#-into what it eventually became. it's still so genuinely fascinating to me.

[moonlit-seance]

why are my friends willing to hear about hextech. what is this.

(hextech ramble in the tags)

[lauralot89]

“You don’t know these people, do you?” [Varney] asked Ruthven on the way up.

“Not as far as I’m aware,” said Ruthven. “It’s entirely possible they might have read that godawful Polidori book; in which case this will be extremely embarrassing.”

“Not as embarrassing as Varney the Vampyre, or The Feast of Blood,” said Varney drily. “Practically nothing is as embarrassing as that. Polidori at least wasn’t being paid by the word.”

—Dreadful Company, Vivian Shaw

Who's more out of their mind: James Malcolm Rymer, for writing 667,000 words of Varney the Vampire, or me for reading all of them in ten days?

I have no idea how to feel or to surmise what I've just experienced. On the one hand, Sir Francis Varney may now be my favorite vampire in literature, and whenever this book got me interested, it was sometimes one of the most fascinating vampire stories I've ever read.

I wasn't expecting such an early installment in the vampire fiction genre to be so sympathetic toward the vampire. I definitely was not expecting the vampire to eventually befriend his victims, or to refuse on multiple occasions to kill, or to try and help those he had terrorized as a form of repentance.

Granted, even when I was fully on board with the story, it still had a number of baffling elements. The romantic dialogue of this novel is so atrocious that it makes the Star Wars prequels look like one of Shakespeare's love stories in comparison. The comic relief duo of the admiral and his valet consisted of two jokes only (they speak in sailor slang and fight all the time) which were promptly pounded into the ground. At least six times in this book, possibly more, the narrative stopped so the author could write a chapter just consisting of transcribing what the characters were reading. Because he was getting paid by the word.

Despite all of this, I was fully on board up until Varney's would-be wedding as the Baron failed. After that, we got treated to multiple instances, each spanning several chapters, in which Varney would again pass himself off as some rich guy, try to marry a young woman, and then get exposed and run away. I'm guessing those chapters sold really well and that's why Rymer kept doing those stories? Or else he was just out of ideas. I don't see why those chapters would have sold especially well because they were short on vampire nonsense and chock full of wedding preparations and negotiations. I don't know much about the target audience for penny dreadfuls, but I would imagine they would care more about action than the services hired for a wedding breakfast.

And then once the endless marriages stopped, we got several more chapters of Varney biting a woman, getting caught, and running away. The story only picked back up in the last ten percent of the novel, when Rymer finally did something new by having one of Varney's victims become a vampire herself. Unfortunately, she got finished off pretty quickly and then the novel just ended.

(I am not complaining about the ending. The ending was a hell of a thing and gave me all sorts of emotions. But we could have had Varney's exploits with a newbie vamp instead of Failed Wedding Attempt 875)

Also, I'm assuming that Rymer did not plot this story out before he began? Varney's past changes constantly, sometimes within maybe thirty pages of the last backstory we were given. He's a deceased ancestor of the Bannerworths who took his life a hundred years ago! He's an executed highway robber, resurrected maybe a decade ago at most by a doctor's experiments, Frankenstein-style! He's been a vampire for 180 years and became one by murdering an innocent woman! He lived as mortal during the reign of Henry the Fourth! He lived as a mortal during the reign of Charles the First, and became a vampire after accidentally killing his son by striking him in anger!

If it were just Varney's past that was inconsistent, I'd say he was lying or had lived and died so many times that he genuinely forgot which death was the first one. But there are weird inconsistencies throughout the novel. What was up with the document Varney and Marchdale tried to force Charles to sign? Does Varney have a scar on his forehead or his cheek? Why did one girl who died of Varney become a vampire and the other one didn't? And most importantly to me, the hell was up with the Hungarian nobleman?

Why bother to introduce another vampire if it's going to lead to nothing but a red herring where the reader briefly thinks that the baron isn't Varney, and rather that Varney is the vampire that the baron killed?

Granted, roughly two thousand pages later, when a brood of vampires assemble to resurrect a new vampire, then probably the Hungarian nobleman comes back to speak a whole two sentences to Varney, about how they met at an inn once and also Varney used to hang with people named Bannerworth.

(I need to know more about this vampire group that assembles to resurrect vampire newbs. How does that work? Do they just sense them? Do they get pulled there by vampire power?)

And what was up with that time skip? Did we need to introduce Mr. Bevan as a sympathetic character when the entire Bannerworth family already were sympathetic to Varney?

I just don't know, man.

Also, Rymer hates Quakers. And Jewish people. And Catholics. And evangelicals. And organized religion in general. And Scots. And Americans, I think. Now, this is not at all rare for the time. Stoker and Wilde and many other of their contemporaries would also write their prejudices into their stories decades later. But they didn't write a book longer than War and Peace that had big stretches of nothing except weird diatribes of whatever they disliked.

Anyway.

Can I in good conscience recommend that anyone read this?

Not in its entirety. If someone wants to do an abridged version have at it I guess. Or read it in its entirety over the span of months instead of ten days like I did. My brain is going to explode.

The first half was good. The end stuff was good. I want to wrap Varney up in a number of blankets and feed him some of my blood. And thank God he's in the public domain, because he deserves better than an endless slog of miseries that quickly goes off the rails once he leaves the Bannerworths.

Final mob count: 11

Final failed vampire wedding count: 4

I should have kept track of all the times Varney died and/or got shot, but I forgot

Three stars

[rootspiral]

hello, i come bearing questions again! what do you think it was about agatha that made her the one person rio fell in love with? i keep thinking about it, because rio is this endlessly wise, patient entity and agatha is essentially a child. part of me feels like for a being as old as rio, it’s so curious that she’d fall for someone who is her opposite in so many ways. i understand the whole cliche about opposites attracting but let’s be real, there’s a limit to that LOL. on the other hand, i can see how agatha’s genuine love for life and even her immaturity would be, in some ways, refreshing to rio. i also wonder how rio would feel about agatha’s serial killing. ep 4 hints at them having been ‘business associates’ at some point, and i imagine that they might have fallen in love during that period. however, similarly as she feels when agatha tries to cheat death, would rio feel like she was being violated as agatha maybe started killing too much and perhaps upsetting the sacred balance in the other direction? anyways, i have many thoughts and no actual conclusions - do you have any opinions on what about agatha would make rio fall in love and what rio might not have enjoyed about her, especially in the beginning? this feels like a particularly difficult question considering those two because i i imagine rio might actually fall deeper in love because of the things that peeved her lmao i love that weirdo

IMO in order for Rio to fall in love with Agatha three unusual things had to happen:

Proximity. Agatha had to constantly be in Rio's way, because of all the killing. Now I don't know if Rio would be neutral about a serial killer's activity (does it break balance, if it's only humans killing each other? Consider that wars kill so many more.) As far as we know she could be neutral, she could be hostile, she could even be encouraging, we can only speculate at this point. What's certain though is that Rio's and Agatha's paths crossed a lot, and that had to be an unusual experience for a being that only meets most people only once, when she reaps their soul.

Uniqueness. Other people are bound to act in very predictable ways when meeting Rio, they'd try to run, beg or fight. Knowing Agatha, I'm 100% sure that she went the opposite route and tried to make friends. Mind you it would have been all lies and manipulation and ulterior motives at first, Agatha would have been both terrified and fascinated by Rio, and she'd have absolutely wanted to control the situation and gain the upper hand and find out if she could steal Rio's powers. Rio would've seen through it all and still tolerated and even enjoyed Agatha's antics for the novelty of it.

Intimacy. It would have taken some time for sure, but proximity (quality time spent together) and uniqueness (Agatha being the only person who ever wanted to be around Rio, and Rio being the only person who can never kill or be killed by Agatha) had to bring them to trust each other and open up to each other, and eventually it all came together and evolved into feelings. Rio would have gotten to know the real Agatha behind all the posturing, and how can you not love that Agatha? Simply put: they became each other's first real, important, intimate relationship, and that has a way to imprint on a person. Of course if it's only two people against the whole world that becomes codependent and toxic real fast, and I think Rio knew it but still couldn't help herself or tear herself away from Agatha.

[vigilskeep]

i am soo fascinated with your rook and viago's relationship and would love to hear more of your thoughts on their dynamic. How long do you think they have known each other? And do you have any ideas how Sol became a crow?

thank you!!

all of the below is a work-in-progress in case the game drops anything startling or i get a new idea for sol, but they’ve known each other basically forever. like, since scrappy little kid sol said very cheerfully “i’ll protect you and you’ll protect me. that’s an allegiance.” and a very skeptical friendless teenager viago said “you mean an alliance?”

house de riva never knew what hit it.

(admittedly taking over house de riva took a couple decades, but hey, viago got there eventually, and neither of them even died. win!)

i think sol had been increasingly unreliable + erratic for several years before the antaam debacle, with viago unable to do anything about it because he apparently canonically can’t express genuine emotions to them face to face or do anything harsher than write them a letter addressed “idiot”. that behaviour might have just been because when viago finally took power, sol was thus in a significantly more stable less dangerous position day to day than they had been accustomed to their whole life, and also no longer had a clear purpose to claw towards, which meant the trauma of everything prior finally landed. or maybe there was some other trigger, i haven’t decided. i’ve been throwing around some elaborate plots to set things off. because i can.

sol’s been with the crows since they were very young. i haven’t settled on an origin story entirely but my brother had a very compelling prompt about them being a fifth blight refugee from the south—they would have been four or five at the time, isn’t that crazy—that i’ve been getting a lot of mileage out of. it adds a lot of flavour to the blight plot and to sol taking up the champion spec, for sure! i came up with something about antiva not accepting refugees off the boats but the crows then coming and offering to give some children a “safe” place (and even compensate the families with a handful of gold for their loss! how altruistic), which feels very real to me as a thedas-esque thing to happen

so sol’s life before the crows doesn’t really mean anything to them—pretty dismissive about their birth family, if you really cared about something you would figure out how to keep hold of it—and they don’t have anyone except viago. these days they know deep down they want out of the crows, but they still couldn’t bear to try cutting ties to the one person they invested two decades of blood into, even if they get very little back from him, emotionally speaking. (please use your WORDS, viago, the NICE ones, everyone with eyes already knows you care.) the world outside is comparatively a big old void they has no connections to, and the crows aren’t the kind of lifestyle that lets you go halfway and visit on weekends. it’s the sort of mindset that might make someone act out in a way that would get most crows killed, then jump on an insane quest of heroism just because some dwarf expressed belief in them while calling them “kid” encouragingly. not that sol’s ever done anything like that!

[snailchasers-den]

It's not a ship I've thought about much but SpottedTiger is really compelling. I like the idea of them both initially bonding through Thistleclaw's abuse before that turns into a genuine friendship. Maybe Tigerstar's actions could even be in part motivated by a desire to reform the clans so no one else would go through what Spottedleaf did. They also contrast each other in an interesting way, since in the series itself he's the main villain + eventual dark forest leader and she's THE starclan guide. Idk it's interesting to think about.

YOU GET IT, ANON. YOU SEE THE VISION.

I think SpottedTiger has to be one of my favorite pairings just because of how interesting it is- And it's definitely overall my favorite pairing for Spottedleaf. It's extremely unconventional for sure, you don't see it around much, but if you look below the surface, they have a lot more in common then people realize, and really, that just makes their differences more fascinating.

I love the idea of them bonding and growing to be genuine friends as apprentices, even if it's through an unfortunate situation, sometimes that just makes things stronger because they understand eachother's pain the best of all, I actually talked about a headcanon a while back where Tigerpaw actually got stuck in the Medicine den fairly often from overexerting himself due to Thistleclaw, and that being a bonding factor. It's why he knows baseline healing knowledge in my AU (Which I also find makes him a bit scarier as a villain, at least to me LMAO)

There's something so interesting about Spottedleaf, postergirl of Starclan who had been used as a messenger since she died, and Tigerstar, the one who Starclan wanted dead at birth, and eventually became one of the biggest dark forest cats around.

It's about the shared trauma, it's about the religious themes, and it's about them knowing eachother better than anybody else can despite those themes. Starclan wanted Spottedleaf in the stars and Tigerstar dead before he even had the chance to be something different then they predicted. And even with that, they still love eachother, and that has to count for something. They have a lot of potential. Lots of possibilities for angst, and fluff, and just (*Slaps top of ship*) this bad boy can fit so much interesting shit in it.

I'd totally try organizing a little MAP around them if I could, but I doubt anybody would be interested, so who knows, I might make a standalone PMV or something one day LMAO

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Hi! Can I ask a romantic matchup with Stranger Things,Doctor Who and The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes? I'm 18,a girl(she/they)I'm bisexual but I would like a male character (female or other is fine too!).

I have short wavy brown hair,hazel eyes,I wear glasses,I'm 164 cm(sorry I'm from Europe),I speak 3 languages (sorry for any mistakes in english its my third lol). I LOVE to read,listen to music,and sometimes write and draw/paint! (I'm currently learning how to play guitar). People always compliment my creativity and writing skills.

I'm an introvert(my MBTI is INTJ),I have very close friends,it usually takes a while for me to open up and for people to know me better. At first I may appear quiet and shy but with my friends I am definitely more open and crazier lol. I loveee history,all the old and vintage things, my fav century is the 19th and decade the 80s. Speaking about the 80s,I love rock music,its my main genre,I mostly listen to 80s rock and I watch series and movies from that time (I have a very close relationship with my dad,he was in his 20s in the 80s). My fav movie is The Blues Brothers and series Doctor Who. I mainly read classics,dystopian,crime novels,sci-fi and fantasy(same genres for movies and series). My fav authors are currently Dostoyevsky and Agatha Christie.

In my childhood I lived in a very small town,and because everyone was basically the same in middle school I was bullied because of my interests,and honestly I'm not that sad about it anymore because it made me mentally stronger,though I still have problems with my social anxiety. Both in middle and highschool I think I was/am the quiet/weird kid? Like I said I love history,books, and I love to study,tbh I think you can consider me a nerd lmao.

Despite the love for books,history and all these classic things I listen to rock,metal,I find very interesting strange and weird things. I think that are the two main parts of my personality,and style too! One day I can dress like a 90s grunge teenager and the other like a dark-academia student. I often combine the two styles,I mainly dress in dark colors. (My fav color is navy blue!)

Sorry,I think I talked too much but I don't get many occasions to share about myself. That's all and thank you if you read all of this! I hope you have a nice day/night!

Hello,

Hope you are doing good!

Don't worry, I loved reading your request :)

I hope you enjoy your romantic matchups!

For Stranger Things, Doctor Who, and The Ballad Of Songbirds And Snakes!

:)

(I had a LOT of fun with this!)

I also hope you have a nice day/night!

<333333

Romantic Matchups; Stranger Things, Doctor Who, and The Ballad Of Songbirds And Snakes

~~~

Romantic;

~~~

Stranger Things;

Eddie Munson -

You met Eddie during your first week at Hawkins High.

You had transferred from your old high school when you and your family moved.

Moving during senior year, oof.

You were the quiet, bookish kid who kept to yourself, always reading or writing in your notebook.

Eddie, being Eddie, made it his mission to figure out what you were always so absorbed in.

One day, he noticed you reading Dostoyevsky and launched into an exaggerated, theatrical rant about how Crime and Punishment was both brilliant and depressing.

Who knew that Eddie liked Dostoyevsky?

His antics made you laugh, and from that moment, Eddie made it his goal to get you to open up more.

Eddie quickly became fascinated by your creativity and love for books.

He’d ask you endless questions about the plots of your favorite novels, half because he was genuinely interested and half because he loved hearing your voice light up when you talked about them.

Let's just get this straight, I think Eddie was interested in you since the beginning.

You’d attend his Hellfire Club campaigns as a quiet observer at first, but eventually, he convinced you to try playing a character.

Your intricate storytelling made you a hit with the group, and Eddie couldn’t stop grinning when you got into it.

He might swoon when you roll a natural d20.

Late-night music-sharing sessions became a ritual.

Not like what the annoying teens at the high school thought, ya know, with the fire and the sacrificing...

You and Eddie would just sit on the picnic bench, listening to your music in your cassette player.

Eddie would introduce you to obscure metal bands - mostly just Metallica, though - while you’d counter with some rock classics your dad introduced you to.

Eddie would love to help you learn guitar.

He’d patiently show you chords, grinning ear-to-ear whenever you got frustrated because he found your determination adorable.

Yeah, you're pretty lucky, not many people get to touch his baby.

Exploring the woods around Hawkins, pretending to search for “something mysterious,” while secretly just enjoying your company.

You’d both thrift for vintage clothes together, Eddie fully embracing your love for combining dark academia with grunge.

Now, again, Eddie probably already liked you since he saw you, a love-at-first-sight kind of thing.

He, himself is a little bit oblivious to his own feelings for you.

It started with the way you laughed at his terrible jokes and evolved into how you’d quietly support him, like defending him when others called him a freak.

For you, it was the way Eddie always made you feel seen.

He respected your introverted nature but encouraged you to let your creativity shine.

You realized your feelings when you caught yourself doodling Eddie’s name in the margins of your notebook.

(Next to the little doodles Eddie did beside your notes from the one class you shared.)

Eddie confessed during one of your late-night guitar sessions.

You were practicing a riff when he blurted out, “You’re like… The coolest person I’ve ever met, you know that? You're super wicked."

His face turned red when you looked at him, confused. “I’m saying… I think I’m falling for you. Like, really falling.”

Your quiet smile and whispered, “I think I feel the same,” made him grin like a fool.

Good luck getting rid of him now.

Eddie would write songs about you, surprisingly soft compared to his love for metal.

He would also write you metal songs, though.

He’d be your biggest cheerleader, attending any event where you showcased your art or writing.

Movie marathons became your thing, especially rewatching The Blues Brothers.

Eddie loved how you could quote it word for word, and he’d occasionally jump up to reenact scenes with you.

Eddie would leave little notes in your notebooks, scribbled with messages like “Eddie Munson was here."

(He may have noticed his name on the margins of your notebook, finding it cute that you wrote down his name with hearts so many times.)

Lazy weekend mornings in bed, sharing coffee or tea, and debating which Doctor Who companion was the best.

He’d surprise you with vintage finds, like an old leather-bound book he stumbled upon, saying, “It reminded me of you.”

Eddie will defend you fiercely against anyone who tries to make you feel small, even if you insist you don’t need him to.

He knows that you can fight your own battles at times, but he is always there for you no matter what, and if someone is mean or rude, he won't stay quiet.

He learns about your favorite historical eras so he can impress you with random facts.

He would try his best and spoil you, whether that be in affection or gifts.

Eddie crafts personalized D&D campaigns based on your favorite novels, making you the star of the story.

You also help him organize his Hellfire campaigns, giving him advice on how to make the storylines even more gripping and fun.

You make him mixtapes of songs you think Eddie would like - despite them not being Metallica - with little notes explaining why you chose each track.

You write him short stories where he's the hero, complete with fantastical adventures and a heavy metal soundtrack that you played for him on the guitar.

~~~

Doctor Who;

The 9th Doctor -

You met the Doctor while exploring an old, seemingly abandoned building that had piqued your interest for its vintage charm. Turns out, it wasn’t abandoned - it was a temporary base for the Doctor.

Why is there a blue police box here?

He was impressed by your curiosity and how you weren’t immediately scared by the strange blue police box or the alien tech inside.

It's bigger on the inside.

The Doctor adored your love for history and would take you on adventures to see the events and figures you’d read about.

Watching you marvel at the past gave him joy.

Look at that, you are the Doctor's new companion. How does that make you feel?

Prepare for a lot of running!

He loved your wit and dry humor, often quipping back and forth with you during downtime in the TARDIS.

Travel to the 19th century to meet Dostoyevsky, with the Doctor teasing you about being “starstruck” by the writer.

Spend hours in the TARDIS library, the Doctor showing you books from across the galaxy while you introduce him to Earth classics.

Have endless debates about the best periods, with you arguing for the elegance of the 19th century and him countering with alien civilizations from the future.

He just has to prove his point by taking you to a few of them.

For the Doctor, it was seeing how you embraced the wonder of time travel while never losing your intellectual curiosity.

He loved how bright your eyes got when he took you to new and exciting worlds.

He loved how you'd laugh when he said something that he thought only he'd find funny.

He...

He was scared.

He was the Doctor.

A Time Lord.

Falling for you...

For you, it was the way the Doctor always made you feel like an equal, despite his centuries of knowledge.

He listened to you, valued your input, and never made you feel small.

On top of that, he never lost his love for adventure, learning, and life after all the years of him being alive, and all the years of visiting new places and meeting new people.

He never lost that love.

And he wasn't that hard on the eyes either ;)

The Doctor confessed indirectly, as was his way.

After a particularly rough adventure, where you were captured, the Doctor thought he was going to lose you...

There were no words, just your eyes meeting his worried and concerned ones.

There was this... This silent understanding.

You could see it in his eyes.

You could feel it when he held you to him protectively.

You could hear it in his voice...

It starts off slow at first but the Doctor shows his affection through actions: ensuring your safety during adventures, tailoring trips to your interests, and occasionally doing something sweet, like bringing you a bouquet of alien flowers.

I mean, nothing really changed, except that there is more... Romantic affection.

You’d balance him out, grounding him when his emotions got the better of him.

When he gets a bit too heated when talking to an alien, you're there to bring him back with a hand on his arm.

And if he is feeling a bit of that green called envy, when he sees Jack talk to you, you're there to let him know that you love him.

Quiet nights in the TARDIS, reading side by side while soft rock played in the background.

The Doctor would surprise you with gifts from different periods, like a navy blue coat from 19th-century France.

Sharing a cup of tea while he tinkered with the TARDIS and you doodled in your sketchbook.

Take you to see rare and beautiful sights, like the birth of a new star or the first concert of your favorite band.

The Doctor would learn how to play the guitar for you.

He would also always make you feel valued.

You help him process his emotions, giving him space but also reminding him that he is not alone.

You introduce him to Earth rock music, and he says it's way too much for him... But, you have a sneaking suspicion that he likes them.

Cuddling, hearing both of his hearts beat only for you.

He’ll randomly take you to obscure corners of history just because he knows you’d find them fascinating.

“Victorian libraries? Yeah, I figured you’d like this one.”

If you’re scared or anxious, he always offers his hand with a soft, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Hugs for days.

You’ll catch him humming old rock songs while fixing the TARDIS.

You knew that he liked those songs you showed him!

He’s not big on traditional affection but will gently rest his forehead against yours in private moments.

He still likes hugs though!

HUGS!

If you’re cold, he’ll wordlessly drape his leather jacket over your shoulders, even if it leaves him freezing.

I mean, does he get cold?

If you accidentally get lost in the TARDIS (again), he’ll show up at the perfect moment to “rescue” you, but only after a bit of dramatic suspense.

He’ll try to impress you with his knowledge of Earth slang, but somehow always picks the most outdated or wrong phrases.

"I’m not pulling your leg, you’re the real deal, like totally tubular!"

He'd say them with absolute sincerity, thinking he’s using the best slang, and then be completely baffled when you give him a confused look.

Or when you just end up laughing...

~~~

The Ballad Of Songbirds And Snakes;

Sejanus Plinth -

(This one is my favorite ヽ(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノ)

You met Sejanus at the academy.

You both bond over your shared love for a certain subject.

He was instantly drawn to your quiet intellect and kind presence.

Plus, you weren't like the others at the school, you didn't just see him as a guy from District 2.

You saw him, for him.

You saw him for who he really was: kind-hearted, empathetic, and loyal, often putting himself at risk to stand up for what he believed was right.

You often help him with assignments on historical literature; from there, a friendship blossomed.

Throughout the friendship, Sejanus sees the true you; you are strong, understanding, and caring to everyone; and he respects you for it.

Sejanus admires your creativity and loves reading your stories.

He would always encourage you to share them with others, and possibly even strive to become an author one day.

You sort of became a safe place for him, someone he could confide in without judgment, (when he didn't want to go to Coryo.)

(By the way, Coryo kind of doesn't like you, but that is a given, since he's Coryo.)

Study dates sessions that often turn into long discussions about history, politics, and life.

Sejanus would tell you about his life in District 2, about his friends, and what he used to do before his father got rich and they moved to the Capitol.

Honestly, when Sejanus trusted, he trusted with his whole soul.

You trusted him a lot too.

Like a lot.

You told him all of your secrets, and he told you his.

You would paint together, with Sejanus joking about how his skills didn't compare to yours but enjoying the process anyway.

He would do his best, trying to paint you something.

He wouldn't give up, taking his sweet time - hours if he must - trying to paint you the prettiest painting that has ever been painted.

You tried to tell him that you would love anything he'd paint. Even if it was a simple stick figure or a house with the sun in the corner, no, Sejanus wants to make you something special.

What he gifted you after twelve painting sessions later was a painting of you, standing in a field, during sunset.

Very ethereal~

You cried.

By the wayyyy, his parents love you.

You are often invited to stay for dinner.

Sejanus' mother would show you alllll of the family pictures.

And baby pictures.

Sejanus gets a bit embarrassed, but you just can't get over how cute he was as a baby.

Sejanus realized his feelings during one night when you stayed over for dinner.

You had been invited to the Plinths' house for dinner; which became a sort of weekly thing.

In the very beginning, when his mother first asked you to join them for dinner, you were nervous, but Sejanus just said, "Trust me, they'll love you. My ma already does."

Now, dinner with the Plinths' was weekly, as said, and they had basically become your second family.

You called Sejanus' ma, "Mama Plinth."

Mama Plinth adored you from the start.

After everything Sejanus said about you, she loved you.

She was incredibly happy that her son had another friend.

(She had this motherly intuition that something was going on between the two of you, but you know, she was hoping Sejanus would find someone to spend the rest of his life with.

Yeah, this boy ain't dying.

Anyway, Mama Plinth would always set aside your favorite dish during dinner claiming, "It's no trouble at all, sweetheart."

Though more reserved, Sejanus' father would subtly show his approval.

Whether it was asking for your opinion on current events at the table or nodding when you shared your thoughts, you felt his respect grow each visit.

You felt like an honorary member of the family.

When you weren't over, Mama Plinth would call you to cheek on you, asking if you needed anything or even infiting you to shop with her; which usually included her buying you a little something, even though you politely would decline.

"Nonsense, sweetheart, this navy blue sweater would look amazing on you."

She once even joked, “If you don’t marry Sejanus, I might adopt you myself.”

The Plinths’ household maid quickly grew fond of you too.

It was a quiet moment, amidst the usual bustle of a Plinth family dinner.

You laughed at something Mama Plinth said, leaning into Sejanus' side without even realizing it.

As you talked animatedly, gesturing with your fork or your hand, Sejanus just... Stopped.

Seeing you laugh with his Ma, seeing you sitting there on the couch beside him...

Slow motion...

He realized how much you’d become a part of his world, and how empty it would feel without you in it.

"She fits here so perfectly. She fits with me. How could I have not seen it before?"

Mama Plinth, during the conversation with you, glanced over at her son.

Seeing the way that he was looking at you... She knew.

Sejanus was quieter than usual, lost in his thoughts.

His father was the one who broke him out of his thoughts, asking him if he was feeling alright.

Sejanus just smiled, nodding, before glancing at you, saying, "Never better."

After his realization, Sejanus started looking out for you even more than usual.

He'd walk you to the car after dinners or hangouts, offer his jacket if it got a bit chilly - or even when it wasn't - and carry your things without a second thought.

Mama Plinth caught on, as she did at that dinner.

She always grinned when Sejanus would take more time getting ready for dinners when you were joining.

He fidgets with his clothes and fixes the collar of his shirts... Ruffle with his hair.

She'd give her son knowing looks when he lingered near you, even when you weren't there and he was just talking to her about you.

When he returned home from the academy, he told his Ma about how you both got top marks on your test and his Ma said, “You know, dear, you would make quite the pair.”

His ears turned red as he stammered, “Ma!”

One night after dinner, as you were both standing on the porch of the Plinths' grand home, the warm glow of the lights spilling out behind you, Sejanus hesitated.

He had been waiting for the car with you after every dinner for weeks now, and tonight was no different - or so you thought.

"Hey," He said softly, catching your attention.

His hands were stuffed into his pockets, his shoulders slightly hunched like he was trying to shield himself or something.

"Can I... Can I tell you something?"

You nodded, sensing the seriousness in his tone, and hearing a hint of nervousness. "Of course, Sej. You know you can tell me anything."

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours.

"I've been trying to figure out how to say this. It's been in my head for weeks now and every time I think I've got the words, I just... Freeze. But, tonight, I can't hold it in anymore."

He took a step closer, his voice quieter, "You mean so much to me. You're the one person I can always be myself around, no matter what. When- When I'm with you, it's like... Everything makes sense. You make everything feel lighter, brighter - better. And honestly, I can't imagine a life without you in it."

His voice cracked slightly, and he looked down at the ground, clearing his throat slightly. "I don't just care about you as a friend. It's so much more than that. I'm in love with you. And I know I'm not perfect, but if you'll have me, I promise I'll spend every day trying to make you as happy as you make me."

For a moment, you just stood there, blinking up at him in stunned silence.

Sejanus' confession hit you like a tidal wave - unexpected but warm, like the feeling of the sun breaking through the clouds.

Sejanus misinterpreted your silence, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “I… I shouldn’t have sprung this on you. If you don’t feel the same, I completely understand, I just-”

Before he could finish rambling, you reached out and gently placed a hand on his arm.

“Sejanus, stop. I-” You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. A smile broke across your face as you said softly, “I love you too.”

Relief washed over Sejanus’ face, and he let out a soft, breathless laugh. “You do?” He asked as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

You nodded, stepping closer, "Yes, ever since you and I got caught in the rain that one day after a day at the academy, and you covered me the best you could with your coat."

And before either of you could overthink, you leaned up and kissed him.

The kiss was tentative at first, warm and sweet. Sejanus’ hands gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

When you finally pulled back, you both were smiling brightly, your foreheads touching as you let out soft, nervous laughs.

“I didn’t think tonight could get any better, but I guess I was wrong,” He murmured, his voice filled with wonder.

As the car came around, you both wished for more time. You didn't want to let go just yet.

You both couldn't look away from each other, he held your hand the entire time, his thumb gently tracing circles over your knuckles.

Only when the driver honked the horn, did you reluctantly break away.

Sejanus couldn't stop grinning for days.

Plinth family dinners became even more special, with the two of you stealing shy, affectionate glances at each other across the table.

Mama Plinth knew. She gave you both a smile. She said nothing, but you both knew that she was happy for you.

I mean, it was kind of obvious, you both sat closer together, your chairs pushed closer, Sejanus' hand sometimes even landing on your knee throughout the night.

His father was very happy for both of you too.

Whenever Sejanus planned something romantic, Mama Plinth insisted on hearing every detail afterward.

“Did he finally take you to that restaurant I suggested? No? Well, I’ll remind him again.”

Sejanus would rest his head on your shoulder during family movie nights, with Mama Plinth calling you both “her darlings.”

You both love spending quiet afternoons reading together.

He'll sit beside you on the couch in the family library or yours, sometimes resting his head on your shoulder or your lap as you read aloud to him.

Sejanus has a habit of leaving little notes for you to find throughout the day. Whether it’s a small “I love you” tucked in a book you’re reading or a goofy doodle, he loves reminding you how much you mean to him.

Music often plays softly in the background when you’re together, and every now and then, Sejanus will take your hand and spin you around the room.

To slower songs, you both sway side to side, his arms wrapped securely around your waist while your hands rest gently on his shoulders.

Sejanus often rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed, just savoring the moment in complete silence.

Sometimes, he hums softly to the music, his voice low and comforting.

Sometimes, he'd even sing. Heavenly.

It’s one of those small, intimate things that never fails to make your heart flutter.

To faster - or more rock songs - Sejanus lets loose in the most endearing way.

He’ll grab your hand and spin you around, laughing breathlessly as you both stumble over your own feet.

He’ll dramatically lip-sync, grinning ear to ear when you play the air guitar.

There’s a playful energy as he twirls you, dips you exaggeratedly, or messily headbangs to the beat, all while making sure you’re smiling and having just as much fun as he is.

Lying side by side, you often talk late into the night.

Sejanus is the type to hold your hand as he listens to you, his thumb gently stroking your fingers.

Sometimes, he brushes stray hair from your face as you talk, his gaze soft and full of adoration and love.

Sejanus is big on forehead kisses. Whether he’s saying goodbye or goodnight, he’ll gently press his lips to your forehead.

On the occasions when you have sleepovers on the weekends, you often sleep in together. Sejanus loves lazy mornings where the two of you stay bundled under the covers, exchanging sleepy smiles and soft kisses.

Knowing how much you love history and vintage aesthetics, Sejanus plans simple picnics with blankets and wicker baskets, sometimes sneaking in your favorite book for you to read together under the shade of a tree.

Only occasionally he would plan dates at fancy restaurants, but 90% of the time, he takes you to museums, diners, picnics in fields, or fun walks through parks.

When either of you feels overwhelmed, the other is always there.

Sejanus loves to hold you close, his voice soft as he reassures you. When he’s the one feeling down, he finds comfort in your hugs and your gentle words of encouragement.

Sejanus loves surprising you with little gifts that remind him of you - like a new book he thinks you’d enjoy or a pressed flower he saved because it was your favorite.

You, in turn, sketch little portraits of him, capturing his kind eyes and soft smile. When he sees them, his face lights up, and he always insists on framing them.

In the evenings when you’re both too tired to do anything elaborate, you curl up together and watch old movies.

He loves hearing you talk about the historical details or trivia, and his arm stays around your shoulders the entire time.

He so plans on marrying you one day.

(His Ma gave him one of her rings for him to someday give to you.)

<3

Your relationship with Sejanus is a blend of heartfelt support, quiet understanding, and playful joy.

He’s your biggest cheerleader, always encouraging your creativity and passions, while you ground him with your wisdom and steady presence.

Together, you find comfort in the little things - swaying to the music, sharing quiet evenings over tea or coffee, and exchanging soft smiles that say more than words ever could.

With Sejanus, love feels warm, safe, and endlessly uplifting - a partnership built on trust, mutual care, and an unspoken promise to always be there for each other.

~~~

[goldrushenthusiast]

What are your thoughts on the District 11 tributes in the 74th (Rue and Thresh) and 75th (Seeder and Chaff) The Hunger Games?

How do you think life differs between Distinct 11 and 12?

*Spoiler alert*

What do you think about the inserted scene of rebellion in District 11 in the first movie (scene after Rue's death)?

Thank you :)

@curiousnonny

I think district 11 is a fascinating district! On surface level it seems similar to 12, which I think deep down Katniss believed too, but it really isn’t like it at all which I think impacts how Katniss eventually sees it.

You know how there’s the Seam and the merchants in District 12? I think it does exist. It has to. I think Dill and Chaff are from it, for reasons I explain later, but I had to get that out of the way because in the same way Peeta & Katniss have fundamental differences from growing up in the Seam vs Merchant, I think it affects the tributes as well.

I think we should also consider Reaper and Dill from BOSAS, so I’m gonna do that lol.

I think that, for Thresh, the hunger games were an opportunity. A chance at something beyond working on the farms, no matter how terrible it might seem. While I don’t think he was excited for it, I think it would’ve been a glass half full situation he was going to utilize. I genuinely think he stood a chance at winning.

He would’ve shared the same knowledge of plants and stuff as Rue, would’ve kept his moral compass working (the thing with Katniss & owing), and it makes sense he got as far as he did. District 11 is definitely a competitor in these games, noticed even by Coriolanus in BOSAS.

For Rue, on the other hand, this was worst case scenario. I saw someone else mention there was a higher chance for her to be chosen because she had so many siblings and probably took out tesserae, and I think that’s exactly right, and having so many would only make the whole thing worse. I don’t think she had a huge chance of winning, but would’ve even more than the average 12 year old and if she fought hard there’d be something there.

Her climbing skills, of course, give her as much of an advantage as Katniss, plus her stealth. I think she could’ve survived till top 8, especially if she’d stayed in the trees. I also think her knowledge of plants would both help her, and hurt her enemies if she was willing, although I don’t think she would be. She could pull a fox face & Peeta move almost, leaving some poisonous and some not harmful berries or something in a “hiding” place for the careers to find. I just don’t think she’d survive in hand to hand combat. Plus, if she ever found him, I think Thresh would help her even though it wouldn’t help him.

Seeder and Chaff, I can’t be as sure about as I don’t remember as much about them, but I think at least one of them (Chaff, I think) would’ve been from the merchant part of D11. Both being statistically liking, and from his outlook on the games, both before and after he became a victor.

Just read up on him at Hunger Games wiki, and the fact he lost a hand but refused a capitol prosthetic is really very interesting, especially in the farming district. He was so assured that he’d be fine, he’d be taken care of, that he didn’t need one. It was probably an act of rebellion, but goes to show how self assured he was about what the capital would do for him.

Seeder grew up in the seam part to me, given the fact that she never turned to drugs, alcohol (like Chaff did) or any type of escape. She’s mentioned as looking strong despite being 60, and you can’t really achieve that without working hard in childhood and stuff, and continuing to, which I think she would’ve felt was her duty.

Thresh and Reaper also have some interesting similarities, both with their thing (& Katniss’) about owing people. I think D11, and their strict policies, force a sense of community upon the residents that binds them together and helps them trust others both more easily and still more carefully, because of how risky it is if you’re wrong.

If anyone is wondering what Reaper’s thing about owing people is, let me remind you how he apologized to the tributes about having to kill them before the games started (also relating to how strong the residents of D11, or at least the men, interestingly enough, are), and promised to make the capital pay. This was before Jessie spat in his eye btw, so there’s really no excuse for him to be saying other than a strategy or actually meaning it.

Reaper collecting the tributes and lining them up, however, could for sure be attributed to the rabies, but I don’t really know. We’re led to believe it is by Coriolanus because of how unempathetic and unfeeling he is, so of course someone caring is automatically categorized as crazy, and of course that part is used as foreshadow, but it’s still something to think about. How d11 views things and people and companionship.

Dill, however…she’s Dill. She’s tiny. Sickly. Couldn’t tell you much about her, and sometimes I honestly get her confused with Wovey, except Wovey lived longer. Dill was literally the first official death in the games, ofc excluding everyone who died from the bombs and such.

Something curious about Dill is that she’s a snitch, and by that I mean she told a capitol guy Reaper killed a peacekeeper (also, what the hell Reaper? Goes to show just how strong he is and why he considers himself so capable). I think Dill was probably merchant, also she did have tuberculosis, which would’ve been not as rare there.

She also probably knew she was dying no matter what and wanted to get everything out there, which I don’t blame her for.

Woah ok I did not expect to write so much about the tributes. Woah.

Anywho, life in 12 vs 11 is definitely as different as, say, life in 2 vs life in 7. Honestly, 12 would probably be more similar to 2, because of the mining and huts as houses and stuff like that.

In 11, you’re expected to be outside. All the time. Working, working, working. Jobs are assigned, roles specified, it’s very orderly and there’s not much anyone can do about it. Work also starts early, probably as old as 10 due to how experienced Rue was working in the trees. Meanwhile in 12, you can only start mining at 18, which Katniss acknowledges as a weakness.

This is a bit off topic, but the mining age probably started to be an issue after Coriolanus showed up and realized just how much worse he could make the lives of d12 people by raising the mining age (both in the games and money wise)

Back to the original point, In 12? If you’re outside, that’s fine. The peacekeepers love the hunters, and we know some townsfolk venture to the edges of the meadow and the woods to forage as well. Getting your own methods of food is fine, nearly encouraged.

11 is also way more strict, which Suzanne makes clear to us a lot. When Katniss visits 12 and they shoot the old man. Talking with Rue about punishments. Lots of stuff that makes Katniss do a double take and realize maybe she was lucky to grow up in 12 instead. It certainly has more freedom, despite 11 having the same working conditions. Truly, I think 11 would be the worst to grow up in, even though it helps so much with the hunger games.

Love the scene, btw!! It really supports my point about the strictness of D12 and how it forces a sense of community and stuff. It was a nice addition and realistic I think.

Also, the fact Rue knew the boy who was slow and his story about forgetting to put back the night vision glasses is so much more than an introduction to the glasses!! it shows how much the residents know about each other and how well they remember based on what the peacekeepers enforce.

Ok this has got to be one of my longest ramblings to date, but I loved it! I don’t focus as much on the original series as I should when I usually do these, and it was a fun change of pace actually having to go through the wikis instead of just remembering like I do for BOSAS.

Thank you for the question @curiousnonny , and I hope you enjoy my answer as much as I liked writing it! As always feel free to debate (but not argue or insult) with me in the comments as I always love having these combed through and stuff and getting a chance to learn more.

[phos-phorus]

If I had the chance to start over || Launt

It got out of hand. I got lost in my own writing while listening to chances on repeat. I startet writing this fic at around 10:30pm and its now 3am so please excuse any mistakes etc and let me know if there are any!

Summary: James has had feelings for Niki for a long time now. He never ends up confessing tho and one day the despair hits him so hard he gets himself so fogged with alcohol and drugs that Niki has to come and save the day once again. Meanwhile James finally opens up about his feelings.

Silverstone

The roar of engines filled the air at Silverstone as James Hunt pulled his helmet off, shaking his golden hair free. James leaned against the pit wall, he glanced across the pit lane as his gaze fell on Niki Lauda, cool and composed, discussing strategies with his team. There was a magnetism to Niki that James couldn't quite shake off, a quiet strength and an enigmatic presence that drew him in.

James found himself watching Niki more than usual. Every precise movement, every calculated decision, and the sheer determination etched on his face fascinated James. He wondered if Niki ever noticed the stolen glances, the lingering looks. It was a fleeting thought, quickly buried beneath a brash smile and a casual shrug. James Hunt wasn't the type to dwell on feelings, especially not feelings as confusing as these.

"Hey, Hunt," a voice called, snapping him out of his reverie. It was one of the mechanics. "We filled her up. Ready for another round?"

James smirked, masking the tumultuous feelings inside. "Always am."

But as he climbed into his car, his mind still kept wandering to Niki.

Monaco

The glamour of Monaco was intoxicating, with its sun-soaked streets and opulent yachts. The competition was fierce, the stakes higher than ever. Yet, James found his thoughts straying towards Niki. They had become rivals on the track and, somehow, confidants off it. There were late-night conversations, hushed and intimate, where they shared dreams and fears over drinks.

One such night, James almost blurted it out. They were on the deck of a yacht, the sea breeze ruffling their hair. Niki was talking about his plans for the next race, but James couldn't focus. His mind was racing with words he couldn't say.

"I admire you, Niki. More than you know," He managed, his voice thick with unspoken emotions.

Niki smiled, a rare, genuine smile. "I know, James. I feel the same."

The words hung in the air, open to interpretation. James' heart pounded, but he said nothing more. The moment passed, leaving him with a bittersweet taste of what could have been.

Belgium

There was no reason for him to be this happy. After McLaren made changes to the car it became difficult to drive and James ended up lurching all over the track, holding other drivers up, and eventually retired with gearbox failure.

As the race ended and Niki emerged victorious, James found himself clapping louder than anyone else, his admiration barely contained while his engineers just scoffed at him in disbelieve. He didnt care though. He stopped doing that a long time ago.

Zandvoort

James often caught himself watching Niki, thinking about what might happen if he took the leap and confessed his love.

But he never did. Instead, he masked his feelings with a reckless lifestyle—partying, women, and substances. Each time he saw Niki's determined face, the longing in his heart grew stronger.

The celebration after James's latest victory was in full swing. Champagne flowed, laughter echoed, but James felt a hollowness inside. Across the room, Niki was engaged in conversation, his sharp features softened by a rare smile. He was talking to Marlene, a beautiful woman who seemed to be the only one who could break through Niki's stern exterior.

James's heart ached. He downed another glass of champagne, trying to drown the jealousy and longing that gnawed at him. What if he had taken that chance, back in '73? What if he had told Niki how he felt?

Watkins Glen

James stood in the shadows, watching Niki with Marlene, her laughter ringing out like a melody. He turned away, unable to bear the sight, and retreated to his hotel room. He saw them together often, and each time, a part of him shattered, and James cursed himself for never having the courage to confess his feelings. He never dared to hope.

Trying to numb the pain, he drowned his sorrows in alcohol and drugs. The party raged on, but James felt increasingly isolated, lost in his thoughts.

Tokyo

The neon lights of Tokyo painted the city in vibrant hues. The race was over, the celebration in full swing, but James was nowhere to be found.

In his hotel room, James poured himself another drink, the alcohol mixing with the drugs he'd taken earlier. The room spun around him, memories of races, laughter, and stolen glances merging into a painful blur.

He wondered what might have been if he had confessed his love. "What if I told him?" he muttered, downing most of his freshly poured drink "What if I just told him I love him?"

What-ifs and could-have-beens crashed over him in relentless waves, each one more unbearable than the last. His vision blurred, hot tears spilling over and streaming down his cheeks.

James collapsed onto the floor, staring at the ceiling as a sob ripped through him, raw and guttural, shaking his entire body. He tried to wipe at his eyes, but the tears kept coming, a torrential flood that refused to be stemmed. His fingers brushed against his cheeks, smearing the tears, mixing them with the alcohol he spilled.

Each sob grew louder, more desperate, as if he could cry out the anguish that had settled deep within his soul. Arms wrapping around his knees, he curled into himself, rocking back and forth in a futile attempt to find comfort.

His breaths came in ragged gasps, the pain in his chest tightening with every exhale as the room around him seemed to dissolve into a haze of sorrow, the shadows closing in, suffocating him with their presence.

The desperate banging on the door was muffled at first, almost as if it were part of the whirlwind in his head. James barely registered the noise, consumed entirely by his grief. It grew more insistent, a rhythmic pounding that seemed to match the frantic beat of his own heart. He heard voices calling his name, but they were distant, like a dream slipping away.

The door swung open with a force that startled him, and there, framed in the doorway, stood Niki Lauda, breathless and wide-eyed. Niki’s face was a mixture of confusion and concern, his eyes wide as he took in the scene before him.

James looked up, his vision swimming through the tears, and saw Niki standing there, silent and stunned. For a moment, everything froze. The banging on the door had stopped, replaced by an eerie silence that seemed to stretch on forever. Seeing Niki there, so vividly present when he’d only imagined him in his sorrow, was both a comfort and a fresh stab of pain.

Niki took a step forward, his eyes never leaving James’s. “James,” he said with a forced calmness, the name hanging heavily in the air. “Scheiße, James, what happened?”

"I'm sorry," he choked out between sobs, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm so, so sorry."

He didn't know who he was apologizing to—Niki, himself, the universe. It didn’t matter.

James tried to speak once more, but the words caught in his throat. He could only stare up at Niki, his emotions laid bare, his sobs a stark admission of his despair. He wiped at his face, trying to regain some semblance of composure, but the effort was futile. The weight of his sorrow and regret was too much to bear.

Niki knelt beside him, his expression a mix of sadness and empathy. He reached out a hand, carefully pulling James into a sitting position, supporting him with a firm but gentle grip. “I’m here, alright? We’ll get through this.” he said, his voice steadier than James’s own trembling hands. “Just… just breathe. In Gottes Namen was tust du dir nur an.”

James clung to Niki, his sobs finally quieting and his breathing slowing down. The room still spun, but now there was a lifeline amid the chaos.

Niki stayed with him, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them, but in that moment, the silence was enough. They sat together on the floor until Niki was convinced James wouldnt fall over or start sobbing again as soon as he let go of him.

He helped James to his feet and guided him to the couch, ensuring he was seated comfortably before moving to fetch a glass of water and some painkillers.

“You can't keep doing this to yourself. Ich kann nicht immer da sein um auf dich auf zu passen." Niki murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. " You need to stop this—drugs, alcohol. You’re destroying yourself."

James’s eyes followed every movement of Niki’s. His gaze was unwavering, even as he struggled to stay conscious. He was too weak to respond verbally, but his eyes spoke volumes, filled with a mix of regret and adoration.

Niki moved about the room, tidying up and picking up the discarded bottles with a practiced efficiency, cleaning the mess and making sure James was well enough to avoid a trip to the hospital. Despite his frustration, there was a tenderness in his touch, a silent promise that he wouldn’t leave James in this state, no matter how much James had hurt himself.

As Niki worked, James began to whisper to himself, his voice barely audible over the sound of Niki’s movements and his own ragged breathing

"If I had the chance to start over… the first person I’d seek out would be you, Niki."

Niki froze for a moment, his hand hovering over a dirty glass. He looked down, catching James’s eye for a split second. There was something in James’s gaze that made Niki pause, his heart aching despite the anger he felt.

“I should’ve... I should’ve told you, should’ve taken the chance while I could” James continued as he looked up into Niki's eyes “I would’ve done it right this time. I would’ve told you everything. I would-”

"You need to drink your water." Niki interrupted harshly as he turned to put the glass and the empty whiskey bottle on the counter.

“I’m sorry,” James whispered again, his voice breaking. “I didn’t... I didn’t know how-”

Niki leaned in to check James's pulse once more but remained silent, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of James’s emotions. The weight of the words that James had never said lay heavily in the room.

In a halting voice, he continued, "I... I love you, Niki. I've always loved you. And I know I've messed everything up, but if I had another chance, I'd do it all differently. I'd do it right."

For a long moment, Niki said nothing, just knelt there, processing the words that hung heavy in the air. He finally shook his head slightly, as if to clear his thoughts, and resumed tending to James, his movements a little gentler now.

Making sure James was settled in bed, his head resting on a pillow and a glass of water within reach, Niki turned to leave, casting one last glance at James.

“Rest, James. We'll talk more when you're sober. I’ll be around if you need anything." he said softly, his voice lacking its earlier harshness.

He turned off the light and quietly left the room, leaving James alone in the darkness.

James lay in the darkness, tears streaming down his face once more. He had finally said it, but it felt like he had lost everything. He clung to the hope that maybe, somehow, he could fix things. But for now, he was alone, begging the universe for a chance to turn back time.

The room was silent, save for his whispered plea, "I didn’t mean for it to be this way. Please. Please, let me go back. Let me fix this."

But the past remained unchangeable, and James was left to face the consequences of his silence, his heartache echoing in the empty room.

[singularity-and-co]

(@shimmeringtidepools) Gira@Singularity: His father would kill him if he knw he wasn’t back shackled to his world, good. There was something he wanted to know. The black haired male had eventually tracked down the fellow giratina, one he saw seldomly at the gala, and approached from shadows. “Pardon my intrusion, but you and I seem to be quite similar in a manner of speaking.” He started. “Horrible fathers, irritating siblings, banishment and the like, tell me honestly what is the Distortion World like for you?” Genuine curiosity swirled in his eyes. “For me it might be my only home, however it is pure hell.”

Sorry, can’t help myself. When I see an attractive-looking Pokémon, I must compliment them. And well, you certainly tick all of the boxes for what I consider attractive.

Anyways, regarding your question, it seems we are both in a similar situation. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one. Well, it’s not nice for the both of us but you know what I mean. The realm of distorted chaos, or distortion realm as it’s commonly known, is one I have a lot of control over.

However, it’s also been used as my prison. A prison where I was tossed away for years, never to see what was going on in the others worlds until I had learnt my lesson. I hated being trapped in there. Hated it. I still hate going there but at least I can exit it freely. The worst part was how void it was of life during my banishment. I couldn’t do anything besides sit and watch the world distort and morph. My true form became corrupt and, I’m going to be honest, I’m rather embarrassed to show it.

The realm itself has actually morphed into a similar look to that of the mortal realm, except with certain laws of physics being bent and distorted. That’s something I’ve had no control over and if I didn’t hate the place so much, I probably would spend some time observing why this is. It’s probably fascinating stuff. The realm has also opened itself up to many ghost types and a lot of them use the space to help the spirits of the dead move on. I think I’ve seen death itself wandering too. It’s not harmful to them if they’re in there for a short period of time. Anyone who’s in for a while may be hit with the awful side effects that realm has.

You mentioned yours is pure hell. In what way, if you don’t mind me asking?

[carpisuns]

Now that you are no longer avoiding miraculous ladybug spoilers, can I say that it is absolutely bonkers the way the sentimonster theory started out with just Adrien, but then spread to Felix, and now apparently kagami??? And I've heard there might be another person who is one as well?? Like at this point I think we might as well say that every rich kid in paris (or vaguely related to paris) is probably a sentimonster. I bet it was a top secret Agreste collection back in the day, and all of Paris' wealthiest got a slice of it

OHOOEHEHEHE YES AND IM LIVING FOR IT!! honestly I never thought we would get confirmation of the senti theory that is this clear—like I thought it would be hinted but left open enough for the average child viewer to totally miss and for deniers to be able to deny if they want to. And I guess they could still deny? But man I didn’t expect it to become so central!! the felix eps were insane i was yelling !!

A while back I saw this theory that was basically what you said—that all the rich kids in Paris were sentis. Because of that fancy weird cult party from the episode Gabriel Agreste. Which was so fascinating to me back then and now it feels not unlikely?

It’s so interesting bc we know sentis are created from a specific emotion. It would seem appropriate that Emily created adrien out of love, and that’s why he’s such a kind boy who gives undeserving people second chances and who loves people with all his heart. Im not sure what emotion felix would be?? he’s a pretty complex character but his sense of personal justice is strong, wanting to free himself first and then the other sentikids, and using morally questionable means to reach his mission. So maybe something along those lines. And for kagami, idk, is perfection an emotion? Desire for perfection? That idea is brought up more and more surrounding her and her mother is very concerned with kagami’s perfection.

This gets even more interesting to me when you consider Chloe. Admittedly, she makes less sense as a senti bc the other sentikids have a missing parent (presumably the one who wielded the broken peacock and then eventually died from it??). But im just considering the concept of Audrey making Chloe from her own emotions….which seem to consist solely of selfishness and superiority. So if Chloe was made with such ugly emotions, no wonder she is the way she is. And no wonder that every time she seemed to make a little progress, she backslid into her old behavior. Bc any display of self-awareness and kindness and genuine care for someone else goes against her emotional core—her very essence. Is it even possible for a senti to change their emotional core? that would be an insane display of self-control and sheer force of will that would challenge the very concept of sentis as creatures who are made to be commanded. if it’s possible for a senti to break the bounds of their emotional core, is it also possible to break the bond between them and their amok holder and disobey a direct order? Could they even break their link to their amok entirely? This is all crazy talk bc it doesn’t even make sense in context and I doubt Chloe would end up having that big of a role anyway lol but the implications are interesting to think about! It’s even interesting to think about XY and the possibility of him being a senti—emotional core of greed, maybe? or, like, shallowness? lol. his dad definitely controls him and his image pretty carefully so. Hmm!

anyway insane musings aside I am really enjoying this arc with the senti focus!! felix’s Argo fit is so cool. his villain song. Girl help!!! when he had to kill his sentimoon and cried…oh that got me. That was his SISTER !! and FELIGAMI HELLO???? FELIGAMI PRACTICALLY CANON AFTER 2 EPISODES??? i did NOT have that on my bingo card lol but you know what?? Hell yeah!!!!!! Kagami said if Adrien doesn’t love me I’ll simply fall for his more intense and moody twin who rapidly and rightfully became obsessed with me

[ink-dusted-dreams]

Analyzing the manga panels where Kenshin dreams of Tomoe after leaving Rakuninmura

These five pages hold a profound place in my heart, a beautiful testimony of the depths of love found in literature. To discover such emotional depth in a Shounen manga was beyond my expectations.

The scene unfolds with Kenshin gazing upon a familiar scenery. Yet, his eyes remain devoid of emotion, perhaps because this scenery has replayed within his mind countless times. In this moment, he believes Kaoru to be dead, he failed to protect her, her death is the grim result of revenge stemming from an accidental act - the death of Tomoe. He is uncertain if this vengeance aligns with Tomoe's wishes, for time has separated them for 15 years already. The home and love he found after 15 years of grieving for his late wife lie in ruins. His mind and soul are destroyed, and his eyelids weigh heavily, yet he gazes at the familiar scene before him.

He knows what to expect as he recognizes the sound of familiar footsteps and the hem of the familiar kimono.

He soon gazes upon that familiar face, fully aware it's but an illusion, for she cannot exist in reality. Still, he continues to look at her. He refrains from speaking to her, perhaps believing she won't reply, a notion he's perhaps tested in the past.

It's truly heart-wrenching. Imagine someone incredibly dear to you, now long gone. You see an illusion, a ghost of that person, and you understand that no matter how much you call out, they'll never return. What will you do?

But this time, she speaks, and his eyes light up. He smiles, responds, and simply gazes at her as if that's all he ever needed.

I used to be genuinely puzzled by this. Many readers interpret Kenshin's emotions toward Tomoe as guilt, and I admit, I once shared that view. However, this chapter altered my perspective.

Yet, the right words to describe Kenshin's expression in these panels always eluded me. I eventually realized it might be because I had the entire backstory in my head. I had a hunch that an unrelated third party, someone unfamiliar with the story, might grasp it better. So, I shared these two panels with my artist mother, a 65-year-old who's never read manga or watched anime. Her observations were fascinating and truly eye-opening.

Regarding the panel above, I posed these questions to her:

"What emotions do you believe these two characters are experiencing?"

In response, my mother conveyed her thoughts on Tomoe, stating, "She appears to be showing concern."

As for Kenshin, her perspective was "A mix of surprise and sadness."

I went a step further and shared the image above with her because I've always found it challenging to discern his emotions. I believed that my mother, who is not only an artist but also a deeply empathetic individual, might be able to grasp his feelings.

Her response, after translation, was as follows:

"He appears to be gazing at something, and whatever he sees, he feels..."

She paused for a moment.

I asked her, "Do you think he feels happy?"

She replied, "No. I don't believe it's happiness; there's no sense of excitement."

She continued, struggling to find the right word, "It's more like...whatever he's witnessing... it's what he yearned to see. Like, this is it."

Finally, she found the word. Being of Indian descent, she used the term "Prashanti (प्रशांति)."

In my mind, everything fell into place. It was the word I had been searching for. "Prashanti" translates to "peace," but "peace" translates to "Shanti (शांति)." Prashanti, however, signifies "supreme peace." His expression seems to convey a sense of completeness.

In the next panels, he begins to talk about his conviction but averts her gaze. I found myself curious about this, but after reading the Japanese scanlations, it all became clear. Regrettably, I don't have all the pages to share here.

Instead of using "これからも" (which means "From now on"), he opts for "これからも…多分…" (which means "From now on... probably..."). He concludes all his sentences with "するよ" rather than just "する." This may seem subtle, but it carries significant weight because he's indirectly seeking her agreement. It's akin to the distinction between saying, "I will do it," and "You know, I will do it." Although both convey the same action, the latter grants the listener a greater say in the decision. In the context of Japanese, this difference is even more pronounced. It leads me to believe that, at this point, his promise isn't entirely set in stone.

In the next panel, Tomoe wears a serene smile and calmly responds, "Yes," as if she was aware of it from the start.

In the next panel, The translation reads "You are finally smiling." However, in the Japanese scanlations, it becomes apparent that he says "やっと笑ってくれた," which means "You are finally smiling for me."

In the next panel, Tomoe tells him, "If you smile, the me inside you will always smile with you." We witness Kenshin's expression, a look of utter astonishment as if he had never fathomed such a notion, not even in his wildest dreams.

But this single panel reveals a world of emotion. It shows that Kenshin had never dared to imagine that Tomoe could feel that way for him. It also suggests that when Kenshin smiles during their conversation, it might just be the first genuine smile he's worn in 15 years because Tomoe mentions she smiles when Kenshin smiles, yet until then, she had never worn that smile.

To me, this reveals a lot about Tomoe's character. She doesn't possess the same kind of strength that Misao and Kaoru do, the strength to relentlessly pursue their love and hold onto it.

Yet, Tomoe imparts a profound lesson that we should all learn — the art of letting go.

She didn't prevent Kiyosato from leaving for Mimawarigumi. She didn't stop Kenshin from taking lives during his time as Ishin Shishi, despite it contradicting her own beliefs. Instead, she questioned him and let him make his own choices. As she approached her final moments, with her remaining strength, she wiped Kenshin's tears and consoled him, assuring him that everything was as it should be.

Nevertheless, she possessed the strength to be a mother figure and a caring sister to her brother, she had the courage to calmly stand in the presence of a killer, to watch, and to condemn the crime rather than the criminal.

Ultimately, she encouraged him to rise and go to the one who yearns most to see his smile — Kaoru.

It's beautiful because these pages reveal that to Kenshin, Tomoe's smile meant the world. Being with her was all he ever wanted; he never wanted to be apart from her. His love for her was very deep. That's why, hearing her voice, talking to her, and seeing her smile, even though none of it was real, brought him peace, even in the darkest moments, because it was what he truly desired.

Yet, whether we call it fate or a profound backstory to add depth to his character, it's what he lost.

[luv-applejuice]

The reason why I started cutting again after being clean for ten years

(Forewarning: Long Personal Post)

Hi there. If you decide to read this, thank you, and I hope my story is interesting to you, or perhaps even makes you think. If I put in as many details as I want to, it will be unfathomably long, so I’ll try to just summarize the key points, but I’m perfectly happy to share more details with anyone who may be curious.

I like to go by Eve, and (like many of us) I intentionally cut myself for the first time when I was around thirteen years old. The reason why I cut for the first time back then is a story for another day (but a story I will share on request nonetheless). In other words, it isn’t imperatively relevant to this one. The most important information to be gleaned from it is that at the time, I was in an abusive relationship, and I was involved in a widespread school scandal that caused my autonomy and privacy to be publicly violated by the staff and the students alike. It was a horrible ordeal where I was shamed, ridiculed, harassed, and belittled. My only choice back then was to transfer over to an entirely different school district.

At the time, I was terrified that my reputation would follow me, and I wanted a fresh start, so I forced myself to stop cutting. Though, now, as I look back at that time through the eyes of an adult, I had always continued to self-harm in other ways (such as having lots of risky sex and similar such things). I desperately hid my scars from discerning eyes, and miraculously, no one, including my parents, ever found out. I was by no means living a normal life, as I still dealt with lots of bullying and harassment, but my situation, at least, wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been at my previous school.

Little by little, my situation began to shift. I went from surviving a suicide attempt to being recognized for my performances. Eventually, I was accepted into college on scholarship and was able to leave my hometown behind. Along with some painful memories, the times I had cut had begun to fade into obscurity and feel more and more distant. The scars too, began to fade almost as if they really were just a bad dream.

I think it’s important to clarify, however, that just because I wasn’t cutting anymore doesn’t mean I was automatically happy. Though I wasn’t actively indulging in it, I always retained a fascination for it that I had consciously repressed. It was something I hid, just like the marks themselves. At some point, I became someone who prided themselves in being someone in “impeccable control of themselves” but also simultaneously someone who suppressed my genuine emotions by default.

Ten years passed.

I was clean for a decade.

It should have, but it didn’t really garner me much of a sense of accomplishment. I guess I really didn’t put much thought in to it. Maybe it’s because no one ever found out in the first place, so no one was ever there to tell me “good job.”

I had recently graduated college after more rocky years that continued to be chock full of elaborate bullying campaigns, and I was lined up for a job I had always wanted and that made a decent amount of money. I got hired, moved to an apartment close by, and quickly bonded with some of my new coworkers. I did great work and was well-liked by my supervisors. For what might have been the first time in my whole life, I felt like I belonged someplace.

Amongst this new group of friends was a very beautiful girl who was also quite an internet celebrity. Really, beautiful is a bit of an understatement- she’s the kind of supermodel-level stunning that teens everywhere try to emulate. She’s so pretty that she can get whoever and whatever she wants. She’s so strikingly hot that a group of people on the internet genuinely banded together to celebrate her eighteenth birthday. That’s the kind of person this girl is. She’s also completely covered in self-harm scars.

I was shocked, and maybe even a little scandalized the first time I saw her. She was very clearly openly cutting in front of her friends, coworkers and bosses. To be completely honest, I developed a bit of a shitty attitude about it. I decided that it wasn’t appropriate to make me look at these semi-fresh cuts every single day when I was trying to work. I decided that it wasn’t fair to shove it in my face after I had struggled for so long. Before you judge me too harshly, please remember that these actions would have been inconceivable for me based on my life experience up until that point. In reality, I think I was just secretly burning with jealousy.

“Why did I have to go to such lengths to hide myself but she gets no consequences for flaunting it all? How is it fair that she can get so much special treatment just because she’s tall and rich and pretty? If people are so nice to her, why weren’t they ever nice to me? Is there really such a big difference between her and I?”

I hated her. I wanted desperately to have sex with her. I wanted us to be friends.

These were the kinds of selfish feelings I experienced at the time.

She and I became something in between friends and enemies. (Rivals?) It really wasn’t anyone’s fault- unfortunately, the two of us got compared to each other in the workplace quite often and became forcefully tied into an inconvenient little packaged duo. It was only natural- we’re both openly neurodivergent, we have the same style and the same interests, and we even got hired on the same day. We even LOOK very similar– only, her features all seem like slightly more polished versions of mine. It’s justified that we felt an unfortunate instinct to try to one-up each other.

That said, however… I felt as if I was living in her shadow. Not one single day would pass without customers falling over themselves to get her number, whereas the stacks of harassment reports I had to file just kept piling and piling up. I started getting treated as a discount version of her by regular customers and coworkers alike. One of the only things I was able to claim for myself was that at least I behaved more “appropriately” by concealing my old marks.

I think….. she had everything I never ever even knew I wanted.

Unfortunately, that time I spent at the job I loved was cut short.

One of the oldest members of the company with a fondness for hazing all of the new female hires thought it would be fun to make up some rumors about me…. maybe it’s because I had already become such a hot topic at work lately, but the gossip spread like wildfire and I think grew thrice the size of what she had intended. It mutated and morphed the way that gossip does and eventually made its way to the supervisors. With my job in peril, I quickly tried to file a claim with HR and contact the owners, but for anyone who’s ever worked in an American company…. Yeah. You know how it is. The heads saw an image-ruining scandal brewing and terminated me without doing so much as an investigation. The only good thing that came of it is that my termination was so unfair and uncalled for that the company ended up unionizing immediately after… but it was too late for me. Everything I worked so hard for burnt up in an instant and I was left with nothing but embers. I found myself shamed, ridiculed, harassed, and belittled. I found myself right back where I started. The girl with all the pretty scars, of course, continues to excel there to this day.

I was faced with a cruel reality. “Where did all that self-righteousness ever get me? How did I ever benefit from that false sense of superiority? Did I ever once gain anything from lying to myself? Did concealing everything let me keep my job or my friends? Did anything I do ever really matter?”

Thus… I finally relapsed and my ten year celibacy was broken. It’s been only six months and it’s an interesting feeling to do it again. I’m sort of learning how to do it in a way that feels good for me all over again. I feel like I got my virginity back. It’s scary, it’s liberating, it’s exciting, it’s pleasureful, and it’s difficult all at the same time. For now, it feels like it’s what’s good for me here in this moment. I’m happy that I’ve chosen to do what empowers me. And if I ever do decide to stop someday…. It will be because I myself want to do it, not out of fear and shame.

Maybe I’ll be brave enough to wear my scars proudly someday like her.

I’m a little better now than I was six months ago. Now you’re caught up and you know all about me, dear stranger.

This isn’t a post telling anyone that they need to recover, and it’s also not a post telling anyone they shouldn’t or that it’s pointless to. It a post telling you that cutting doesn’t automatically fix 100% of your problems, and being clean doesn’t automatically make you happy either. I think I’d like to live in a world someday where it isn’t completely demonized or completely worshipped. Until then…hang in there and practice good aftercare. And thanks for reading this far.

…….Let me know if you want me to change out your bandages for you. Maybe you can do the same for me?

－Eve

[greetings-inferiors]

Here is my my journey to realising I’m demiromantic asexual, and it does go into some sexual stuff, so if you don’t want to read it… don’t read it.

I never “forced” myself to have a crush, but I did think “oh this is how everyone feels”

Like in year 6 for the school disco everyone was asking people out and my friends were saying how they had to get a date soon and I was already pretty friendly with the girls and also could see that the “dates” were pretty pointless/meaningless so I just asked out one of the girls I liked (in a platonic way) and when it came to the actual dance we, like everyone else, basically instantly did our own thing.

In high school, year 9 I think, I was really good friends with this one girl, who said she had a crush on me, and I had the thing where I wanted to be closer friends with her and thought “oh so this is what a crush is!” So “went out” with her, but basically nothing changed, so I didn’t really think about it much. But eventually it got pretty bad as she was thinking about it as a relationship and I was thinking about it as “just friends”. I think that was the first time I realised that SOMETHING about me was different, and I think a year later I learnt about asexuality & aromanticism and had that “ohhhhhhhh” moment.

Then after that, in year 11, I got REEEEALLY close to someone, to the point where we literally made out and I was like “it should be normal for friends to kiss that was great”. But after a good few weeks of being intensely close I actually did start to fall in love. They were a pretty sexual person and I started to imagine me… “pleasuring” them, and that was when I thought “maybe I’m not aroace?”, anyway we entered a relationship, it was lovely, but as our relationship became more sexual it became clear that we were different.

This is where it starts to get maybe a bit TMI so if you don’t want to read anything sexual leave now

I would only ever pleasure them, and I never really gave any thought to receiving anything back. But then one day they asked if they could and I was like “sure” and I just… didn’t feel anything? Like I’ve masturbated before it’s not like I’m completely numb or anything but when it was this person that I loved with all my heart and who I had literally just fingered touching me I just didn’t feel anything? Like of course I could feel them but like it wasn’t pleasure or anything it was literally the same sensation as if they had touched my arm or something. Afterwards I said that I’d just prefer to be the one giving and not receive, but if they wanted to give that’d be fine. Like I didn’t HATE it, it was quite fun, the person I love was trying to make me feel good y’know it felt nice, but purely emotionally. Physically it just didn’t feel like anything.

Over time they got “better”, I’d actually feel good instead of literally nothing, but still not enough to actually enjoy or want to do it, and I still only ever did it when they wanted to. A few times they have head and it was alright, but once again it was just kind of… meh. As I said they were a very sexual person, so they didn’t just want to receive but to give too. But the way they said that was that they “felt bad about not doing anything” to which I responded that I didn’t mind at all, I only wanted to make them feel good, so I thought it was fine and they would just appreciate being a “pillow princess” as they put it LOL.

But I do understand WHY they would feel bad, or why they weren’t fulfilled sexually. Because yes, I didn’t care for receiving anything sexual, but I LOVED giving. Genuinely, it was almost addictive. Making the love of your life feel so good was insane. Being able to watch their mind go blank from the pleasure was so much fun. Also it’s really interesting because they had different genitals from me and it was unironically fascinating just looking around and seeing what everything does. One time I was eating them out but stopped because I was curious about the hood of the clitoris, and they got really annoyed at me lol. 10/10, would recommend if you have a partner. I never tried penetration though, so I can’t comment on “actual” sex.

Anyway yeah, if I have a partner in future the ideal would be someone who doesn’t want or doesn’t care to give me any pleasure sexually.

Nowadays I believe I’m Demiromantic Asexual. I very clearly am capable of being romantically attracted to someone, but after being single for a year and even having a squish, I’m confident that I need an intense platonic bond before falling in love. In terms of sexuality, I was in a very sexual relationship with someone who I think is objectively attractive and still thought “eh” when it came to sex so I’m pretty sure I’m asexual, just sex positive/neutral (can’t remember the difference). Maybe one day I’ll go “awooga” and actually be sexually attracted to someone but who knows. For now the label works for me.

[crimsonbluuu]

Glow Stars - Batfamily Oneshot

Damian had always had a fascination with stars. Everything ranging from planets to spaceships to comets—anything space-related—interested him, though ever since he moved to Gotham and away from the clear and beautiful skies of Nanda Parabat, his hobby came to a close.

(1,206 word count)

Warnings!

> Grammatical errors

> Somewhat OOC

> Might seemed rushed

read here, or on ao3!

Damian had always had a fascination with stars. Everything ranging from planets to spaceships to comets—anything space-related—interested him, though ever since he moved to Gotham and away from the clear and beautiful skies of Nanda Parabat, his hobby came to a pause.

Gotham, unlike his original home, was dirty, infested not only with dirty criminals but also with dirty air and dirty gas; seemingly anything the city was able to grasp itself onto eventually became dirty or tainted in some way. It certainly didn’t bother Damian as much as it did when he first arrived, but he missed the stars.

He missed quiet nights, missed hearing the buzz of cascades and cricket noises, and he even missed the familiar ivory and spiced scents that always wafted through the air. He missed the stars; he missed looking up at them and studying them.

He missed when his mother would watch with him, stargazing and reciting stories of brave warriors before his time; he even missed the feeling of being broken, bloody, and beaten, yet he was still sitting on the window sill to gaze at the sky.

Here, in this cold, rainy, and gloomy doom of a city, the only thing he could see out of the window at night was a cloudy and foggy sky, with helicopter lights mimicking what should be a starry night. Which, in all honesty, wasn’t necessarily a bad thing; it just wasn’t the same.

“You seem to be doing that a shit ton more lately." Someone interrupted his thought pattern, and his head quickly swiveled towards the noise. The person, Jason, snickered when he walked inside the room, closing the door behind him and walking up to the window where Damian sat at his desk.

“What are you talking about?” Damian asked, raising a brow at the other as he pretended to work on a random drawing that lay unfinished on his desk, picking up a pen. Jason raised a brow back at him as well, as if he were saying, ‘You know exactly what I’m talking about.'

“I haven’t been doing anything in a repetitive pattern lately, so I genuinely do not know what you mean,” Damian deadpanned, a small scowl covering his face. Instead of Damian’s attempt at intimidation, all Jason did was chuckle.

“The window. It seems like every time I see you, you’re looking outside. What’s with that?” Jason asked, and Damian pursed his lips into a thin line, looking back towards the window. He’d been doing that a lot. So much to the point that it became noticeable? That wasn’t good.

“None of your business.” He rudely replied, rolling his eyes. The latter did nothing but scoff, “I’m trying to be what dick boy calls a ‘nice brother’ but I can’t help if you’re just going to be a little asshole." Jason huffed, and Damian tutted, crossing his arms.

“No one is asking for your assistance, especially not me, Todd."

“I never said you were asking; something is just obviously wrong with you."

Damian blinked, narrowing his eyes at the other. The most Jason could probably do if Damian told him about how much he missed home was forget about it. Jason wouldn’t tell anyone, right? He wouldn’t tell Dick, and he especially wouldn’t let Bruce know. Right?

“I miss Nanda Parabat.” Damian nonchalantly says, and Jason slowly nods, opting to sit on the green and gold armchair that rests in the corner of Damian’s room. “And that’s a bad thing because..." The older man asks with a confused look on his face.

“I can’t miss them. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t miss them or that place. It’s a bad thing.” Damian said, looking down at his lap, his grip tightening on the pen he was holding. He never considered himself to be an anxious person or particularly nervous, but he nearly found himself fidgeting with the pen. Key word: nearly.

“You sayin’ it’s not normal to miss Nanda Parabat over this shithole of a city?” Jason asked, with a twinge of humor at the end of his voice, “Nobody can decide who you can’t and can’t miss; that’s your whole fuckin’ life, all the way there.�� He continues, shrugging, “I’d be more surprised if you didn’t miss the place.”

“I don’t particularly miss the place itself. I just miss the atmosphere. The air, the stars.” Damian says, and Jason stays silent for a moment, as if contemplating his next response. Damian understands that if Jason is angry at him for missing Nanda Parabat, he would understand if the other person just left instead of trying to help him.

“And you’re all homesick because the only thing you can see in the sky here at night are city lights and bulls?" Damian didn’t answer, assuming it was a rhetorical question. Instead, he just looked back toward the window.

“I think so." He says, his voice sounding a lot more unsure than he’d rather it be, cringing at the sound of it. Jason nods in the corner of his eyes, standing up. "Have you heard of glow-in-the-dark stars?" Jason hummed, and now it was Damian’s turn to be confused.

“Don’t stars already glow in the dark?" Jason laughed, shaking his head. “No, these are stars you can put on your wall or ceiling, and they shine like an actual star,” he explained, and nearly immediately Damian was enthralled with the idea of stars being in his own room.

“And you can get them anywhere?” Damian asked with a childlike wonder, that would with no hesitation be frowned upon by the League; luckily, at that moment, he didn’t care for the League's beliefs, more focused on the fabled ‘glow in the dark stars.’

And sure enough, later that day, Damian’s ceilings and walls were decorated top to bottom with different

stars, ranging from the common green or white hue to a more pink or yellow color. There weren’t only stars, either. There were a few planets, along with a small solar system, and Damian absolutely adored it.

He nearly spent day and night in his room, the lights off and curtains closed just looking; sure, in most eyes, it could’ve been perceived as childish, but it made Damian happy. And he deserved to be happy, right? Because, of course, everyone deserves happiness, right?

He was at his desk again, his curtains drawn as he drew something in his notebook, bringing a pen over the nude-colored sheets.

“You like the stars, yeah?” A voice interrupted—Jason—leaning against the door to Damian’s room, nearly startling Damian if it weren’t for the fact he was almost suspecting someone to walk inside his room. Damian stopped himself from smiling at the older man, instead opting for his usual scowl.

“They will do. They compare nothing to the skies in Nanda Parabat, but this will suffice.” He said, and again, an eyebrow rose. Jason laughed, narrowing his eyes. “Right, this will suffice.” He chuckled, pushing himself off of the door frame and beginning to walk away.

Though, before he could, Damian called him, and Jason poked his head back into the room.

“Todd?” Damian called, not looking towards the other.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” Damian said, coughing, “For getting me the stars.”

[7grandmel]

Todays rips: 30/09/2023

Fly High, No Lies ~Genocide Ending~ and Nice, Slick, Blackness

Season 2 Part of: SiIvaGunner: Rebooted

Ripper Unknown

Season 2 Part of: SiIvaGunner: Rebooted

Ripper Unknown

Just yesterday, in I Saw a Brainwasher Today, I did my best to summarize the context and premise of SiIvaGunner's first true story event - SiIvaGunner Rebooted. It was an absolutely fascinating event to be part of, and for me it was what cemented SiIvaGunner as an experience worth taking seriously, as a narrative we were all part of and one that would continue to grow and evolve over time. Eventually, though, the event wrapped up, things were resolved, and SiIva moved on to different, more "organic" stories - not at all worse or less interesting ones, of course, but...the fate of the SiIvaGunner channel itself wouldn't exactly be tested in the same way as it was in The Reboot ever again.

That was, at least, until Season 2 reached The Reboot's first anniversary.

A key part of the original Reboot event that I forgot to mention was the ARG that played out alongside it - a fetchquest across the internet that proved to be the way to truly "save" SiIva and uncover the true resolution to The Reboot. The event thus had two endings - one where Chad Warden succumbs to The Voice Inside Your Head's demands and allows SiIvaGunner to keep existing without a trace of Snow Halation left, and a true ending where Chad uses the power of the fanbase's support to defeat The Voice and bring SiIva back to the way he once was. On June 17th 2017, though, we were suddenly shown a secret, far-removed third ending - the Genocide Ending. Fly High, No Lies ~Genocide Ending~ depicts a route where, rather than acting out of the wish to save SiIvaGunner and act in service of what's right, Chad Warden acts out of his own selfish wishes and ego. Here, Chad Warden kills both Snow Halation and The Voice Inside Your Head - he rejects acceptance of what the fanbase seemed to so vocally hate, yet also rejects conforming to their wishes altogether. Instead, Chad Warden seeks out his own wishes, and takes full control of the channel altogether.

And so began one of the most memorable events in SiIvaGunner's entire history - if nothing else just for how purely vapid and empty it all was. Chad Warden had one joke he aimed to cover the entire channel in, as he otherwise kicked back and did whatever else he so liked. Thus, our feeds became filled with nothing but "Chicken and Chips" from hit band "Lego Pornstars" - a joke on so many levels of irony and so-bad-its-good that I still can't decide if I find it funny or not. Though a lot of the rips made during the event were of course genuinely well-made whilst using that joke, the essence of what it was like to follow the channel during this one-day takeover is distilled to its purest form in Nice, Slick, Blackness - the rip that concluded the event. It is ten minutes straight of nothing but cold, empty, desolate ambiance, as Chicken and Chips plays faintly in the background. Its absolutely unbearable, and yet in a way its the natural outcome of what so many people wished for SiIvaGunner to be - the outcome of what would happen if SiIvaGunner was ran purely by knee-jerk reacting to which jokes were and weren't allowed. Eventually, as jokes would be phased out from obnoxiousness, recency, association with bad media, and general redundancy...there would be nothing left but Chicken and Chips.

There's so many layers to everything that transpired during this event, and its conclusion only adds even more to consider on top of all of that. By the ten minute mark of Nice, Slick, Blackness, a voice begins speaking directly to us using on-screen text. Through just a few sentences, its revealed to us that the entire event was set up for us by Wood Man, a character from the main storyline now confirmed to have the power to move between different timelines and history. The Genocide ending, as he explains, was not just a random timeline in particular - its the one where Chad Warden himself acts "more like he actually is in the real world." This whole event was, in the end, nothing but smoke and mirrors for the canon of our SiIvaGunner, and Wood Man eventually brings us back safely to the main universe, clarifying he only really showed us this alternate time "for funsies". Thus, the Reboot was fully put behind us, and the channel went back to its prior state.

Yet...something's always really stuck with me in Wood Man's wording there. In SiIvaGunner canon, Chad Warden is depicted and understood to be somewhat of a hero, an everyman on the side of creatives who know what real quality is born from. Yet as Wood Man infers, this isn't how the actual character of Chad Warden is depicted as - the "real" Chad Warden is, truthfully, one who WOULD take over SiIvaGunner just to play to his own childish whims and brag about his own glory. We as SiIvaGunner fans, and in shitposts in general, create these imaginary interpretations of fictional characters - twist and bend them to fit the molds that reflect the jokes we make out of them rather than how they actually are in real life. Figments, as understood in SiIvaGunner lore, exist by how people remember them, or in other words how they're understood as memes: Wood Man isn't known to us as one of eight robot masters created by Dr. Wily to wreak havoc unto the world, but as a silly Ms Paint drawing inspired a sloppily made Mega Man MIDI file of the character's theme.

In understanding SiIvaGunner as something far more imaginary and lucid than it truly is, we've been able to go on some of the most fascinating story beats yet told on YouTube across SiIvaGunner's seven seasons. Even as the people behind the channel's activity are becoming more known and recognizable by the minute, we keep the kayfabe around the channel - because its that fantasy that lets us be part of its evergrowing story. Nice, Slick, Blackness and The Reboot anniversary event as a whole were, in a bizarre way, our peek into SiIvaGunner's hell - the world where fantasy no longer exists. And speaking personally, I don't think I'll ever be able to forget what I saw in there.

[enchantedchocolatebars]

OK, here's a story short idea (mayyybbbeee???)

So basically, another human girl travels from the future and ends up in the 1600s Boiling Isle. She meets Philip, and for the life of him, he cannot shake her off him.

Eventually, he gives up and say "Yep, I'ma adopt U"

You want an 'Old timey dad adopts futuristic daughter' fic?

Okay!🙂 Super cute concept / idea btw!☺️ Thank you again, anon! Hope you enjoy!💕

G/N = Girl Name

Also, in my head G/N is wearing / dressed like this.

⌛For From The Future🧳

After a sudden flash of light, a cardboard box that's coated in cute space stickers appears outside of a forest.

When the box flaps flip open, out pops the head of a young girl. She looked to be about thirteen.

The girl had on a brightly-colored bike helmet with white and yellow stars decorated on the front and back.

Judging from the joy that was radiating on her face, she was beyond excited to be in a new location.

Where exactly was she situated?

The 13-year-old couldn't tell.

She had a hunch she might be in the 40th century, but the flock of flying eyeballs with bat wings that she saw soaring in the fair sky said otherwise.

This girl was named G/N.

She was a futuristic time traveler from the year 3012.

Getting out of her box, G/N is revealed to have a robotic right arm. She also wore a really cute outer space outfit.

Reaching her human hand into the box, she pulls out a small, digital camcorder, along with a tripod.

Once those were properly set up, she stood in view and began recording herself.

After a wave at the camera, she starts her enthusiastic speech.

"Hi, guys! G/N, here! Today, I'm outside of a strange forest! I think it might be enchanted or something. Still not sure where I am, but I saw some flying eyesballs! No joke, they had wings! They flew right by my head!"

G/N was also a vlogger who loved sharing her travels through time with her viewers.

She always had a blast doing so!

Just last week she was in 1762 recording THE Mozart playing live at one of his classical concerts for them.

As she continued to speak, in the background, a bearded man in a blue coat was approaching the forest.

Picking up on the sound of grassy footsteps, G/N turns, her gaze now on him.

Seeing the scruffy man, she gasped, looking back at her camera.

She became sparkly-eyed as she spoke, directing a finger at the man.

"Oh, my gosh, A LOCAL!"

She had to say hi.

Quickly lifting her camera off her tripod, the young time traveler rushes towards him.

"Hey!"

Turning around, the man, upon seeing the girl, stopped and stood still like a startled wet kitten.

What was that strange device she had in her hand?

And why did she have it aimed at him like that?

Was she going to shoot him?

Was this karma catching up with him?

He clutched his satchel close.

"Hi there!" The girl greets in a cheerful tone, offering him a big smile. "My name is G/N! I'm from the future! What's your name?"

"Uh... Philip..." The man slowly replied, still clutching his bag.

"Nice! Say, Philip, what year is this?"

" ... 1660?" Or was it '70? He lost track sometimes.

"Sweet! I've never been to the 1600's before."

That definitely explained the man's accent and attire.

As G/N begins to take a picture of Philip, he quickly lifts his satchel to his face like a shield.

"Oh, no, no, no, don't worry," she speedily reassures, showing him the photo she took. "I just took a picture. See?"

She thinks doing this might ease the man's fear.

Lowering his satchel some, Philip saw the picture of himself.

A genuine look of interest spread on his face.

A device that captures an image at just the press of a button?

Fascinating.

Truly fascinating.

G/N gave a giggle at his reaction. "Yeah, cameras are pretty cool. But anyways, you probably know this place a heck of a lot better than I do. I was wondering, would you mind show me around some? I would love to capture even more stuff on my camera."

Her question earns her a frown from Philip.

"No," The brunette would bluntly state.

He was stern on his decision to not show her around, but she was persistent.

She kept on bugging him, and Bugging Him, and BUGGING HIM.

"please?"

"Please?"

"PLEASE? 🥺 🙏"

"You'll be internet famous."

Finally, he sighed.

"Fine." He couldn't believe he was giving in to this random girl.

It wasn't for the "internet fame" by the way as he had not a clue what an "internet" even was.

And so began the start of a beautiful father daughter friendship...

Hopefully.