castle with nine gates" to describe the yogi's body. This imagery illustrates how the body is closed off from worldly distractions to safeguard inner spiritual focus. Similarly, the Taoist treatise The Secret of the Golden Flower advises fortifying and defending the Primeval Castle, where the spirit (hsing) resides.

These castles often appear in tales and dreams, either towering on hills or hidden within forest clearings, renowned for their formidable and elusive nature. They symbolize a sense of security and protection far superior to ordinary dwellings. Such castles represent isolation and seclusion, making their contents both coveted and elusive. Artistic representations depict Heavenly Jerusalem as a castle atop a mountain peak, symbolizing spiritual elevation. The Pharaohs’ funerary temples, known as "castles of millions of years," were constructed next to their tombs to endure forever. These temples symbolize the connection between human splendor and divine destiny.

Historically, these fortifications are believed to house mystical and intangible forces. They often appear in enchanted forests and sacred mountains, only to vanish like mirages before valiant knights. These castles may shelter sleeping maidens awaiting a lover's arrival or heroic figures welcoming noble adventurers. The dark castle symbolizes failure and unfulfilled desires, akin to Hell—a structure devoid of life except for the solitary soul wandering its shadowy corridors. Conversely, the white castle symbolizes accomplishment and the fulfillment of destiny. Mystics describe other spiritual castles as resting places along the path of sanctification, culminating in the castle of illumination atop a mountaintop merging with the sky, where the soul unites eternally with God, basking in His unblemished presence.

Griffith’s tendency to emotionally withdraw to manage his guilt and seek transcendence is par for the course, aligning well with his complex and ambitious nature depicted throughout the manga. Ironically, these very deficiencies contribute to his prowess in realizing his otherworldly ambitions. On a deeper level, the castle also symbolizes heroic quests and inner challenges where Griffith confronts and integrates his inner conflicts, facilitating psychological growth and integration. Castles, blending strength with vulnerability and security with isolation, embody the Jungian concept of integrating opposing elements within the psyche.

They also represent the inner architecture of spiritual growth, symbolizing the pursuit of higher consciousness and self-realization. Ultimately, the series suggests the existence of another realm where the coexistence of good and evil, light and darkness, resonates deeply throughout Griffith’s journey.

The Existential-Philosophical Foundation of His Dream

Griffith's motivations are undeniably multifaceted. Driven both by fear and internal conflict on the one hand, and a quest for personal fulfillment on the other, his ambitions extend to benefiting those around him. This dual nature showcases a character of significant complexity, reflecting the profound intricacies of his desires. In essence, more layers need exploration and unveiling.

“Martyrdom for a merciless God. What a waste. On the battlefield, the life of a common soldier isn’t even worth a single piece of silver. In today’s world, most people’s lives are subject to the whims of a handful of nobility and royalty. Of course, even a king himself can’t live exactly as he pleases. We are all at the mercy of a great tide, fate, or whatever you wish to call it… And we all disappear in the end. Our lives are spent… Never knowing who we were. In life, unrelated to one's social standing or class as determined by man, there are some people who, by nature, are keys that set the world in motion. They are the true elite, as dictated by the golden rule of the universe.”

The boy articulated the pointlessness of life and the world, yet displayed remarkable determination. He aims to create a universal meaning amidst the encroaching reality. Griffith embodies a strong existential mindset, grappling with deep questions: Where is the world headed? Why does everything appear meaningless? What forces dictate the current state of existence rather than an alternative? Similarly, he delves deeply into introspective inquiries about his own identity, nature, and purpose.

His character reveals another dimension of his motivations: his quest centers on profound questions he seeks to resolve. This aspect is essential to Griffith’s character. He articulates that, once he has secured his own kingdom, he aims to unravel the arcane mysteries of existence, understand the nature of gods, discern the laws governing the universe, grasp the essence of reality, and explore their relevance to his identity. Griffith is determined to comprehend his place, his role, and the scope of his potential within this vast and intricate framework.

Understanding the nature of the world is vital for discovering the truth. It is senseless to seek your inner self without first understanding the nature of the world around you and the broader context in which those truths exist.

This scene illustrates Griffith's perpetual state of uncertainty and spiritual exploration. His doubt is profound and genuine, free from superficiality or intellectual pretense. The opening statement clearly expresses his values and motivations: a disdain for established social structures and a fundamental belief in his ability to overcome them. There is a deep disillusionment with God and skepticism regarding human agency, including that of kings. This sense of human effort and struggle reflects a profound empathy for the downtrodden. This theme recurs for Griffith, particularly when he shares his thoughts with Guts, suggesting that he is articulating these reflections for the first time. It is apparent that Griffith regularly ponders these issues and has previously entertained comparable thoughts.

To conquer the castle, Griffith employs arguments of an existential, philosophical, social, and theoretical nature, alongside those driven by egoistic motives. This becomes particularly clear in future revelations, where it will be evident that feelings of shame, responsibility, and guilt (the ethical layer) drive Griffith forward, intertwining aspects of self-interest and selflessness even more.

In essence: “Castle in the sky” + ruling his own kingdom/establishing a new era/new way of organizing the world (his and collective human desire) + answers to fundamental questions before his own death, such as: What is my place in the world? Who am I? What am I capable of? What am I destined for? = His motivations, his dream.

Contemplating the enduring mystery and ambiguity surrounding Griffith provides profound understanding.

Even someone born into modest beginnings shouldn't uphold their self-worth and view greatness as distant and unattainable. They should avoid misconceptions that undermine the true essence of greatness. Ultimately, I see him as resembling a grand historical figure or an ancient hero—one who gazed at the stellar spheres, sensing an unseen force (the destiny) guiding him toward realms beyond understanding. Yet, simultaneously, a peculiar blend of coincidences, unusual circumstances, and unforeseen collisions shapes his path. Alternatively, he finds himself ensnared in a situation he did not anticipate, leading to an unexpected outcome.

As meticulous planning defines Griffith's path to achieving his goals. Solid arguments from various fields support and justify each step, thereby creating a cohesive and logical entirety. This approach not only solidifies his sense of destiny but also guides his character toward a specific point, laying the groundwork for future progress. The narrative demonstrates that these events unfold as though predetermined, veritably, even before his birth. His path unfolds from particular circumstances that have persistently molded his life, creating an unavoidable trajectory, as if the circumstances were inherently meant to guide him along this destined course, offering no alternatives.

I contend that this interpretation appropriately validates my comprehension of Griffith's character motivations. By integrating various arguments and clues provided by the author, we gain a more nuanced perspective on Griffith's complex nature. The "castle" represents more than just a destination; it signifies a transformative journey toward self-discovery and understanding the world and its laws. This journey represents a higher purpose, elevating him beyond mundane desires to connect with something greater—the collective and its inhabitants. Undoubtedly, it bears a dark undercurrent, rooted in his ambition to reach the pinnacle, a calling to rule and command as though it were celestial law, and a quest for querencia, a form of "all-healing" security.

Within the grand tapestry of his orphic odyssey, the pursuit of enlightenment goes beyond merely attaining an ultimate destination. It demands navigating the intricate labyrinth of moral and spiritual trials that define the journey toward fulfillment. In the narrative of Berserk, Griffith's pursuit of his dream is not only central but also indispensable. It serves as the cornerstone of the plot, propelling the storyline forward with relentless force. Moreover, it raises profound and perennial questions that resonate throughout the series—challenging our assumptions about the interplay between determinism and free will while exploring themes of polarity, consciousness, morality, and the broader view of the world and its utilitarian solutions.

[flowersforabel]

Finneas as Rossetti's Venus Verticordia ✨️

My final piece for my intro drawing course, tying in with my Pre-Raphaelite studies and my special boy. All 100 flowers are hand painted, cut, and placed!!

Art history rant/final thesis under the cut!

I had intended on several different plans for my final, but my pre-raph prof was showing us some modern interpretations of Rossetti's stunner pieces and I was so annoyed I had to make this.

The Pre-Raphaelite artists had a very particular type of model (which Finneas also doesn't fit) that was seen as a rebellion against the common Vicortian ideal of beauty. Their entire ethos was "truth to nature" with minute detail and special attention paid to both the literal nature around them and the perceived human nature of their subjects..

Many modern iterations of Rossetti's Venus are just... Instagram models upholding the pinnacle of beauty. It completely dismisses that act of rebellion while trying to retain the aura of cool that comes with going against the grain. I do not like these interpretations.

While Finneas is also far from a model that the PRB artists would have used, he's also decidedly not the instagram girlie type. His skin is flawed and aged from living life, he has scars, there are bags beneath his eyes. But he's one of my personal favorite character designs, and I find him stunning.

While the concept of Rossetti's stunner series as a body of work which shows beauty for beauty's own sake can place women as an object of spectacle instead of as their own people is problematic, he was also placing women who were not idealized in Victorian society in a spotlight, highlighting what he found beautiful even when it was not in keeping with others' views.

Finneas is true to his own nature, which is something I wanted to highlight through his top scars and his props (the orange he peels for Maron to show his adoration for him; the sword he weilds as a guard and a blacksmith's son) as a new interpretation of that truth to nature.

It isn't a perfect work, but I'm extremely proud! And covered in glue from those flowers!

[hephaestiions]

Inspired by your Drarry fic recs and your amazing Flintwood fic, do you have any Flintwood recs or personal favorites?

ah! fantastic ask, anon! flintwood was, incidentally, my earliest hp ship & maintains a soft spot after all these years. their functions in canon (quidditch captains of rival houses, pinnacles of a certain kind of obsessive, single-minded, aggressive athletic masculinity) conduce some of the most raw and gritty characterisations— kind of like if tracing your tongue along the jagged, broken end of a tooth was a ship. flintwood encapsulates a very specific kind of mood— a foregrounded physicality, a delicious emotional dimension balancing both subtlety and brashness. this ship is especially delightful when you're in the mood for some deferred emotional payoff, a little out of reach and more satisfying for it.

(tw for some discussions of queerphobia & masculinity!)

flintwood also works with and subverts some common stereotypes & tropes associated with sports as a site of exalted & amplified masculinity. oliver and marcus are both, in fic, often representations of what a popular (largely homophobic & patriarchal) culture understands as 'masculine ideal stereotypes'— physically hulking, emotionally repressed, narrow-focused, a little dangerous. and flintwood, as a ship, is crucially also about these 'ideal men' making the choice to step away from the hallowed halls of homosociality towards explicit queer desire, dynamics and love.

i'm getting into this because a large selection of flintwood fics i've loved deal (overtly or covertly) with coming to terms with queer awakenings, reckoning with being queer men in sports and similar explorations. my flintwood fic (thank you for reading it, anon!), addictive tendencies (~4k, T, tw for internalised homophobia) also grapples with this fairly significantly. in fact, even when the central tension isn’t explicitly about a queer reckoning, and the worldbuilding has little/no queerphobia, many excellent flintwood fics have some of the themes, ideas and tropes you find in literature accounting for our society’s (often disparaging) attitude towards queerness: a desire both intense and grudging, a sense of “i can’t have this person” justified through rivalry and/or jealousy, poignant internal conflicts, etc.

anyway, enough talk, here's a selection of flintwood fics i've dearly enjoyed, hope you do too! mind the tags & notes & remember to send some love the authors' way :)

best kept secrets by slyther_ing (M, 1.8k)

Marcus Flint is leaning up by the metal chainlink fence - gum popping, grin flashing white, and Oliver has the urge to run away because everything in the taller boy’s stature screams trouble, trouble, trouble.

twenty gauge by provocative_envy (T, 3k)

It takes Marcus less than ninety seconds to determine that his four o'clock is an aggressively annoying piece of shit.

wake up, get up, shut up by provocative_envy (E, 4.2k)

Marcus is twenty-three and half-concussed when it finally occurs to him that he might actually kind of sort of be really into dudes.

rugby boys, they play 15s by thistlecat (M, 4.5k)

Fifteen significant moments in Oliver Wood’s collegiate rugby career that did not make his highlight tape.

no vacancy by provocative_envy (M, 10.1k)

The dreams are frightening, at first.

true but not nice by v (E, 10.2k)

Marcus found out about it from Warrington, who heard it from Montague, who heard it from Derrick, who heard it from Nott, who heard it from Zabini, who heard it from Malfoy, who they said heard from the Quidditch dressing room, which really just meant that Marcus was going to fucking kill him.

self preservation by al-the-remix (E, 17.8k)

Outside the night had grown dark, and at some point Oliver had moved to perch on the edge of Marcus' bed, thigh pressed against his and tray settled between them. As if they had some sort of understanding. As if they were friends.

[rahuratna]

Helloooo, Rahu!!

I hope that life is becoming more calm again, as it’s super busy right now. I had a what-if scenario come to mind.

What if Nanami and Gojo had a student who is similar to Geto. This hypothetical student sorcerer has not consciously thought of defecting or leaving, but they are tired. Perhaps they have not witnessed the loss of their colleague’s life yet, but like Geto, they are beginning to question the point of being a sorcerer.

A combination of spite against the system, the burden of constant fighting, the intangible (if-existent) end goal.

I’m entertaining the thought of what would Nanami and Gojo do to step in because I have no doubt they would. But how would they approach this situation now that they are the adults who could help those they care about instead of when they were just students who witnessed the defection of their friend? 👀 👀

Hopefully this hypothetical is interesting! And i hope you have the time to relax with your favorite teas and snacks 💗💜💛💜💗

Hey @courtneedsleep !! Time is treading slowly towards my holiday, and I can't wait!

Do you know, when I read your ask, I immediately thought "This could have been a possibility if Junpei survived." I feel like he fits perfectly in this scenario of a student, around the same age as the main trio, who has a very different outlook on life. As much as Yuuji, Megumi and Nobara experienced their fair share of darkness in early life (to differing extents), Junpei's situation was unique with regard to both his experiences and his personality.

He was bullied. He was the underdog. He felt real rage and hatred towards others, representing a far less idealized version of the teenage demographic on the show. He was manipulated by Mahito, someone he wrongfully placed his trust in. The one light in his life, the single person who gave him unconditional love and support, was horrifically and traumatically murdered, leaving him with nothing.

If he'd survived that battle and entered Jujutsu Tech, mentors like Gojo and Nanami would have had a lot to work with in order to ensure that he didn't follow the wrong path, or give in to his hatred again. Junpei would definitely, like Geto, have an inclination towards this, having a very low opinion of humanity, and, like you mentioned, feeling like the battle they were fighting was a losing one.

There is one fundamental difference between Geto and 'hypothetical' Junpei in this scenario, though. Geto started off without hatred, but the psychological make-up for this to become a reality later. What really started Geto's downward spiral was the isolation he felt. His friends had ideas and pathways of their own to follow. Quite frankly, even though the Jujutsu world is a harsh one that defies many social norms, Geto's state of mind was NOT Gojo's or Shoko's responsibility. It should have been the adults who identified this deterioration of his mental state and taken the necessary steps to help him.

This is where adult Gojo and Nanami would have stepped in for Junpei. Maybe these two sorcerers aren't the best role models for healthy choices (LOL), but they would have taken on responsibility for such a student and done everything in their power to assist them in making sense of the world.

Furthermore, I think there is one (very powerful) aspect that trumps the influence of both Gojo and Nanami: the presence of Yuuji.

Yuuji proves himself to be the ultimate representation of boy-next-door with a spirit so full of light, life and determination, that he would be a living example to anyone in his own age group. Furthermore, Yuuji never underestimates the importance of a true support network, openly admitting that he would have never reached the pinnacle of his own power and achievement without the help of those around him.

I think that both Nanami and Gojo would see the value of having such a student work alongside Yuuji, allowing them to befriend each other and allowing them to experience the very real pull of Yuuji's kindness, magnanimity and his tenacity when it comes to helping others.

With a little push here and there from them, I think such a student would thrive in the right company, learn the true meaning of love and form bonds that would last a lifetime. Most importantly, I think characters like Yuuji, Nobara and Megumi would teach them how to find hope in a world filled with darkness and cruelty.

Thank you for another lovely ask. This one was honestly an eye opener and made me think a little more about those bitter-sweet 'what if' scenarios with Junpei.

[my-rewrite-academia]

what are class 1-a's (and 1-b's, if you want to include them) childhood favorite heroes and what are their current favorite heroes (if it changed)?

Hello! I do actually have them in my notes, though I don't have it for 1-B. Sorry, but I can do 1-A!

-

Aoyama Yuuga: All Might. No question, he loves the way All Might presents himself, and how he smiles in the face of despair. All Might is the pinnacle of heroism, in his eyes

Ashido Mina: Ryukyu. She thinks of her as an absolute icon, adoring her humble attitude, yet her ferocity in battle. Plus, all those clips of her being soft with children helped fuel her adoration

Asui Tsuyu: Gang Orca. Along with his aquatic-based quirk, she indentifies with his past, which he's open about, admitting how people would mock and bully him for being mutant, but strived towards heroics to help others accept their traits

Bakugou Katsuki: All Might. Mostly due to his strength and how he never loses. Alas, his ultimate dream is to surpass All Might and become the strongest, though this conflicts how he percieves All Might as unbeatable

Hagakure Tooru: Gunhead. It's less due to his strength or achievements, and more due to how threatening and strong he looks, only to be absolutely adorable in all the interviews. She loves that dichotomy

Iida Tenya: Ingenium, as if there is another option. In his eyes, Ingenium is the ideal hero. While he may not be as strong as All Might, or taken down as many villains as Endeavour, he will always see his brother as the best there could be

Jirou Kyouka: Present Mic. His tenacity, his never-ending joy, his pure enthusiasm, everything. She adores it all, and when he speaks up about how music can save people just as much as heroes do, it solidifies her choice of favourite hero

Kaminari Denki: Endeavour, (subject to change), due to how strong he is, and how many villains he's taken down. As someone with a dangerous quirk, Denki sees Endeavour's Hellfire and admires how he's able to control it so easily, especially with his flaming beard

Kirishima Eijirou: Crimson Riot, all the way through. His manliness, his view on courage, his inspirational speeches towards the newer generation. Maybe Crimson Riot isn't as well known as modern-day heroes, but he will forever be Eijirou's number one

Kouda Kouji: Hound Dog. While he may appear threatening, Hound Dog genuinely cares about others, and takes pride in his counselling job, (unlike canon). Plus, he has an animal-based quirk and Kouji adores all animals. Apart from bugs

Midoriya Izuku: Of course, All Might. Not just his strength, or his no-lose win streak, (apart from AfO), but his actions. The way he inspires everyone, his yearn for peace, his unwavering smile. His message of: anyone can become a hero. Even after All Might says no, Izuku still greatly admires him

Mineta Minoru: Midnight. Yes, groan all you want. He admires how, rather than just using her looks for popularity, she weaponises it, using it to distract men, (and women), getting their guards down. For once, he admires something other than physique

Ojirou Mashirao: Swinger. He's an original hero, who has a monkey mutation. He's very crafty in the way he uses his mutation. He inspired a lot of Mashirao's moves, and helped him look past his bullies

Satou Rikidou: Lunch Rush. His stance on cooking helped Rikidou find pride in his baking, and his upbeat attitude. The fact that he cooked a full-course French meal for up to ten-thousand people says a lot, and Rikidou admires it

Sero Hanta: Spiderguy. He would have called himself Spiderman, but it'd been copyrighted long before. His use of webbings to capture criminals and to swing across the city inspires Hanta to use his own quirk in similar ways

Shouji Mezou: Godzillo. Ever since he was little, he liked watching his interviews about how he was bullied for his appearance when he was young and strove to be a hero to help others accept themselves. It helped him strive to become a hero

Todoroki Shouto: At first, he doesn't really have one. He doesn't really admire heroes, when the only one he's had a close look at is Endeavour and, well... This is subject to change

Tokoyami Fumikage: Hawks, (subject to change). He admires his strive, how he became such a high-ranking hero at such a young age. His creativity with his quirk is also an inspiration

Uraraka Ochako: A la canon, Thirteen. They're the staple of resuce-based heroics, and both of their quirks affect force. Plus, Thirteen isn't ashamed to admit to being brought up poor, which Ochako identifies with

Yaoyorozu Momo: Miruko, no question. She loved her ferocity in battle, and while she dislikes her lack of cooperation, she still admires her strength in battle, and how her status inspires a generation of women and women in heroics

-

Thanks for the ask!

[autism-aint-a-flawtism]

Anybody been noticing the evolution of Deku's overall aesthetic? Like in terms of heroic aesthetic. Each hero generally has their own aesthetic. All Might had a Superman-esque aesthetic. Not exactly Superman, but the closest thing imaginable. All Might always tried to inspire hope. He always did that on purpose.

Endeavor later learned how to replicate All Might's hope aesthetic, but his is more centered around "Hope for Victory" in contrast to All Might's "Hope for Peace"

Notice Endeavor constantly looks like he's chock full of pride? I'd almost give post-"Holy shit I'm a terrible father" Endeavor a Vegeta-esque vibe.

Stars and Stripes is somehow a combination of both

Horikoshi loves to play with aesthetics. One of my favorites being Shigaraki.

Beginning Shiggy: Obviously looks like a villain, thought he was going to shoot a dog.

War Shiggy: Elegant. Almost like Nana Shimura. If I never read BNHA, I thought he would've been a hero

But my point is, Deku's design and aesthetic has been reflective of his arc throughout the series.

Deku Mk I: green, doesn't know what he's doing. Has no realist ideals. Simply an idealist.

Notice how frail he looks despite the fact we KNOW he's built like a triple decker bus. It's supposed to represent how out of his element he is.

Deku Mk II: More experienced, learning from his mistakes. He's becoming a more traditional member of hero society.

You can tell by the more thick look of the suit that Deku is beginning to look more competent, but you can tell that he's uncomfortable with this. Ignoring the fact that Deku canonically didn't like the mods to his mom's suit, you can tell he isn't comfortable yet.

Deku Mk III: Finally used to his own self. He has become the pinnacle of traditional hero society

This is a Deku that visually looks more complete. Deku MK II had too many loose lines. His gloves rising up to his bicep makes him easier to look at. He looks less confusing to look at. This is a Deku that made his first real independent step. He went from punching to kicking. Notice this is the costume Deku uses in his first official villain fight.

Infinite Deku

Right here we get Deku's first legit "All Might" moment. Where visually he looks like a symbol of hope

I used a still from the anime here because the colors and poses pop more in the anime than in the manga. This is a Deku that if I didn't know who he was I'd assume he's the main character

Deku MK IV: Same general deal as Deku MK III

The Air Force gloves eventually help him become more of a visual vesself for the OFA users, and that's the most significant visual difference. This is a Deku that looks like a good, fine, member of hero society, but he doesn't look like symbol of peace material. He just looks like a strong background character

Vigilante Deku: Basically a villain. Crap your pants terrifying. Beaten, broken. But, he looks the most like a hero. Granted, in the way Batman looks like a hero. But he looks like his true hero. All he had to do was reject traditional notions of hero society

notice how Deku is slowly looking more and more unhinged throughout the vigilante arc

Isolating himself and acting like a "true hero" is driving Deku insane. So while his vigilante era is the most akin to traditional comic book heroes, he can't maintain that.

Final Deku: An amalgamation of Mk IV and Vigilante

Aesthetically speaking this is Deku one step before he becomes the symbol of peace. Sure, his costume isn't super visually distinct, but, Horikoshi makes up for that with how he's posing and framing Deku. I have a feeling that Deku is going to get one more redesign. But as of right now, this is a Deku that looks closest to a Symbol of Peace. He can still be unhinged like Vigilante, but can look just as heroic as Infinite.

Thanks for listening to my ramble

[icarusdash]

unsolicited tips for winning gambit that destiny doesn’t really tell you, from someone who has gilded the dredgen title six godforsaken times in solo queue:

at the start, getting the first invasion is more important than getting big blockers. yes, even if you have 14 motes, you should deposit with the rest of your team. on most maps, a team can get to 40 motes deposited after the second wave of hostiles

scavenger mods work with the heavy brick that high value targets drop. sometimes you’ll get two heavy drops from one HVT

for the love of god. hydras explode when you kill them. i know it’s tempting to grab the motes before that happens, but ALWAYS WAIT. JUST WAIT FOR THEM TO EXPLODE BEFORE YOU PICK UP THE MOTES

if your team is still collecting motes and the enemy team is on the primeval, you will still drain motes when you have two or more blockers alive on their side. if you have a primeval and your enemy doesn’t and there’s blockers on the field, you should kill them before doing damage, especially goblins

primeval health locks once you’ve done 30% of the health it has when you start doing damage (...i think. it’s a little vague at times). you do more damage the more stacks of the primeval slayer buff you have. if you’re ahead of the enemy team, consider saving your heavy ammo for higher stacks of primeval slayer

i like to save my damage supers for the second damage phase, ideally right after an invasion from the enemy team, so i can quickly skip past the second phase and dump all the ammo i have left into the primeval’s last bit of health

there is no shame in using tracking rockets

there is no shame in hiding from the invader

there is no shame in depositing early to avoid getting killed by the invader

there is no shame in using your super to not lose all your motes

distracting the enemy team with an invasion can be just as effective as killing guardians sometimes. even if your nova bomb chases them halfway across the map and doesn’t kill anyone, that’s still a good chunk of time they’re not collecting motes or melting the boss

this is not a guarantee, but most of the time, you can manipulate where the invader spawns. each map only has 2-3 places where they can appear, and it’s usually the spawn furthest from your team. if you stand in a spawn spot during damage phases, the invader will almost always spawn in one of the other spots on the map.

emerald coast is the worst map to try this on, as its so small that sometimes an invader will spawn directly behind you if you’re on the beach waiting for them. this is a possibility on every map, but much, much worse on emerald coast

exotic weapons i recommend:

outbreak perfected is good for add-clear AND boss damage, and its range isn’t too shabby for invading/taking down invaders either

gjallarhorn, trust, jotunn, deathbringer, and two-tailed fox are all very good, for reasons you can imagine. i personally love the latter for invading, especially with a void hunter

trinity ghoul is absolutely disgusting with arc 3.0. i can clear hostiles waves in seconds with the catalyst. nearly every single massacre medal i’ve gotten was from trinity ghoul.

tbh? people sleep on thunderlord, which is good for nearly everything in gambit. xenophage is also incredible for invading still, and not too bad for boss damage

if you’re running with a fireteam, swapping to divinity after you summon a primeval will make you everyone’s favorite fireteam member

and above all: if you just play gambit for the bounties or the pinnacle gear or even for fun, that’s fine too!!! there’s no competitive gambit playlist, we’re all in this together. just know that some players may be doing odd things on purpose, and you too can help us sweaty dredgens get our dubs if you keep these things in mind :)

[saltyfilmmajor]

if you could recommend three tolms (tom cruise films) to a stranger to get into his work - which would you pick?

Three Tolms... difficult choices but I've given it a lot of thought

For straight Drama I'd go with A Few Good Men - this is actually the first Non-Mission Tom Cruise film I saw and it really has everything, Drama - Mystery and really good dialogue courtesy of Aaron Sorkin. on the hole the story itself is very well contained in it's 2 hour Run time. If you wanted to pair this movie with another recommendation, I'd say the Firm. Personally I Find The Firm to be a much more acquired taste, but I enjoyed it, and every single attorney I work with have said on the record it's extremely good.

2. For "based on a true story" variant of drama I'd recommend American Made. Tom is incredibly charming as Barry Seal and the entire story of his involvement with the CIA and the Cartel i not only funny, but tense and deeply tragic. I was never bored while watching and you can pair this recommendation with Born on the Fourth of July and The Last Samurai (two films i've yet to watch but have it on good authority that they're quite good)

3. For Action I'll have to recommend a Mission and a Non-Mission:

Mission: Impossible - Fallout is the objectively best made of the franchise (and is the one that got me interested in the whole franchise too) but, given that story is a much more direct sequel than the others My recommendation is Ghost Protocol. I have found when i speak to non-fandom / normal people about Mission, Ghost Protocol seems to be the most popular, and while it's not my own favorite it's definitely a good one for its action set pieces and ensemble cast and is The Platonic Ideal for what makes a good Mission Movie.

As for Non Mission Action: My Choice is Oblivion. Given I'm already recommending his Action Franchise, I wanted to pick something that was not a franchise film (sorry TGM, even though you're a pinnacle of Cinema). Oblivion is a sci-fi film, and it's the one that leaves you with a lot to think about at the end of the film. Its story is so deeply emotional as well as visually very interesting. It is something that gets better with multiple viewings. You could easily pair this film with the rest of his sci-fi catalogue: War of the Worlds, Minority Report, and Edge of Tomorrow. (Not The Mummy though, people get very touchy about that movie and as much as i love it, i'm not categorizing with these.)

I definitely have ideas on his catalogue of films and what would make good double, or even tripple features, or perhaps a collection of films that seem to be in dialogue with each other.

[notsohehehahanow]

can i ask if there's a reason you don't also have gender fluid thoughts for will or others that aren't just finn being white, used to be skinny and soft looking? like since there's not one way to be fluid or enby etc but he seems like people use his teenage self as the cliche modern "ideal" that puts whiteness and skinniness as the pinnacle of what acceptably fluid or trans looks like, even though will or any other boy could also be fluid/trans even if they don't look "androgynous" like finn used to? it's just interesting to me since i see "I relate to mike" from people but not sure if they think about why exactly they pick him

oh i definitely do have ideas of trans/genderfluid/enby will however theyre not as prominent as they are with mike

theres no like specific reason for it besides i feel like it could just like tie in to mike trying to figure himself out instead of just being whatever his parents raised him to be

at least once hes been referred to as "a kid trying to be normal" by finn himself (forgive me if im wrong on the quote but its something along the lines 🙏) and through season 1-3 hes generally your average 12-14 year old boy and looks it but after meeting eddie and sort of stepping outside his comfort zone

theres a lot more getting comfortable and trying to figure out who he is and what he likes appearance wise as he does generally take a step closer to alternative, i believe metalhead in specific (correct me if im wrong 🙏), fashion and i just like the idea of him doing the same when it comes to identity

its definitely not a look thing, its more so a vibe or idea type thing as i myself am. not a tall nor skinny person

i like trans/genderfluid/enby mike more because for me its also a relatability thing. i find that its easy for me to relate to mike (and multiple other finn wolfhard characters. shoutout richie and trevor, literally me btw) and i tend to have a harder time finding characters to relate too that also struggle with knowing who they are even at a young age so adding bits of myself into my favorite characters is something that i just like to do

t4t lesbian byler for the win by the way chat 🙏🙏

[indiaalphawhiskey]

Hey!! I hope you're well, and that your day/night is going better than you expected!

I recently saw one of your fic recs where you had recommended 'Saved Tonight' and of course, I had to read it because, well, one of my favourite authors had recommended something. Just as I had expected, I absolutely loved it. After I finished it, I couldn't help but wonder if you had internalized a few character/plot beats of ST and incorporated that into 'Our Lives, Non Fiction'. Not in an explicit way, of course there are a lot of differences in the overall plot and characters but maybe the adoration for the favourite author (writer in the case of ST), the new perspective presented by the fan, are common threads I can see in both of these works.

My question is, was ST something that inspired you consciously, or maybe subconsciously? Or am I just reaching too hard?

Anyways, I hope you don't take this as a slight or anything, you already know I LOVE OLNF, I was just wondering about the process/inspiration behind it and wanted to see if I had maybe seen your arcs develop through the works you have recommended.

Love you so much! Bye!

Hello, love!

This is a very nice ask, and no offense taken, of course. Saved Tonight is an amazing fic, and a great example of concise but satisfying writing. I really, really love it.

In terms of whether it inspired OLNF, I can’t say it did consciously, but now that you point out the similarities, it makes sense that one would remind you of the other.

I think that mostly stems from the fact that both myself and the author of Saved Tonight are fans, part of fandoms, and understand intimately what it means to be a fan of something/someone. Personally, that was my favorite part of reading Saved Tonight and writing OLNF — the fact that I could very easily pull from my own experience to connect to the characters because I knew how much fandom meant to me as a person and an author.

If you’re wondering about the inspiration behind OLNF, it was really more about me imagining my ideal love story as someone who identifies so deeply with fandom and fanfic. It’s such a big part of my life that I found I haven’t been able to share with people who aren’t directly involved in this fandom, and I was trying to write what I hoped would happen if I let someone outside of it all see the level of passion I have for it.

I think that might be why I hold OLNF as my pinnacle, at the moment; because I don’t feel like I can ever write anything else that feels so acutely… me in that same way.

I hope that answers your questions, but I love talking about this, so feel free to come back for more! 🩷 I’m glad you enjoyed my rec so much. And of course, thank you for the lovely compliment!

[universal-kitty]

.: About the Universal Constant :.

So-! A new direction I'm taking my self-inserts in, going forward... This is already being applied to certain SIs, but not yet everyone, since this is a modification of an idea I had as a kid/teen, but refined to be a little more streamlined and...less dramatic, I guess??? LOL

Original concept- the one I am building off of- was the idea that my self-inserts were legitimately me! The concept was I had a traveling companion, and was a multiversal traveler. Instead of doing...whatever it was I was meant to be doing, I tended to run off into universes, and live within them. Taking on a unique identity, living a new life, and being paired up with my favorite, before my companion caught onto me, found me, and we'd leave.

...I called this "Anime Worlds," because I was very smart and also a majority of the worlds I "traveled" to were from anime and manga, anyhow.

So obviously, we're keeping some of that, while tossing out the rest! (Complete with all the works when it comes to the cleaning up/refinement process~)

To start... Let's introduce THE Universal Constant!

Typically going by Galatea, but also "Voidlight" is suitable! Still finalizing colors rn, but the back of their hair will be in a galaxy appearance. (Kinda like an under-color!)

Another example of this concept:

We can get more into the details of the Universal Constant in a bit... There's a fair bit of art to collect of them, after all!

Consider this the "true" form for all my self-inserts. Almost Rose Q-like, in how they tend to shirk responsibilities to explore, lose their burdens for awhile, and become someone else. Both the "new" person they've become in this world, while also retaining some true-to-form Galatea powers. (Shapeshifting is often a big one, but a soul-deep tie to felines also counts for this, along with green eyes.)

Self-inserts are both Galatea and somewhat unique; a story-version of how I've always made my SIs, anyhow! (They are me, but not Me, in the sense of the "powerless, normal human" me is in the story. I tend to like "blending in" to the world, including having powers or trying something new with my look!) A fun little dynamic I get to play with!

Galatea gets to be the pinnacle of that idea, though. An idealized self, if you'd please. Everything I would wish to be, want to be, etc.

As for her companion...!

Bengal! (...Pronounced- to me- as "Ben-gall." It's been pronounced this way for literal years, idk what else to say.)

Two-tailed canine, and essential babysitter* to Galatea. On the account of them running off so damn much-! Has various powers of his own, and yet will not guarantee that he can find them in any sort of short order. Bengal's job, truly, is made of struggles...

And that's basically it!! Uh. More to it, like the finer details of how Galatea is/connects to other SIs, who have been adjusted with this story in mind, and etc., buuuut... Will maybe get to that some other time.

Plenty more to work on! Like finishing these in the first place, and maybe better hammering out Bengal's human look, since now I'm not as sold on it as I once was... Hurm, hurm!