#they are writing a story for themselves???

[neil-gaiman]

I’m a big fan of your works and I’ve been really enjoying all your to-screen adaptations. As a beginner actor looking to observe more, I noticed your texts lend themselves amazingly to acting work. I don’t know much and maybe I’m silly or talking gibberish, in which case I’m very sorry. I’d say the acting in your shows is analyzed and acclaimed by fans to an extend much larger than in other similarly popular shows, which is why I’m asking and not just keeping to myself. In my opinion it’s maybe because you give your stories beats that are exciting to see on your character’s faces and inner conflicts that lend to innovative choices from this point of view. I mean mostly that your characters often have at least some physicality, vocabulary characteristic or just some quirks that an actor would love to play out and that also makes sense story wise. I don’t think you have a single character that is not given enough to give a good performances and doesn’t have at least one thing that is fun to play out. So to the question, Is this expressivity something you actively edit for and seek out in your process for the screen, or rather associated to the nature/themes/tone of your stories? Or is it perhaps something else that makes your scripts successful in this regard? How does your writing style and process change when you need to adapt to the screen - do you ever have to change something to give it screen presence? Sorry for the awkward english (I have no idea how to describe whatever I’m talking about) and the too-long text. Thanks in advance and have a beautiful day!

I want to give actors fun things to do and good things to say. I want to give characters interesting things to do and important things to say.

[hopelessromantic5]

Merthur with King Arthur and pre-Court Sorcerer Merlin.

(Don’t worry though, when this is continued, he will be given his rightful place.

If I have to write it a thousand times, I will see Merlin get his happy ending, dammit.)

“Um. Merlin?”

The manservant had been daydreaming again.

It was honestly getting out of hand.

Two moons had passed since Merlin finally told Arthur about the magic.

It went better than expected.

A great deal better.

He didn’t even really seem surprised. If Merlin could count on himself as a reliable narrator of the story, he would say he saw relief flicker across Arthur’s face before he began asking questions. But Merlin was basically imploding on the inside and terrified that he was about to lose his best friend and his home in one fell swoop, so he might’ve imagined it.

Thankfully, Arthur seemed more anxious for answers than anything. He wanted to understand. After a week of catching him up on the last five years of their lives, magic included, Arthur seemed at peace with it.

A week later was when control began slipping from Merlin’s grasp, ever so slightly. Arthur came to him on a random day in the spring, and nonchalantly said he had some documents he’d like Merlin to read over. Make sure they were presentable for council.

Merlin thought nothing of it, he’d done it countless times thus far, and was secretly looking forward to proof reading speeches for the rest of his life.

You can imagine the shock when he approached the desk and found a repeal of the magic ban. Sitting there, in the sun, in Arthur’s perfect penmanship.

Merlin began weeping.

He could almost hear in his head,

“Don’t be a such a girl, Merlin.”

But it never came.

Instead, the King silently joined him by the desk, and embraced him, for maybe the second time in all of existence.

They hugged like they were trying to meld themselves together.

Arthur had one broad arm wrapped behind Merlin’s neck and the other locking him in by his lower back.

They were two pieces that somehow fit perfectly together.

Merlin hid his, probably unsightly, face in Arthur’s neck and willed the tears to stop themselves falling.

A few heartbeats later Arthur whispered,

“I’m so sorry, Merlin.”

Merlin involuntarily scrunched his eyebrows at that. Yet, he did not let go. He did not want to leave, not yet.

“Why are you apologizing?”

A whisper came back,

“I hate to see you cry.”

Merlin wished on every star in the heavens, that he could’ve seen Arthur, in that moment.

But he would not let go. Not until his King did.

At present, things were moving along very well with the repeal. Especially among the townspeople, who are more than welcoming towards the Kingdom’s new citizens.

However, Merlin found himself with a whole new set of challenges.

Merlin was definitely not staring at Arthur as he shuffled through reports at his desk. Though, the sun was casting the perfect halo on his blonde head. It painted a picture that was wholly ethereal, calming.

When Arthur looked up from his papers suddenly, Merlin went back to his polishing like he never stopped.

Because he didn’t, of course.

That would be inappropriate.

That’s when he heard,

“Um. Merlin?”

The raven boy’s head snapped up from the sword in his lap, and found amusement in his King’s eyes.

“What?” He was skeptical, narrowing his gaze.

“Are you planning on turning my chambers into the Royal Gardens or is this your only idea on how to spruce up the place?”

“What on Earth are you-“ spinning around in his chair, he finally saw it.

Vines wearing tiny purple flowers were slowly crawling their way up the bed-posts; bigger, colorful flowers were beginning to bloom from the cracks in the stone floor.

This is not good.

“Uh, I have to-“ he huffed, placing the sword in his seat and running for the door. “I need to go, sire.”

“Merlin, what are you-“

“I think I’m coming down with something. I’m just gonna go see Gaius about it.” Before he closed the door behind him he yelled “I’ll be back with dinner.”

And then he was gone.

#merthur #merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin and arthur #merthur fic #from the drafts #bbc merlin #king arthur #arthur knows about merlin’s magic #Magic ban lifted #Merlin’s magic has an agenda #thank you for reading #❤️

[stormofdefiance]

True knowledge exists in knowing you know nothing || Dr. Ratio & Socrates

Okay, I legitimately laughed out loud writing that title, but listen. LISTEN.

Ratio's inspirations derive from many sources; from referencing Archimedes's brain-blast in the tub, to being doomed to have his head bonked by Newton's apple ad infinitum in his idle animation, to his ultimate line ('esse est percipi' / 'to be is to be perceived') a direct quote from Berkeley on Idealism - it's apparent that his design nods towards scholars across time periods rather than being a direct parallel to a singular academic.

Nevertheless, just for fun, I've been rotating Ratio and ancient greek philosophers around in my head and have had a great time chewing over how parallels Socrates in particular. I am in no way saying that Hoyo even thought about Socrates while they were designing Ratio, but I thought I'd share my thoughts. I think there are some worthwhile parallels to be drawn that touch on all aspects of Ratio's own philosophy regarding ignorance, the value of knowledge, and his deep appreciation of life. So, let's get into it.

Ratio is interested in humanity and curing 'ill minds with knowledge', that 'to turn a blind eye to the folly of others is not an etiquette, but a wicked worldly practice.' Ignorance is a disease - this is a concept that can be viewed through a Socratic lens. Socrates believed that that virtue and knowledge were impossible to separate from one another, and that virtue could be developed through acquiring knowledge and insight. If knowledge is virtue, then ignorance is vice. In Socrates's mind, no one would rationally choose to do something bad. People might choose to do bad things, but this is rooted in their own perception of the world - as in, someone would only choose to do something bad (for the world, or for themselves) because they believed (erroneously) that it was the right or good thing to do. To Socrates, the cure to this was knowledge: 'There are two kinds of disease of the soul, vice and ignorance.' & 'What does most harm in the world is not sinfulness but ignorance'.

To Ratio, 'If ignorance is an ailment, it is the duty of the scholars to weed it out and heal the universe'. He views his own ignorance as 'filth' that must be cleansed through methods such as reading. He also views knowledge as a method for humans to overcome their problems - 'Another day has passed. If your problem still hasn't been solved, is it possible the problem is you?' & 'You look distressed. Is something troubling you? if so, you can figure it out for yourself.' These statements sound harsh, but they also clue us into Ratio's philosophy - that through self-examination and improvement, one can overcome one's ailments.

Socrates was also known for being a trouble-maker, he was abrupt and tactless and did not care for someone's social standing nor decorum. He was also known for using what is now called the Socratic method, asking a series of questions that ultimately seek to show contradictions in the beliefs of those who posed them, and to move systematically towards a hypothesis free from contradiction. Socrates rarely made assertions himself - after all, he had no wisdom of his own. But he could interrogate others in order to expose their own foibles, much to the embarrassment and annoyance of those around him. He was once described as a 'gnat' chewing on the 'lazy horse of Athens', causing it to wake up and spring to life due to his persistent gnawing and prodding. Ratio also employs the Socratic method - 'I'm asking questions' - and also adopts sophist tactics such as playing devil's advocate and taking opposing sides (with both himself as seen a story quest, and with others as we see with his texts urging us to take up a side so he might debate us). Through questioning and interrogation, upsetting what we consider social convention and norms, we can dispel contradictions and thereby come closer to some form of truth.

To add to this - as highlighted in the replies below - Ratio’s skill ‘intellectual midwifery’ is a reference to the Socratic method. The idea being that Socrates helped those around him give birth to the knowledge that was already within them, rather than treating his students minds as empty vessels for him to fill with his own answers. Again this is beautifully echoed in Ratio - he doesn’t want to tell you how to live your life, he wants you to work out for yourself what it is you need, thus empowering oneself through self-examination and questioning.

Socrates did not believe in writing anything down. He believed that face-to-face communication was a far more effective way of communicating knowledge - which means, unfortunately, what we know of Socrates is primarily derived from secondary sources. Much of what we know about him today comes from Plato's dialogues, and Plato was known for liberally exercising artistic license.

Although Ratio is not dead, I find it interesting that his character story is told exclusively through secondary sources. To quote - '…There are no less than eight documentaries detailing his legendary exploits, and over a dozen memoirs about him. However, despite the plethora of commentaries, none of them seems to provide a compelling perspective.' It's as though there are no surviving fragments penned by Ratio's hand and all we have to go on is through the lenses of other people. This challenges us, perhaps, to try to think about our own interpretation of Ratio since secondary sources cannot be taken as a wholly unbiased account - and once again employing the Socratic method and empowering the reader to come to their own interpretation.

While Socrates left no writing behind, he was interested in spreading knowledge. Socrates spent most of his life in Athens, a city that was, during his lifetime (~470-399 BC), a hotpot of scholars, wisemen and philosophers. Athena, the Greek god of wisdom, was named after the city - her symbol the owl that is also appropriately perched on Ratio’s shoulder. Also in Athens at this time where the sophists. The sophists were a class of intellectuals who were known to teach courses in various subjects - but often for a high fee, and generally centred around the idea that persuasion and the use of knowledge as a tool was more important than wisdom or truth itself. There's some debate about whether Socrates could be characterised as a sophist himself, but, crucially, he is characterised as refusing to take payment for his teachings. He was born a plebeian (perhaps you might describe it as a mundane background.) He was known to dress in rags and go barefoot, speaking to and (often antagonising) people from all walks of life, preferring the marketplace as a center of debate than palaces or courtrooms. I can't help but think of the sophists as similar to the genius society (or at least Ratio's depiction of them in contrast to himself), cooped up in ivory towers and gatekeeping knowledge to the most privileged. He doubts if Herta's talent is always helpful to others, he compares Screwllum to a 'monarch'. Then again, the sophists may in fact be a bit of a parallel to the Intelligentsia Guild - from Ratio, 'when someone is willing to listen to knowledge that is being disseminated and circulated, a price is created'.

Socrates (or at least the Platonic depiction of Socrates) was at one time declared the wisest man in Athens by the Oracle of Delphi. Socrates balks at this assertion - how can he possibly be the wisest man in Athens when he in fact knows nothing at all? This was not a claim made of modesty - he truly believed that he had no wisdom, that he was unsure what 'wisdom' itself even was. Ultimately, Socrates concludes that the only way that the Oracle could be correct is that by actually acknowledging that he knows nothing he paradoxically is the wisest man in Athens. All wisdom, therefore, is rooted in wondering, with wondering only possible if one is open to admitting one's own ignorance.

What I love about all of this in relation to Ratio is that Ratio styles himself as a mundanite. The Intelligensia Guild advocates that 'all knowledge must be circulated like currency' and accepts 'all beings… who seek to learn'. Ratio has no time for the satisfied self-styling of intellectualism, he himself states that 'to speak knowledge, we must first make people realise their own folly.' No one is above criticism in this regard, even himself - again, to quote 'Whenever someone agrees with me, I feel like I must be wrong.' Again, I feel as though he would resonate with Socrates here: 'Smart people learn from everything and everyone, average people from their experiences, and stupid people already have all the answers'. With Aventurine, he is quick to mock his appearance as over-the-top and vapid - once again making it clear his distate for vanity and hollow displays of showiness (albeit he may have been acting for Sunday's sake here. Also, no comment about this coming from a man who runs around in a toga, lmao) Equally, with Aventurine, it is clear that Ratio is willing to learn from him - he apologises when he offends, he abhors his methodology and yet he still relies upon it and trusts in Aventurine's plan, he is drawn to him in some ways precisely because he is so different to himself. Aventurine (at least styles himself) as impulsive to Ratio's slow and steady methodology, Aventurine whose learning has been entirely self-made vs Ratio who has spent his life in classrooms, Ratio who scoffs at Aventurine's favourite games of chance yet adds slot machines to his simulated universe. And to Socrates, the experience of aporia – in all of its discomfort and disruption – is the very catalyst of wonder, and that wonder was not just the root of wisdom but also the way to live a good and happy life. There is something beautiful in this to me, and this extends to Ratio. Ratio fundamentally cares about life. For all his brashness, his lashing out against 'idiots', his harsh demeanour - he wants people to live good lives, he wants to contribute to the good of humanity - all people, even those he is annoyed by, he cares so profoundly and absolutely about life. The entire reason why he is obsessed with wisdom and learning is not to exalt or elevate himself, not as some kind of ritualistic expression of piety towards a deity, but it is instead an expression of devotion towards life itself. Ratio has a strict work out routine not so that he can show off his body, but because living healthily is living well and working out is a component of that. Even the way he fusses and worries about Aventurine, someone he is pointedly irritated by, reveals how deeply his care runs. So so much of his character is centered on caring for life, even if it is not immediately obvious.

Finally, I'd like to highlight some ways in which Ratio is not like Socrates. First of all, Socrates was repeatedly described as 'ugly' by fellow philosophers Plato and Xenophon - this is contrast to Ratio being repeatedly described as 'handsome'. This is an interesting subversion to me (albeit likely an indulgent one) as in both cases both men attempt to distance their physical appearance from the weight of their words. Ratio wears the bust for many reasons, but way to view it is that he is attempting to stop his appearance from bearing any influence in the subject of debate.

Socrates was also said to be blessed by a divine touch, and as we know, this is something that agonises Ratio as Nous has not yet turned THEIR gaze towards him.

Lastly, Ratio has - thankfully - not yet been ordered by the state to drink hemlock for all his trouble-making and blustering. Though perhaps he may someday be put on trial by the IPC if the theories that he is working alongside Aventurine to undermine the corporation are true - we will just have to wait and see.

Thanks for reading my little ramble. I'd be super interested in anyone's thoughts if they'd like to share, but regardless, I'll leave off on some of my favourite wee quotes from the Rat man:

'Even a life marked by failure is a life worth living - it is only in moments of solitude and despair, when help is absent, that fools grasp how to pick themselves up.'

'Do stay alive. I wish you the best of luck.'

#dr ratio #ratio #aventurine #hsr #honkai star rail #my witterings #i love the rat man so much idk #much of the information i describe about Socrates comes from the podcast History of Philosophy without the Gaps #which I highly recommend if this is your kind of thing lol #but mostly I just wanted to have fun spinning my hyperfixation around lol #Also I make a few declarative statements throughout this but know that I do not claim to be a scholar of greek philosophy lol #please check the verasity for yourselves before relying on what I have to say #for I know nothing u see u see? :P #also I just wanna add in that I do NOT think Ratio is a perfect human being #ratio can be hypocritical and cruel and ignorant just like the rest of us #but I adore that too as afterall he is also an expression of humanity #with all its earthy faults

[reyadawn]

Masked Desire - One Shot

*image not mine, credit goes to owner*

Summary: Reader is a live-in friend of Bad Omens who is in love with Noah Sebastian and best friends with Joakim Karlsson. Noah keeps reader in the friend zone while she watches him with other women. *Similar concept of "Love You More" but with varied differences...you'll see*

Side Note: Im not good at angst writing but Im not feeling the best today...struggling with self-image and self-esteem. Needed to let it out.

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x OFC, Jolly x OFC (platonic)

Warnings: Angst, language, eventual friends-to-lovers, eventual smut so dont read this if you're under 18.

Word Count: 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Please, bare with me on this guys...

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Laughter echoed around the dimly lit livingroom of the two story beach house. A large black leather 'L' shaped sectional was filled with the members of Bad Omens as well as thier female counterparts. The glass coffee table was littered with various beer cans, pop cans, random bowls of party mix and a few laptops. The end tables housed speakers and the low sound of country music wafted through the air.

I leaned against the large archway that separated the livingroom from the large chef's kitchen, arms crossed in front of my chest as I took in the scene before me. Jolly, my best friend and partner in crime, had his legs stretched out in front of him with his feet propped up on the end of the coffee table and was absentmindedly strumming his guitar. Folio was next to him with a redhead in his lap wearing jeans so tight they look painted on. Every now and then she'd flip her long hair over shoulder and would hit Jolly across the side of his face.

Jolly threw the occasional dark look to Folio but didnt say anything and I chuckled. Nicholas was engrossed in a book about tattoo designs while being sanwiched between two girls. Both of them kept running thier hands over his legs but he barely even glanced at them. The last girl, a dark brunette with pigtails, was planted in the corner of the leather sectional on Noah's lap and was currently shoving her tongue down his throat, dark hair creating a temporary curtain to hide thier actions from view. Fucking tramps. They were all probably so loose that it was like throwing a hot dog down a hallway.

I turned away, stomach rolling and heart clenching. I would never be anything more to Noah than a friend. A confidant. Video game partner. I looked nothing like the girls he took home. I wasnt thin, at all. I wore no make up. No designer clothes, just tummy control leggings and loose shirts to hide my insecurities. I rarely dressed up unless the ocassion called for it. My long hair was either in a messy bun, ponytail or side braid. My self-esteem was ground zero, I just hid it well.

I busied myself with making a steaming cup of lavendar tea. I walked around the large island which was centered in the middle of the kitchen and frowned. Various bags of chips, popcorn and candy lay scattered along the surface with random glass bottles filled with amber colored liquid. I hated drinking but the way I felt had me considering adding a splash or two to my tea. I reached above me into one of the cabinets by the refridgerator in search of my favorite Halloween cup and noticed it got shoved so far back on the shelf I couldnt reach it.

I bit my lip in thought before hoisting myself onto the counter on my knees. Before I could do much more, a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around my waist, pulling me off the counter. I spun in anger towards my assailant and stopped, staring at Noah in shock and anger.

"What the fuck, Sebastian?", I all but growled. Noah threw his hands up in defense.

"Chill out, Angel. Was just trying to make sure you didn't get hurt. What were you doing, anyway?", he replied, moving to stand closer. I retreated a step back, earning me a frown of confusion across Noah's dark features. His shoulder length brown locks were touseled, full lips kiss swollen and clothes partly disheveled. Internally, my heart broke at the fact I wasnt the reason for the current state he was in. Externally, I rolled my eyes.

"I need my tea cup so I can go upstairs", I replied, pointing to the top shelf. Noah stepped closer to me, reaching over my head to pull the cup from the shelf. I was so tempted to wrap my arms around his 6'3 frame. I wanted and needed so many things from him that I wasnt allowed. He'd never look at me the way I wanted him to.

A light brush to my cheek snapped me from my train of though. I looked up at Noah as his fingertips grazed my cheek, pushing my hair behind my ear.

"Where did you go just now, Angel?", he asked softly, eyes roaming over me. I gently took the cup from him and turned to the stove to get hot water boiling in the copper kettle. "Nowhere", I mumbled.

"Why do you want to go upstairs? You always party with us. What's wrong?", he asked, moving closer once more. He tried moving a few lose strands of hair away from my face but I pulled away. The battle to keep my distance from him yet crave his touch was exhausting.

"Please, Noah...dont do this right now. I really need to be alone for a while", I said, reaching for the kttle as it whistled. I poured the steaming water in my cup, reaching for a teabag from the box sitting by the sugar jar.

"Why?", Noah pushed. I sighed in defeat before turning to him. I slowly raised my eyes to him. Choclate meeting chocolate and he reached his hand out, thumb wiping away a lone tear spilling down my cheek. Giving him a watery smile, I walked past him and through the opposite entrance towards the upstairs.

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Noah stood rooted to the spot, confusion and hurt swirling within him. What was going on with her? Why was she so sad? Did someone hurt her? Anger began to surface and Noah was ready to throw hands, figers gripping the counter tightly until his knuckles turned white.

Jolly entered the kitchen in search of a beer when he took in the sight of Noah before him and cocked his head to the side.

"Descided to come up for air?", he asked with a smirk. Noah turned to him with a scowl.

"I think someone hurt her...she was in here alone, crying and when I tried to comfort her she rejected me. That's really unlike her. I dont fucking get it, man", Noah replied, running a hand down his face.

Jolly rolled his eyes before pulling a beer from the refridgerator, popping the top to take a healthy drink.

"You're a fucking moron, Noah", he deadpanned.

"What the fuck, J? Where do you get the balls?", Noah snapped. Jolly tipped his head back and laughed.

"Dude, that girl has been in love with you for years. Practically throws herself at you and follows you around like a damn puppy. Anything you ask her to do, she does; books our flights, hotels, cleans this massive fucking house top to bottom, does all our laundry and makes sure to work the merch table at our shows when we play in town...for free, I might add. This goes way beyond her being just nice", Jolly explained, arms folded across his chest, beer can forgotten.

Noah stared at Jolly in shock before running his fingers through his hair, gripping the strands in irritation.

"Noah...do you know how hard it is for her to see you with other women? Like, tonight for instance. She watched you tongue fuck that chick on your lap and I thought she was going to break", Jolly added.

"How in God's name do you know all of this?", Noah asked, voice hardening in irritation. Jolly chuckled.

"I'm her best friend, you dunce. We share everything except a bed. It's not like that with her. She's like the sister I never had", Jolly explained. Noah sighed. "Look, if you don't feel the same way about her then you need to tell her so I can prepare myself to pick up the pieces of what will be left of her. If you do feel the same, you need to grow a pair and tell her. Either way, she deserves to know where you stand".

Jolly walked away, leaving Noah to his thoughts.

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I didn't hear the knock at my bedroom door. I barely registered Jolly's soft voice or the feeling of his arms around me as they lifted me from the bathroom floor to cradle me against his chest.

The sobs that escaped had me shaking and trembling. Jolly's grip tightened as he whispered softly in my ear, trying with everything he had to comfort me. Hot tears poured down my cheeks as my hands fisted the material of his shirt.

"Easy, sweetheart. I'm right here...I'm right here", Jolly said, pulling me fully into his lap.

I don't know how long I stayed in Jolly's lap but I suddenly woke up and I was in my bed, alone. My room was dark and I pulled myself into a sitting position before getting out of bed to meander downstairs. Raised voices had me pausing in the hallway to eavesdrop.

"Goddamnit, Jolly, why didn't you come and get me when you found her like that?!", Noah screamed.

"Dude, calm down before you pop a vein", Nick said. I slowly peered around the corner, looking down from the banister. Noah was in a standoff with Jolly in the livingroom while Nick, Nicholas and Matt were onlookers.

"If you gave half a fuck as much as I do, you would have gone after her but instead you bed that stupid whore from last night to hide the truth of it all!", Jolly fired back. You could have heard a pin drop as all eyes turned to Noah.

"Jolly, you're like a brother to me but right now I'm two seconds away from decking your ass. She's fucking everything to me, to this band. None of us would survive without her. We'd all fucking starve to death", Noah explained. My breath caught in my throat as fresh tears filled my vision.

"Go tell her you love her, you fucktard, but you better do some hefty begging though. She's liable to lay you out flat before she lets you fuck her", Matt said with a grin, popping a few M&M's in his mouth. Noah, Jolly, Nick and Nicholas all turned to him before laughter erupted. I had to admit, I loved the sound.

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I stood looking out my window, fresh from a shower, towel still wrapped around my frame. Dark blue sky, not a cloud in sight, sun shinning. Days like this normally made me happy but a dark cloud of confliction loomed over me from what I had witnessed downstairs.

I was so lost in my train of thought that I didn't hear anyone come into the bedroom. I sighed loudly as I heard the door close.

"Not now, Jolly. I'll come down soon", I said, still gazing out the window.

"Jolly has seen you in a towel but I don't get to?", Noah's deep voice rang out. I spun, clutching the towel to my breasts.

"What the holy fuck, Sebastian?! Do you know what knocking is?", I all but screamed.

"I did knock but you didn't answer. I got worried and let myself in so I could check on you", Noah replied, walking over to the bed to sit down. I rolled my eyes and proceeded to walk by him and retreat into the bathroom but his hand shot out and latch onto my wrist, stopping me.

Noah rose to full height, engulfing me in his size. He hooked a finger inside the knot at my chest, yanking me so hard against his chest the towel came loose and fell to the floor. I craned my head back to stare up at him in shock as he brought his head down to brush my lips with his. I parted my lips as he fully slanted his across mine, his arms encircling my waist to hold me close.

The kiss was so soft and gentle, that hot tears prickled beneath my closed eyes. I whimpered and grabbed his forearms, my legs trembling. Noah rained gentle kisses down my neck to my collarbone as his long fingers gently carressed between my thighs before giving them a gentle tap. I parted them just enough and his middle finger slid between my folds to soflty swipe across my clit.

"So soft...so wet", Noah murmered against my skin. I whimpered again, a small plea for him to give me more. "Use your words, Princess. Tell me what you want".

"Please...I need more...I need you", I whispered, gripping his forearm even tighter.

"Good girl. Come here", Noah said, pulling his fingers from me and pulled me after him to the bed. I suddenly became aware of my nakedness and tried to cover myself up with my arms. Noah looked down at me and chuckled.

"My fingers have been in your pussy and you're worried about how you look? Lay down for me, beautiful and spread those pretty thighs", Noah smiled reassuringly. I bit my lip nervously but did as he asked. I hated the way my body was even more laying down than when I was standing.

I felt the bed dip as Noah layed down, face inches from my dripping pussy and I had never felt more vulnerable, exposed or turned on in my life. Without bothering to ask for permission, Noah's tongue swiped through my folds to run light circles around my clit as he slowly pushed two long fingers inside me up to his knucles. I could almost feel him at my cervix because his fingers were so fucking long. I gasped as he slowly thrust his fingers in and out of me, circling my clit a few times before plunging his fingers back inside me.

I gripped Noah's hair as he suddenly wrapped his lips around my clit while curling his fingers into a 'come hither' motion to rub that spongey spot inside me and my hips shot upwards. Noah chuckled and placed his free hand over my lower stomach to hold me in place, picking up the pace of his fingers.

"Please, please...I'm gonna' come...please, more, faster", I begged, throwing my head back against the pillow.

"Please what, Angel?", Noah asked, raising his head to look up at me. His dark eyes glittered with his own arousal.

"Please, make me come", I all but begged.

"Please ...?", Noah trailed off.

"Noah! Please, Noah!", I cried, thighs shaking. He smiled and lowered his head again to take my clit back in his mouth and suck hard while fucking his curled fingers inside me at an almost painful pace. I screamed out as my release coated his fingers and his hand. Before I even had time to recover, he positioned himself between my thighs and thrust his cock inside me until he was fully seated, triggering another orgasm as I raked my nails down his shoulders and arms.

I couldnt even think straight enough to try and figure out how he got his shorts and boxers off. Noah's thrusts were slow, deep, powerful even as his cock slowly dragged from my body only to spear back inside me until I felt the head hit my cervix. Noah lowered himself to capture my cries with his lips as his hips snapped faster. My legs lifted to wrap my thighs around his waist even tighter, the act causing him to sink impossibly deeper.

Pulling myself from his lips, I tried to catch my breath. Noah brought a hand to my breast, swiping his thumb over my nipple.

"Noah, please...I can't...you'll destroy me...my heart--", I said harshly but Noah's lips cut me off before he pulled away to look down at me.

"Your heart is mine. Your body is mine. You. Are. Mine", he empasized, his hips jackhammering against my thighs, cock pistoning against my cervix. I was losing the battle against my body. I couldn't fight it. "Come for me, Angel...come all over my dick".

Noah's words were my undoing. The coil inside me snapped, my body feeling like it could snap as my muscles grew taught and I screamed. My release triggered his own as he closed his eyes, mouth open, releasing every boiling rope of cum inside me. He collapsed on top of me, chest heaving. I ran my fingers through his hair until he rolled to his back, taking me with him so I layed across his chest, my leg tangled between his.

"I love you, Angel...I'm so sorry for being so stupid for this long", Noah whispered, placing a kiss to the top of my head.

"It's ok, Noah...better late than never", I replied, kissing his chest. "I love you, too".

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Probably should have made this two parts but I couldnt stop writing 🤷‍♀️

Thanks for reading 💫💟

@livingdeceasedgirl @exitwoundsx @artificialbreezy @lma1986 @thefallennightmare @concreteangel92 @concreteemo @dsireland86 @darling-millicent-aubrey @flowery-mess @amourtoken @gretaswhore28

#noah sebastian #bad omens #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian smut

[roseghoul26]

Hello! I would like to request Cooper Howard x gn!reader (post war, because...murderous cowboy...hnnngh), where they struggle with mental health issues like depression? I've been in a really tough spot, having no energy or motivation to do anything or really any desire to take care of myself. So I was thinking, maybe the reader's mental health is declining, they're slower and sloppier when it comes to keeping up with Cooper and he's more and more frustrated. Then one day he has enough (maybe the reader is taking too long packing up) and threatens to leave them and they're just...passive, because they really don't care anymore about what happens to them. So he realises they haven't been taking care of themselves properly for a while now and then some soft moments with him? I know this is pretty dark and you can change this however you'd like, but I'm dying for some hurt/comfort with this man 🥺 It's totally cool if it's too much for you, if you decide to not write this, please just let me know, so I don't wait for it. Thank you so much, I love your Cooper fics <3

Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x gn!Reader

Synopsis: You’ve been struggling lately, putting both you and your traveling companion in danger. He was bound to confront you about it eventually. Tags: Prompt Request, Not Beta Read, Gender Neutral Reader, Depression, Mental Health, Mentions of Suicide, Disagreements, Comfort, Lazy Day, Cuddling, Beginning Relationships Author's Note: Trigger warning for topics relating to mental health, such as depression and suicide. Please do not read if you’re not in a good mental space. Take care of yourselves. Also, everyone’s experience with depression and mental health issues differs, so I am writing this story the way I experience it. Also, this was a fun challenge to write. Like how the hell would he approach a topic like this? It’s been fun to explore his character like that, and I hope I did it justice. Thank you so much for the request! <333

You used to be able to keep up with the Ghoul. 

Wherever he went, you followed, tearing through the Wastleland without hindrance. You watched his back, and he yours, a security that was unheard of in this world. It was a trusting friendship, bordering on something else, something that neither of you had crossed yet. You couldn't compete with over a hundred years of experience with a gun, but you were able to hold your own quite well. You were a decent shot and someone who never let anyone get the drop on you, senses always sharp. 

So when you started missing easy targets and found yourself surprised by opponents one too many times, you knew it was a matter of time before the Ghoul started asking questions and not believing the first lie that you said. The first time it had happened, you blamed it on your lack of sleep, and he seemed to buy it. And maybe you convinced yourself it was just a lack of sleep, ignoring the darkness that had begun to emerge in your mind. You just needed to rest, was what you told yourself. 

It happened again a few days later, completely missing a target in front of you. Your reactions had begun to slow down, too, unable to avoid the swing of a blade, cutting across your cheek. It was like your body gave up on wanting to move, an unbearable weariness to your muscles that you were unable to shake. Later, as you bandaged the wound on your cheek, the Ghoul confronted you, demanding to know why you were acting so sloppy. You’d merely shrugged, offering up the idea that you were sick. This time he seemed less convinced, yet he had let the matter go. 

You knew why you were acting the way you were. You weren’t unfamiliar with depression, far from it. It was something you’d dealt with your entire life, coming and going like waves. You’d go days, weeks, months and you’d be fine, but then a flip would switch. You’d lose your energy, your motivation, wanting nothing more than to just lay on the ground and never get back up. You’d stop taking care of your body. You’d lose your appetite. Your thoughts would turn dark, ideations and ideas flashing in your mind, things that you’d never tell another soul. 

For the months you’d been traveling with the Ghoul, you’d been able to keep a reign on your depression. Sure, you had your off days, but nothing like this. It was like the universe was punishing you for having such an excellent past months. 

But how could you explain this to your traveling partner? How could you explain that you didn’t have the energy to continue existing, to continue fighting? He needed you to be alert, to not have your thoughts occupied with something, that in perspective to the Wasteland around you, was trivial. 

So you kept your mouth shut, forcing yourself to appear alert and unaffected. You forced those thoughts to the back of your mind. You forced your body to move, no matter how much it screamed at you to just be still.

But it seemed that all that bottling your thoughts up did was make it worse. As the days dragged on, you stopped talking, only muttering small words whenever the Ghoul asked you a question. You’d normally spend the time traveling conversing, and the Ghoul did try to initiate a conversation with you, but no amount of questions and joking and jabs could get you to break. Eventually, he fell quiet too.

Sleeping became a challenge. You’d think with how exhausted your body felt, you’d be able to sleep easily, but the opposite was true. Hours would tick by, and you’d lie awake, getting up the next morning more exhausted than before you went to bed. Your face, already a bit gaunt from living such a difficult life, had grown even more so, the circles around your eyes darkening and your lips growing more chapped. 

You stopped eating, turning away the food he offered you. After you went a few days without eating more than a bite, he practically forced spoonfuls of food into your mouth, snapping at you the entire time. It was humiliating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to change. You just wanted to be done. 

You could tell that your demeanor was starting to annoy the hell out of the Ghoul, whose words had turned shorter and snappier. If you took too long, he’d grab you by the shoulder and drag you along, like an upset parent with their child. Your cheeks would burn every time, tears pickling your eyes, and you’d hang your head. 

There was a tension growing between you and the Ghoul, your friendship growing thin. His guard was up constantly, unable to trust you any longer to watch his back, which hurt you more than any knife or gun. Soft glances disappeared, his gaze scrutinizing when he looked at you. Light touches from him reserved for when you were at rest were no more, as you chose to keep to yourself every night. Instead of walking side-by-side, you’d linger a few feet behind him. You pretended like it was easier this way, to make him push you away, but it was tearing you apart. 

But eventually, that tension snapped. Too many close calls, too many sluggish movements, too many half-hearted excuses finally made him break. You’d just gotten up for the day, another sleepless night behind you, and you were packing up your few belongings. You must’ve been taking too long, because you heard him sigh audibly, standing in the open doorway of the room you’d sheltered in for the night. “What’s your fuckin’ issue?” He growled, arms crossed tight over his chest.

You looked up, feigning confusion. “I dunno what-”

“Bullshit,” he cut you off. He began to walk towards you, his steps methodical, threatening. “You’ve been actin’ like this for weeks, and you’ve only offered me half-assed excuses.” He was seething, and understandably so. He crouched down in front of you, rendering you unable to escape. “So, you,” he stuck a finger in your chest, barely avoiding hitting you, “are gonna tell me why. And don’t even think ‘bout lyin’, sweetheart.”

You swallowed, heart hammering in your chest at the confrontation. Words flooded your mind, a full explanation on the tip of your tongue, yet you just couldn’t bring yourself to utter it. Your mouth opened and closed, struggling, until you eventually just gave up. Sighing, you just shook your head, which pissed him off even more. 

A disbelieving laugh left him, and he ran a gloved hand over his face. “No? You’re kiddin’ me, right?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Ya know, I’ve tried to be lenient. I bought into your fuckin’ lies that you were ‘just tired’, ‘just sick’. I tried to give ya space, to give ya time to get out of this. But you’re gonna get us both killed if ya don’t fix yourself. I can’t be distracted out there, constantly worried ‘bout you and keepin’ you alive, ‘cause it seems like that’s the last thing on your mind.”

He took a breath, steadying his rising voice. “So I’m gonna give ya one more chance to explain yourself, or else I’m leavin’ without ya.”

“Then leave.” Your response came almost immediately, your voice lacking any inflection. Even though in the back of your mind you were screaming at him not to leave, you kept an air of indifference about you, unable to make yourself care. It would be easier if he just left, wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t be putting anyone else in danger, and you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt you felt of him worrying about you so much. And it would be so much easier to just disappear if there was no one looking for you.

He wasn’t expecting that as a response if the look on his face told you anything. His brow muscles were raised, leaning back from you in shock. But the way he was watching you, it was like he was observing you in a different light, dots beginning to connect in his mind. “You’ll die out there without me.” 

You merely shrugged your shoulders, glancing down to continue packing your belongings, no longer able to look him in the eye. He didn’t respond, simply standing up with a sigh. You didn’t look up, not even as you heard him walk away, backing towards the entrance of the room. You didn’t look up, even as you heard the surprisingly gentle click of the door as it shut. You didn’t look up, even as the tears that you’d been holding for the past weeks finally fell.

You were alone.

You thought it would make you feel better like there would be a weight lifted off your shoulders. But everything just felt heavier, the thoughts in your mind becoming a tempest, making you physically weak. Expletives tumbled from your lips as you sagged down onto your arms, head hung. Of course, he’d fucking leave, you idiot. No one wants to deal with your moping.

A part of you wanted to chase after him, to beg him to stay, but you already felt pathetic enough. You couldn’t blame him for leaving, not at all. You were weighing him down, putting his life in danger; he said so himself. He could only deal with you for so long. You should be grateful that he didn’t leave sooner.

The sound of rustling fabric made you jump, finally looking up. The Ghoul had taken off his jacket, laying it across the back of the couch he had slept on, never having left the room at all. Stunned, you watched him sit, taking his hat off in the process and setting it on the floor. He finally caught your eye then, a soft look on his face, a look you hadn’t seen in a long while. 

“I thought you left,” you whispered, sitting back upright. Embarrassment warmed your cheeks, and you tried to wipe the tears that had fallen on them. 

“I ain’t leavin’ ya, sweetheart.”

“Why not?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Do you want me to go?” You’d never shaken your head faster in your life. “Then I’m stayin’.”

“But why?”

He sighed. “‘Cause I care ‘bout you. I… Is that too hard to believe?”

It is. Unable to find words, you just shrugged again. 

Something akin to regret or remorse flashed across his face, and muttering something under his breath he reclined against the couch. He was upset, but even now you could tell it was not because of you, at least not fully. “C’mere,” he murmured, patting the couch beside him. “You look like you’re gonna fuckin’ bolt at any second.”

Taking a steadying breath, you complied, albeit with some difficulty, your legs barely wanting to function. His gaze didn’t leave you once, as much as you wished it would, making you want to collapse in on yourself. The walk to the couch felt like it was miles long, but you eventually made your way over to it and him. 

He rolled his eyes when you just stood there in front of him, unsure of what to do with yourself. “Sit down, I ain’t gonna fuckin’ bite.” In another situation, you knew he’d add some comment like unless ya want me to, but he bit his tongue. The couch groaned as you sat next to the Ghoul, keeping a foot between your bodies. “Talk to me,” he commanded, yet his voice was gentle. “What the hell’s goin’ on?”

You picked at the skin around your nails, no doubt drawing blood. “I’m… I’m not quite sure how to explain it,” you responded, and you expected your words to upset the man even more. But he nodded his head slowly, an almost understanding look on his face. “I’m just… done."

“Done with… what? Bein’ out on the road?” You shook your head. “Travellin’ with me?” You shook your head again, this time more vehemently. “Done with what?” You knew that he knew the answer to his question, but he wanted you to say it.

“I’m done with… with existing. I just can’t bring myself to care anymore. I’m just so tired of it all.” You sagged back against the couch like speaking took a toll on your body. “I’m so tired.”

He didn’t respond for a while, mulling over your words. “That… that explains a lot,” he chuckled humourlessly. “Your mind won’t just leave ya the hell alone, will it? It's like all your mind can focus on are these terrible fuckin’ things, no matter what ya do. And it just weighs on ya, like a million pounds, getting worse with every passin’ day until you just wanna… give up.”

He explained it perfectly, and you cocked your head to the side, a bit confused about how he was able to do so. “I ain’t a stranger to what you’re goin’ through. We’re well fuckin’ acquainted, to say the least. So I shoulda recognized it sooner with ya.” 

He paused, sighing. “Wanna know somethin’?” You nodded. “I was too busy thinkin’ ‘bout what I did to upset ya that I didn’t bother to think of any other possible reason as to why you’re actin’ the way you are. But once I realized it wasn’t my fault, not entirely, instead of bein’ there for ya, I was an ass. I thought, because I’m a damn idiot, that you were just mopin’ around for the hell of it, putting us both in danger simply ‘cause you were tired or some shit. Not once did I stop to think why. And I apologize.”

“You don’t gotta-” He cut you off with a pointed look. “I… I accept your apology, then.”

He nodded slowly, content. “I’d like to help ya, sweetheart. I know nothin’ I say or do is gonna make it go away like that… but I’d like to try. Whatever ya need from me, and you’ve got it.”

“I’m not sure what I need exactly,” you admitted quietly.

“When ya figure it out, will ya let me know?” You nodded.

“Just… be patient. As difficult as that is for you.” You hadn’t meant for the jab to come out, but you weren’t taking it back. Especially when a loud laugh left the Ghoul, making a smile of your own appear on your face. It was faint, yet it was there.

An almost starstruck expression appeared on his face, his laughter dying out. “I missed seein’ ya smile,” he murmured as if it was a subconscious thought.

You ducked your head, making him laugh again. “As for bein’ patient, well, I can be that, if that’s what ya need.”

“It’ll take some time,” you cautioned again, indirectly giving him a chance to back out of this. 

“Time ain’t an issue. I’ll wait as long as it fuckin’ takes.”

“You mean it?” Your voice was so soft, barely audible to either of you. 

You watched as one of his gloved hands inched towards you, palm upturned. Tentatively, you placed your in his, eyes growing wide when he brought your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it gently. “I swear,” he uttered, sealing the promise with another press of his lips.

As you returned your tingling hand to your lap, his eyes scanned over your face, a furrow appearing between his brow. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten somethin’? Somethin’ that I didn’t force ya to eat,” he added when you opened your mouth to respond. 

Your silence said enough, and he leaned down to his bag, which he had placed beside the couch when he sat. After a few moments of rustling through, he handed you a small bag of what appeared to be jerky, as well as a small canteen of water. “It ain’ human,” he added when you eyed the bag suspiciously before taking it.

The jerky was salty and tough when you took a bite, not quite wanting to, but unable to not eat under his gaze. You ate in silence until your stomach was full and your teeth hurt from the tough material. Taking a swig of water, you could feel your eyes growing heavy, eating seemingly draining your energy more than replenishing it. Stifling a yawn, you shoved the canteen back into his hand, and you noticed he had an almost pleased look on his face. 

You were confused, though, when he stood, making his way to the entrance of the room. For a moment, those thoughts flashed in your mind that told you that he was finally leaving, that he realized how pathetic you were. But instead of doing any of those things, you watched as he simply wedged a chair under the handle of the door, like he had done before you went to bed for the night. 

“What’re you doing?”

“We takin’ the day off. Doctor’s orders.”

“But aren’t we supposed to be in Filly in a few days?”

“We’ll be fine. You are gonna spend today catchin’ up on some much-needed rest.” He stood in front of you now, a moth-eaten blanket in his hands. 

“And what are you gonna do?” You asked, and he shrugged. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart. Go ‘head, lie down.”

Your eyes quickly scanned the couch, and you took a deep breath before speaking again. “The couch is big enough for us both, no?”

For the second time that day, you’d stunned him with your responses. “Is… is that what ya want?”

Encouraged that he hadn’t just outrightly said no, you nodded your head, and a fond look crossed his features. He handed you the blanket before sitting once more, but instead of his back being against the cushions, he rested it against one of the armrests, not before tucking a pillow in front of it. 

Once he was situated, he opened up his arms to you, and you could’ve laughed at how uncertain he looked. Hands rested on your body when you laid down, head on his chest, laying on your stomach, and you made sure the blanket covered both your bodies as best you could. You weren’t too worried about covering all of you, though, with the sheer amount of warmth he was radiating. 

His eyes were already on you when you glanced up, a smile pulling at his lips. “Comfy?”

“Yes.” Your voice was barely audible, but he heard it. 

You felt his fidget with something in his hand behind your back, but you didn’t have to wait long to find out what he was doing. You felt fingers run along your scalp, making you shudder, before combing through any hair there. “Alright?”

You sighed contently, nodding your head before letting it fall back onto his chest. He continued to run his fingers there, his other hand tracing patterns across your shoulders. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until now, finding it hard to keep your eyes open. For the first time in a long time, you felt safe. Safe from the world outside this room. Safe from the thoughts that plagued your mind. Safe from everything. 

He didn’t have to see your face to know that you were struggling to stay awake. “Go to bed. I’ll be here when you wake.”

“Promise?”

“Ain’t fuckin’ like I’m gonna be able to get up,” he chuckled, before taking a more serious tone. “I promise.”

That was all you needed to hear before you finally let the final strings of consciousness leave your grasp. Before you lost control of all your senses, though, you felt him lean down, pressing a barely-there kiss to the top of your head. “You’ll get through this, sweetheart.”

You believed him.

#the ghoul x you #the ghoul x reader #fallout tv series #cooper howard #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x reader #fallout prime #fallout show #fallout

[jasmineoolongtea]

hii!! i recently just started following you and i don’t wanna overload you with anything so i stress that i urge you to take your time and if you feel like you need to tweak anything then you can since i noticed you barely opened requests :)) i was just wondering if you could write something ( whether it be headcanons or a fic ) about gojo having a jujutsu sorcerer for a girlfriend / partner and his students don’t know so they’re all shocked when they just see this badass person next to gojo and he just casually introduces them as his partner lol. just a thought!! make sure to take care of yourself 💕

a/n: thank you smmmm for the kind words <333 yes omg i love this idea and honestly, i imagine gojo pretending to be chill on the outside but on the inside he's fangirling the same way his students are over his partner cause he's just so whipped and down bad for them jdjsndnsbd

"Shhhh! Quiet down, you two or you're gonna get us all caught." Nobara hisses through her teeth at Megumi and Yuji, trying her best to be quiet. It was quite a comical sight actually, the three students were all stacked on top of each other as they all attempted to crane their necks into the doorway as discretely as they possibly could.

"I still don't understand why we can't just ask like normal people." Megumi sighs, clearly exasperated at his friend's antics.

"You're such a buzzkill, Fushiguro." Nobara scolds him over her shoulder. It was like he didn't even understand the gravity of this situation.

This wasn't a situation where they could just waltz in and chat it up like regular unless they were intent on embarrassing themselves. This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to meet the current rising star of the jujutsu world: the newly minted special-grade sorcerer L/N Y/N who was famed for being highly elusive, never being in one place for too long to be tied down to somewhere.

Rumours and stories were constantly swirling about you ranging from the more serious ones about your incredible feats of jujutsu and how you managed to exorcise a grade 1 curse for one of your very first missions without breaking a single sweat to more silly ones like that you only wash your face with the purest spring water that was imported from the Swiss Alps and that allegedly you and Gojo Satoru were seeing each other. She thought the last one was particularly dumb as she was sure that a person of your calibre would have better taste than to date their man-child of a teacher, even if he was the strongest. Whatever it was, Nobara was not going to let those two ruin her chances of possibly being able to talk with you face to face.

Above her, Yuji groans out in pain as he feels an elbow jam into his stomach.

"Hey! That hurts!" Yuji complains loudly, his grip tightening around the wooden door frame.

"Can't you be in pain more quietly?" Nobara asks and with that, the two of them were sent into a bickering spat as they traded harsh whispers and snappy comments. However, this would prove to be their end as Megumi eventually loses his balance from all of the commotion above him and tumbles onto the floor with the other two following suit as they land in what can only be described as a failed human pretzel.

Unfortunately, their crash was not as quiet as Nobara was hoping for as one of the office's inhabitants stood up from his seat, seemingly made aware of their presence. "Oh? It seems like we have some eavesdroppers in our midst."

You hum to yourself, your back still facing the doorway as you turn to your white-haired companion. "Is that true?"

"Yes, I think I might know who they are as well. If only they would be so brave enough to reveal themselves." Gojo sighs dramatically, even bringing a hand to his chest as if to feign sympathy. You can't help but giggle softly at his behaviour.

The three of them take that as their cue to stand up, dusting themselves off as they slowly make their way into the office in a single file line. When Nobara sees you, she can't even let herself fully fangirl because the amount of embarrassment she has at getting caught trying to eavesdrop is far outweighing it right now.

Gojo makes his way towards his students as they stand lined up, his hands rubbing together and a devious grin on his face as he puts on his best menacing voice. "Now now now, what do we have here?"

"Satoru, take it easy on them. I'm sure they meant no harm by it." You place a hand on his shoulder as you stroll up to his side. His arms immediately fall to his side as he melts under your touch.

An adorable pout graces his features, his bottom lip jutted out in an attempt to put on his best puppy dog look as he whines at you, "Awww, but you're ruining my funnn. I don't get that many opportunities to do this."

"Sensei, they know you by your first name?" Yuji questions, his head tilted slightly to the side as he tries to figure out what relationship you two could possibly have.

A sly snicker is heard from Gojo as he quirks his eyebrows towards you. "They know me in a lot more ways than just that" he quips back, his tone bordering on being an outright innuendo.

You roll your eyes affectionately at him, clearly used to his playful nature by this point, and give him a light shove on the shoulder to which he pretends to exaggeratedly nurse in pain.

"Sorry for not introducing myself properly, my name is L/N Y/N and I'm a special-grade sorcerer here on a visit to Tokyo Jujustu High." You smile warmly at your boyfriend's students, your hands clasped in front of you as you greet them.

Nobara could feel her breath hitch in her throat as a million thoughts ran through her mind. Oh my god, you, her idol, were actually right in front of her and were acknowledging her. She swears she could die happy right this instance but that would mean that she wouldn't get to take full advantage of the chance to talk to you fully. With that, she snaps out of her star-struck daze and politely inquires, "If you don't mind me asking L/N-san, what are you here for?"

"Oh, they're here to visit yours truly, me!" Gojo chimes in, a megawatt grin on his face with a sense of pride radiating off of him as he motions to himself.

A tsk sound escapes Nobara, clearly distrustful of her teacher's statement. "Yeah right, they have way more important things to be doing than that."

"But it's true though! My lovely partner is here to pay a surprise visit to me!"

"There's no way that that's true. You and them?" As if to punctuate her point, she points at you and Gojo standing side by side and firmly shakes her head. "Nuh uh. They wouldn't date the likes of you."

A soft smack is heard as Gojo theatrically clutches his chest, stumbling back from where he stands to drape himself over you. "It wounds me to hear you say that Kugisaki." He claims, his expression twisted into one of faux pain. When he turns to face you, his demeanour suddenly switches as he leans in towards your ear, a roughish smile on his face with a faintly seductive lilt to his voice. "Maybe we should kiss to prove that it's true."

"Don't be crude, Satoru, they're your students and they're right in front of us." You try to brush him off of you in an attempt to spare his students from becoming witnesses to their teacher's love for PDA but he doesn't let go of his grip, instead choosing to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck as if trying to coax you to stay with him in his embrace. Like always, you relent to his touch with your fingers carding through his snowy locks, a soft sigh of approval leaving his lips.

There's a beat of silence as Nobara and Yuji try to process what they've just learned and the fact that they've just seen a visual confirmation of it before that peace is shattered and they erupt into a thousand questions. You field all of their burning questions ranging from ones about you to about your relationship with Gojo with grace, amused and endeared by their excitement and insatiable curiosity. Secretly, it warms your heart deeply that Gojo and his students are so comfortable with each other and that he can be himself around them without the pressure of the greater Jujutsu world on his back.

You turn to look at the clock and sigh at how fast time has gone by. "Alright, I'll see you at home Satoru and Megumi." You comment, packing up your belongings as you get ready to leave to attend to some business. Gojo leans down to your height as you place a lingering kiss against his cheek and wave him and his students goodbye.

Unblinking, Yuji and Nobara turn to each other and then to Megumi before they exclaim simultaneously. "You all live together!?"

Oh boy, Megumi knows he's going to be in for an earful with that.

#*ੈ✩‧₊🍵 asks #dividers by cafekitsune #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk drabbles #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #‧₊˚ ⋅ 🍵 writes

[allthegothihopgirls]

alfred, who writes in a journal every day unbeknownst to the bats.

alfred, who's journals aren't marked by a period of time, or his own age, instead by the names of those he looks after. when dick is first adopted, and he knows this change is permanent, he puchases a new journal, despite his existing one being only 2/3 full. this one has a simple 'richard' written with a gold accent on the cover, a change from the last 8, titled 'bruce'.

alfred, who somehow makes journaling more of a logbook, albeit still personal. he's writing about himself, sure. memories of old friends, his travels, stories he's heard, things he has experienced.

but he mainly writes of them, the things they do, how they act. their character quirks that they haven't even picked up on yet themselves. the things he wishes he could tell them as a parent, instead of butler. the things they should know about those who've come before them. the regrets he has, and changes he's making. how they've molded him into a new person.

alfred, who will take all this information to the grave. until then, they stay packed in their respective boxes, some dustier than others, in the back of his wardrobe in the manor.

the contents of those journals aren't specific to each kid. everyone's within those pages. in tim's there's a lot about jason, and damian's has a lot about bruce. nothing's overly invasive in them, and the furthest it strays from the truth is when sometimes alfred admits to believing a different set of events to whatever he's been told, and even then he's probably right.

jason, who receives his journals prematurely. there's only 2, there should have been more. it's painfully obvious the cutoff, how it wasn't supposed to end there, but still it did. he receives them post-resurrection, convinced he doesn't belong in the world. his memories of robin growing fogged and becoming twisted.

he reads them and he cries, maybe it's because he forgot how much good there was in those times, or maybe it's because that's the determining moment in his new life where he decides that he really deserves and wants to live, because his existence runs deeper than being the robin who died.

frankly it's quite jarring for jason, to read about himself from another's perspective. as much as i love the idea of him and alfred getting along the best out of all the kids, he definitely distances himself for a while to process everything. he slowly creeps back though.

no one else gets to read their share until alfred's gone, and when they do it goes unspoken, no one pries to know anything outside of their dedicated journals.

jason, after hesitance and much internal conflict, drops off his own on dick's nightstand one night. receiving them back, two weeks later, is a silent affair face-to-face.

tim, similarly, on no one's accord but his own, gives jason his, to keep. he says something about how he doesn't think they were ever about him, and they seemed much more like a sequel. he also apologises, and mentions how he almost felt like he was intruding on something. but he understands now, he doesn't clarify about what.

#cass + duke have one each too #batfam #batfamily #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #batboys #the robins #batkids #nightwing #red hood #robin #red robin #dc comics #dcu #dc #gothihop speaks

[queenofapeacefuldawn]

An Analysis of SPY × Family Chapter 99

Manga spoilers, and a very long post ahead!

I'd like to preface this with saying that all of this is my own analysis, and I'm not very smart at these things, so take this with a grain of salt!

This chapter was extremely heavy: with Henry realising his feelings for Martha, and how it echoed the main theme of this story: how war destroys relationships and how innocent civilians are forced to enlist out of fear for their families' safety.

The chapter starts off, continuing off the cliffhanger of the last chapter— it turns out to be a false alarm, but Martha leaves her feelings for Henry unsaid.

She begins writing letters to Henry, and they keep a regular correspondence to substitute for their tea parties--

The war continues to grow dire, and Martha's squad hasn't been given any combat training, yet, they're forced to go to the front lines, under the pretext of "serving your country" and "keeping your family safe".

Henry is obviously shocked and scared for Martha when he finds out she's on the front lines, but we never get to hear his thoughts with the introduction of this fucking bitch-

🤓☝️ lookin ass--

In this chapter, we get to see Donovan's own ideals, which are shown through his argument in the debate. Interestingly, Donovan is almost the same age as Demetrius is in the present-day. (At least, that's what I'm assuming-- Henry mentions being in charge of the middle schoolers, and Demetrius is a middle-schooler.)

He claims,

I have a couple of thoughts about this. First,

"I know that solving differences with dialogue and weapons is ideal". The phrasing of this is interesting, because it kind of sounds like he doesn't believe in that-- he just knows that solving differences with diplomacy instead of war is 'ideal', but does he really believe in that? I don't think he does-- and, his own definition of 'peace' is definitely... ambiguous. What does he think 'peace' is? Subjugating other countries with his own power?

He already has a strange concept of humanity and other humans' own ideals-- he believes that, at our core natures, human beings are liars. That the only thing we're capable of is war and destruction.

This is also very similar to his own ideals that we see in modern-day. He doesn't care about either of his sons, as he says, they are essentially strangers to him. And, you might have raised them (though with Donovan, "raised" is a stretch), you might be their own father, according to him, he will never truly know his sons. Which is why he doesn't even attempt to understand them. His own ignorance for human nature and for others around him is really what makes him a failure of a father-- we are never truly born "knowing" others. Yet, every day, we make an attempt to learn the people we care about-- and isn't that a little of what love is? Take the Forgers-- they are three strangers to each other, each concealing their own natures from the others. They're all liars, and yet, they're making an effort to heal; they're learning to love and they're learning to learn about the people around them, the people they care about.

This is his flawed ideology. In his world, humans are strangers-- humans are nothing to each other, they're always hiding their true intentions from each other. Humans can't be trusted-- humans don't trust each other, which is why war and destruction and pain is all humanity is capable of.

But it's really not. SxF's message is of how three strangers--- three orphans of a war they were forced to partake in--- come together and form a home. Yes, they are liars, yes, they're hiding their true intentions, but they're making a home for themselves, a home where one can be safe, where a young girl, who's experienced horrors no child should, can feel safe and in her mother's arms.

Which is why I think Donovan's ideology is so flawed--- and how beats of it echo in the modern-day SxF story, especially when Twilight meets him.

Yes, by mere dialogue, reaching a mutual understanding is idealistic, but the most important thing is to not stop seeking to understand each other.

Humans are flawed, humans are selfish, humans are kind--- there's a debate on whether, intrinsically, humans are good or bad. We're all given different cards to play with, but really, it's up to us to decide on our faith in humanity.

It seems like Donovan has a wholly negative view on humans--- we can never know each other's true intentions, and it's with this doubt that humans wage wars--- it's with this doubt that humans lie and kill and cause destruction.

It's because of this doubt that Desmond is planning a war himself.

Martha writes Henry a letter, and she talks about a dream where all the students are holding hands, circling Henry. She can't join them because her hands are filthy--- maybe it's guilt? Maybe she's feeling guilty, maybe she feels like she can't join the others because her hands are stained with blood.

She's scared. She's regretting joining the front lines. Her only solace is the letters from him. The only way he knows she's alive is the letters from her.

I feel like another story would have taken a turn, making Henry regret his own feelings for Martha because the war had torn them apart. Instead, Henry realises his own feelings and his own wants too late-- and it becomes the last letter he gets from her.

It feels like an extra gut punch, as in the beginning Martha was embarrassed to call him "beloved", but now, he's calling her beloved, and he misses her so much. He cares for her so much, and doesn't know how she is.

All he can think is---

His hands are stained with ink. The nib of his pen is almost breaking. Ink is bleeding onto the page. In Martha's dream, her hands are stained with blood due to her desire to protect Henry and her country. In Henry's reality, his hands are stained with ink due to his desire for Martha to come back, be with him again. The Soldier and the Scholar, each trapped in their own Hell.

Henry finds out that Martha's squad has been killed. Their lives were a "sacrifice" for their country. This is blatant propaganda, and, he feels they're sullying her memory by mythologizing her; by using her life, using her death as a way to snare more students into a violent and hopeless and painful battle.

He speaks out. He's punished.

He's been brutalised so much, that he needs to wear a monocle.

We learn more about Donovan's and Henry's own ideals. Donovan gives up on people who've disappointed him-- people who he deems as fools. Henry doesn't believe in that. He believes that everybody deserves to not be given up on--- every body deserves a person in their own corner.

Towards the end of the chapter, Henry's forced into a marriage by his father, believing it's "for the best", because the soldier he was waiting for never came back to him.

We cut to "Somewhere near the East-West border", to a home with a fireplace. Martha is just opening her eyes, and is severely injured.

This definitely isn't a safehouse or military barracks or a military hospital.

A home with a family, or at least a person, with a fireplace and a chopping block for firewood.

This place is also near the sea,

which makes me think it's somewhere near the south. (If I'm remembering the map correctly).

Edit: The map is faithful to irl Germany, which means the sea is to the north, not the south. Sorry for the discrepancy before!

I'm thinking someone rescued Martha while she was injured, and brought her to their place to rest and recuperate--- which is why she's presumed dead, and why Henry wasn't ever given closure.

The next chapter is no doubt going to be explosive--- the 100th chapter. I feel like this arc will segue into something bigger, something more heart-wrenching and painful (I don't know how that's possible, but I trust Endo-sensei.)

---

Thank you for making this far and reading this whole thing! I hope you enjoyed, and I hope I wasn't annoying with my hatred for Donovan lol.

Also, on a more light-hearted note, I explained the plot of SxF to my dad, and he's intrigued and wants to read the manga. I'm planning on showing him the first ep of the anime, to see if he likes it. I feel like he will.

#spy x family #sxf #spy x family manga #sxf manga #spy x family manga spoilers #sxf manga spoilers #spy x family chapter 99 #sxf chapter 99 #spy x family chapter 99 spoilers #sxf chapter 99 spoilers #henry henderson #martha marriott #donovan desmond #damian desmond #demetrius desmond #loid forger #agent twilight

[delicateartisantrash]

Cybertronian Language Ref Project

So, I was absolutely ASTOUNDED to discover there isn't, as far as I could find, any dedicated directory of a List Of Words for the Cybertronian languages, though there is some documentation on the written languages themselves.

Inspired by those, I started creating a document to keep track of Cybertronic languages used in the fanfictions I write, because I have an obsession for fantasy language in a story actually being written out.

Would anyone be interested in sharing this resource? I don't have terribly many words installed yet, and I mostly focus on the common tongue since that's what comes up most often in my stories so far, but I plan to flesh out all of them with time.

Imagine some of the fun miscommunications between Decepticons and Autobots who are mingling, when they have the same spoken word but they mean vastly different things >:DDD

#Transformers #fanmade lore #lore #fanmade #fandom #language #reference #fantasy #fantasy language #fake language #Cybertronian #Cybertronic #Ancient DEcepticon #Ancient Autobot #Ancient #Maccadam #Transformers Prime #Transformers Armada #Shattered Glass #because those are the three timelines I primarily write for and yank lore from WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE #writing #project #resource #writing resource #writing reference #language reference

[nyxshadowhawk]

A Retrospective on Harry Potter

Why did I like it in the first place? What about it worked? Where do I go from here?

I have decided to give up Harry Potter.

J.K. Rowling’s reputation now stinks to high heaven. At this point, she is quite indefensible. And even if that weren’t the case, she is not someone that I would want to associate with anyway. Meanwhile, the internet has not only turned against her, but against Harry Potter itself. An innocent question on Reddit, about which Hogwarts Houses the ATLA characters would be in, got downvoted to oblivion. Innumerable Tumblr threads insist that fantasy fans should get into literally anything else (suggestions include Discworld, Earthsea, The Wheel of Time, and Percy Jackson). And now that Harry Potter is no longer a sacred cow, there has been a recent slew of video essays that rip it to shreds, attacking it for its poor worldbuilding, unoriginality, and the problematic ideas baked into the original books (like the whole SPEW thing), etc. Those criticisms always existed, but now they’re getting thrown into the limelight.

It pains me to see such an ignoble downfall of Harry Potter’s reputation. If Rowling had just kept her damn mouth shut, Harry Potter would have aged gracefully, becoming a beloved children’s classic. I'd still plan to introduce it to my own kids one day (after Rowling dies and the dust settles). It’s not surprising that not all aspects of it have aged well, since it’s been more than twenty years since its original publishing date, and everything starts to show its age after that long. I acknowledge that most of the criticisms of the series that I’ve seen lately are valid, and I’ve read plenty of better books. And yet, when I return to the books themselves, even with the knowledge of who JKR really is inside my head, I still really enjoy reading them! There’s still a lot about them that I think works!

None of the other things I’ve read have had as collossal of an impact upon my identity, my values, and my own writing as Harry Potter. It’s hard to move on from it, not just because it’s something I enjoy, but because I have to literally extract my identity from it. I don’t know who I’d be without Harry Potter. I don’t know what my work would look like without Harry Potter. I don’t know how to carry it with me as just another piece of media that I like, as opposed to a filter for who I am as a person. So, with all that in mind, I have to ask myself why I liked Harry Potter so much in the first place. If I’m going to move on from it, then I have to be able to define and isolate the things about it that I want to keep with me. Something about it obviously worked, on a massive scale. So what was it?

It’s not the worldbuilding. The worldbuilding is objectively quite terrible, especially in comparison to that of other fantasy writers who knew what they were doing. At best, it’s inconsistent and poorly thought-out, and at worst it’s insensitive or even racist. Is it the characters? The characters are, in my opinion, one of the stronger parts of the story. But I felt very called-out by one of the many online commentators, who said that anyone who identifies with Harry is too cowardly to write self-insert fic. (I do not remember who said it or even which site it was on, but I distinctly remember the phrase, “Reject Harry Potter, embrace Y/N.”) The reason why people get so invested in Harry Potter’s characters is because they’re easy to project upon, and it’s possible that my love of Harry comes more from over a decade’s worth of projection than anything else. The incessant arguments over characters like Snape, Dumbledore, and James Potter ultimately stem from the fact that these characters do not always come across the way Rowling wanted them to. As for the writing itself, it’s decent, but not spectacular. Harry Potter is something of a sandbox world, with less substance than it appears to have and a crapton of missed opportunities, making it ripe for fanfic. For more than ten years, I’ve been doing precisely that — using Harry Potter as a jumping-off point to fill in the gaps and develop my own ideas, some of which became my original projects.

So what does Harry Potter actually have that sets it apart? Why are people so desperate to be part of Harry Potter’s world if the worldbuilding is bad? What, specifically, is so compelling about it? I think that there’s one answer, one thing that is at the center of Potter-mania, and that has been the underlying drive of my love of it for the past decade and a half: the vibe.

Harry Potter’s vibe is immaculate.

You know what I mean, right? It’s not actually a product of any specific trope, but rather a series of aesthetic elements: The wizarding school in a grand castle, with its pointed windows and torches and suits of armor, ghosts and talking portraits and moving staircases, its Great Hall with floating candles and a ceiling that looks like the night sky, its hundreds of magically-concealed secret doorways. Dumbledore’s Office, behind the gryphon statue, with armillary spheres in every single shot. Deliberate archaisms that evoke the Middle Ages without going as far as a Ren Faire: characters wearing heavy robes, writing with quills and ink on parchment instead of paper, drinking from goblets, decorating with tapestries. Owls, cats, toads. Cauldrons simmering in a dungeon laboratory. Shelves piled with dusty tomes, scrolls, glass vials, crystal balls, hourglasses. Magical candy shaped like insects and amphibians. A library with a restricted section. A forbidden forest full of unicorns and werewolves. That is the Vibe.

There are five armillary spheres just in this shot. They are unequivocally the most Wizard of tabletop decor.

There’s more to it than just the aesthetic, though. The vibe is present in something that writers call soft worldbuilding.

There’s a phrase that writers use to describe magic systems, coined by Brandon Sanderson: hard magic and soft magic. Sanderson’s first law of magic is, “An author’s ability to solve problems with magic is directly proportional to how well the reader understands said magic.” A hard magic system has clearly-defined rules — you know where magic comes from, how it works and under which conditions, how the characters can use it, and what its limitations are. Examples of really good hard magic systems include Avatar: The Last Airbender and Fullmetal Alchemist. If the audience doesn’t understand the conditions under which magic can work, then using magic to get out of any kind of scrape risks feeling like the writer pulled something out of their ass. It begs the question, “Well, if they could do that, then why didn’t they do that before?”

You may come away from that thinking that having clearly-defined rules is always better worldbuilding than not having them, but this isn’t the case. Soft magic isn’t fully explained to the audience, but that doesn’t matter, because it isn’t trying to solve problems — its purpose is to be evocative. Soft magic enhances the atmosphere of a world by creating a sense of wonder. If your everyman protagonist is constantly running into cool magical shit that they don’t understand, then the world feels like it teems with magic, magic that is greater and more powerful than they know, leaving lots of secrets to uncover. Harry Potter, at least in the early books, excels at this. The soft magic in Harry Potter is what got me hooked, and I think it’s what a lot of other people liked about it, too.

The essence of soft magic is best summed up by this scene in the fourth film, in which Harry enters the Weasleys’ tiny tent at the Quidditch World Cup, only to find that it’s much bigger on the inside. His reaction is to smile and say, “I love magic.”

That’s it. That’s the essence of it. You don’t need to know the exact spell that makes the tent bigger on the inside. You don’t need to know how Dumbledore can make the food appear on the table with a flick of a wand, or how he can make a bunch of poofy sleeping bags appear with another flick. You don’t need to know how and why the portraits or wizard cards move. You don’t need to know how wizards can appear and disappear on a whim, or what the Deluminator is, or where the Sword of Gryffindor came from. You don’t need to know how the Room of Requirement works. Knowing these things defeats the purpose. It kills the vibe, that vibe being that there is a large and wondrous magical world around you that will always have more to discover.

One of the best “soft magic” moments in the books comes early in Philosopher’s Stone, when Harry is trying to navigate Hogwarts for the first time:

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk. —Philosopher’s Stone, Chapter 8

Many of these details don’t come back later in the series, which is a shame, because this one paragraph is super evocative! It establishes Hogwarts as an inherently magical place, in which the very architecture doesn’t conform to normal rules. Hogwarts seems like it would be exciting to explore (assuming you weren’t late for class), and it gets even better when you learn about all the secret rooms and passages. The games capitalized on this by building all the secret rooms behind bookcases, mirrors, illusory walls, etc. into the game world, and rewarding you for finding them. The utter fascination that produces is hard to overstate.

Another one of the most evocative moments in the first book is when Harry sees Diagon Alley for the first time, after passing through the magically sealed brick wall (the mechanics of which, again, are never explained). This is your first proper glimpse at the wizarding world and what it has to offer:

Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, “Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad....” A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium — Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Harry heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand — fastest ever —" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon.... —Philosopher’s Stone, Chapter 5

What works so well here is the magical weirdness of wizardishness juxtaposed against normalcy. Eeylops Owl Emporium is just a pet shop to wizards. A woman makes a very mundane complaint about the price of goods, but the goods happen to be dragon liver. Broomsticks are treated like cars. All of these small moments contribute to the feeling of the wizarding world being alive, inhabited, and also magical. It gets you to ask the question of what your life would be like if you were a wizard. What do wizards wear? What do they eat? What do they haggle over and complain about? What do they do for fun?

In Book 3, Harry enjoys Diagon Alley for a few weeks when he suddenly has free time, and we get to experience the wizarding world in a state of “normalcy,” when he isn’t trying to save the world. He gets free ice creams from Florean Fortescue, gazes longingly at the Firebolt, and engages with delightfully weird people. He’s a wizard, living a (briefly) normal wizard life among other wizards in wizard-land. And that is fun. It’s so fun, that people want that experience for themselves, enough for there to be several theme parks and other immersive experiences dedicated to recreating the world of Harry Potter.

One of the greatest things about Universal was its phenomenal attention to detail. You can hear Moaning Myrtle’s voice in the women’s bathroom, and only the women’s bathroom. The walls of the Three Broomsticks have shadows of a broom sweeping by itself and an owl flying projected against the wall, so convincingly that you’ll do a double take when you see it. Knockturn Alley is down a little secret tunnel off of the main street, and that’s where you have to go to buy Dark Arts-themed stuff. It’s really well done.

Another thing that contributes to the vibe, in my opinion, is that the wizarding world is slightly macabre. They eat candy shaped like frogs, flies, mice, and so forth, and they have gross-tasting jellybeans. In the film’s version of the Diagon Alley sequence above, there’s a random shot of a pet bat available for purchase. In the third film, when Harry is practicing the Patronus Charm with Lupin, the candles are shaped like human spines. In the first book, this is Petunia’s description of Lily’s behavior after she became a witch:

Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school, and came home every holiday with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was — a freak! —Philosopher’s Stone, Chapter 4

I remember reading this for the first time, and it just kind of made intuitive sense to me. I suppose it fits into the “eye of newt and toe of frog” association between magical people and gross things, but somehow it works. Unfortunately, this is retconned later with the knowledge that wizards can’t use magic outside school, but before that limitation gets imposed, the idea of Lily amusing herself by turning teacups into rats seems like an inherently witchy thing to do.

That association between magic and the macabre shows up elsewhere, as well. In The Owl House, Luz’s interest in gross things is one of the things that marks her as a “weirdo” in the real world. When she goes to the magical world of the Boiling Isles, weird and gross stuff is absolutely everywhere. That world’s vibe leans more towards the macabre than the whimsical, but it works because you sort of expect the gross stuff to exist alongside the concept of witches, and that they would be an intrinsic part of the world they inhabit. You don’t question it, because it’s part of the vibe.

(The Owl House is one of the few things I’ve encountered that has a similar vibe to Harry Potter, but it’s still not the same vibe. In fact, The Owl House outright mocks the expectation that magical worlds be whimsical, and directly mocks Harry Potter more than once. The overall vibe is much closer to Gravity Falls.)

The Harry Potter films utilize a lot of similar soft worldbuilding with the background details, especially in the early films that were still brightly-colored and whimsical. For example, the scene in Flourish and Blotts in the second film has impossibly-stacked piles of books and old-timey looking signs describing their subjects, which include things like “Celestial Studies” and “Unicorns.” When Harry arrives in the Burrow in the same film, one of the first things he sees is dishes washing themselves and knitting needles working by themselves, taking completely mundane things and instantly establishing them as magical. In that Patronus scene with Harry and Lupin, the spine-candles and a bunch of random orbs (and the obligatory giant armillary sphere) float around in the background. One small detail that I personally appreciate is the designs on the walls above the teacher’s table in the Great Hall, which are from an alchemical manuscript called the Ripley Scroll:

It’s all these little things that add up to produce The Vibe.

Obviously, much of the vibe is expressed very well in John Williams’ score for the first three Harry Potter films. The mystical minor key of the main theme, the tinkly glockenspiel, the strings, the rising and falling notes that mimic the fluttering of an owl, the flight of a broomstick, or the waving of a wand. That initial shot of the castle across the lake as the orchestra swells, as the children arrive at their wizarding school:

If you grew up with Harry Potter, just looking at this image gives you The Vibe. The nostalgia hit is definitely part of it, but The Vibe was already there, back when you were a child and you didn’t have nostalgia yet.

In my opinion, only Williams’ score captures this vibe — the later films, though their scores are very good, do not. But the soundtrack of the first two video games, by Jeremy Soule (the same person who did Skyrim) absolutely nails it. This, right here, is Harry Potter’s vibe, condensed and distilled:

This is why I feel invalidated by the common advice “just read another book.” I have read other books. I’ve read plenty of other books, many of which are wonderfully written and have left an impact on me. But there’s still only one Harry Potter. To date, there’s only other book that has filled me with a similarly intense longing for a fictional place, and that is The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern. That book deliberately prioritized atmosphere over everything else in the story, and actually lampshades this in-universe. The Night Circus has a plot and it has characters, but it’s not about its plot or characters. It’s about the setting and its atmosphere. It swallows you up and transports you to a fictional place that is so evocative and so magical that you just have to be part of it or you’ll die. And even then, The Night Circus has a different kind of vibe from Harry Potter. In this particular capacity, there’s nothing else like Harry Potter.

The thing is, I don’t think Rowling was being as deliberate as Erin Morgenstern. (In fact, given many of Rowling’s recent statements, I question how many of her creative choices were deliberated at all.) She was throwing random magical stuff into the background without thinking too hard about it, which works when you’re writing a kids’ story, but stops working when you try to age it up. Actually, scratch that — soft worldbuilding is definitely not just for kids! The Lord of the Rings has a soft magic system, for crying out loud, and Tolkien is the original archmage of worldbuilding. Don’t listen to anyone who tells you that prioritizing atmosphere over meticulousness is bad worldbuilding. That is a valid way to worldbuild! Not everything needs to be clearly explained, not everything needs to make sense. The problem is that Harry Potter doesn’t balance it well. Certain things do have to be explained in order for the magic to play an active role in the story (and the setting of a magic school lends itself to that kind of explanation), but no rules are ever established for the kinds of magic that need rules. When you begin thinking about the rules, you’re no longer just enjoying the magic for what it is. At worst, you begin running up against the Willing Suspension of Disbelief.

It wasn’t actually the “aging up” of the story that did it in, per se, but rather, the introduction of realism. The early books were heavily stylized, and the later books were less so. A heavily stylized story can more easily maintain the Willing Suspension of Disbelief. That’s why, for example, you don’t ask why the characters are singing in a musical — you just sort of accept the story’s outlandish internal logic, and the inherent melodrama of it doesn’t take you out of the story. Stylized stories are more concerned with being emotionally consistent over being logically consistent. The later Harry Potter books changed their emotional tone, but without changing the worldbuilding style to compensate.

In addition to the more mature themes and darker tone, Harry Potter introduced more realism as it went, but Rowling did not have the worldbuilding chops to pull this off. There’s the basic magic system stuff: When you begin thinking about it too hard, something like a Time-Turner stops being a fun magical device, and starts threatening to break the entire story. Then there’s the characters: Dumbledore leaving Harry on the Dursleys’ doorstep in the first book is an age-old fairy tale trope that goes unquestioned, but with the introduction of realism in the later books, it suddenly becomes abandonment of a child to an abusive family. The exaggerated stereotypes of characters like the Dursleys become tone-deaf. The fun school rivalry of the House system is suddenly lacking in nuance. And then there’s the shift in tone: The wizarding world that we were introduced to as a marvellous place is revealed to be dystopian. You start thinking about how impractical things like owl messengers are, you start wondering if Slytherin is being unjustly punished, the bad history appears glaringly obvious, the quaint archaisms become dangerously regressive. Oh, and the grand feasts are made through slave labor! The wizarding world suddenly feels small and backward instead of grand and marvellous. J.K. Rowling’s bigotry throws it all into an even harsher light.

This is why I’ve always preferred the early books and films to the later ones. There’s a lot of things I like about the later ones, but they’re not as stylized — they don’t have The Vibe. Thinking about things too hard is just a necessary condition of adulthood, but it’s still possible to tell a dark, mature story that is highly stylized. I really think JKR could have better pulled off that shift if she was a more competent worldbuilder. But it is painfully obvious that she did not think things through, and probably didn’t understand why she had to. In her defense, she did not know that her story would end up being one of the most scrutinized of all time. As it stands, her strength in worldbuilding was in the softer, smaller, deliberately unexplained moments of magic that were there just to provide atmosphere. And there were less and less of those as the books went along.

Pretty much all the Harry Potter-related content released since the last film — including Cursed Child, Fantastic Beasts, Hogwarts Mystery, Hogwarts Legacy, Magic Awakened, and that short-lived Pokemon Go thing — have been unsuccessful attempts at recreating The Vibe. In fact, the only piece of supplemental Potter content that I think had that Vibe down pat was the original Pottermore, back when it was more of an interactive game. And of course that got axed. That was right around the time things started going downhill.

Some of the art from Pottermore’s original Sorting quiz.

So what now? Well, that’s the question.

I think I can safely say that The Vibe was the reason I liked Harry Potter. It’s the thing I still like the most about it. I’ve spent years chasing it, like an elusive Patronus through a dark wood. If I can capture and distill that Vibe, and use drops of it in my own work, then perhaps I won’t need Harry Potter anymore.

I'm gonna write the story that I wish Harry Potter was, and when I'm a famous author, I won't become a bigot. I'll see you on the other side.

#harry potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter analysis #j.k. rowling #jk rowling #anti jkr #fuck jkr #screw jkr #anti jk rowling #fuck jk rowling #writing #worldbuilding #soft worldbuilding #soft magic #magic system #fantasy worldbuilding #fantasy writing #moving on from harry potter #moving past harry potter #long post #wizard #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #wizarding world #vibes #analysis #Youtube

[delicatebarness]

the manuscript | chapter three

Summary: And, what about older men?

Warnings: Age Gap. (Dr Barnes: late 40s & Reader: early 20s)

Word Count: 1426

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A/N: Dick me dead, and bury me pregnant. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Tags: @mostlymarvelgirl | @mrsnikstan | @angelbabyyy99 | @kaithesimps-blog

The words of your assignment were still vivid in your mind as you hit ‘send’ on your email to Dr. Barnes. Laying your emotions out bare felt exhilarating, though terrifying. Something real, something raw had finally been tapped: The story of a young woman longing for the depth and experience of an older man, a mirror of your recent desires, and newfound feelings about unfulfilled connections with men your age.

Your thoughts had regularly returned to your meeting with Dr. Barnes, and the magnetic pull toward him– His intoxicating presence, full of authority and warmth that left you yearning. The way he leaned in, husky whispering, shivers shooting down your spine. You knew it was more than an academic connection, an unspoken attraction. 

While packing your bag after Psychology class, your phone buzzed with a new email notification. Your heart pounded as you unlocked the preview, Dr. Barnes had responded to your work. 

“Miss Spector, 

Your submission is captivating and shows significant growth. The raw honesty and ability to show vulnerability in your writing are truly commendable. I want to discuss your work further and help you delve further into these themes. Meet me in my office tomorrow at 3 PM.

I’m looking forward to our conversation, 

Dr. Barnes.” 

The prospect of another intimate encounter with Dr. Barnes caused a thrill of excitement and anxiety to course through you. His words penetrated your defenses, in both person and writing, reaching down to your core. Rereading the email, you could almost hear his deep, resonant voice, laced with praise. 

Zipping up your bag, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Slowly, you turned to become face-to-face with Wanda and MJ, two of your closest friends. They were both wearing mischievous smiles, curiosity twinkling in their eyes. 

“Hey, what’s got you grinning like The Cheshire Cat,” MJ teased, playfully nudging you. 

Wanda’s eyebrows raised suggestively as she joined in on the interrogation. “Yeah, spill, Spector! Pete up to his old tricks again?” 

Trying to find the right words, you chuckled nervously. “Oh, you two,” you jokingly rolled your eyes at them. “Nothing scandalous, just a text, I promise.” 

Your friends weren’t so easily convinced. Exchanging knowing glances as MJ leaned in closer, her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Come on, we’ve known each other for years. You can’t fool us that easy…”

Struggling to come up with an explanation, a blush crept up your cheeks. You tried to laugh off their teasing just as a familiar voice interrupted from behind. 

“Everything alright here, ladies?” Professor Wilson’s voice boomed across the empty lecture hall. Your heart skipped a beat, feeling the embarrassment heat your cheeks. You wondered how much of the conversation he had overheard.

Exchanging surprised glances, Wanda and Mj quickly composed themselves. Their once playful expressions shifted to innocent ones. 

“Oh… just chatting about our plans for the evening, Professor,” Wanda replied with a smile and casual tone. 

He nodded, leaving his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer. As he returned to his desk, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew more than he let on. 

Regaining your composure, you exchanged a relieved glance at Wanda and MJ, silently agreeing to table the conversation. Walking out of the hall, the weight of Dr. Barnes’ email hung heavy in your mind. Something had shifted, not only were you feeling the anticipation of the upcoming meeting with him, but you realized that your feelings for him ran deeper than you had allowed yourself to admit. 

Lost in your trace, you rounded a corner colliding with a solid figure. You stumbled back, slightly startled, however you felt a strong hand steadying you. Your heart began to race as you looked up, meeting the gaze of none other than Dr. Barnes himself. 

“Ah, Miss Spector,” he greeted, a smile beginning to play on his lips. His touch lingered against your skin, sending a jolt of electricity through you, igniting a subtle yet undeniable spark. 

“Dr. Barnes…” you trailed, trying to steady your racing heart. You heard the sniggering of Wanda and MJ as they watched in surprise and amusement. 

“My apologies,” Dr. Barnes said, his gaze dropping to your lips for a moment before returning to meet yours. “I hope I didn’t startle you too much.” 

Shaking your head, you felt a flush creep up to your cheeks. “No, not at all. It’s… I, un, I’m looking forward to our discussion tomorrow.” 

Your friends shared another glance at each other, a smirk tugging at their lips. They sensed your embarrassment, giggling and teasing you for being clumsy and oblivious. You shot them a quick warning look.

Dr. Barnes observed the interaction between you and your friends, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer. “I’m glad to hear that,” he replied, his voice smooth. “I have no donut it will be a… fruitful conversation.” His voice was laced with a subtle undertone of invitation, a promise of something more lingering. 

You nodded, feeling a rush of heat spreading through you at his proximity. “Thank you, Dr. Barnes. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With one last glance into his piercing blue eyes, you excused yourself and followed your friends out of the building. 

As you walked away, Wanda and MJ’s laughter filled the air, you couldn’t resist another glance back inside the building. Standing in the same spot, was Dr. Barnes, his gaze fixed on you intensely. 

Time stood still as you locked eyes, a silent exchange passing between you. You had never experienced a connection like this before. 

You tore your gaze away at the sound of your name being called, joining your friends. But, Dr. Barnes’ stayed with you. 

~

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes studying you causing your pulse to quicken. “I’ve read your submission. It’s compelling and honest. You’ve done well, tapping into your fears… and desires.” 

Your palms warmed under his praise, and the thudding of your heartbeat drummed in your ears. “Thank you, Dr. Barnes. I tried to be as truthful as possible.” 

Nodding in agreement, he rested his chin against his fist. “That’s evident. Your exploration of the longing for an older man, their depth and experience was particularly poignant.” He paused, noticing you fidget with your fingers under his intense gaze. “Tell me, do you believe younger men are truly incapable of providing the satisfaction you seek?”

The question cut close to your personal life causing you to hesitate while searching for the right words. “I think… it’s not their age, but… their lack of understanding. They don’t seem to see beyond the physical.” 

“And, what about older men?” he pressed, shifting in his seat, leaning forward against his desk. “Do you think they inherently possess the ability to satisfy a woman on a deeper level?” 

“I think they have more life experience,” you replied carefully. “They tend to have more patience, more attuned to a woman’s needs.” 

The room seemed to close in around you as his eyes bore into yours. “Experience does bring a certain depth,” he murmured, his voice becoming lower, more intimate. “But, regardless of age, emotional connection and mutual understanding are paramount.” 

You nodded. “I agree. It’s about finding someone who truly sees and understands you.”

He smiled, a slow, almost predatory smile played on his lips, sending a heat to your core. His gaze pierced through layers of your defenses, you felt both exposed and exhilarated. “And how about you, Miss Spector? Do you feel seen?” 

Your breath caught in your throat, the pressure building up inside you making it hard to form words. “I… I think I’m beginning to.” 

His smile deepened, eyes gleaming with something darker. “Good,” he said, in a whisper. “It’s a rare and precious thing, true understanding… true connection. Keep exploring them, Miss Spector.” 

“Thank you, Dr. Barnes, I will,” you replied, your voice betraying you.

His eyes never left yours as he leaned back in his chair. The added sense of space allowed you to breathe, yet the electrifying connection between you was maintained. 

“I look forward to seeing where your explorations take you,” he continued, encouraging with a hint of command. “This is just the beginning, our journey together is only starting, and I’m here to guide you through it.” 

His eyes followed your every move as you stood to leave. “Until next time,” he said, glancing back at him, a hint of a smile played on his lips. 

“Until next time,” you echoed as you stepped out of his office and into the library.

---

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#the manuscript series #professor!bucky x student!reader #professor!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky barnes x you #college au #bucky barnes x spector!reader #spector!reader #bucky barnes x y/n

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hi! I hope this question finds you well.

I have heard that "passive protagonists" aren't all that good. I just feel that my protagonist is the type to just roll with anything as long as they get paid, and gets dragged along by a new employer.

Mind you, at the start the protagonist put themselves in a place where they can be seen (and promptly recruited), but I don't know if that's enough to be an "active character"

Passive vs Active Protagonists

When we talk about an active vs a passive protagonist, we're not really talking about who they are or what their personality is like. If we could only write about characters who are eager, proactive, go-getters, fiction would be a pretty boring place.

Stories revolve around conflict, or in other words a problem in the protagonist's inner self, situation, life, or world that must be resolved. Part of the protagonist's job is to take the lead in getting the problem solved... that's part of what makes them the protagonist. If it's always other characters whose decisions and actions push the story forward, and never the protagonist, that makes them a passive protagonist, which makes them not a very good "protagonist" at all.

However, even if you have a protagonist who is passive by personalty, you can still make them responsible for moving the story forward. You can still give them choices to make and actions to take that effect where the story goes, and gives them the lion's share of work in resolving the conflict. With a protagonist with a passive personality, you might need to get a bit creative, but it can definitely be done. :)

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

#wqaadvice

[pseudophan]

TW for discussion of homophobia.

Hi, Nora! In the spirit of pride month I want to tell the story about how becoming a demon phannie has deprogrammed my bigotry when I was a teen.

I grew up with homophobia being the norm amongst the kids. In my country it was quite precise though, a bit different from what Dan described in BIG. We didn't use "gay" as a synonym for "bad". Boys wouldn't be called gay for crying or liking theater or just being well-behaved. Not in my school at least.

No, there was a clear-cut definition that gays were only the boys who liked boys. But if you fit that definition, if someone knew you fit that definition, then god help you. You would be constantly mocked, bullied and beat up at school. The headmaster would call your parents and tell them to fix their broken little pervert. Your parents reaction could fall anywhere from a stern talk and calling you a disgrace to a beating and sending you to a military type boarding school. Treating a teen this way was perceived as completely normal. Nowadays the kids have thankfully become way more accepting despite our governments best efforts. But now you can also add a visit to the police station to the pile.

Sapphics just didn't exist, as always. That's why when I told my friends "I genuinely think boobs are more attractive than dicks - they are more esthetically pleasing to look at" the only reaction I got was confused laughter and strange looks. No, I did not realize what that said about me back then. It was just foreshadowing.

I remember my parents occasionally saying that it's a sickness and shouldn't be allowed to be demonstrated in any way. Peppering it with the usual "they can do whatever they want behind closed doors". And if people got beat up on the streets for being gay...well they just brought that on themselves by flaunting their sexuality, didn't they?

I lived with that worldview until I was 15 or 16.

Then I started finding out that some famous people were gay. But it only got me to the point of "I like his art, so I won't stop consuming it, despite him being gay". In my mind if you were gay and wanted people to tolerate your existence, you had to be talented in order to justify it. And have the decency to not act gay in public. Yeah, I know, bare with me.

When I found Dan's channel in 2015 I instantly fell in love with his videos. Soon I also started watching Phil and then the gaming channel.

My gaydar was non-existent at the time and, ironically, I was conditioned into thinking that gay people just like to announce that they're gay to everyone. So, since Dan and Phil never did, I just took their word for it. For almost a year I just enjoyed watching their content without a second thought.

Then one day I saw the compilations. The radio show clips. The old videos. That was all it took really. My brain couldn't compute, couldn't connect the "sick perversion" I heard so much about to what I was seeing on my screen. It wasn't unnatural, or disgusting or deliberately demonstrative.  It was fucking beautiful. They simply couldn't help being extremely adorable.

Starting from that day the thought "keep it to yourselves" never occurred to me. I just wanted to be a fly on the wall.

I never dared to write fanfiction or make compilations or, god forbid, directly ask one of them in a qna. I was happy to just lurk and snort that yaoi cocaine in silence.

In hindsight, Dan and Phil were the reason I didn't instantly hate myself after having the first crush on a girl and realizing I was bi in 2018.

Later I got into breadtube and realized just how insane and baseless all those conservative talking points were. But DnP were the sole reason I left that eco-chamber in the first place.

So thank you to Dan and Phil and thank you to all fellow demons 💜

fujoshi-ism saves lives is the thing

no but isn't it odd the way things work out.. the fact that dan and phil were able to help you like that is amazing, and also it's very funny that they did it through the power of rpf

#a great read thank you <3 #answered

[ihopesocomic]

That mention of Watership Down and how everybody and their mom tries to make their animal stories the "any animal other than rabbits" version of Watership Down because they think the realism will grant them some kind of trophy made me lol. Richard Adams even veered from accurate rabbit behavior in order to tell his story. Rabbit colonies do not go to war and they certainly do not venture out through miles of countryside from their home warren, for example so a bit of deviation is fine imo

Rabbits also tend to not have 'seers' amongst them in their warrens either. Like you've also pointed out, the journey of Hazel and his band would also never have happened with irl rabbits so a certain, out of this world plot device was needed to kickstart that storyline. Rabbits live and literally die in their home warrens. Even in the event of a mass disaster like a poisoning. It's why viruses such as myxomatosis are able to spread fairly easily throughout a rabbit colony.

But yeah, this is a good point and why I'm publishing it despite it being primarily a WD-related ask. Making your animal stories the lion/wolf/deer/whatever equivalent to Watership Down does NOT mean you're forced to abide by painstakingly strict realism and this also doesn't guarantee an engaging poise on the same level as Adams either. You have to have the ability to make these kinds of things immersive and enjoyable and thinking that realism will do that on its own just tells me you've failed at writing this kind of story before even starting.

In regards to our own story: it also doesn't help that people don't know their facts when it comes to lions and My Pride has not helped matters. Lemme round off a list of common misconceptions that have been thrown at us. "Lionesses don't grow manes!" although it is rare, yes they do. "Lions aren't gay!" male lions have actually been observed engaging in homosexual behaviour and bonding in large groups together (so you know it's nothing to do with dominance). "Lionesses don't leave their pride, only males do!" lionesses will sometimes become nomadic, just not as commonly as males. "Jasper would've killed Bold and Cheerful once he took over!" the fact that they were subadults vs. little cubs aside, lionesses have been observed viciously defending their cubs from rogue males and even their biological male relatives (including the father).

Male lions are also not called "manes" either and, before My Pride, have never been described as such. Male lions are just that: lions. And the females are lionesses. A mane is not a cast iron indicator of their gender. Lionesses can develop full manes and some male lions do not develop manes at all.

But yeah, the sheer amount of 'educate yourselves!' we've got from wannabe lion experts and biologists who are woefully uneducated themselves is always a laugh riot. Especially when there's a treasure trove of free lion documentaries scattered all over YT (and which are sometimes filled with comments from MP fans who are all 'this is just like My Pride' - ugh) - RJ

#ask #ask us stuff #rj answers #general comic stuff #my pride mention

[mazzystar24]

Hello

Hope im not bothering you and I dont know if this had been talked about before on your blog but I was really really curious about your opinion on something. I know we have to take a grain of salt when it comes to actors interview cause they don't write the show but what are your thoughts on Ryan using neutral gender pronouns when talking about Eddie's possible futur relationships? (Using partner and themselves instead of girlfriend or herself when he has been until the marisol break up very much explicit with using lots of femal pronouns concerning Eddie's love interest and relationships)

Like I said I know Ryan most likely isn't aware of much for season 8 but its very likely that some stuff must have been talked about and I dont want to be that buddie shipper but to me it's screams that it has been talked about, and I'm not saying it has been confirmed among themselves but with him using gender neutral it screams so loud that at least buddie has been talked about. Sorry that was long but its been wracking my brain and I really wanted your opinion cause honestly I love being one of your avons cause you are always lovely and sweet and formulate very lovely responses (thank you so much btw cause I really really love when you answer me ❤️)

Lots of love from anon that appreciate you like im sure many others do ;)

HI BABE IM SO SORRY I NEGLECTED YOU💐💐💐💐 I only just caught up on the interviews that had dropped

Like these bits oml the secret optimist in me is SCREAMING

Like yes Ryan is stressing a million times that s8 is very much a question mark on what will happen and that he as an actor is the last to know yada yada but I love the way Ryan is like “partner” and “them” very interesting indeed

Also love how much he understands Eddie but that’s a whole other story

But yeah what he wants with Eddie stopping the cycle of looking for a mom for Chris and instead looking for something NEW and for himself is just so perfect and exactly what we’ve been begging for

Also I keep seeing people referencing more stuff so if you have specific snippets you wanna send me please do because I think I might not have found all the articles

Ahhhhh and I love having YOU as one of my anons you guys are literally the sweetest people ever 🫶🫶🫶

Lots of love and I appreciate you sm 🥰🫶🫶🫶

#911 #buddie #evan buckley #911 abc #911 fox #911onfox #eddie diaz #evan buck buckley #buckley diaz family #asks open #send asks #my asks #send me asks #answered asks #asks #ryan guzman

[thrill-seeker-if]

Hello everyone. I have no idea how to start this post, but I want to start it as upfront as possible.

TLDR: My uncles shipped my sick grandmother to my home, and they called me to tell me only after she had already landed... when her visa was expiring very soon. And so obviously 1. My job was to keep her alive, and 2. I had to scrounge up money to send her to her home. It has been a very few stressful months. 

In between this, I hit a slump with writing, and felt very burnt out, as I had no time for it between work, trying to keep my grandmother alive, my own health, and my own business. I wish I could say I worked on Thrill Seeker in this time, but I simply couldn’t. I think a huge part of what was so daunting for me was only having myself to rely on and set the schedules, and in a way it came to be that there were lengths of time nothing could get done because there was simply no time in my life to do it. 

This is not meant to be an excuse as to why I was away from the blog for so long. It is simply what made me realize that I cannot continue alone on this project, as I would then be taunted by how much I would have to do that I would end up not being able to do anything at all. 

I was discussing this project with a friend of mine who has been beside me since I started this project, who I know shares my passion in making games, and who has rooted for me from the beginning. While I’m more interested in the storytelling, she’s incredibly fascinated with coding. During this time, we discussed perhaps making a game together-- but recently we got the opportunity to make that into a reality. 

Thrill Seeker is not ending, but rather, it will be changing format. I am so happy to say my incredible friend, Kismet (@kismet-dev), is going to be joining me to reform Thrill Seeker into a Visual Novel! She is one of my best friends and is the most organized person I know, so no more falling off the face of the Earth for me, because I’ve put a lot more planning into the game and now have someone to hold me to my schedules, too!

I understand that it could be disappointing to hear that I’m switching from an entirely text based format to a VN style. I apologize to anyone who is disappointed by this change. It’s been amazing the support I’ve gotten for this game and how many people have stuck to the project, even when I’ve been so flaky, and I want to thank you for sticking to the project when I haven’t been the most reliable developer. I am so grateful for your kindness to me, for all the people who have sent asks and been interested in my characters and story.

When I first created this project, it was just not a viable option for me to make a visual novel, as there would’ve been no chance I had the opportunity to create art, write, and code it. But creating the art for the game inspired me more than when I only had words to go off of, and many different concepts for the game that I had in mind were simply harder for me to make into reality on twine. Thanks to the absolute angel that is my friend Kismet, I will actually be able to create the vision for the game that I’ve seen in my head for the longest time. She’s an excellent programmer and such a wonderfully organized and hard worker, and I know that I wouldn’t have anyone else by my side as we begin to make games together. 

I will be making some changes to this blog as I make it more cohesive for the VN, but I will also use it as an opportunity to organize this blog for those who are interested in knowing more about the characters, settings, etc. It’s a little unorganized and hard to find certain questions, and I’ll do my best to fix that! Note that this will mean that changes are coming to the characters, and pretty major ones. I know that many of the asks I answered in the past will no longer apply to the story as I’ve changed it, so I will be reforming it quite a lot. However, what will not change is the characters themselves; they will still be gender selectable, and their personalities will still remain similar; but I feel like some of my characterization of them has been shallow, and I’m going to be fixing that. 

The launch of the game as a visual novel, with the first chapter, will be coming in August. Thank you so much for reading all this and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!!

#life update #I am so so so grateful for every single person who has read Thrill Seeker #every person who has sent me kind words and encouraged me to build this project #i am so so so so grateful to all of you #Thank you for supporting me all this time #New changes are coming!