#but it's like. literally this is simplifying writing. like the kind of writing that i do and love is honestly quite hard to keep in yr head | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

powdermelonkeg · 4 months

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just saw ur gale/mystra analysis post. im new to the game and dnd lore and honestly… ur take on their relationship feels like the most natural/compelling one??? esp since its all too easy to simplify topics that have many facets and nuance….

thanks for sharing i love analysis and reading people’s takes on narratives : D

My pleasure! (Bee from the future here: congrats, you spawned another meta!)

I love complicated characters, WAY more than I like a clear cut-and-dry case. Flaws, to me, are what make a character compelling and lead to interesting stories about them with choices that can get them into situations. I'm both writing a fanfic and running a campaign where I'm playing as Gale, and in the interest of portraying him properly and in-character, I've gone into SUCH a deep dive into all the decisions and facts that make him him.

It helps to, y'know, also be in love with the fictional wizard, but I digress

The thing about Baldur's Gate 3 is that no character in there is perfect. I've seen a couple analyses about the theme of continuing cycles of abuse vs breaking out of them, but in my mind, in terms of the characters themselves, it goes like this:

The origin characters have just come out of the lowest situation of their lives (Lae'zel being the exception; being tadpoled is a gith's worst nightmare. You're seeing that lowest situation in real time).

Not the lowest point, mind. Gale's lowest was probably the day after he got the Orb. Wyll's was probably the day his father cast him out. Karlach's was the day she lost her heart. But the lowest, accepted normal for them is what they've just left.

They're then thrown out of their depth and forced to rely on you to live. That's #1 priority: living. We get the extremes of these characters before we get their nuances, because they're quite literally at their breaking points.

Then once we get to know them, we see their wants, their hopes, their fears, as they open up to us. Every companion's story is at their own pace, but they all have a moment where they ping-pong between despondency and desire. Sometimes that desire is what we know isn't good for them, like Shadowheart wanting to be a Dark Justiciar. Sometimes that despondency is only for a flicker, like Astarion's realization that he's condemned 7000 people to a half-life of tortured spawnhood for as long as he's been a vampire.

Romance lets us crack all that open more, because if you pursue a romantic partner, they see you as their closest confidant. They WANT to trust you, so they're more willing to explain how they see the world and what decisions they want to chase.

And then their endings. Those often get simplified as good/bad, continuing the cycle vs breaking away from it. But how is Duke Wyll on the same platform as Ascended Astarion? He's not evil, he's not even entirely unhappy. He might even have broken out of his abusive cycle with Mizora, if you played your cards right. And Ascended Astarion is overjoyed, even if he is remarkably more cold.

I think that the endings are less a dichotomy of "this is good for them" vs "this is bad for them," and more one of "bringing out their best traits" vs "bringing out their worst."

Wyll's worst trait is being willing to sacrifice his own wants for whatever people desire of him. His best is standing for what he believes in and ensuring people are safe. Duke Wyll leans into that necessity to turn the other cheek in the name of people who count on him, while the Blade of Avernus has seized that moral compass of his and forged it out of mithral.

Shadowheart's worst trait is blind obedience at the cost of her individuality, while her best is her desire to be kind to things that don't deserve to be hurt. Mother Superior Shadowheart's whole life is defined by Shar. Selûnite Shadowheart's life is defined by her hospitality, especially towards animals.

Karlach's worst trait is how willing she is to accept that things are (to quote her) fucked, letting despair override hope. Her best is her durability in the face of horror. Exploded Karlach would rather die than try to work out a solution in the Hells, because she's terrified of facing Zariel alone. Mindflayer Karlach has accepted her fate and decides to give up her heart and soul to go out a hero, losing who she is. Fury of Avernus Karlach is willing to keep fighting for a solution, and by the time the epilogue happens, she's got her sights set on one.

Astarion's worst trait is his desire for power over people. His best trait is using the tools he has to his advantage. Ascended Astarion has let his powerhungry nature and paranoia lead all of his decisions, with his sights set on dominating mankind. Spawn Astarion has embraced what he is, and carved out a life for himself where he can do as he pleases.

Lae'zel's worst trait is her blind fanaticism, while her best trait is her individual dedication, making her loyalty a marriage of the two. Ascended Lae'zel is a meal for the lich queen, turning a blind eye to all Vlaakith's tried to do to her and literally being consumed by her fervor. Champion of Orpheus Lae'zel has turned her loyalty into something productive for diplomacy. Faerûnian Lae'zel has seized her individuality by the throat and decided her own future.

And then Gale. Gale's worst traits are his hubris and, paradoxically, his low self worth. His best traits are his creativity and wonder for the world. God Gale is the embodiment of ambition, having burned away all but that in pursuit of perfection. Exploded Gale has let his remorse blot out all hope for a redemption in which he does not die, because he thinks he's earned it. Professor Gale leads his life by embracing the school of Illusion and letting his creativity thrive, teaching others to do the same. House Husband Gale has multiple creative projects he's working on, and Adventurer Gale is always finding new sights to see and wanting to share them with you.

There are arguments to be made on which ending the origins are happiest in, certainly, or which one benefits them the most, but each ending represents the extreme of a facet they possess.

So with all that, there's a sort of malleable method to figuring out the ins and outs of a character.

You take their endings—all of them, all variables they can have—and reverse-engineer the flaws and details they carry. Then you start to notice how those work into their approvals for minor things: Astarion approving of your taking of the Blood of Lathander, or Shadowheart approving of standing up for Arabella. Getting a list of approvals and disapprovals is helpful, but having those endings on hand tells you why they react like that to a majority of their decisions.

You take their romance-route explanations of how they act, and apply those to earlier decisions. Astarion's confession to manipulating you and Araj-prompted admittance to using himself as a tool brings to light how he reacts to your decisions, regardless of his actual opinions on them. Wyll's fairytale romance and love of poetic adages speaks to his idealistic nature, and why he takes a sometimes-blinded approach to decisions in which the "right" answer isn't always the smart one.

You take their beginning reactions to stress and use that to measure how future decisions impact them. Lae'zel locks down and gets snappy when she's scared, while Gale immediately turns to diplomacy. Shadowheart has gallows humor, while Wyll turns to quiet acceptance. If they break from these and seem even worse, you know the situation is more dire in their minds than having seven days to live.

And then you factor in all their fun facts and dialogue choices and backstories.

A wizard falls in love with a goddess and her magic, attempts to retrieve a piece of her power for her, is scorned for his attempt and is cursed to die.

Give that backstory to a Tav. Look at how it changes.

A chaotic good wizard fell in love with a goddess, thought retrieving a piece of power for her would be a showy bouquet of love, and was punished for not thinking things through.

A lawful evil wizard fell in love with a goddess's power, snatched the most precious thing she owned, tried to use it to barter his way through to the secrets she kept, and was given a swift retribution.

Same backstory. Same class, same act, same goddess. Wildly different connotations. Wildly different conclusions as to who is in the wrong.

If you take all there is to Gale, all that the game shows us makes up his character, and apply it to this backstory, you get what really happened:

A wizard, enamored with magic, fell in love with a goddess. His desires led him to want more than she was willing to give. In his well-buried fear of inadequacy, he concluded that the reason she wouldn't indulge his ambitions was because he just hadn't proven himself worthy enough. So he tried to prove himself, but he lacked the context for what he was proving himself with. And the goddess, seeing a weapon that had killed her predecessor, saw this ambitious wizard as losing his way and coming for her just like the weapon's creator had. She was angry, she withdrew his link to her, and he didn't know why. So he drew the conclusion that she took his powers to punish him, and let that encompass his fall from grace.

Was he wrong to reach for what was out there?

If you knew that the answers to everything you cared about were not only known, but kept by someone you loved—someone who adored you—what would you do to ask to see them? What if your curiosities were if there were other planets with life out there, or how dark matter worked, or whether or not we could one day travel in the stars? What if it was the potential cure to an illness that's little-understood, or the way to make a program you dreamt up, or the scope of the true limits of your artistic talents? Would your answer change?

Was she wrong to cut him off?

If you were once hurt, and the person you loved—the person who adored you—brought the thing that caused it to your door, believing you'd want it, how would you react to seeing it? What if that thing was someone you thought you'd broken contact with, like a friend or family member you'd been trying to avoid? Would your answer change?

That's the sort of scope that needs to be applied to this, on both sides. You have to take the perspectives of each party, and apply two analogies instead of one.

Gale saw the vastness of the universe, untold wonders, the solution to every question he could ever dream up, and saw Mystra as withholding this from him because she thought he just wasn't worthy enough. To claim Mystra knew his perspective does her a disservice.

Mystra saw a cruel weapon she thought long gone, in the hands of someone who could use it, brought right to her, and thought Gale was willingly following the path of Karsus. To claim Gale knew her perspective does him a disservice.

Should Gale have researched his prize more, so he knew just what he was obtaining? Should he have kept his hands off a cursed book that would devour him? Of course he should have.

Should he have given up on chasing his dreams?

Should Mystra have understood that Gale's pursuit of power was nothing like Karsus'? Should she have communicated when she was angry instead of giving the cold shoulder? Of course she should have.

Should she have given him the benefit of the doubt?

That's the root of their falling out. That's what leads to hurt being inflicted. Understandable, human reactions to the situations they perceive. Unhealthy, unwise choices made afterwards.

You work backwards from this to figure out their dynamic as Chosen and goddess. You work forward from this to understand more of where Gale and Mystra are during the events of Baldur's Gate 3. Gale reached too high, and understands this. His goddess hates him, and he regrets this. Mystra isolated Gale, and understands this. Her Chosen wants redemption, and she wants to make it happen.

Just like we took Gale's character into account, we also have to take Mystra's.

A goddess is faced with a problem. She uses someone who's desperate for approval to solve it, by telling him to kill himself.

An evil goddess is faced with a threat to her reign. She sees someone who's unfailingly loyal and hates himself, and elects to have him tear himself apart rather than do anything about it.

A good goddess is terrified of the future. She sees someone who tried to hurt her, who's going to die anyways, and tells him to use it to save the world.

Same story. Same act, same power, same pawn. Different character. Different perspective. Different outlook on whether or not this is the right thing to do.

Mystra has died, multiple times, to people trying to stake claim to her domain. Someone appears with the very thing that could do it again, right as she's regained her stability.

She does not see mortals the way mortals do. She is timeless. She is eternal. She has a duty to protect billions of people, and one person lost to protect that number is more than worth the sacrifice.

People like to bring up the Seven Sisters as proof of Mystra's cruelty. For those unaware, Mystra asked permission to, then possessed, a woman, used her to court a man (with dubious consent from the woman), and bore seven children, all of whom were capable of bearing Mystra's power as Chosen without dying. The woman she possessed was killed in the process (reduced to no more than a husk, then slain by her now-husband, hoping to end her suffering), and the husband was horrified by the whole story.

Mystra needed Chosen in order to restore herself in the event that she was killed again, to prevent magic as a whole from collapsing and wreaking havoc on the mortal realm, like it had in the few seconds Mystryl had been dead. Elminster, Khelben Blackstaff, and the Seven Sisters contributed to this. The more Chosen she has, the better; what happens if Elminster dies? She can't afford to have all her eggs in one basket.

Mystra has Volo (yeah, that Volo) as a Weave Anchor, imparted with a portion of her power to prevent the Weave from shredding itself to pieces in her absence. All Chosen of Mystra are Weave Anchors by nature. The creation of Weave Anchors was mandated by Ao, the Overgod, and Chosen are the best way to make sure those anchors aren't drained by ambitious people hoping for godlike power. Chosen can, and will, defend themselves, unlike static locations (which Mystra also has). The anchors are why the Weave wasn't completely obliterated during Mystra's last death, when the Spellplague rose up, because they stabilized the Weave around them.

Everything Mystra does is in the name of the big picture, to prevent a catastrophe like the fall of Netheril from happening again. Her restriction of magic, her numerous Chosen, her creation of Weave Anchors, her destruction of those who would claim her power, it's all in the name of the stability she's been charged with. Dornal Silverhand's grief and Elué Silverhand's death, while regrettable, were worth it to bring seven more anchors into existence to save all of the Material.

So someone appears with the Crown of Karsus, potentially powerful enough to try to kill the other gods in the name of the Dead Three. She can't risk being a target of them. She can't risk the destruction of magic again.

Gale is going to die. He lives in fear. He begs for forgiveness.

In Mystra's eyes, she's offering him the best outcome. She'll let him die in service to her, to save Faerûn, and she'll forgive him. He's going to die anyways, and if he does this, she'll give him everything (she thinks) he could ever want in her realm. She's asking him to do what (she thinks) is the right thing.

"She would consider what she considers to be forgiveness."

Notably, she leaves the decision in his hands. She doesn't have Elminster lead him to the Nether Brain. She doesn't activate him as soon as he's there. When he lives yet, she doesn't revoke the charm that keeps him stable. And when he declines, when he lets it go and starts pursuing Karsus' path, she doesn't smite him on the spot.

She is (she thinks) being incredibly patient. If Gale is going to try to be Karsus II, she's ready for him. If he decides to walk off and keep the Orb, he's dug his own grave in the Fugue Plane (those who don't have a god to claim them roam endlessly as husks and form a wall of bodies around the City of Judgement).

From her perspective, she's not being unreasonable. But from the perspective of a mortal, she absolutely is.

"Now, I have a question for thee: what is the worth of a single mortal's life?"

This is a question she cannot answer properly.

I think a lot of characterization is lost whenever someone paints one of them as being totally in the right. But I also think you have to be invested in them as characters to want to see that characterization. If you want to write about Mystra, you have to try to get into her head, analyze the decisions she made, figure out why she thinks she was right, and follow the pattern.

Gale's sacrifice is a very predictable thing for her to ask for.

#bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #mystra #long post #like really long post holy hells #did not expect this to go on for this long #swearing tw #< for karlach #oh yeah #astarion #karlach #wyll ravengard #shadowheart #lae'zel #ask bee

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leejihoonownsmyheart · 1 year

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Pathetic (M)

(I did not edit this picture. Weverse literally just dropped it and I’m so lazy)

Title: Pathetic

Part one of the Pathetic series

Summary:

When your best friend Jeongyeon drags you to a frat party, you aren’t expecting much. Certainly not to be fucked dumb by notorious man whore Yoon Jeonghan, but hey, what happens at a frat party, stays at a frat party.

Simplified tags: 6k words, Porn with Plot, frat boy!Jeonghan, college student!y/n, best friend!Jeongyeon, soft!dom to hard!dom Jeonghan, mean!Jeonghan (and y/n loves it), submissive!y/n, female!y/n (sorry gender-neutral friends), heavy degradation, light masochist!y/n, sadist!Jeonghan, mild pain kink, vaginal fingering, creampie, spitting, slapping, big dick!Jeonghan, blowjob, mentions of aftercare but I don’t write it happening he just says what he’ll do

Warnings: This fic is filthy, dub con (I personally think that the consent is explicit enough but I’m tagging it this way just to be careful since it is intense), Jeonghan is a fiend. There is spitting, a creampie, degredation, like Jeonghan calls you pathetic. You thank him for him treating you like trash. There is after care but there is also light slapping, I’m serious this is literally the filthiest thing I have ever written. I’m embarrassed to have written it, and I hope that the five people who like things like this enjoy it. Jeonghan starts off as a soft!dom, but quickly turns to a hard!dom

I have this... secret blog that I wrote one story on cause I was embarrassed by it and didn’t want it to be on this blog and on that blog I asked if anyone wanted this kind of fic and I had like twelve people like the post so here we go.

“Really Jeonghan? Another fling that you just dropped for no reason?” Seungcheol asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Jeonghan hummed as he placed another lego block together, glancing over at the instructions for the house that he was building.

“Just not a good fit.”

“And by that he means she couldn’t handle him,” Soonyoung pipped up, unhelpfully. Seungcheol sighed.

“What is he? A monster in the bedroom?”

“Have you not heard him with people?” Jihoon asked, a look of disgust on his face as he handed Jeonghan the next lego brick he needed. “They’re sluts, all of them- and I don’t mean that in a derogatory way, he calls them that.”

Seungcheol seemed surprised, but Jeonghan didn’t bat an eye at the accusations.

“They like it, but not as much as I want them to,” Jeonghan replied with a sigh. “This last girl... She doesn’t listen, and not in a cute brat way. She just chases her orgasm and that’s good enough for her.”

Soonyoung snorted.

“Isn’t it enough that you’re able to make her orgasm?”

A smirk spread over Jeonghan’s lips.

“I make everyone I sleep with orgasm.”

“Topic change, topic change,” Seokmin requested desperately from where he was lounging on the couch. The room fell silent for a little bit, but Seungcheol’s curiosity wasn’t going to be quelled just yet.

“You’ve been blowing through fuck buddies for months and you haven’t found a single one that you want to keep. What makes you think you are ever going to find this perfect...” He trailed off, not sure how to finish it.

“Whore,” Jihoon finished. They all looked at him. He shrugged. “He wants the perfect whore. Literally.”

“Desperate for my cock, desperate for my cum...” Jeonghan sighed. “Desperate to cum, but only if I say so. Obedient, and desperate and sloppy-”

“I am begging for a topic change,” Seokmin interrupted. “It’s bad enough we have to hear Jeonghan fucking people-”

“I’m just saying. It doesn’t seem like you’ll be able to find the perfect person-” Jihoon cleared his throat and Seungcheol sighed. “The perfect whore. Why don’t you just settle?”

“The problem isn’t that the perfect whore doesn’t exist,” Jeonghan replied. “It’s that I’ve been looking in the wrong places. I’ll find them. It just takes time.”

“Yay, conflict resolution,” Seokmin cheered humorlessly. “So that means I can go back to my book and you all can go back to your legos and we can talk about next weeks party and not Jeonghan finding the perfect whore.”

A little laugh spread throughout the room and finally Seungcheol allowed the topic to go towards what other frats and sororities to invite to the party.

“I want you to go over this again with me, very slowly,” you said, your eyebrows narrowing at Jeongyeon. She gave you a bright smile, brushing back her bob.

“I want you to come with me to a frat party,” Jeongyeon said slowly. You gave Jeongyeon an unamused look.

“A frat party?” You repeated humorously.

“Not just any frat party,” Jeongyeon continued just as brightly. “Phi Mu Alpha Sinfonia’s party.”

You groaned, but she wasn’t having it.

“Come on! You know that Jimin hates Phi Mu Alpha Sinfonia and he never goes to their parties.”

“You and Jimin’s thing is-”

“Infuriating?” Jeongyeon grumbled.

“Stupid,” you corrected.

Jeongyeon and Jimin were two people impossible to be around. Because their hatred for one another didn’t stop at talking smack about one another behind their backs. It didn’t stop at shooting insults at one another in person. It didn’t even stop at Jimin railing Jeongyeon in the dorm room with you in your bed trying desperately pretend like it wasn’t happening.

Jeonyeon and Jimin hated each other to a point where their frustration could only be culled by rough sex every few weeks, and you were desperate for the two to evolve past that.

“Come on, I know that you don’t want me to fuck around with Jimin tonight, and who knows maybe I’ll go home with someone different from Phi Mu if we go there tonight,” Jeongyeon pleaded.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t go home with anyone,” you replied. “I’ll have to find somewhere else to go and-”

“We’ll find someone for you too!” Jeonyeon replied enthusiastically. “Then we both will go home with someone and it will be perfect!”

You pressed your lips together firmly, a clear indication that you weren’t convinced but Jeonyeon grabbed you, hugging your arm.

“Please, the boys at Phi Mu are so handsome. Surely, you’ll find someone you like,” she insisted.

You sighed as you looked at your friend, realizing that your hopes of studying for the night were completely over.

“Doesn’t everyone call them Alpha Mu boys?” You asked. Jeongyeon rolled her eyes.

“Same diff,” she mumbled. “Come on. You’re not going to just make me go alone are you?”

“I’m not wearing heels,” you said finally.

Your heels clacked against the wooden floorboards of the frat house as Jeongyeon practically dragged you through the house. She had the cutest outfit on. A pink dress that resembled that of a loosely torn shirt, with a corset to cause a bit of a silhouette and a pair of heeled white boots on top of it all. That along with her radiant smile she looked like a punk angel. You had tried to match her in ways, sticking with a corset and a loose shirtish dress. You had a choker on that resembled a collar (at her insisting) and regrettably you were wearing a lacy pair of lingerie. Just in case, as Jeongyeon would insist.

You sighed, the thought of being here still being mildly annoying. Frat parties themselves were frustrating. Loud, crowded, sweaty. But on the Brightside Alpha Mu parties had music produced and mixed by Lee Jihoon, so while loud it was bearable.

Jeongyeon practically knew all of the Alpha Mu boys. You wondered idly who she was trying to find tonight. She dragged you up to one of the boys- tall and lanky, and grabbed his arm to get his attention.

“Jun,” she whined. He looked at her over his shoulder, eyes lighting up when he saw her.

“You made it!” He said excitedly. His eyes flickered over to you. “You brought y/n!”

“You said you had someone for her!” Jeongyeon replied, both of their voices extremely loud as to hear one another over the music. “Someone good?”

Your eyebrows widened.

“Wait, you set me up?” You blurted. Jeongyeon didn’t even look upset.

“Of course, I did! I didn’t make you wear lingerie just to socialize all night!” She said. Your face flushed red, but Jun didn’t seem to care about the fact that he now knew what you were wearing under your clothes. Instead, he pointed away from the two of you.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. “I just need to grab him, okay?”

Jeongyeon nodded.

“Okay! We’ll be here!”

“I don’t want to be set up!” You insisted as soon as Jun was far enough that you didn’t think he would hear, which... Wasn’t that long.

“That’s what single people always say,” Jeongyeon said with a roll of her eyes. ”Jun said that you’re really going to like this guy! And that way you have less to do on your end so I can spend as much time as I want trying to find someone for me to spend the night with.”

“You should just go home with Jun,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “I mean it’s not like you guys haven’t fucked bef-”

“Y/n-” Jun’s voice called out over the sound. You looked up to find Jun standing there with someone else. You smiled at him.

“Uh, hi,” you called over the noise of the party.

“Hi, I’m Chan!”

You smiled at the person in front of you politely, noticing that behind Chan, Jun was talking to someone else, who looked notably annoyed. Your eyebrows strewn slightly at the man and for a second you caught one another's eyes. He looked away from you after a moment, his eyes peering at you from under the long strands of his hair.

After only a second, you turned your attention back to Chan. You figured you might as well get this over with.

Chan was... Nice, but that was about it. As awful as it was getting to know anyone at a loud party, you weren’t exactly thrilled to have to yell at him as he drank beer after beer.

You stuck to water but after a while you just couldn’t stand it anymore. You politely made an excuse to get away from him, saying that you were tired and you wandered up the stairs of the house, not wanting to admit to Jeongyeon that the guy that Jun had set you up with just simply wasn’t a match and you wanted to leave.

As you wandered the rooms upstairs, you walked past closed doors in which you could hear moans. You sighed in frustration. At least someone was going to get laid tonight. It seemed like your lingerie really wouldn’t be of any use tonight.

You entered the first empty bedroom that you could find. A king size bed with fluffy blankets in the center of room, a bookshelf with pictures of boys on the shelves, and paintings and the walls. You hummed and began to look around, the sound of the party muted behind the walls of the room.

You finally thought that you had found some peace.

“What are you doing?” A voice asked. You glanced over your shoulder, sighing when you saw the person from earlier. The one who looked annoyed when you had first met Chan. Your eyebrows rose slightly at him.

“Escaping the party.” You paused for a moment your lips pursing and your head falling to the side slightly. “Escaping Chan.”

“You don’t like Chan?” The person asked.

“No I like Chan, I just...” You trailed off.

“Not the sort of person you put on a matching set for?” The person piped up, a small smile crossing his lips as he spoke. You rolled your eyes.

“Sure,” you said, even though- He was right. Chan seemed too nice to be someone that was going to rail you to sleep that night. Regardless, of how attractive he was. As you looked around the room, you noted that the man at the door wasn’t backing down. Instead his eyes were drifting, making their way across your body.

You couldn’t really say you didn’t like the attention.

In fact, while Chan had been handsome, with his long chiseled face, and parted hair, this man was a whole other kind of attractive. He was pretty. His hair was long and wavy, falling past his ears, and yet not touching his shoulders. As your eyes trailed past his pink lips and down to where his shirt lay, just barely covering one of his collarbones. You looked back up at him, to see that he had definitely noticed your interest.

You looked away from him.

“Sorry am I in your room?” You asked him, clearing your throat.

“Yeah,” he commented. “It was getting a bit too loud for me out there too. I was going to close my room door.”

You glanced back at him and he gestured towards the door knob.

“You’re welcome to stay, of course.”

You knew what he meant and your intention in coming out tonight hadn’t really been to get laid. Sure, you had humored Jeongyeon. You had dressed the part, and said the right things but you knew from the minute that you looked at Chan you were going to be spending the night with your vibrator.

But... There was something about this guy.

You shrugged.

“If you don’t mind the company,” you replied. The man hummed and closed the door behind him with a click.

“Jeonghan,” he said, gesturing to himself.

Jeonghan...? You had heard his name from Jeonyeon before.

“Ah, the same one with a different fling every week?” You said, before you could really think over what you had said. Jeonghan hummed and walked over to his closet.

“So you’ve heard of me.”

“A few things,” you replied back. “That you don’t stick in one place for long.”

“But I always get positive reviews,” Jeonghan replied. As he spoke, he took the hem of his shirt, lifting it over his head. Your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden appearance of his six pack. Your cheeks flushed red and you looked away suddenly.

Fuck, he was hot.

“Sorry, it’s hot in here,” Jeonghan said. You heard his hangers clanging softly, and after a few moments they stopped, you looked back at him but he was still standing there shirtless, looking theatrically stumped. “And with nothing better to put on.”

He shrugged and walked over to his bed, taking a seat at the edge. He gestured to your outfit.

“You’re dressed nice... Like Jeongyeon.”

“She’s my best friend,” you replied pointedly. You leaned forward slightly, your fingers slightly dragging up the corner of your skirt. You tried to play it off as accidental, just a brush up of your skirt that would flash the corner of your lacy underwear.

You could tell that Jeonghan knew it wasn’t accidental.

“You want to play a game?” Jeonghan asked. You shrugged offhandedly.

“Depends on the outcome.”

“Come here,” Jeonghan said softly. You looked at him from across the room, your eyebrows raised.

“Why should I?” You asked. His lips quirked up slightly.

“If you do, you’ll get to cum, and if you don’t...”

He knew he didn’t have to finish that threat.

You walked over to Jeonghan, coming between his knees. His hands fell to your sides, squeezing your hips slightly as you raised your hands to his shoulders. You swallowed thickly at the proximity of the two of you.

“Tell me what you want,” Jeonghan said. Your nose scrunched slightly, mostly in embarrassment.

“I want you to fuck me,” you said softly. The smile that spread across Jeonghan’s face was one of pure delight.

“Really?” He asked, his voice riddled with surprise. His fingers dipped below the hem of your shirt and his fingers daintily brushed over the lace of your lingerie. You shivered a little under his touch, your fingers gripping at his shoulders a little bit tighter. “You really want some stranger to fuck you upstairs at a frat party?”

The degrading chide in his voice made your cheeks flare up even more. You cleared your throat, your eyes trailing away from him.

“Well, if your reputation proceeds you, I would love to be one of your...” You mumbled. Your face blazed even redder. “Sluts.”

One of Jeonghan’s fingers raised to your face, tilting your chin towards you. His eyes flickered down to your lips.

“Don’t worry love, I’ll treat you just the way that you deserve.”

Jeonghan’s fingers lowered to your throat, his hand making it’s way to the back of your neck.

“You’re so pretty,” he mumbled. “Just pretty enough for someone like Chan. You look so delicate.”

“I’m not delicate,” you murmured back, but the praise itself was making it hard to keep eye contact with Jeonghan.

“No?” Jeonghan breathed. He was so close to you that both of your breaths were intermingling. His grip on your neck was tight. “Is that why you didn’t want to spend the night with Chan? You want someone to rough you up? Someone to treat you like a little whore?”

You couldn’t help the airy moan that left your lips at the sound of the word.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Jeonghan asked you. You nodded, feeling yourself growing closer to him as his fingers ran closer to your core over the lace of your panties.

“I’m going to need some words from you,” Jeonghan said seriously, his other hand tightening around the back of your neck. “Or else you’re going to get jack shit from me.”

“I do,” you said immediately. “I want you to kiss me.”

He pressed hard on the back of your neck, pressing you closer to his lips until they had crashed together. Despite how gentle Jeonghan had started off, the kiss was when he started to show his true colors. You whined against his lips as he forced his tongue into your mouth, pressing you closer to him.

He pulled you off of him, smiling when you leaned forward, desperate for his lips again. He hummed, his fingers dipping down underneath the hem of your lingerie, and he pressed his fingers down to your clit. You whined, throwing your head back.

“F-fuck,” you mumbled, rolling your hips towards Jeonghan. “I really fucking need this. Jeongyeon has been hammering sex into my head all day.”

“Yeah? You really that starved for sex?”

You nodded, leaning forward to catch Jeonghan’s lips again but he didn’t give you the satisfaction. He pulled back.

“No,” he chided. “You’re a bit needy aren’t you?”

You whined in response as Jeonghan’s fingers slid past your clit, to your already wet folds. He shook his head.

“Chan get you like this?” He asked. “Even though he was too vanilla for you, he is very attractive. Did he make you needy? Would you have resorted to your vibrator tonight thinking about him? Wishing he would treat you the way you want to be treated?”

As Jeonghan spoke he worked one of his fingers into you, his long fingers pushing deeper inside of you than your own fingers could. You whined, shaking your head.

“N-No,” you murmured. “It wasn’t him.”

Jeonghan hummed again, like he didn’t really believe you, so you continued.

“You made me like this,” you insisted. Your fingers tightened on Jeonghan’s shoulders, and your eyes lowered to Jeonghan’s lap where you could see a tent in his sweatpants. When you glanced back up Jeonghan didn’t seem very convinced. “How am I supposed to respond to the way you’ve been treating me?

Jeonghan scoffed.

“You should be fucking humiliated,” Jeonghan replied. “You’re doing everything I want you to, taking every single thing I give you-” As Jeonghan spoke he pushed another finger into your pussy, causing a small, pleasurable burn to run through your body. “I bet you’d even thank me for it. Are you going to thank me for fingering your stupid wet cunt?”

Your face blazed but you nodded obediently.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, your voice quivering as soft moans slipped from your mouth.

“Thank you for what?” Jeonghan asked. Your eyes fluttered down, and Jeonghan crooked his fingers deep inside of you.

“Thank you for f-fingering me,” you said, your eyes shooting back up to Jeonghan’s. He smiled.

“Good girl,” he praised. “But you don’t really deserve this, you know that?”

You whined as he shoved a third finger inside of you. His pace was fucking agonizing. His fingers slowly spreading your pussy... Hopefully so that it was ready for his cock.

“At least, you haven’t really proven yet that you deserve this,” Jeonghan amended. He slipped his fingers from you and your whine was cut off by Jeonghan sticking his fingers into your mouth. You immediately sucked them clean, moaning around them. He hummed again, seeming to still be unsure of exactly what to make of you. His hand gently pressed against your stomach, pressing you backwards.

“Get undressed, I want to see you.”

As you began to take your clothes off (struggling immensely with the corset that you had barely gotten on in the first place), Jeonghan stood up as well. Your eyes stayed glued to his chest until he lowered his sweatpants down and kicked them away to reveal his cock.

You faltered in your ministrations, your mouth dropping when you saw the size of Jeonghan’s cock. God, you had never slept with anyone bigger than Jeonghan. Never even imagined you would see a cock as big as his. You felt greedy, you wanted to have his cock inside you immediately, but you did your best to keep that to yourself. You quickly regained consciousness and finished tossing your clothes to the floor.

You stood there for a moment, letting Jeonghan look at you silently, his eyes trailing up and down your body, the smallest hint of a smile crossing his lips.

“God, you may be a pathetic slut, but you are absolutely gorgeous,” he said. He pointed down to the floor in front of his spread legs and then leaned back on his hands. “Come on. Show me what you can do. Show me that you’re not just a waste of time.”

You immediately dropped to your knees, squeezing yourself between his legs, your hands wrapping around the base of his cock. You stared at it for a second, just admiring his cock, before suddenly remembering what you were supposed to be doing.

You sucked the tip of his cock into your mouth, moaning around it, just relived to have a cock inside of your mouth. You whined as you pressed his cock deeper inside of your mouth, getting too excited and pressing his cock further into your mouth.

You barely thought about it as you pushed your mouth as far down his cock as you could, choking almost immediately. You gagged around his cock, pulling off and coughing to the side.

“You’re so big,” you said between coughs. Jeonghan scoffed.

“You’re just not trying hard enough.”

He slid his fingers into the strands of your hair and pushed your head back down on his cock.

“If it’s too much for you, just tap my thigh,” Jeonghan said, before beginning to push you down. He pushed you to the part where you first started coughing, but he didn’t stop there. He kept pushing, ignoring your gags as he eased you down on his cock.

Your fingers squeezed against his thighs, but you were halfway down his cock, and you wanted to be good so fucking badly. But despite that, Jeonghan pulled you off of his cock, letting you gasp for air.

“No, no,” you insisted. “I was okay. I’m okay, push me back down.”

Jeonghan’s eyebrow quirked.

“Really?” And the heightening of his voice made it clear just how surprised he was.

“Please.”

Jeonghan was quick to push you back down on his cock, this time going even faster than before. Despite your gags, he finally pushed you to the base of his cock. Your nose brushed against his pelvis, and tears ran down your cheeks, but after a few moments you felt your breathing through your nose began to even out, and your throat settled around his cock.

Jeonghan’s tight grip on your hair loosened, and his fingers threaded through your strands in a way that was almost comforting.

“You certainly are a determined slut,” Jeonghan praised. “Go ahead then, show me what your worth.”

You slowly raised yourself off of his cock, now finally able to really show Jeonghan what you were made of. You began to work his cock in and out of your mouth, hollowing it every now and then while one of your hands fiddled with his balls.

If you were insecure about your blowjob abilities, you weren’t with the way that Jeonghan was moaning at your actions. His fingers had settled down around the base of your neck, squeezing ever so slightly when a particularly loud moan left his mouth, a good girl sure to follow.

All it did was make you that much wetter. You were pretty sure that at his point you were literally dripping on his floor, but you didn’t care. As Jeonghan’s cock twitched in your mouth, you felt excitement course through you.

You could tell he was getting close.

You picked up your pace, sucking his cock with even more determination. You could taste the salty precum dribbling from the tip of his cock.

Jeonghan’s fingers suddenly tightened in your hair, and he yanked you up off of his cock. You coughed, trying to catch your breath.

“You’re such a disgusting whore, you want my cum that much?” Jeonghan asked. You whined, your fingers reaching forward trying to wrap back around his dick.

“Please, Jeonghan. I’ve been so good, I deserve it,” you pleaded. He scoffed.

“That’s for me to decide,” he said. “And I don’t think I want to put my cum anywhere then in this-” He gave your pussy a slap- not too hard. It was as if he was testing to see how you would react to it. It was just hard enough for you to yelp and jerk slightly. Jeonghan hummed. “Cunt.”

He pulled you up by the hair, pulling you close to him. He roughly slammed his lips to yours, his mouth sucking your bottom lip into his, his teeth nipping down on it just enough to puff it up.

“You want that? You want me to come in your pathetic cunt?” You were nodding enthusiastically at the question, but Jeonghan barely took note of it before pushing you face down into his bed. He grabbed you by your hips and pulled your ass up so that he could line the tip of his cock to your leaking cunt.

“God, you’re such a little whore. You’re going to make such a mess on my bed. You're dripping all over it.”

You whined, as Jeonghan pressed two of his fingers deep inside of you without any warning. You couldn’t help the way you laid your head to the side, your tits brushing aginst the comforter in a way that made you shiver.

“I wonder if you even really deserve my cock.”

You propped up onto your elbows, turning to look at Jeonghan with large eyes. You had never been with a man that had made you this desperate before in your life. Sure, you loved sex but there was something about Jeonghan that made you a complete different person. All that you could think about was his thick cock and having it pressed deep inside of you.

Just the suggestion of being filled with his cum made your mouth drool and you had never let a stranger fuck you without a condom. But with Jeonghan? It was all you wanted. You felt feral.

“Please Jeonghan I’ve been so good. I need your cock, I need it so bad. I don’t even have to cum I just need your cock in me. I need you to fill me with your cum,” you begged. Jeonghan reached forward, his cock still just brushing your soaking folds. His fingers wrapped around your throat, and he pulled you up by it, momentarily constricting your airways. You gasped desperately as Jeonghan pressed his face to yours.

“You’re so fucking pathetic. Begging a stranger to fill you with cum.”

He pushed you back down on the bed, pressing his hand on your back as to press your ass further in the air.

“But I pity a whore who has done this much and still needs a cock in her. So I’ll humor you.”

Without warning, Jeonghan pushed his cock inside of you, all the way down to the hilt. Your whole body jolted forward before you even realized what had happened and you cried out at the sudden intrusion. You unashamedly practically screamed at every thrust, your fingers digging into Jeonghan’s sheets as he fucked his cock into you.

He didn’t seem to care about the way that you were barely able to keep yourself up on the bed. All he cared about was digging his fingers into your hips to the point at which you knew there would be bruises there the next day.

“God, you’re so fucking loud. Do you know that? Do you really want everyone to know how pathetic you are.”

You didn’t even care how humiliating it was.

“Yes Jeonghan. Fuck your cock feels so fucking good,” you sobbed into his sheets. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Jeonghan snickered.

“I need to see how absolutely pathetic you look right now,” Jeonghan said. He pulled himself out of you and flipped you on the bed. You instantly spread your legs out for him, and he grabbed your thighs to pull you close to him, and without warning reinserted himself inside of you.

He pressed down on your belly fucking you fast and hard. You felt your eyes flutter closed as he fucked you, but it didn’t last long.

“Open your eyes you whore,” he snapped. You felt a slight pain on your cheek, your eyes shooting open as you realized that Jeonghan had lightly slapped you. You felt your walls tighten around Jeonghan’s cock, and a loud moan escaped your lips.

“Oh, you like that?” Jeonghan asked. He laughed and dragged you up and scooped the back of your neck up so that you were forced to look at him dead in the eyes. “You like it when I slap you like the fucking slut you are? You are depraved, you know that? Useless to anything other than being fucked.”

Jeonghan’s other hand lowered to your clit, and he pressed down on it hard.

“You’re going to cum aren’t you?” Jeonghan observed. You wondered what gave it away. The mascara surely running down your face as tears of pleasure left your eyes or the way you were desperately grinding your hips down on Jeonghan’s cock.

“You’re going to cum after being treated like absolutely useless trash.”

You were barely listening to him, lost in the sensation of his fingers on your clit and his cock slamming so deep into your pussy that every few seconds you had to practically scream a moan.

“Open your mouth whore.” You immediately opened it, sticking your tongue out. You watched as Jeonghan leaned forward, spitting into your open mouth. “Now fucking swallow.”

You swallowed obediently.

“Now thank me. Thank me for fucking spitting in your mouth like the whore you are.”

“Thank you,” you blurted out. “Thank you so much for fucking me even though I barely deserve it.”

“You’re self aware,” Jeonghan murmured. He spit again, this time on your cheek and smeared it over your face with another slap. “I’m going to cum, you hear me? And if you want to cum you will only do it after I do.”

You could barely keep yourself conscious, much less control the fact that your orgasm was rapidly approaching.

“And if you do cum before me, I’m going to fucking splatter my semen all over my face and you are going to go back down to that party and explain to everyone that you were bad and you didn’t deserve to have my cum in your cunt, do you hear me?”

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough for Jeonghan. He reached forward and slapped you again, this time harder.

“Thank you,” you cried out, the slap only making it harder not to cum. “I hear you, I understand. Please cum Jeonghan, please fill me up. I need to feel your cum inside me, I want it so much.”

You kept babbling, making Jeonghan roll his eyes.

“God you really are so pathetic.”

He pushed two of his fingers into your mouth, momentarily gagging you, but just as he did so you felt warm ropes of cum begin to fill your cunt. You cried around Jeonghan’s fingers, your body shaking as you tried to hold back your own orgasm.

You started to beg against Jeonghan’s fingers again, to the point where he had to remove them as he continued to fuck his cum deep inside of you.

“Please, can I cum now? I need to Jeonghan, I need to cum.”

Jeonghan hummed.

“You think you deserve to? You really think you get to cum on my cock?”

You nodded desperately but it wasn’t enough. All of a sudden Jeonghan pulled away from you. His cock slipping from your pussy. You felt tears rolling even faster down your face as you realized what he was taking away from you. You fell forward to your knees, grabbing at Jeonghan’s thighs as you practically crawled towards him.

“Thank you so much Jeonghan. Thank you for your cum, thank you, thank you,” you babbled incoherently. “But please, I want to cum. I want it so badly.”

“Yeah?” Jeonghan asked, honestly looking bored of you. He leaned down, grabbing you by the hair, ripping your head back roughly. “You think you can handle being choked baby? Think you can come just from my hands wrapped around your neck?”

“I... Please, I need more. Just a little more. Your thigh? Please, can I at least have your thigh?”

Jeonghan sighed, shaking his head.

“Pathetic, absolutely pathetic.”

But still he lifted you up so that you were sat on his thigh and his eyes wrapped around your throat.

“You can’t breath until you cum.”

His fingers tightened around your throat but it didn’t even matter, you found yourself silently screaming Jeonghan’s name as you rolled your hips down on Jeonghan’s thigh, feeling your walls spasm as Jeonghan’s cum leaked out of your swollen pussy.

Jeonghan’s hands loosened around your throat and your forehead fell forward on Jeonghan’s head. You were quick with your thank you’s yet again, fingers squeezing his thigh.

The orgasm was practically painful at the lack of Jeonghan’s cock in your pussy, but you were still thankful to have it at all. You tilted your head up, your nose brushing against Jeonghan’s. You looked up at him, lips curled up into a tired smile.

He hummed looking at you.

“You know what? You did deserve to cum,” he mumbled. He grabbed you by your hips, lowering you back down on his cock. He lifted you up, pressing you against as wall before beginning to rail you again. You were so sensitive but you didn’t even care. You wrapped your arms around Jeonghan’s shoulders, thanking him over and over again until he was cumming deep inside of you again.

“Now cum you pathetic slut. Cum all over my cock.”

You felt both Jeonghan’s cum and your own slick leaking out of your pussy around his cock as another orgasm ripped through you. As soon as you came down from your high, your face fell into Jeonghan’s chest.

“Fuck, Jeonghan, I’ve... I’ve never been fucked like that in my life.”

Jeonghan pulled you off of his cock, carrying you over to his bed, laying your head down on the pillow.

“Yeah? It wasn’t too much?” He asked you softly. You were surprised by the tone of his voice. You looked up at him, taking note of the gentle look on his face.

It was like he was a completely different person.

“Too much?” You asked with a laugh. “No, I loved every second of it.”

Your face flushed bright red.

“Will I ever admit to anyone the way I let you treat me and how much I liked it?” You asked. “Absolutely not, that goes to my grave but... I would let you do it again.”

Your eyes flickered away from Jeonghan’s but you heard the hum that left his mouth regardless.

“I’m going to draw a bath for you and get you something to drink okay?” Jeonghan said. You whined in protest.

“I don’t want to get up.”

“I don’t care, you need to get cleaned off.”

He looked away from you.

“Are you on birth control? Do you need me to buy you some plan B?”

You waved it off.

“I’m sure I’ll be okay.” You tried to lean up by propping yourself up on your elbows, but you were too weak.

“You can spend the night,” Jeonghan said. “I’ll be back for you in a second.”

You were silently for a second.

“Thank you.”

“It’s the bare minimum,” Jeonghan laughed. “I’ll be back.”

The door shut between him and as you rolled over you were lucky enough to find your phone with a message from Jeongyeon.

Hey, you’re not with Chan? Where’d you get off to?

Your face burned.

Ended up with someone else. Don’t wait up for me.

You let your head fall back down against the fluffy pillow. You certainly hoped that this would not be the last time that you saw Jeonghan.

“Jeonghan, did you really have to steal Chan’s date like that?” Jun sighed. Jeonghan looked up from his legos, eyebrows high.

“Steal? She came in my room. All I did was what she wanted me to do.”

“It was fine, she wasn’t feeling me,” Chan said dismissively. “Honestly not really my type either.”

“But exactly mine,” Jeonghan said, a smirk crossing his lips. “Jun, if you had told me sooner that Jeongyeon had such a dirty friend, I would have settled for one fuck buddy ages ago.”

Jun groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“And now I know too much about y/n.”

“Now?” Jihoon blurted. “You were lucky. You were downstairs at the party. I could hear every depraved thing Jeonghan said to that girl. And she thanked him for it.”

“As someone at the party,” Soonyoung piped up. “We could hear it too. Please tell me that she’s not a keeper.”

Jeonghan didn’t say anything. He just turned his attention back to his food, but everyone at the table could tell by the smile on his face, that there wouldn’t be much peace in the house the next time y/n was around.

Part Two: The Art of Humiliation

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mrs-k0zume · 13 days

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𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢 𝐠𝐨

“i love you all so very much. i won’t forget the time we had together”

@slayfics : the first person i saw on this app and my main inspiration for writing fanfiction. also the reason i started posting on this app in the first place <3

- 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐧, 𝐄𝐯𝐚

@larz-barz : the first friend i’ve made on here. you’ve been with me since the beginning of muitsuri and to the end of mrs-k0zume. you’re so sweet and kind and you’re always there for anyone.

- 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐄𝐯𝐚

@kimetsu-chan : you’re literally the sweetest and i feel the most comfortable talking or venting to you because you always knew what to say without making me feeling like i’m just reaching out for attention. you’re a really good friend and i know others feel the same about you too. i swear i could see you as a mother figure.

- 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 (𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝??) 𝐄𝐯𝐚

@thewinterpillarhashira : i really did miss you a lot when you left and the whole time i was hoping you were taking care. the amount of time you were gone did worry me though but i’m happy to see you post again. since january to april i’ve always been inspired to start drawing because of the amount of talent you hold. and i fr loved talking to you. reaching out for the first time felt like an instant click between us.

- 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐄𝐯𝐚

@kiyokatokito & @ta-ni-ya : i honestly love the matching themes and how you two match. watching your friendship is like watching my favorite movie for the first time. and i love both of your oc x canon ships and i honestly don’t know how you both were able to make such beautiful oc’s.

- 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐄𝐯𝐚

𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 :

@cloudymistedskies @colourstreakgryffin @kirorro @aceofstars0 @nimmie-nugget @tokito-dulya20 @snowmist-hashira @your-local-demon-slayer-nerd @boo-simplified @bloodfixnd @frostburn-shoto @loveemii @ayunakatsukiwolfhashira

you’re all so talented in your own ways. doesn’t matter if it’s art or a fanfic. it’s talent and i don’t want any of you to give up on your dreams no matter what anyone tells you. every single one of you are amazing and i wouldn’t have had the best time on here if it weren’t for all of you. please take care of yourselves and remember that you are so loved more than you think.

(if i forgot anyone please tell me. i added who popped up in my head)

#who knows if i’ll come back #who knows when #muitsuri talks #kenmas annoying ass wife talks #kenmas annoying ass wife left the chat

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alpaca-clouds · 5 months

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The Orphan Without Friends (or: one of my absolute writing pet peeves)

I talked about this before. Without a doubt the strongest influence on my writing has been Digimon Tamers and apart from that the general writing from Chiaki J. Konaka. And there was something I learned from Digimon Tamers that I ever since internalized a lot into my own writing.

See, if you write a story it is very easy to just slide into the trope of making your main character like an orphan without family or friends. It simplifies so many things, especially if you want to send your character onto this epic adventure. This goes doubly so, if you have a character, who is still a minor and would usually be somewhat accountable towards their parents in regards to where they are supposed to be. Also, any friendships the characters form within the story seem so much more meaningful, if your character just does not have other friends.

Meanwhile I am sitting there like: "Thanks, I hate it."

Don't get me wrong. I did the same thing too, when I was a young writer. Heck, even as I was learning from a lot of what Konaka was doing and was able to realize how this kind of writing tended to hurt stories, I still did that. Like all my original stories I wrote before the age of like... 22... followed this kind of writing. Main characters who either were orphans or had abusive parents and no friends.

But here is the thing: It kinda makes stories worse. Especially in terms of character writing.

There is two main aspects to this:

Characters without friends, who like them, are inherently less likeable. (Yes, there literally are studies on this topic.)

Characters without friends and a social environment also tend to come across as less... deep.

Let me explain. See, we humans are still very social animals and as such we tend to subconsciously orient us through other people. As such we are more likely to actually like a character, who is liked by people. Even though those people are not real, our subconscious will still orient itself at it.

You know this kind of YA protagonist, right? The "I am bullied and alone, because people do not get me, because I am not like the other girls!" Which tends to be relatable to a certain subset of readers - but basically everyone past a certain age is probably gonna roll their eyes. And this gets partly back to that. It really gets to the core there. Lonely characters feel like "oh, so special" quickly.

And yes, obviously this can be prevented if you actually work with this. Either turn it into a character weakness of some sort - or at least reflect within the story.

The other aspect is, that through giving character a social group, you actually will develop the character a bit more through those people that surround them. Because we humans have this thing called social cognition. Basically our mental processes will change depending on how we interact with social groups.

And as such... You actually will develop a character through giving them a social group. And it will show. Because who the character is friends with and how the character interacts with their family actually shows a lot about who the character is. It helps. It really helps. It allows you, too, to define the character without going into weird mologues or the likes.

I really am kinda frustrated with how often media really just does not allow characters to have friends outside the group of main characters. It's okay that they have other friends. That is fine.

#writing advice #writing #writing tips #original character #oc #character development

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carigm · 1 year

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Today Millie had a fan panel in which she answered that her ideal ending would be Mike and El getting married and Will being happy and confessing to Mike (lol) and ofc the Stranger Things fandom kicked up the old Byler vs Mlvn war once again, regardless of the fact she doesn’t write the show. But I want to break down some points here about things I’ve been noticing today, but also for a while and that I think need to be discussed. Keep reading if you want.

I’ve seen a lot of hostility towards Byler and Bylers on Twitter lately, saying we’re delusional and don’t know what we’re talking about. This always seems to be the go to argument even tho it’s all in the narrative. Today it got really bad after Millie’s comments and even people that were merely disagreeing with her opinions got called everything from delusional to misogynistic.

IF the Duffers suddenly decided to ignore everything they’ve carefully crafted and put into their narrative that doesn’t make anyone delusional, it just makes them terrible writers. Who would be doing a great disservice to all three characters involved in the love triangle.

There’s been an insurgence (on Twitter) of so called “Will stans” who seem to be completely fine with the idea of mlvn being endgame because “Will can just get another boyfriend” Not only is this insulting to what the writers have already established for Will’s character but it’s also a defense and endorsement of the worst kind of lazy/bad writing that could graze our screens.

The Duffers CHOSE to tie Will’s character arc to Mike’s and El’s.

How do you expect them to undo that and create a well fleshed out character that’s deserving of Will, in 8 episodes that we know are not just gonna be dedicated to Will’s supposed love interest, because there’s a shit ton of stuff to resolve?

If this was the route the Duffers were going for, they could’ve clearly given Will a love interest last season (like with Robin) or two seasons ago (like with Dustin) And yet somehow, people think it would be totally okay for Will to get the most meaningless romance of all time as the writers ignore the same story they’ve created.

Another point I’ve been seeing a lot from these people is “Mike won’t come out. Let it go. He’s just a very unlikable character” What does that say about the quality of the writing and content you’re willing to consume then? You’re okay with characters being poorly written? And please someone explain to me how Mike’s actions, especially in S4, make any sense unless he likes Will.

The more people try to simplify this story the more plot holes and inconsistencies it creates.

The funny thing is that a lot of these “Will stans” used to be Bylers themselves but are so deathly afraid it won’t be endgame that they’ve started to use the same rhetoric mlvns use every day to justify what would be atrocious writing.

And this next thing might be controversial but I think it needs to be said.

So many people on Twitter have hit those who disagree with Millie’s opinion today with “y’all are misinterpreting Millie’s words” and let me tell you, no one has. She’s been saying the same stuff for forever and quite frankly she’s never had a coherent thought about Will. Which is fine, at the end of the day that’s not the character she plays. However, I haven’t forgotten how last year (at another panel) she was asked about Byler and said it was just a reflection of Finn and Noah’s friendship and that was what people were seeing…

Whatever the fuck that means, I guess.

Again, I’m not taking her answer today too seriously cause truth be told she’s been saying some version of this since she was around twelve, and has even at times said she was joking about it. If a wedding were actually happening she wouldn’t be able to say it cause I’d literally be a spoiler, even if she doesn’t have the scripts yet or doesn’t know I’m sure there’s things that would be off limits for any actor to say at this point.

But this defense squad that formed today begging for us to not misconstrue her words because “she really cares about Will’s character” is laughable.

Her answers regarding the topic of the love triangle have been anything but nuanced. If she doesn’t want to get into it or address it, that’s fine. It’s her choice.

But of course, mlvn stans are gonna take her answers seriously, as well as those who are now “Will stans” who basically ship mlvn too.

And to me there’s a fundamental flaw regarding the ship wars in this fandom, which these people don’t seem to grasp. At this point, it isn’t so much about “which ship is better” but “which outcome isn’t violently homophobic”

That’s it.

I don’t care how much you ship mlvn, this is the undisputed truth here.

But when your lead actors act like it’s not a big deal, it’s no surprise the fandom doesn’t give a shit.

I can only hope the Duffers were smart enough to see reason and were able to write the only outcome that won’t set television back around 10 years or so.

And hopefully one day, when S5 is out, we can get a more in depth and honest conversation with the actors about all of this.

As for me, I’m gonna lay low and not give much of a fuck until we start getting those Reddit leaks, which were very much accurate for last season. I’ll take a peak at those, and depending on what they look like, I’ll stay around or dip completely.

If you read all of this, thank you.

#byler #byler theory #byler is real

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ckret2 · 4 months

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Hi. So, question. Are the genders of Bill's dimension like bees? I've been wondering, as lines are considered female (""drone equivalent""), whereas any other shape with more sides are male, but. you know. come in literal different shapes (ie. workers, guards, queens, etc.) Obviously this framework of comparing them to bees is more of a metaphor. Stark biological variance and how it interfaces with gender has GOT to do some interesting things to their concept of gender.

I want to avoid "even once you set aside reproductive roles, lines are so massively different from polygons that you can separate 'polygons' and 'lines' into two groups as if polygons share some inherent similarity that makes them more similar to each other than any of them are to lines," and I also want to avoid "each distinct shape has a special hardcoded biological function like some kind of fucked up 'natural' self-reinforcing class system."

So, no. I'd rather they not be like bees.

Truth be told, it would take a huge amount of effort to invent a bunch of fresh new unique genders connected to all the shapes' different sexes WITHOUT defaulting to some sort of cringy over-simplified "and here's the warrior sex with a bunch of warrior personality traits, and here's the scholar sex with a bunch of scholarly personality traits, and here's the politician sex and the merchant sex and the farmer sex and—" Like the social restrictions from human sexism are already bad enough, do we really need to upgrade "assigned gender at birth" to "assigned job at birth" like this is Brave New World or something? I'm not writing a dystopia here. And after all that effort, it would have absolutely negligible impact on the fic that I'm doing all this worldbuilding for.

So—unless I stumble upon a zero-effort idea I can explain in fic in under 40 words that DOESN'T make my agender ass cringe in "really, we're replicating THAT conception of gender?" distaste—I'm gonna continue going "each shape is a separate sex with a separate assigned gender, trust me bro" and y'all will just have to take my word for it. If you can't tell what exactly it is that makes Bill's gender different from Kryptos's gender it's because they're aliens and it's just too foreign for you to comprehend. Trust me bro.

#anonymous #ask #about my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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potofstewie · 1 year

Text

Deja Vu

The low down: History is repeating itself and for once, Kyojuro is tired.

The things to know: Reader uses she/her pronouns, Absolute angst (I kind of got teary eyed while writing this), mentions of blood, character death, this mostly takes place before mugen train , ooc shinjuro but he's a nice guy promise, Venting, sobbing kyojuro, like literally this ray of sunshine is BROKEN, a peaceful and sober Shinjuro, Y/N is literally a bg character lmao sorry, daddy issues

Pairing: Kyojuro x Reader

W/C: A WHOPPING 3.8K WORDS, MY BIGGEST ONE YET!

Words/phrases to know:

Monstuki Haori Hakama: Traditional formal garment that would be worn as simplified attire by people in the Samurai Society (during the Edo Period)

A/N: Hey you guys, I'll come clean. This one is a doozy not necessarily in length but in the emotions I tried my best to display in this one. It's true, reader is nothing but a background character and I kinda apologize for that. I really wanted to write a fic that portrays a new leaf in Kyojuro and Shinjuro's relationship and what better way than with sacrificing Y/N? Anyway, I finally made a pinned post linking my masterlist and other stuff for my mobile users. I plan on posting this and my other stuff on AO3 probably tmr as well. I hope you guys enjoyed and DO TELL ME YOUR FAVORITE PART

It was happening again.

Kyojuro laid wide awake within his futon, puffy and reddened eyes burning the ceiling with his intense gaze. The calming silence of the night was occasionally interrupted with your pained coughs erupting from the other room. Kyojuro ran a tired hand through his disheveled mane, completely fed up with it all.

The coughing, the wheezing, the piles upon piles of tissues that were stained with spots of blood and phlegm. The never ending servings of soup, the countless doctor visits that always ended on the same confusing and irritating note.

“It’s only a matter of time.”

Kyojuro didn’t hate a lot of things in the world, but that sentence he hated the most. “It’s only a matter of time.”

A matter of time until what? Until she gets better? Until she becomes the second one to leave them? What the hell did it mean? The situation weighed heavily on the Rengoku males, tension forever present within the household. At the beginning, all three of them would listen intensely to whatever orders and updates the doctors gave. They would each take turns administering medicine and delivering soup, massaging sore muscles that grew tired of being idle under a futon. Now, however, it was only Senjuro who listened. Kyojuro, as well as his father, continued to serve your every need despite giving up on worshiping the vague and aggravating words of the doctors.

Your lover tried to keep his cheerful façade on display as usual, but as the days went on and the coughing grew louder and longer, his smile would falter and heavy sighs would take the place of his boisterous laughter. The bubbling fear and anger within him replaced his ever so optimistic and happy demeanor. There was no doubt that his family took notice of his change no matter how hard he tried to hide it, you included. Any time he would be with you, you would always ask the same things:

“How have you been, honestly?”

“Have you been eating?”

“Are you taking care of yourself while you’re away?”

“Something is on your mind, my love. What’s upsetting you?”

You were easily satisfied with the simple “I’m alright, don’t worry about me.”, “yes” or “nothing is wrong my dear, honest.” You’d always give him that smile which he loved dearly before turning your back to him, returning to the warm embrace of slumber. Kyojuro’s beaming smile would always dissipate immediately when your eyes were no longer on him, fatigue tugging at his spirit. Of course something was bothering him; you were crumbling away right in front of him and he was absolutely powerless to do anything.

On the days he would be free from pillar duties, all he could do was roam the house aimlessly like a ghost who couldn’t pass on properly. Even at night when sleep couldn’t find him, he would wander the halls. His frame would always buckle and slide against the walls, silent tears covered his cheeks every time as he curled in on himself. This all felt like Deja Vu to the flame hashira, every second he experienced was just another second he had already gone through. However this time he would be the grieving partner. He was grateful, though, that instead of turning to alcohol like his father did once upon a time, he stuck to wandering like a stray dog.

Kyojuro grew to envy his father when your illness took a turn for the worst. He took notice of the lack of sake present in the house and the ever growing moments he and Senjuro would catch their father outside his room. He took note of how attentive his father was to your every beck and call, even to those that didn’t require him or ask of him in the first place. Even without being told he would do his damndest to ensure his would be daughter-in-law is alright. Opening the Shoji to let the sunlight flood into the room, cooking hot meals for the house and giving you the largest servings, taking up extra chores so Senjuro could keep you company. All these things Kyojuro wished he had the enthusiasm for. He loved helping you, truly, but his determination had depleted almost completely.

Rubbing his eyes, Kyojuro sat up, a heavy sigh leaving his dusted red nose. The corners of his mouth twitched, heavy with sadness as a revelation dawned upon him. His father was probably doing this out of habit, out of fear. He faintly remembered what it was like when his mother was sick, his father doing everything he could when he had the time to be at home. He supposed that maybe doing all of these things and more was a way for his father to cope with the haunting truth that another person he cared about would die due to unchangeable circumstances. Maybe, just maybe, his father hoped that things would get better and that he wouldn’t have to relive the same pain he had once experienced; even if it wasn’t him who would take it the hardest.

A single tear escaped Kyojuro’s fiery eyes, his hand quickly erasing it as he sniffled softly. No, the one to bear the pain the most would be him. It was his turn now, and no amount of soup and small conversations his father offered to the family’s source of light would change that. Getting up from his futon, Kyojuro wondered if there had been a curse placed upon his family. It couldn’t be a coincidence that this same situation would happen twice. Did a demon from his father’s past place a curse on the bloodline as it died to his blade? Damning every Rengoku to suffer absolute heartbreak?

Entering the dark hallway, Kyojuro silently stalked his way to the entrance, mind lost in sorrow. Staying in bed couldn’t help him and wandering the halls wasn’t something he was up for. Instead, he aimed for the fresh, crisp night air to fill his lungs and clear his mind. Oh, how he wanted so badly to purge the sickness in you and toss it to the farthest reaches of the earth. He wished to take you out to all your favorite restaurants again, to go on a picnic with you again, to bear witness to you playing with Senjuro under the cherry blossom trees again. He missed being able to kiss you during the cold winter nights that only a lover’s embrace could heat up. He could no longer give you the sweet kisses you had once pleaded for, your illness putting a stop to most intimate tokens of affection you were both accustomed to.

As a heavy sigh left his lips, Kyojuro opened the shoji and blinked in surprise. His father, broad back facing the house and his eyes focused on the sky above, was sitting on the engawa. Legs hung over the edge, a half empty cup sitting next to its owner. Shinjuro turned around slightly, acknowledging his son.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He explained softly, turning his attention back to the dark sky, the bright moon the only thing decorating the endless dark abyss. Kyojuro closed the shoji behind him and took a seat next to his father, burning eyes gazing at the cup in suspicion before looking at his father in silent question. Shinjuro picked the cup up and slightly turned it. “It’s just water.” He said simply, resting the cup on the other side of him before resting his hands in his lap.

“I..couldn’t sleep either.” Kyojuro said softly, hesitation ladened in his sleep-deprived voice. Although things within the house had gotten better since you entered his life and the lives of his family, Kyojuro still had a slight problem conversing with his father. You managed to change his father for the better, instead of heaps of sake littering the house only one or two bottles were kept in the kitchen before his father made the decision to get rid of it entirely once you fell ill. He started to eat with the family, although he barely spoke, only talking when answering a question or giving Senjuro or you his praises for the meal. He started training Senjuro in simple hand to hand combat, leaving the sword work to Kyojuro. He even had daily, lengthy conversations with you about an array of things; from what Ruka was like to how happy the birds seemed to be that day.

It wasn’t easy but progress was slightly made between the father and son. His father started returning any greetings he was given, he waited alongside you and Senjuro when Kyojuro finally arrived home from a grueling mission and even confessed to him that he was proud of him being a hashira but still preferred it if he turned away for his own safety. But, all of that still didn’t quite quell the nervousness Kyojuro had when it came to him.

“I know. That’s why you’re here, Kyojuro.” He remarked quietly, taking a sip of his drink. If he focused hard enough, he could’ve sworn that there was a twinge of tease hidden in his father’s voice.

“R-right.” He replied, voice barely above a whisper. For a few pensive moments, there was a cold silence between them. Kyojuro furrowed his wild eyebrows slightly, oh how awkward this all was! He didn’t know what to say to his father, even if he did he still wasn’t sure if he should voice it. He was in an intense battle with himself and by the looks of it, it was going to end in a draw.

One part of him wanted to vent to his father, to tell him all of his frustrations and woes about the depressing situation all of them were currently in. He wanted to bawl and curl up by his father, have his hot tears soak through the clothing on his father’s shoulder. He wished to be a little boy again, to trip and scrape his knee and have his father pick him up like he used to and comfort him. To hear him say: “It’s alright little one, you don’t need to cry anymore. I’ll patch you up, good as new.” like he used to. To plant a loving kiss on the top of his head and rock him in his arms. To call him a big boy when he was finally at ease and say how proud he was for being brave. All that he wished to have again.

The other part of Kyojuro, however, wanted to keep the peaceful silence between them. To just gaze up at the moon with his father and bottle up his emotions; to burn through it all passionately as he usually would. But even Kyojuro knew that would end in failure. He wanted to be as strong as he could, to bear it all on his tired and weakened shoulders. To give hope to his father -and to himself- that things would be alright and that you would bounce back better than ever. That you would play with Senjuro again, that you would do morning stretches with his father again in the garden, that you would plant millions of loving and passionate kisses all over Kyojuro’s face.

As the young man sat in silence, mind ravaging with his thoughts, Shinjuro broke the silence with the clearing of his throat. “I..think it would be best for the two of you to get married as soon as possible.” Kyojuro turned his head to his father, his puffy eyes blown wide as his father continued to stare at the sky. “It..would be best for all of us if there was one last good memory to hold onto.” With that, he finally gazed at him, tired eyes drinking in the clear signs that his son was crying earlier.

“Oh, um, yes. You have a point…I’ll bring it up with Y/N tomorrow morning.” Kyojuro muttered, calloused hands slightly gripping his yukata. Kyojuro’s gaze lowered to his lap as he tried to figure out how to pose his question. “Um, father?” He called out. Shinjuro answered with a gruff hum, taking another sip of water.

“Father, Y/N..isn’t going to get better, is she?” Kyojuro could feel his ears heat slightly at his question. He sounded like a small child that couldn’t grasp the concept of someone he cared about dying. He reminded him of himself once upon a time. Shinjuro grunted again, looking at Kyojuro.

“She won’t, Kyojuro.” He answered simply, flaming eyes once more concentrating on the moon. Kyojuro’s bottom lip twitched at the obvious confirmation, a painful lump slowly forming in his throat.

“Father?” He started again, picking at the hangnail that resided on his pointer finger. Shinjuro sighed softly and leaned back on his palms.

“Yes, Kyojuro?” He answered patiently, completely understanding the heavy task he was assigned once Kyojuro sat next to him. He knew how fragile his son currently was and he knew just how painful it was. Nobody was by his side when Ruka fell ill but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t be the lighthouse for the ship his son sailed on, horrible waves from the daunting storm threatening to capsize him.

“It’s all useless, isn’t it? The doctor visits and the soup.” He started, worry taking the reins and causing him to talk faster. “A-As well as the medication and the massages and-”

“Kyojuro.” Shinjuro interrupted sternly, shocking the young man and causing him to look at his father with worry plastered on his face. An iron gaze was focused on the young man’s sorrowful features. A sigh flew from the older man’s lips as Kyojuro looked back down at his fingers, eyes covered in a sheen film. “It may all seem useless, hell, it might actually be. But those things..bring her ease. It brings Senjuro ease. It gives them hope and it would be cruel to just stop it and force them to face the grave truth.”

“Right, I apologize.” Kyojuro said meekly, lolling his head back to keep from sniffling. A tender yet battle-worn hand rested on the top of Kyojuro’s head, giving him a slight pat before leaving his messy hair.

“It’s alright, Kyo.” Shinjuro reassured softly, sitting up straight again. He dithered, unsure of how to say his next words. If one thing Shinjuro wasn't good at, it was being reassuring. But, his son needed him and he truly didn't want to let him down this time. Never again, he silently vowed to himself as he took a deep breath, lips parting slightly.

“It’s okay to feel this way. I don’t have to tell you how hard this all is and how awful everything feels. But just know that I won’t leave your side for any of it. I’ll be there to hold your hand through it all and I’ll make sure that you don’t end up like I did. I promise you, Kyojuro.” He finished, a small yet reassuring smile resting on his lips. Kyojuro looked at his father in both bewilderment and comfort. For the first time in a while, Kyojuro was finally receiving the love and care that he had longed for from his father for a long time. With a slight nod, Kyojuro once more looked down in his lap, fingers tightly woven. A single tear finally broke through, leaving a small dot on his clothing.

“Father, I..I’m so scared. I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know if I can keep being cheerful anymore. I’m so tired, father. I feel like I'm lying to her, lying to myself. And I can't stand it, I just-” And with the last word to leave his trembling lips, a struggling wail escaped Kyojuro’s throat. Rapid streams of tears left his screwed shut eyes as his shoulders convulsed, rough hands frantically trying to wipe away the stains on his crimson cheeks however they just kept coming even stronger than before. Large hands grabbed the side of Kyojuro’s head and shoulder, pushing him into a tight hug. Soft hushes filled the heavy night air as Kyojuro’s wails grew louder and became filled with incoherent babbling.

“I don’t wan’ to lose her, I hate it. I hate it all! I-I wanna save her but- but I can’t!” Kyojuro spoke through an agape frown, drool beginning to leave his mouth while his hands gripped the back of his father’s yukata tightly as Shinjuro’s hand rubbed his back. “P-please, Papa, help me, Please!” He pleaded, voice muffled as he buried his head further into his father’s embrace. Shinjuro’s lower lip twitched slightly before burying it on the top of his son’s head, placing a soft kiss in the blond tresses.

“I know, Kyo, I know. I’ll help you out, don’t worry. It’s okay, my son...I promise.” Shinjuro whispered as the gut wrenching sobs left his son’s lips. Shinjuro hated it all too. He hated seeing the memories of Ruka’s final moments every time he visited you. He hated seeing Kyojuro slowly turn into a shell of his former self, he hated looking into the mirror that was his son. He hated seeing younger Kyojuro within Senjuro, always trying his hardest to raise everyone’s hopes and quietly asking him if Y/N will for sure get better; always being met with vague answers. It was all Deja Vu to the older man, as if he was watching the past play out right in front of him but ten times worse. They hadn’t even gotten married yet, let alone have one or two children. Shinjuro could feel nothing but the sorrow and anguish within his battered heart beating loudly in his ears as Kyojuro finally succumbed to his emotions.

Shinjuro started to slightly rock his son side to side as burning tears soaked through his clothes. He didn’t mind not one bit. He would have all of his clothes drenched in the salty tears of his children if that is what they needed. He would rock them and comfort them as many times as they requested, no matter how big the issue was or how old the children were. It was his responsibility as their father to do so, as well as something he owed to them for all the years of negligence.

Kyojuro’s wails died down to occasional sniffles and heavy breathing. His grip on his father slightly loosened as he partially uncovered his bloodshot eyes, gaze resting on nothing in particular. “What..am I going to do? I love her so much, it hurts. It hurts so bad. I feel like I can’t breathe, my lungs are burning. I-I’m so tired, Papa.” Kyojuro mumbled, no longer caring about how childish he seemed calling his father “Papa”. That’s what he was after all, Papa. Papa the Brave that chases the demons away every night before bed and when he’s away from home. Papa the Strong that can carry both his children and his wife on his body, carrying them throughout the house as tiny, sweet giggles filled the air. Proud Papa that teaches his sons how to hold a sword and praises them when they beat the air with wooden swords. Loving Papa that coats Mama in sweet kisses when he comes back home. Helpful Papa that saves little boys with snakes from sorrowful places and wipes his children’s faces every meal time. His Papa.

Shinjuro sighed softly, rugged hand traveling in his son’s hair. “I’m sorry, Kyojuro. There isn’t much you can do but be there for her. Love her as much as possible no matter what. Try to make her happy every day, even if you feel like giving up. And when you do feel like giving up, find me. And I’ll carry you.”

Kyojuro sniffled as his body felt the brunt force of fatigue. His wild eyebrows furrowed as he began to succumb to the sweet luls of slumber. “Okay, Papa..” Softly leaving his lips as he finally slept, Shinjuro kept his steady rhythm of rocking until the morning sun crested the horizon, birds singing their wake-up songs to the once still Earth.

A warm, gentle breeze traveled throughout the lively forest as boisterous laughter filled the air. Shinjuro chuckled softly as he watched his two sons walk briskly ahead of them, jokes and funny stories exchanging between the two. Kyojuro laughed loudly again as Senjuro entertained him with a funny face in the middle of his story, swinging the picnic basket in his hand.

“Kyojuro!” Shinjuro called out, his sons giving him their attention. “Try not to laugh too hard, remember? You’re still healing.” He reminded the young man, gesturing to the bandages that were wrapped around his torso, hidden underneath his Monstuki Haori Hakama. Kyojuro gently rubbed the eyepatch that rested on his face, a habit he started to pick up when in thought, a beaming smile shining at his father.

“Don’t worry, I feel good enough to laugh. It doesn’t hurt, promise!” He assured before joining his little brother that was already ahead of the both of them and underneath the tree. Heaps of food sprawled out on the red blanket once Shinjuro finally caught up to his children, a bento and chopsticks already out for him. He sat down carefully next to Senjuro, content eyes soaking in the picturesque view that laid before him. Many trees danced with the gentle summer wind, birds swooping and diving into the canopy for their lunch. A nearby stream sang its song elegantly as the two sons conversed with each other. Shinjuro took a deep breath in, the sweet scent of the manju and flowers filling his nose.

“She would’ve liked this place, right Aniue?” Senjuro said softly, snapping his father from his silent appreciation of nature. Kyojuro lowered his chopsticks, a small smile plastered on his face. He rubbed his stomach gingerly, before turning his attention to his little brother.

“She would have. Both of them would, I reckon. However, they’d probably yell at us for being late.” He chuckled, producing a large smile from Senjuro, a smaller one from his father. “Not to mention, we didn’t make Y/N favorite food to bring with us.” He finished, laughing loudly as Shinjuro released a soft snort.

“She’d be mad at you, not me and Sen. I told you we should’ve made some but you insisted on rushing.” He retorted, Senjuro giggling softly at his father’s remark. Kyojuro chuckled sheepishly as he rubbed his neck. His father was right, of course. But you would forgive him, Kyojuro knew you would.

“Then let’s make some when we get home and give it to her. Now hurry up and eat before I end up taking everything.” Senjuro warned before quickly snatching up a mitarashi dango, eliciting a shocked and hurried response from his brother as well as a scoff from his father, joining in the competition.

Things hadn’t been fair to the Rengoku family and although things would forever change for them, one thing was for sure; no sorrowful bouts of Deja Vu would visit them. And if they did, Papa the Brave would be there.

ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ʙɪɴᴅ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏᴛᴏꜰꜱᴛᴇᴡɪᴇ™ 2022

#kyojuro x reader #rengoku x reader #kyojuro rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #kny rengoku #kny angst #shinjuro rengoku #shinjuro #rengoku shinjuro #demon slayer angst #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kyojuro x y/n #original stew

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invested-in-your-future · 7 months

Note

Ruby this Ruby that you sound like a broken record. She already grieved and she wouldn't hate Jaune because Ruby is a HERO and she forgives

Now gee why would I be annoyed that the show's main character got screwed over from having a proper character arc, interesting character development and having genuinely heartfelt story moments that matter! Why would anyone be mad that a character with volumes of build up got all of that potential and depth stolen?! How unthinkable to be annoyed that a show titled RWBY doesn't have anything to do with R or W or B or Y!

One of the things that anyone that has written anything will say when talking about story structure is that you should never have your characters be completely infallible or have the narrative their personality traits for granted.

The concept of fictional writing since time immemorial has always involved overcoming (or failing to overcome) obstacles, be it literal or figurative.

To put it simply - a choice or an action or a character trait loses all of it's value when it's "an unchanging default outcome". If you take a blank sheet of paper and try to paint something with only white, all you will get is same white.

Conflict, facing obstacles as part of character development, etc helps highlight character traits by via simple contrast.

A character at their highpoint is notable only because there's a contrast with them hitting a low point. Being kind, being forgiving, being heroic, being cruel, being vengeful, being malicious - all of character traits are choices. And them being choices (conscious or subconscious), are what gives them meaning. That's what characterization is if one were to simplify it - taking character traits and exploring them as character reacts to or reflects upon something that is happening or happened and then makes a decision

if a character, Ruby or anyone really, never has to struggle with those choices, then their choices, personality traits and even story themes that surround the character are all worthless.

You don't design a filler dimension of Character Development with the goal of putting your protagonist into situation where she is at her lowest and then offscreen literally anything relevant to that as well as any sort of struggle or conflict.

She might forgive, she might not, but seeing her process that information and seeing that conflict is crucial to her as a character. And not just this specific case - there's plenty of things she experienced that show just completely handwaves away in V9 (like her entire psychological trauma or EVEN HER HAVING FLAWS).

A character being always forgiving and always heroic "because story wants it to be the case" means absolutely nothing and might as well be white noise.

The latest offscreen Incident (one of many offscreen incidents) is just another case where Ruby could have had an important character moment and didn't.

As it stands MilesWBY Ruby is nothing. Entire main cast really. There's been no real progression since end of V3 and whatever interesting consequences of V3 there could have been, have been constantly downplayed or ignored. Ruby Rose has ended the volume a worse and more shallow character than she started it as because all of the potential to salvage her character and make her more complex was robbed. All of the cast did, really.

Ever After was created as the Filler Dimension of Character Development and instead it ended up as merely "The Filler Dimension".

#rwby #rwde #ruby rose #it hurts to even think what could have been #Ruby should be the star of her show and she had every bit of potential to be an intriguing and emotionally relatable character #instead she is nothing

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tiredrobin · 5 months

Text

referring to my last post im too lazy to like. explain the premise in detail so the basic idea is danny and damian twins thing, danielle/dani clone is the same age as danny, she has his memories but not all of them and jumbled and fragmented and messy and it fucks with her a lot. and danny also. now theyre triplets in the way where damian has obviously no memories of dani but she remembers him and its SO MESSY and emotionally difficult for all of them because dani is 100% danny's sister but not damian's. heres a non-specific ficlet thing i tamped out because this au is stuck in my fucking head but i dont know enough to write it because i dont care abt dc stuff. thanks for understanding

also. theyre literally all transgender. because i said so. this is a legal requirement for this au. vlad switched the chromosomes to make a more stable clone but dani was like "...no, im a girl actually". danny and dani joke about switching bodies all the time. damian and danny didn't know they were trans until after they separated, damian still doesnt know danny is because he thinks danny is dead, danny does know Now because damians a wayne and is in the news and danny recognized him evn tho no one but damian's family knows hes transmasc. also danny is transmasc in the agender kind of way. nothing can fucking stop me

vague context: sometimes dani quizzes danny on his/sorta-their past, bcuz her memories are so weird and jumbled and it helps to hear the truth evn when she cant actually remember it.

cw: brief mention of an adult being creepy towards children

"Okay," Dani says, and Danny pretends he isn't fervently praying she'll shut up.

"Okay," he echoes after a long moment, prompting. Somehow, the wariness doesn't leak into his voice.

"Third coach tried to kill us—you," she says.

'Third coach' means Danny and Damian's third trainer. Dani uses words pretty strangely, sometimes. Her language has a habit of slipping into something more rudimentary, simplified, like she's a toddler.

She's a year and seven months old. Her grasp on language is, in Danny's personal opinion, remarkable.

"That happened, yes," Danny says when he realizes he'd been quiet too long. He's starting to drag. These conversations are exhausting in a way he can never articulate, not even to Dani, but there'd be no reason to because he knows she gets it. From the way she's listing to her side in the air, the imbalance fucking with her physics enough that she's starting to drift very subtly to the left, she's worn thin.

"… Why?" she asks after a long pause. "He seemed nice."

Danny focuses in on the thrum of her core. It's in near-perfect resonance with his own, which used to be so deeply disturbing it made his skin crawl but now feels soothing. It's a balm on his frayed nerves during the bad days; a reminder that, though he's lost one sibling, he has another.

"He wasn't," Danny murmurs. Third trainer smiled a lot—that might be what Dani is remembering—but he had wandering hands and a creepy way of looking at him and Damian. He taught them about pinching nerves. His fingers always lingered.

"Oh," says Dani. She rights her tilt, though she's still drifting. Danny's brain does a weird thing, a math sort of thing, that calculates the angle of her drift, the current speed, the projected acceleration. If she keeps going, she'll bump into the wall in three minutes, twenty-seven seconds.

(His brain does weird things like that, sometimes. Frostbite says it's a result of ectoplasm mixing with living neural pathways. The ectoplasm appears to be acting as a stimulant of sorts, or maybe a steroid. A stimulant-steroid. (…Stimuloid?) He hadn't been able to follow the explanation very well at the time, due to the fact that his brain was doing the opposite of what it's doing now. Sometimes he thinks so fast it feels like his thoughts are teleporting; sometimes his head is so foggy he can barely process what's right in front of him. It's super great. Super.)

"… Oh," Dani says again, softer. Then, in an abrupt subject change, "Did you really almost push Tucker off some stairs?"

"You" this time. The way she selects it—"us", "me", "you"—it says a lot about how the memory feels to her. She'd been raised an assassin; she barely knows Tucker, Danny's oldest friend. She hardly recognizes dad; she wants to cling to Sam. Sometimes it's him, sometimes it's her, sometimes it's a weird third thing. Or something. She'd phrased it in a way that made him laugh and forget most of it, when he'd asked, and now he regrets that.

"I did, yeah," he huffs a laugh. "He stole—"

"Our truck!" Our. "Yeah, okay, I remember that."

"It wasn't a truck."

"No? It—ohhh, it was the, um. The model train. The one you built! That Tucker's dad gave you."

He nods. "Yeah. I was worried he'd break it."

"And pushing him down the stairs wouldn't?"

"Assassin training."

"Sure."

One of her eyes is a little crinkled. She might be getting a headache, because that's the face Danny makes when he's getting a headache. (It's the face Damian made when he got one, too.) (Stop comparing them.) "You should get some rest," Danny tries.

"I'll get nightmares."

Her nightmares are weird. She's talked about them enough for Danny to feel familiar with them, even though his are nothing like her's. She'd tried sharing one with him, once, and it'd hurt his head for days after.

"I'm gonna get nightmares too, now," he points out. She winces. Danny realizes too late that might have sounded more accusatory than intended. He wanted her to stop asking questions, yeah, but not at the cost of herself. He's the reason she exists now; he's the reason why her head is so stuffed full of things that don't make sense, memories and daydreams and terrors both real and imagined haunting every step she takes. Even if he isn't the one that made her, hadn't ever wanted her—even if that, she's his responsibility.

"It goes both ways, idiot," she says.

She's not reading his mind, but. It's like she is. She can feel his core like it's his thoughts, and that's near enough. "I'm the older brother," he says, intentionally putting something a little haughty in his voice, a tone he hasn't carried since he was, like, eight or something. The effect is ruined a bit as he lays down, angled so he can still watch her drift towards the wall. "You're my responsibility. That's how it goes."

She rolls her eyes. "What if I wanna be the older brother?"

"Can't. You're the youngest, out of the three of us."

Dani sort of… pauses.

Danny does, too. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. Damian is… "gone" isn't the right word, because he's not dead. Not like Danny thought he was for a… for a while. But he's off limits in a way Danny can't access. He hasn't referred to Damian as his brother since the first time Dani started asking questions, and she'd been careful to avoid doing so herself. Which would seem considerate, if Danny didn't know she avoided it because the whole thing just feels too big and too messy to look at in the eyes.

And here Danny's gone, shoving his foot in his mouth. The three of us. There isn't three; Damian has to think Danny's dead. Has to have mourned him. If Damian knew…

It's so scary to think about.

And—there's Dani, now. Not a replacement—nothing could replace Damian—but Damian would feel that she is. Probably.

"What a mess," Dani says.

Had she thought the same things? Maybe. No way to tell without asking, and Danny's too tired to ask. "Yeah."

She touches down onto the ground. On silent feet, she checks the locks on Danny's door, and then she pads over to the bed and nudges him until he gives her enough space to lay down next to him. She's not going to sleep here, and Danny won't be able to sleep with her there (it reminds them both of sharing a bed with Damian), but she likes to do this sometimes and Danny likes it when she does.

Neither of them say anything else. Danny won't be able to fall asleep, but he manages to start a very light doze. Dani's core thrums contentment and his echoes it. She's saying I love you I love you I love you and he's singing it back, and when her pinkie hooks into his—like Damian, like Damian, stop comparing them but it's so much like Damian—Danny curls his to lock it in place.

"I might to spy on him," she murmurs after an unknown amount of time.

Danny cracks open an eye. "You won't."

"I want to," she amends, "But… I won't." I'm scared, she doesn't say, but Danny can hear it anyway.

"The tabloids do it enough for us," Danny points out.

She snorts. "Yeah, sure. 'Damian Wayne: Vegetarian or secret animal killer?' Definitely a good accurate way to get information."

Danny smiles and lets his eyes slip shut again. "He was like that even when we were little." Didn't like eating meat, eating animals.

"I remember."

He sighs. His core sings I love you. Dani's pinkie slips from his. There's a sweep of cold, like a blanket being pulled over him, and then she's gone. He might see her in a week; he might not see her for months.

Danny drifts to sleep.

#danny phantom #dcu #dp dc crossover #damian wayne #dani phantom #robin rambles #robin writes #this au is SO.#SILLY.#wish itd leave my head

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aihoshiino · 1 month

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different anon! but i 100% upvote other anon's comment of you being the professor of hoshino-aiology 😎👍 your posts about her give me a newfound appreciation for her and imo you should be the one writing 15 year lie frfr 🤧👏✨️

and if you haven't written anything abt it, could you share your thoughts abt the spica ai chapter? i liked ai and saitou in it but i was shocked at how intense the b-komachi bullying was :0 poor ai 😢

THANK YOU ANON…….. god can you imagine what this manga would be like if i had been given that kind of creative control. you're going to read my 15 volume hoshino ai backstory flashback and you're going to love every single chapter of it!!!

When it comes to Spica, I have pretty mixed feelings on that first chapter. For transparency's sake, I broadly dislike the novel overall and I think it takes away from the relationships it depicts more than it adds. Like I mentioned in a previous ask, my issue with Spica (and its depiction of OnK's world and characters) is its tendency to flatten and simplify many of the interesting interpersonal wrinkles that characterize these central dynamics in the main story. This is much more evident in the GRSR chapters (as outlined in that post) but you can absolutely see it in Ai's chapter as well.

POST-WRITING CLAIRE EDIT: So while this post initially started as me broadly skimming some of the issues I had with chapter 1, it has ballooned into a much, MUCH longer essay about what it is about Spica that I disliked and why, broadly, I think it fails to work both as a standalone piece and as an addition to OnK as a canon. I'm pretty negative about the book in this post and very critical of the writing so if you really liked Spica and it would bum you out to see me take it apart, feel free to skip this post.

On the surface, Ai and Saitou's dynamic is pretty true to the main story and I will admit that I do enjoy their rapport in this chapter and just that we got a chapter focusing on this relationship full stop. Ai and Saitou's relationship is one I've always been particularly soft for and getting a whole chapter that was basically just exploring its early days was really nice. But it's also a very rose tinted view of that relationship in a way I think does it a bit of a disservice. I discussed this in my OnK anime rewatch but Spica's take on Saitou (and thus on his relationship with Ai) frames him as a wholly positive and supportive figure whose desires for money and success in the entertainment industry are explicitly, textually said to be secondary and unimportant to his uncomplicated kind desire to support them as they succeed. There's almost this sense of "wow, isn't it so noble and cool that saitou is kindly allowing these tweenage girls to work themselves ragged making money for his company!!!" that's a bit icky to read.

This is in line with the bizarre ways Spica portrays idol culture, in particular the 'oshi'/fan dynamic. This is another thing I've discussed before, so I'll borrow my previous words on the topic:

The Japanese text of [chapter 137] takes this dehumanization a step further: Rather than the wasei-eigo term アイドル (aidoru), when calling [Ai] an idol, Gotanda uses the word 偶像 (guzou) - an idol by its original definition. It goes beyond just reducing her to an animal - it’s objectification in the very literal sense. Ai is an idol, a ceremonial object of worship, an inanimate vessel for the dirty desires of the people around her. [...] Spica [...] depicts the moment that Ai starts down this road, committing herself to being an idol who will love and support everyone, even people who hate and scorn her. This is framed by the novel as being something of a breakthrough for her and being liberating for it but I came out of it feeling deeply unsettled in a way I don’t think the novel wanted me to be. [...] Spica depicts the moment that Ai goes from アイドル to 偶像 without seeming to realise that’s what it’s doing and thus does so in a way that is not just uncritical but wholly celebratory. In a lot of ways, this makes sense - Spica, broadly speaking, is about the “oshi” part of Oshi no Ko: the emotional fulfillment of not just receiving support but in the act of giving support yourself, in cheering someone on and seeing them succeed. Spica depicts these sorts of relationships in a straightforwardly and uncritically positive light, even in cases of parasocial relationships between fans and celebrities.

There was a lot on that topic that I left out just because that chapter review was already getting so fucking long and unhinged but Spica's entirely uncritical and celebratory view of idol culture in general always leaves me feeling deeply uncomfortable every time I engage with the text. There's a degree to which this can be excused, because Spica takes place in the POV of characters who have drunk the industry kool-aid and thus would not necessarily interpret some of this stuff with the same critical lens as a reader. A charitable interpretation of the material is that, like Viewpoint B and 45510, the story is choosing to refrain from commenting on these troubling elements for the purposes of allowing the reader to have their own take on it.

This would be nice… except it's just not how Spica handles emotional beats at all!

When talking about Spica in the past I have jokingly referred to it as being written like 'the emotional equivalent of the Superdictionary' and by that I mean that it has absolutely no restraint or subtlety when it wants you to Feel Something. When Spica has an emotional beat, it hammers it in until any organically resulting resonance with the material has been reduced to a fine paste. When it has Thoughts and Opinions about a topic, it will explain them to the reader in excruciating detail so there is no risk of the reader taking away anything that wasn't intended by the author.

My point is that there is every indication that Spica's straightforwardly celebratory portrayal of idol culture and the way fans respond to idols is something intended to be taken at face value with no further interrogation. Spica is, by and large, entirely uninterested in acknowledging the ugly underbelly of exploitation, dehumanization and misogyny that drives idol culture and idol fandom.

I think the best way to illustrate this is to look at the scene near the end of the chapter where Ai finally sits and reads her fan letters. The first two are genuinely warm and sweet but the third always jumps out at me in a way I don't think was intended by the author;

“Hello, Ai-chan. I'm a devoted listener to your streams. B-Komachi's songs and talk shows have honestly become my sanctuary. I'm currently stuck working to the bone at a terrible company. They hardly pay me anything, and every day I just want to die. But what keeps me going is knowing I have your streams to look forward to every week. I’m not even kidding. Ai-chan, you're my reason to live!"

The story does not for a second pause to linger on this letter but I want you to stop and really take it in. While we know nothing about this letter's author outside of what's written here, but given that they have a job they can be presumed to be an adult. In addition, the final line of the letter in Japanese is 『アイちゃんは俺の生きる希望！』, using the masculine first person pronoun 俺 (ore), implicitly gendering the writer as a man.

An adult man writes to Ai to traumadump on her uninvited about his suicidal ideation and telling her in no uncertain terms that she is the sole, singular reason he is alive. Ai is a twelve year old girl.

Spica frames this as an entirely good, wholesome and affirming moment for her. It's one of many similar moments where Spica's celebration of idol culture clashes so strongly with the main story's that trying to make them tonally cohere is almost impossible. In fact, mild tangent, but I was working with the Spica TL team on chapter 1 right around the time chapter 137 dropped, and reading the ending of this chapter back to back with 137's tearing down of Ai's exploitation at the hands of the idol industry was some real injury-worse-than-whiplash inducing shit.

To be clear, I don't need Oshi no Ko to have a huge UM ACKSHULLY THIS IS WHY THIS IS BAD!!!! digression every time characters have positive interactions with the concept of idols. It is fundamentally dishonest and lacking in nuance to portray idolhood as something entirely and unrelentingly negative or to act like idols hate every single second they spend as idols. Sarina and Gorou's POV chapters do a very good job of highlighting what I talked about earlier - Spica's ruminations on the 'oshi' part of Oshi no Ko and how a relationship of support can be emotionally fulfilling both for the person being supported and the person unreservedly providing it. But that's purely from a fan perspective and I think it would be really interesting to Spica to take the opportunity afforded to it by being in Ai's POV to properly interrogate what Ai enjoys about being an idol.

But the way it chooses to do so just feels atonal both with Ai's arc and relationship to idolhood as portrayed in the main story and ways the manga has talked about 'oshi' culture in chapters published before and after Spica's release. It clashes with Oshi no Ko in ways I find difficult to satisfyingly reconcile.

This sense of clashing with and contradicting Oshi no Ko is an issue Spica has more broadly, in big and small ways. Some of this is just small, incidental details but other issues are larger and added all together, it results in a sense that Spica was not written by a person fully keyed into Oshi no Ko's world and characters. Like, just off the top of my head, here's some things that stuck out to me just from chapter 1:

Ai notes that she was separated from her mother a long time prior to the story's timeframe but given the ages give for her in 131 and here in Spica, it cannot be more than three years max since she was removed from Ayumi's care.

B-Komachi's formation and Ai's joining the group are both said to have happened 'three months ago' as of chapter 1's timeframe and thus to have happened more or less at the same time. This contradicts the Akasaka written material that consistently frames Ai as being one of the senior members, yes, but as having joined the group after Nino, Takamine and Watanabe.

The portrayal of Ai's bullying by the other B-Komachi members in no way matches Nino's account of it in 45510. This isn't even in a way you can put to Nino being an unreliable narrator. The details are so different that the only way to reconcile them is to assume these are two separate instances of bullying and that Nino just. Didn't mention the first time it happened for no reason.

On the subject of the bullies, the two girls targeting Ai are implied by their physical descriptions to be Takamine and Mei. While we don't really know anything about Mei yet, the vicious and unapologetic hostility Takamine displays clashes with her 'tough love' roughness that we are shown in the main story. In addition, this contradicts 45510's very explicit statement that Ai's bully was IMMEDIATELY fired from B-Komachi, no questions asked, the instant Saitou knew who she was. There is no indication in Spica that Ai's bullies so much as get a slap on the wrist for their behaviour.

Spica attributes B-Komachi's current success almost entirely to Ai and portrays her as working very hard on set and communicating with every other member of staff almost excessively to the point of annoyance. Not only does this contradict the early manga's portrayal of Ai as being antisocial and uncommunicative on set prior to her being sent to Lala Lie, it also contradicts chapters that were released following Spica that explicitly credit Nino as the key figure for B-Komachi's initial boom of success and states that Ai joined the group after Nino had cemented their popularity.

There are absolutely ways that you can handwave these contradictions and sew up the internal logic but to me, the nature of these contradictions matter to me less than the fact that they exist in the first place. This implies, especially given that some of these are in material written by Akasaka after Spica was published that he and Tanaka were, to some degree, not on the same page about the book's material.

There's some other things scattered about that aren't necessarily direct textual contradictions but nevertheless feel really out of step with OnK's takes on these characters. And like… I have tried to be relatively measured and good faith in my critiques so far but there is a part of chapter one that makes me so just bees buzzing around in my brain flames on the side of my face blood boiling in my veins insane that you must allow me to just uncharitably tear into it.

[Ai:] “Ah, now I get it. Are you buying a gift for your girlfriend, President? You like them young, after all…“ Finally, it clicked. The president, being considerably older than his girlfriend, needed the insights of a girl closer to her age in order to pick out the perfect gift. If that was the case, that explained why Ai had been roped into this. [Ai:] “Well, not that I should be getting into your business or anything, but…President, be careful when you mess with underage girls, okay? Nowadays, you’ll seriously end up in jail.”

I'M SORRY. WHAT THE FUCK AM I READING RIGHT NOW. SHE WOULD NOT FUCKING SAY THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This moment actually makes me so angry that it is difficult for me to clearly and calmly articulate what I find objectionable about it. I understand that it sounds very dramatic, but this is the first in a very consistent line of Spica bringing up the idea of adult men engaging in romance and/or sex with underage girls with this blithe, jokey and dismissive tone that entirely undermines everything Oshi no Ko itself says about CSA. The fact that it starts off this trend by putting these words in the mouth of Ai, WHO IS HERSELF A FUCKING CSA VICTIM, and treats the entire exchange as a throwaway joke honestly makes me feel a little bit sick.

This is part of a much broader and more troubling trend in Spica of Hajime Tanaka simply not being able to write young women in a naturalistic and human way. It's difficult for me to express exactly what it is that feels so off other than to say that it's Covered In The Fucking Ooze in a way typical of Men Who Can't Write Women. Ai's bullies in chapter 1 are so cartoonishly and stereotypically catty and mean that they barely feel human and they are written with all the distinct individuality as Thing 1 and Thing 2. The more complicated, two-sided conflict between two flawed people as seen in Ai and Nino's relationship is totally absent here. It's just the most vapid, stereotypical depiction of Teenage Girl Bullying you can imagine.

On top of that, there is a consistency with which Tanaka puts the topic of sex into the mouths and minds of these young women that fees… icky and offputting to me in a way I find difficult to articulate. In general, the voices of these young girls feel off and inauthentic in a way the main series never struggles with. For all I've criticized Oshi no Ko for in the past, something I think Akasaka is consistently and surprisingly good at is writing female characters who feel just as distinctly well realized and fleshed out as his male characters and that he does so in a way that does not rely on completely degendering them - their experiences as women are important to and inform that their characterization but does not entirely rule it. Despite overwhelmingly centering girls as the heart of its narrative, Spica barely feels capable of writing them as people.

All this together gives Spica this really strong sense - to me - of not really fitting in with the spirit of Oshi no Ko as a story. It's not just that the narrative voice is different but that there is an underlying flavour to Spica's takes on this world and its characters that clashes with the original. The cast as a whole just feels off, not blatantly OOC in a way you can directly point to but just enough to feel uncanny and give me a THEY WOULD NOT FUCKING SAY THAT!!!!! moment for almost every single person with a speaking line. It feels, as I put it on the Oshi no Brainrot server, like a thing that exists not because there was a part of the OnK narrative that worked best as a light novel but because somebody, somewhere thought a Oshi no Ko light novel would make some money and decided to have one churned out.

oh my god anon I'm so sorry lmfao you did not ask for this GIGANTIC ODYSSEY OF A POST!! This was just one of those asks that tapped into a topic I had already been having extensive conversations with myself about in my brain (I have a very boring job with a lot of time spent alone lol) and the more I typed, the more of those thoughts spilled out. I think a big part of why I am so compelled (derogatory) by Spica's missteps and mishandling of its material is that there is so much potential here and so many points where the material really comes close to just being flat out good.

A moment in chapter 1 that I think about a lot is Ai thinking about why she hasn't been reading any of her fan letters - because the last letter she got was her mom's lawyer telling her that Ayumi had gone missing after her release from custody, thus confirming for Ai that she had been abandoned to the system by her. Because of her association between those emotions and the act of reading a letter, she simply can't bring herself to open any of her fan letters because of the lingering anxiety.

Not only is this an entirely human and believable traumabrained anxiety kid fear for her to have but it's totally in line with Ai's flaw of avoidance and unwillingness to engage with or confront things that make her anxious or uncomfortable. It's also paid off wonderfully and in spades when she does finally confront that fear and is rewarded for it by an avalanche of love and support from her fans. It's one of the few moments in Ai's chapter where I think Spica really does well in conveying what a person like Ai gets out of being the 'oshi' in the oshi/fan relationship.

But this otherwise great moment is ruined by like… all that shit I said up there lmao. Spica is just laced through with this issue where moments that come so, so close to working and being really good are just marred by other issues in the text around it or trip themselves up in other ways. It's frustrating both because it comes so close to doing fresh and interesting things with the characters and because… I didn't want to dislike Spica! I was so, SO excited for it to come out and so willing to give it the BOTD even as summaries leaked and I was put off by the plot beats. But the more time I give to it in my brain and the more I try to engage with it in good faith, the more I come away frustrated and feeling like my time has been wasted.

#oshi no ko #oshi no posting #onk asks #meta essays #onk spica #onk spoilers

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knithell · 2 years

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Hiya! Can I have caregiver undertaker and little reader hcs who loves to go outside and play, collect cool rocks, look at bugs and stuff like that? 🌱🐞

Caregiver Undertaker x Collector Little Reader

Hi anon! This was such a cute ask, and I feel like Undertaker would love to have a little like this. Enjoy!

Tw:Use of the term „daddy,“ talks about death, minor injuries

• Undertaker deals with bodies and corpses all the time, and it’s no surprise that he can stomach all kinds of insects. Sometimes this is literally, never one to pass up a deal at an exotic foods market... this means when you first come to him with a large moth in your little hands, he is beyond excited!

• A sort of pride swells in him, proud of his little for not only finding such a particularly beautiful moth, but for being brave enough to handle it. He wonders if his job has had any impact on you in being able to enjoy such creatures, but he keeps his thoughts to himself, instead opting for a wide smile and a light hearted chuckle. “Oh little one, what have you found?” “A bubberfly!” This takes him back momentarily before a genuine twinkle comes to his eyes. Your mistakes never fail to make his heart swell. “Oh sweetheart, well- perhaps we can do some experiments to see if it truly is a butterfly or not...” He keeps in mind to not correct your mispronunciations, even if they are wrong. Undertaker hates making you feel embarrassed with these things, and quite frankly, he finds it much too cute to want to get rid of it.

• Undertaker tries to find tools that can help you collect more bugs and things from nature, careful to avoid anything that would cut or hurt you. He opts for vials and bottles with larger lids he know your little hands could easily pry open, instead of the smaller, complicated ones with lots of confusing measurements. He knows he’ll end up just telling you any measurements and facts you need to know, so what’s the point in having his baby struggle with it? Undertaker still tries to teach you fun facts and tricks about any critters or rocks you may find on your adventures.

• Once he finds out your interest in exploring and going out into nature, he’ll try and take you on walks more often. Sometimes this means holding your hand as you waddle across a fallen log in the forest, or carrying you around a graveyard as you compare the wildlife there to the ones in a book Undertaker gave you. (And though he will never admit it, all of “the queen’s coins” do come in handy when buying you gifts. He doesn’t have much to spend due to the little money he makes in his business, morticians are not the richest people, but he puts all of it towards you. And groceries...). The books you are given on various insects and species are always “little-fied,” meaning they are either children’s books, or the Undertaker will skim through the books himself and write simplified sentences in the margins.

• He always makes sure to go with you on any excursions, whether you know it or not. Hiding behind trees, glancing at you between headstones, and even peaking from bushes. Undertaker also puts great care into getting you prepared, wearing your best and safest pair of boots, gearing you up with tools and first aid, (again unnecessary as he is constantly watching over you), but nothing too heavy where it hinders your ability to walk. Though the Undertaker is revered as spontaneous and goofy, which he can be, he never risks your safety in hope of a good laugh. This man takes his job as your daddy, (or your care-taker), very seriously!

• Undertaker loves to play hide and seek, tag, and eye spy with your regressed self, loving the exhilaration of running around with you. He laughs all the way, and he loves to hear you squeal and giggle as he chases you, especially when he wraps big arms around you and catches you. He may roll down a hill with you, grass clinging to his clothes, and even though you roll down the same hill an have the same grass and dirt on you, he always tries to wipe it off of you, kneeling down so he is level with you, rubbing out the grass stains with a soapy cloth. He encourages you to take breaks and watch your breathing, his reaper stamina outweighing yours tenfold, he will hand you cups of water and rub your back gently if you get too winded, enjoying every second of caring for you.

• He offers to embalm and preserve the creatures you collect, but most of the time you say no. He is surprised by this, but once you explain, "I don't wanna hurt nuffin," that pride swells in his chest again. Even if he hasn't told you about any side experiments he has with the bizarre dolls, (and why he does what he does), knowing that you have the same respect for life brings him more joy than you could ever know.

• Undertaker loves when you come back to him, holding a snail, branch, or some other thing that interests his baby, but he gets scared when you decide to pick less innocent things. Snakes that you think are worms, spiders with particularly venomous bites, sharp rocks... there is so much your regressed mind simply can not grasp. This is just another reason in the long list of why he insists on watching you, eager to keep you safe. He will often pick up things himself on your adventures, things he knows are safe enough for you to touch, and interesting enough to interest his little one. "You like it dearie? Want to hold it? Just like this- there you go, nice and gentle. You know how proud daddy is? Haha, yes, quite the cute ladybug. Like you honey.."

• When regressed, you may seem a lot smaller and disorientated than is usual for you, and unfortunately this means you are more prone to being hurt. Falling, tripping, scraping your knee, you are prone to all kinds of accidents. This also means when you trip over a rock, or stumble on a tree stump, Undertaker is right there to pick you up. And though morticians may be used to patching up the dead more than the living, Undertaker is apt at both. He picks up your little form, cooing softly and caressing you hair, little kisses peppered on your forehead and cheeks. "Shh, it's okay my dearie, yes yes-I know..."

• Lightly seating you on a bench or log nearby he'll put your legs over his lap, still cooing. "Alright honey, Undie has just the thing... I know, but it will only sting for but a moment," he encourages you gently. You cringe and begin crying harder as he pulls out a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide, as he gently swipes away your tears, his large calloused hands brushing your skin. His long nails trace your arms, giving you goosebumps, as they try to relax you. "That's a good baby, just like that..." and before you know it, the peroxide is fizzing on your cuts, cleaning your wounds. The bubbling stops, and he grabs a small vial full of a soothing lotion, dabbing the mixture gently on top with a piece of cotton. A large cotton ace wrap is produced from his overcoat, as he lifts your leg, wrapping the bandage around your knee. He admires his work before bring your knee to his laps, kissing your injury tenderly. "There poppet, did daddy make it better?"

Sorry if this didn't really include a lot of Undertaker's more silly, light side anon! To be honest, as much as he would have fun and enjoy going on adventures with you, I think in the recent chapters we have seen more of the true emotions and serious sides to Undertaker. I think the last thing he wants is to have another person he loves, Phantomhive or not, succumb to any more harm. I hope you enjoyed! I love Undertaker, so feel free to keep sending asks about him! (Especially the age regression ones!) Also, as a thank you for waiting so long, here is a bonus moodboard!

Bonus • Caregiver Undertaker x Exploring little! Reader •

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