#AND I DIDN'T READ HALF OF IT?? i didn't even read the original thread my mind was boggled enough just knowing the thesis of it

[forcebookish]

i don't think i wanna read any more only friends meta for the rest of my life

[ranticore]

I wanted to keep drawing some pern dragon stuff because I'm now writing a full AU set in weyr but I didn't want to put this stuff on my main blog or patreon due to it being basically for my own reference, though i felt others would like it too! so here is My Take On Dragon Wings By Type...

It's no secret I love drawing bird wings and prefer them a lot over traditional dragon wings. Growing up, I read the pern books featuring cover art of dragonfly-like wings with lots of little translucent panels, which I always loved. So I thought I'd try to nail down some wing shapes & structures by blending those two things i like together. I am aware dragons fly by telekinesis but I prefer a more realistic type of creature design so I will be choosing to ignore that fact. I do not care about strict canon compliance but I do like to keep some of that framework there as well, for fun.

The wing is made up of three main sails, as well as a propatagium sail (in front of the elbow). They are relatively polymorphic and can expand or contract to an extent to change the shape of the wing in response to flight demands, like the wing of an airliner. The trailing edge can expand and the slots between the spars of the 1st wingsail can deepen or become shallower (where those are a feature). The main structural matrix is opaque, while the membranous 'sails' are translucent and let light through like stained glass. These are a bilayer of membrane with air sandwiched between, which forms part of the air sac & respiratory system.

It makes sense for the original engineers of dragons to diversify dragon wing types by colour so that when fighting Thread, there's a dragon for every conceivable aerial job.

[individual descriptions under the cut]

Queens have the longest wings, though the largest bronzes can rival them for surface area. Gold wings are high endurance - a queen can fly further than any other dragon in active level flight, leaving even the swiftest bronzes behind if they can't muster up the energy reserves to catch her. She is an effective flier at all elevations and can pass very low over terrain without issue as well; she is an expert at taking advantage of the ground effect, where extra lift is generated within one half of a wingspan above land. This way, she can pass low below the main wings fighting Thread to catch any stragglers without expending too much energy. However, she is not very agile and may need a bit of a run-up or cliff-edge to get airborne.

Bronzes are suited for command positions during Threadfall, rising highest and maintaining that altitude effortlessly by soaring on thermals. From this vantage point they can easily survey the wings of riders below and make tactical decisions to direct the tide of battle. They have the size and stamina to chase queens, but might find it difficult to keep up on the flat, so they continually select for fitter hatchlings as only the best manage to mate. It takes a very clever and agile bronze to catch a green, if they are so inclined.

Browns are swift, highly agile, and the fastest vertical fliers, ideal for diving through the Thread mass from top to bottom while the other types pass horizontally. During earlier Passes, browns were capable of using their speed to catch queens, but as queen & bronze endurance gradually increased, browns struggle to keep up if they haven't managed to immediately catch their mate in the starting scrum, which is unlikely due to the bulkier bronze dragons being able to shove the browns aside.

Blues are fast on the flat and nicely manoeuvrable, with enough endurance to last a full Threadfall. Good all-rounders with a characteristic vertical take-off, they work best in the horizontal plane in battle but really they can do a little bit of everything. They often beat browns to catch greens, being very precise in flight and almost as manoeuvrable as their green mates.

Greens make up for their low stamina with their extreme manoeuvrability. Their short and elliptical wings let them turn on a dime, hover, and even fly backwards if they are sufficiently skilled. They have the fastest wingbeats, flying with a distinct thrumming sound. Of all the types they are least likely to be hit by a stray Thread, but they tire easily on the flat and have no soaring ability at all, often tapping out midway through battle in favour of replacements. In battle, greens excel at catching odd and skewed clumps of Thread that don't fall as predicted, or ones that are missed by the other riders. Green mating flights are a whole different beast to gold mating flights, where extreme aerial acrobatics are favoured instead of endurance and altitude, and these flights may be over within seconds. You need to be able to withstand a Lot of G-force to be a green rider.

[perseruna]

Endiness made a beautiful long post with all his quotes on that topic that I think is very informative and worth looking at, so here’s a link to that. And with that already discussed, I thought I’d make a thread of all his changes that we are aware of, because when you look into them, you find that none of his “book accurate” changes are actually book accurate. 

His decision to make Geralt grunt and cut his lines.

HC: "All the grunts, I either added or I didn't say anything and just grunted instead. It was often up to the other actors to go, 'I think he's not gonna say anything now.'"

JB: "Henry likes to cut his lines, 'cause he's lazy. No, he literally just likes to cut them. He likes to do more up here [frames his face with his hands] and just with face and hmms and grunts. There's a lot of hmms, and so I often have to take a lot of his lines and turn it into a lot of my stuff so that the plot happens."

So, as everyone who has read the books knows that Geralt is and always has been a yapper. Gerakt often talks or thinks in monologues, and definitely not in short grunts.

Of course when the audience started making fun of Geralt for not being able to speak in full sentences Henry promptly went back on admitting the blame and instead said that the big bad writers were the ones who didn't give him lines, and now it was his life’s mission to fight for a book accurate Geralt who speaks. 

Roach’s death scene

After S2 came out, Lauren received a lot of backlash for Roach’s death scene, with multiple sources citing that she wanted the moment to be more “comedic” before the brave Henry Cavill stepped in and refused to participate in such horrible anti source material activities.

LH: "Henry was so unhappy with the line. Finally I said, 'You know what, you come up with something. I trust you, you know this material so well, you know the book so well, you don't even have to pitch it to me.' And he came back the next day with a beautiful speech that's at the end of 'Sword of Destiny' when Geralt is facing death.”

This is the line he ended up using:

“Enjoy your last walk across the meadow and through the mist. Be not afraid of her for she is your friend."

This was Lauren’s response AND the original line.

LH: “Here's what was scripted, in homage of the fact that a previous Roach had existed, and another one will exist soon. It's hardly a joke. Henry wanted a longer, more emotional moment, which I was more than happy to give him. Don't create drama where none exists.”

So in S2 Geralt ends up quoting a part of his monologue from ‘Sword of Destiny’ when he’s at his lowest after thinking that Yennefer had died at the battle of Sodden Hill, and he has nothing left to live for. Which to me doesn't work that well with Roach at all. That line was a response to Geralt thinking he's lost the love of his life, not his horse. In my opinion, the original line Lauren penned out is more heartfelt and actually more emotional and more book accurate as well.

The absolute removal of any Triss and Geralt “romance”

This one we don’t have that much information on in comparison to others. But there were multiple reports that at the beginning of S2 Triss and Geralt were supposed to have some kind of a romantic scene with each other which then was cut during production, and it was largely speculated that it was due to Henry Cavill. 

“Several months ago we reported on a sex scene happening between Geralt and Triss, sometime in the first half of Season 2. That didn’t happen, as we all saw, but here’s what we know about the original plan for that: Geralt and Triss are in a room together, they seem friendly at first. They are playing some kind of weird game. Whoever wins a round, gets to ask a question. We’re not privy to the exact flow of the conversation, but it eventually leads to both of them ending up in bed. We can only guess why this was cut, but perhaps it was thanks to Henry Cavill.”

Now, irrelevantly on your feelings on book Triss and Geralt you have to admit that that short-lived “romance” is indeed a part of the books and therefor book accurate. So the removal of it would go against Mr I’m fighting to make this show as much book accurate as possible. 

The removal of the Yen and Geralt sex scene in S2

"We just wanted to be very careful that it was true and real, and it didn't turn into something that we, as actors, didn't believe it should be," Cavill stated. When Yennefer and Geralt unite, they embrace, but it doesn't go further than that. He continued: "We wanted it to be emotional rather than sexual. It was really, really important, and we had to lean away from what was originally on the page." Initially, Geralt and Yennefer were written to have a more passionate night. Henry Cavill and Anya Chalotra went to "The Witcher" producers and explained why they thought a steamy evening was not the way to go. "These are people who believe one thing about the fate of another and then find out something else is true," Cavill said about Geralt believing Yennefer was dead. "That's not how they behave," the actor added. "How they behave is they just want to be with the person and emotionally recognize their existence again in that shared space.”

This one is a bit tricky because I am willing to get behind an actor who doesn't want to do a sex scene out of comfort reasons or whatnot, but Henry saying that "That's not how [Yennefer and Geralt] behave”, is quite absurd in my opinion. Because that is very much how Geralt and Yennefer behave, especially in the short stories and ToC. They are inherently a very sexual couple who come crashing in and out of each other’s lives while having very passionate sex. But I can understand wanting this scene to be more “emotional” (as if sex isn't emotional), so this one I am willing to give him a bit more leeway on. (But then again looking at the blinds saying that he refused any sex scenes because oh his “ideals” and was allegedly really nasty to Anya about it, well..)

Geralt being the perfect father figure to Ciri with no flaws and no struggles (which inevitably snowballed into the Yen Betrayal Arc)

This one I don’t see talked that much at all, and to me this one is his most detrimental one. 

@LHissrich: “In interviews, Henry explains how he felt strongly that Geralt NOT be bumbling, nor a struggling father figure. In fact, a lot of S2 is about how Geralt does come from a loving (albeit unconventional) family. Henry was passionate about this shift, and we discussed it a lot, and ultimately thought it was wonderful for his character development. But it also had the domino effect of changing what Ciri needed from Yen when she entered the picture. Thus, introducing the idea of balance.”

So I don’t know about you, but I love when characters have flaws and naturally progress be it for good or bad, some would say that that's what story telling is about, well that someone wouldn't be Henry Cavil. Geralt being a struggling father figure at first, someone who makes mistakes and learns from them and tries is very much a prominent theme in Blood of Elves and is actually very real, people make mistakes! Especially in huge shifts such as “becoming a father overnight’ but we didn't get that because Henry refused to play it that way. What we got is Geralt who already basically knows exactly how to parent, he always knows what to say, what pep talk to give and also doesn't hold any resentment and any negative feelings towards Vesemir at all. It's all one dimensional happy family here! Which goes against not only the books but what he preached about fighting tooth and nail to make the “forgotten” male characters three-dimensional as well because the horrible feminist Lauren only thinks about female characters. 

Lauren then goes on saying that “it also had the domino effect of changing what Ciri needed from Yen when she entered the picture. Thus, introducing the idea of balance” So, it is fair to speculate that Henry’s refusal to showcase Geralt having any flaws at all and act book accurate snowballed into The Controversial Yennefer Betrayal Arc. 

These are the ones that I can remember off the top off my head, so there might be more, there’s probably more that we aren’t even aware of. I think putting them all together showcase a very interesting picture. One of Henry Cavill never actually understanding who Geralt fundamentally is as a character, and of him not being a team player at all. I just hope that more and more people are aware of the insane PR his team did for him when it came to this show, and that more people are able to see through it. 

[atamascolily]

Having examined the first half of Homura's transformation sequence (the external), I thought I'd continue with the second half (the internal). This is a very dense scene full of symbolism I don't fully understand, but I'll give it my best shot.

First up, the spool of pink thread falling through the void. This has appeared several times earlier in the film, in keeping with the whole "threads of fate" imagery, not to mention Homulilly's sewing theme and Homura's own issues with karmic destiny in general (which is inherently linked to Madoka, hence the color).

To me, the background looks like an eye, but admittedly, it's a little abstract and there could be other stuff going on here.

The thread falls past Homura as she is floating in a field of red and yellow "oil drops"

I didn't notice it until the Rebellion Production Note pointed it out but Homura literally has stars in her eyes in this shot. Cosmic!

The thread keeps spinning, but I can't tell if it's winding or unwinding at all because it moves so fast.

Note that the same circles in the background appear elsewhere in the film, most notably in the curtains of Homura's umbrella in the finale.

Homura's pose here also mirrors that of Madoka when she becomes a concept, although notably there is only one Homura here vs. a whole host of Madokas:

Homura then bites down on her soul gem and it cracks... and there's a blink and you'll miss it shot of her intact original soul gem inside!

The circles then move about and form a line, which the thread hits and transforms into the Dark Orb:

The Rebellion Production Note has this to say about the Dark Orb in this scene:

If I'm reading this right, the first caption says, "It's like a perfume bottle", (香水ビン) and the second caption reads, "Contains pink light (Madoka)" [ピンク光まどか) with an arrow pointing to the glowing circle at the center.

So, uh, yeah, in answer to my earlier question, it sure looks like Homura does have access to the Law of Cycles (Madoka) in some capacity, because it's at the core of her reformed Soul Gem--and given the confluence between inside and outside, this is also a model for Homura's universe, as the two are no longer separate from each other.

(I mean, this could be a metaphor for how Homura's love powers the universe and not actually Madoka's powers as the Law of Cycles, but the show has always made its metaphors literal in the past, I don't know why they'd stop now.)

The wings wrapped around the orb didn't make it into the final cut, but after some deliberation, they ended up attached to the salamander that represents Homura instead, because it is a fusion between them.

If you've ever wondered why this sigil was only visible in this shot, it's because it's actually on the bottom of the orb, according to the Production Note, which is why the surface is flat and not curved.

Silverstorm79 pointed out to me that the "dark" part is a cage around the "orb" and I had to go sit down for a while because the symbolism was a little too much even for me. There was also some discussion about whether this makes them literal soulmates now, and I just.... can't even.... Everything in the Rebellion Production Book has to be taken with a grain of salt because a lot of its contents never made it into the final film, but damn if Inu Curry wasn't thinking about it here.

Madoka is also the "heart" of the universe/soul gem--all of which literally exists/was created for her sake. I wonder if this has the side effect of giving her even more karmic destiny/potential than she previously had... and if, so, what would she do with it.

There's a lot in this scene that is still opaque to me (once again I wish SHAFT had been a little less esoteric with their symbolism!!!), but Dark Orb is more complex than I had initially assumed, not to mention representative of both Homura and her new universe. This suggests that changing the universe will require personal transformation on her part; one cannot be accomplished without the other. Going to have to go back and look at the other sections on the Dark Orb in light of these new revelations and see what else I can find about it.

[another-lost-mc]

RAPHAEL x gn!Reader, 0.8k words, nsfw. Content warnings: Marking/hickies. Possessiveness if you squint. A/N: Inspired by The RAD Vampire Club! Devilgram story.

“This looks fantastic,” you told Raphael as you stretched out your arms in the costume he made for you. It fit you perfectly, and you were genuinely impressed by the craftsmanship of his work. You didn’t expect he would put so much care into an outfit you were only going to wear for one night.

You were surprised when he invited you to Purgatory Hall earlier that week to confirm your measurements. You offered your approximate measurements over the phone, but he insisted he wanted to verify the numbers himself.

“Is that really necessary? I don’t want to waste your time.”

“It’ll be a bigger waste of time if what I make for you doesn’t fit. Who took your measurements?”

“…I did?”

It was embarrassing to think about—the way you twisted in front of the mirror, jotting down your measurements for him and hoping the entire time that the tape wasn't too loose or crooked as you awkwardly measured yourself. You tried your best and hoped that whatever he made would fit, at least.

But then he sighed into the receiver, and you guessed he was imagining how you managed to achieve the numbers you gave him, too. “Come over after dinner and I’ll confirm your measurements myself.”

That’s how you ended up in his bedroom in Purgatory Hall, wearing only your undershirt and underwear, perched on a stepping stool he grabbed from the kitchen he shared with his dorm mates.

You expected him to take your measurements quickly in the sitting room, and maybe he planned on that, until you both realized Solomon was reading on the sofa. Raphael sensed your apprehension and led you straight past the sorcerer and into his room instead.

Raphael’s intense focus while he worked was nerve-wracking enough—you didn’t want to worry about Solomon leering at your half-naked body.

Raphael worked quietly but quickly, drawing the tape measure across your limbs and around your torso. He was respectful, not touching you more than necessary, and you didn't notice his eyes roaming freely over so much exposed skin. You were surprised how comfortable you felt with him in such an intimate position, but there was nothing intimate about this. He was professional about it, and you tried to be too.

He scratched out numbers on the sheet of paper he brought with him—the one with the original dimensions you gave him—and he corrected all of them. He snickered under his breath when he came across one you had measured very poorly.

“Hey, I tried my best!”

He smiled when you crossed your arms over your chest and pouted. “You did, but I want you to look your best even if it’s for a silly party. Let me finish this for you and you can be on your way.”

When Raphael met you at the venue to prepare for the festivities, he handed you a zipped-up clothing bag. You put on the outfit excitedly and stepped out of the dressing room for his approval. He gave you an approving once-over, visibly pleased by how you looked in the costume he tailored specially for you. You were delighted—it was comfortable enough to move around in freely, but fitted enough to be flattering on your body.

He stepped closer to you and after a moment of scrutiny, he pulled a loose thread off your shoulder. “You look like a respectable vampire now. Your unsuspecting victims won't stand a chance.”

You admired yourself in the full-length mirror when he walked away and started tidying his supplies. “Are you coming to the party too?”

His reflection in the mirror shook its head. “I’m not sure I understand the appeal of blood-sucking, even if it's only pretend.”

“I’d let you try, if you're curious,” you joked, looking over your outfit one more time as you smoothed down the front of your jacket.

Your eyes shot back up when you felt something—someone—at your back. Raphael had moved behind you suddenly, and his bright eyes caught your gaze in the mirror. He pushed down the collar of your shirt—gently, so he didn't ruin the lace trim—and bent his head.

His hair tickled the side of your face when his lips brushed against the side of your neck. He hummed when you gasped, and he pushed down a little firmer with his mouth and sucked. He was careful enough so that it didn’t hurt, but there was no mistaking the hint of teeth that scraped your skin before he lifted his head and stepped back again.

“Perhaps I’ll see you the party after all,” he murmured, licking his lips as he turned away. He was out the door, closing it behind him with a decisive click before you could even respond.

You were frozen in place, overwhelmed by the tingling sensation radiating from your neck and the erratic heartbeat hammering in your chest. You leaned forward and stared at your reflection in the mirror. There was an unmistakable mark on your neck now, blooming purple just above your collar where everyone else would see it.

Taglist: @l-d-8 @mithrakira @your-next-daydream @xpixie @tortibomb @rensphilia @4allthefours4 @a-hidden-gem @beelsjuicytitties @goldenglow149 @callmesaya @alexxncl @sirimirihiro @i-am-empress-irish @angelsdilf @todothedodo

Join the taglist here. | Obey Me! Masterlist

[the-kr8tor]

Threaded Through

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 6.7k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, No specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Hobie is mentioned taller than R, CW food mention, Drinking, CW spiders, TW arachnophobia, Suggestive content, Fluff.

My Navigation

Thread the Needle Masterlist

CHAPTER 9 >>> CHAPTER 10

"Hobie!" You whisper yell, "what are you doing?" Eyes scanning the dark, ears perking up at the chains rattling.

"Relax, no one's here" Hobie slips through the metal gate where the chains of the lock stretched enough to give him room to wiggle himself inside. "C'mon then" he extends his hand to you, flexing his fingers impatiently. The dirty sign on the gate reads 'no trespassing' adding to your worry.

You tap your foot, biting your lip, looking behind the abandoned theme park. "Nuh uh, nope" shaking your head, you're sure something ran past behind a decrepit tent. "I'm not dying inside the old carnival! Let's just go back to the party"

"That party sucks, they're playing spin the bottle, bloody original of 'em" he scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Besides we've got the good booze" sure enough, Hobie brings out a bottle of vodka tucked inside his zipped leather jacket. The liquid swishes inside as he shakes it for good measure.

"Where'd you even get that?" You laugh, surprised, eyes twinkling in the moonlight.

"Brent's dad's liquor cabinet" he says, a smug smile on his lips. "Come the fuck on, I'm freezing my balls off" Hobie lifts up the chains as far as it would allow so you could duck under it.

"We have exams on Monday!"

"Easy enough, it's all just stock knowledge" he points at his temple.

"For you it is. I'm not like you, I actually need to revise."

"And you will, Come on" Hobie sees you sticking to your stance, sighing. "If i help you revise tomorrow will you come inside?"

"Fine, I'll blame you if we get murdered by a killer clown" You duck under while Hobie's hand shields your head from the rusty metal.

"I can take him–" Hobie stops mid sentence as you stand to your full height, face mere inches away from him. So close he can see every detail of your face, how the light bounces off your eyes, clouds of air puffing out of your lips. His breath hitches in his throat.

"You and those skinny arms? Don't think so, Hobs" you try to play it off, lips pursing closed, trying to even out your breathing. "Where to go next?" You chuckle nervously, stepping away from him, taking in his sudden silence as him being uncomfortable.

"I've been eyeing that ferris wheel" Hobie shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. He walks side by side with you, keeping you close. In case there is a killer clown on the loose.

Eyes on the rickety ride. "God, no! That thing hasn't been working since the eighties, you wanna kill us?" You didn't notice that Hobie's not next to you anymore, whirling, you look for him. "Hobie? Hobie! What the fuck?" Hugging your bubble jacket closer to you in comfort. "It's not funny, Hobart!" Yelling out, you have a sudden urge to run away, but you don't, not intending to leave him.

You jump when lights suddenly turn on, blinking at you. Colorful bulbs do their best to stay on after not being used for years. You gasp out, laughing breathlessly. The place doesn't seem so scary now. You half expect the speakers to come back to life, but it doesn't, the only noise is from the whirring of the old generator and crickets singing in the dark.

Hobie lingers on the side, bottle in hand, completely enthralled with you bathed in light. A love sick smile stuck on his face.

"Hobie! Holy shit" noticing him, you call out to your best friend, waving your arms in delight.

He saunters to you, absolutely smug, you scoff playfully at his ego. "Let's hear it" Hobie brings his hand to the shell of his ear, acting like he can't hear you.

"What do you want me to say? Good job?"

"How 'bout 'You're the man, Hobie!' Or just start showering me with praises"

"I'll shower you with that vodka if you don't stop"

"Rude of you to assume I wouldn't actually like that"

You shove him lightly, "Good job flicking a switch, Hobart"

"Oi, I had to figure out which switch to open"

Rolling your eyes, you grab his arm, putting a stop to your bickering, if you don't you two would've gone all night. Leading him further inside, Hobie slyly moves his arm so he could hold your hand instead, you pretend to not notice, finding the lights to be the most interesting thing in the world, your hand cups his warm ones, squeezing it lightly.

Friends do this too, right?

Hand in hand, you stop at a booth that looks like it was for some kind of carnival game. Cartoon clowns lined up on the far back, mouths open. There's still some stuffed toys hanging on the side of the booth albeit too dirty or broken to take with you.

"Oh man, I wanted one" You pout, leaning on the divider to check for better looking toys. Hobie copies your movement, rummaging behind the counter.

Something hits your head with a squeak, you glare at Hobie acting nonchalant, feigning innocence as he examines a soft ball. You bet that it squeaks when squeezed.

"Oh 'kay" you bite your lip, blindingly reaching out towards the first thing you touch, unfortunately for Hobie it was a crusty plushy, aiming for his head, it hits him square on the chest, leaving grime and cobwebs all over his jacket.

You laugh loudly as he wipes wildly at his clothes, yelping when his hand touches something wet.

"Disgusting!" Hobie has an idea, he extends his arms towards you for a hug, taking small strides. "Come here, lovey" with a mischievous glint in his eyes and a lopsided smile, he closes the distance.

"No, don't even think about it!" Walking backwards with a smile, your back hits a pole. "Ack!" You screech when he embraces you, warmth and his familiar scent wafts your senses. A giggle escapes you, making Hobie hug you tighter.

"Now we both smell" you try to wiggle out of his hold, Hobie shakes you from side to side, you go dizzy in his arms, going limp, feigning hurt. "Oi," he shakes you lightly, chuckling at your antics. "She's dead, I can finally sacrifice her to the clowns" he moves you towards the cartoon clowns.

You drag your feet, he carries your full weight. "A little help here?" Hobie asks, you open one eye only to tightly close it again. "I'm tryin' to appease the gods here y'know" he says in between laughs, flicking your forehead.

"Really clown gods? Could've chosen better ones" you smile giddily up at him, he beams back at you, cradling the back of your head.

He scoffs, "or a much more willing sacrifice" Hobie straightens you out, fixing the collar of your jacket. You let out a small thank you, hot where his fingers grazed your skin.

"I saw somethin' better than the ferris wheel" he mumbles out.

"Yeah? Let's go then" taking his hand in yours you loop your pinky finger with his. Hobie leads you with a wobbly smile.

—

Hobie helps you up on the large Gondola, an out of commission viking ride that's supposed to swing up and down, now it's inoperable, looking glum amidst the twinkling lights. A wooden mermaid is carved on its bow, marred by time and exposed to the elements. It must've been a sight back then.

Using your foot as leverage, Hobie lifts you up by your hand, "I've got you" he heaves, your foot loses balance on the edge, threatening to fall off. "Shit!" Gasping out, you reach for his neck as he panics to grab a hold of you.

"I have you—Holy fuck!" Hobie secures you by your waist, your eyes tightly closed, head right on the crook of his neck. "You okay?" He places you back on solid ground, the ride creaks in the wind.

"Yeah," you exhale a shaky breath. Pulling away. "I'm gonna need that vodka" sitting down on the boat, you gesture towards the bottle on the floor. It wasn't even a far fall if he didn't catch you, but the thought of you getting hurt sounded alarms in his head.

Hobie snickers, he opens the bottle before he hands it to you, fingers touching yours for a split second. It's more than enough to warm his skin, not needing the alcohol to heat him up anymore. You take a sip whilst Hobie lounges to the seat in front of you, arm stretched on the back of it, long legs propped up next to your lap.

The moon casts him in a dark shadow, his newly pierced ears glinting in the moonlight, he looks ethereal this way, divine and out of reach. The lights whir, having a hard time lighting the old place.

You do the same to him with a smirk, legs right next to his jeans, taking a swig while your eyes stay to him. The warm liquid slides to your throat, warming you immediately.

You have no idea the effect you have on him. Hobie clenches his fists, breathing staggered, eyes flickering to your lips. It's not your intention though, you just wanted to show off that you can take your alcohol.

Hobie taps your thigh with his boot, clearing his throat before talking, "you're gonna drink all of it" He takes the bottle from your hand as you cough loudly. "That's what you get for hoarding all the vodka" chastising you, he leans to pat your back with a lot of effort on his part, almost folding himself in half.

"Fuck, that's– whew" your face all scrunched up, regretting your choices. Coughing again, your throat burns.

"You good, Gromit?" He asks with a laugh.

"Did you bring water with you?" Tears prick your eyes, sniffling.

"No, didn't think to" Hobie says apologetically, he winces when you let out another cough.

"You could've grabbed a bottle? I feel like my throat has razor blades in it" clearing your throat, you knead at your neck.

"Your fault, love. I didn't dare you" He takes a sip, taking your slight cough as a cautionary tale.

"Why'd you take us to this death trap anyway? Wait, did you plan this?" You look at him with a raised brow, realization hitting you.

"Nah, I told you the party was boring me to death" he lies, but you know him too well, noticing his tells. The slight bob of his adam's apple, eyes flicking to the side of your face for a split second, fingers itching at the back of his hand. You don't mention it or even tease him about it, intending to enjoy your time together.

"Yeah, going to jail for underage drinking and trespassing sounds better" you laugh, Hobie brings his feet to your lap, soles grazing your jacket. To his surprise, you don't protest. Legs parallel to each other, you play with the aglet of his boots.

"No one goes here except for teenagers wanting a place to snog" he regrets his words immediately, his ears feel like it's about to burst into flames.

You look at him with a growing smirk, with the alcohol coursing through you, it gives you liquid courage when you say the next words. "You planning on snogging me here, Hobs?"

Hobie almost spit takes at your question, he answers with the same bravado, shyness nonexistent as he feels his skin warm up from the alcohol. "If I'm gonna snog you, we would be in a better place than this rust bucket"

Instantly sobering up, you blink in surprise, chuckling nervously. Biting more than you can chew, your eyes try to avoid his lips.

Sitting in an awkward silence, Hobie takes another swig, you hug your torso from the biting cold. The tension is thick, his legs sit heavy on your lap. He notices these kinds of silences have increased these last few years, Hobie hopes it's not because you're pulling away from him or worse, him pushing you away with his growing affections.

You finally try to cut the tension, "Can we–" Hobie thought of the same, unintentionally cutting you off.

"I'm–shit. Sorry, go on" He really wants to hear what your next words will be, it could either cross the line between your friendship into something more. Hobie anticipates, hanging to every syllable you would utter.

"Can we go home? This place kinda gives me the creeps" He did not expect that, "the lights help but now some of them are flickering and it's like something's gonna come out" biting your lip, you look at Hobie directly.

The only reason you want to go is to get rid of the awkwardness, blaming the dark yet romantic atmosphere. You want to stay, you really do, but if the air stays like this between you, you'd rather go home. Save yourself the embarrassment of pining for your best friend. Guess Hobie isn't the only one lying tonight.

"Yeah, sure" He sits up, dejected, legs retreating back to him.

"Sorry, what was it you're gonna say?" Leaning your elbows on top of your thighs, you take the bottle from Hobie, getting his attention.

He sighs, you see a rare sight. He looks somewhat afraid. Why would Hobie be afraid though? It's just you.

You try to encourage him with a joke, "you feeling okay? You look constipated, is it the vodka?" He chuckles, you stand up, mirroring his small smile.

But that's the thing, it's you, a few years ago his little crush turned into puppy love, and that love turned into full blown yearning, longing for you to see him as something else other than your 'best mate' at first he thought it was just a phase, muddled with his teenage hormones, latching to the closest person he feels attracted to. Then it persisted, he realized that his deep affection for you was something else entirely other than some hormone induced crush.

It was safe to say Hobie hated puberty.

He bites the bullet, if he's gonna tell anyone it would be you. "I'm leaving school"

"Oh" dropping down from the gondola, you hide your frown. He's leaving, he's leaving you. Hands shaking at the thought, you mindlessly walk away, following the brightest thing in the carnival. "Why are you leaving?" Trying to hide the shakiness of your voice, you wring your hands together, taking another sip of the warm liquid.

Is it you? Did you cross the border too much? Is he sick of you? The cold doesn't help with your thoughts.

"I don't like school, you know that" Hobie watches your retreating form, he knew you wouldn't take it well but it still hurts when you turned your back on him. "Y/n" he calls out as you step on the carousel.

Turning around, his explanation calmed you down a smidge. You try to fix your expression. The bright lights of the carousel envelopes you, a halo forming around your body. You give him your hundred dollar smile.

"Okay, just don't forget me when you're famous" laughing dryly, Hobie joins you in the light, taking your shaking hands.

Knowing you for a long time, he reads you like an open book, looping his pinky with yours, Hobie looks at you straight on.

"I'm staying in the city, just not at school. 'm not leaving" you, he wanted to add but he's not brave enough to say the word.

Inhaling, you focus on the horses instead of his hold on you. "You should've led with that," you say with a tight lipped smile, extending your encouragement to him, you swallow your sadness. "I'm proud of you, if anyone's gonna make it out there it would be you" finally looking at him, gold bounces off his iris, honeyed flecks dancing in his eyes. "You can go on tour if you want to, you don't have to stay in the city" with me, the words echo in your mind.

Telling the absolute truth, your face is serious, hiding the ache. You will always be supportive of him even if it means leaving you in the process.

"Well we have to build our reputation first before goin' on tour," Hobie sways your intertwined hands. "Besides, my number one fan is here, who's gonna cheer us on?" He gives you his best smile, the same one that haunts your dreams.

Legs wobble from under you, leaning towards him, Hobie's eyes widen at your movement.

You embrace him, head laying on his broad shoulder. Mind reeling, you can't help but feel you're holding him back from doing greater things.

A sharp whistle pulls you away.

—

Hobie opens his eyes, back aching from the lumpy settee, his right arm practically numb. He's not usually a morning person, but with you sleeping comfortably in his arms, he wants to wake up earlier just to see this rare sight. Hobie smiles at how relaxed your face is, brows unfurrowed, mouth slightly parted and your skin glistening in the early morning sun. Your back to the couch, squeezed in between him and the settee, Hobie's arm wrapped around your torso, protecting you from the springs protruding from the cushions. Your Hands tucked to his side, fingers curled unconsciously on his shirt.

He doesn't care that his long legs dangle off the armrest, couch too small for his tall stature, or how there's a crick in his neck. Despite it all, Hobie hasn't slept this well in a long time. He's glad last night wasn't all a dream. Gently caressing your cheek with his pinky just to make sure you're actually real in his embrace.

You shift in your sleep, licking your dry lips, inhaling a gulp of air. It's like you're attuned with his senses, already knowing he's wide awake. You fake sleep, acting like you're deep in slumberland. Feeling his chest rise up and down, you can't help but curl your lips into a small smile when he covers his leg over yours, securing you in his hold.

Hobie knows you're awake though, his enhanced senses telling him the shift in your heartbeat and breathing. He's in a good mood so he intends to tease you this morning. Testing to see what your reaction will be in this new found position he has you in.

He tries to leave the couch, carefully taking his arm from under you, leg up, untangling from yours. You immediately protest, grasping his torso with your eyes closed. Pulling him back down to your side. Chuckling at your reaction, butt hitting the cushions with a thud, he slides back down to your side, going back to the same position. Your cheek pressed to his chest as Hobie kneads at the soft skin of your waist.

Still in your outfit, his fingers fiddle with a sunflower stitched to your cami. You lean further into him, arm over his torso, feeling his warmth through his shirt.

You're the first one to speak, sleep still lingering in your voice. "You talked in your sleep"

"And you drooled all over me but no one's keeping track" Hobie's morning voice sounds deeper, goosebumps appear on your skin when you feel the vibration from his chest.

"Hmm" you hum, content in his arms, savoring the precious moment. "I don't drool" cracking one eye open, you fight the sleep off. You rile him up just to hear the deep rumble of his voice.

"There's a wet patch on my sleeve that begs to differ" he says, nuzzling your hair. "What did I say?"

"Hm, you woke me up for a bit when you said clowns and my name. Sounds like you were having a really good dream about me" you take a peek at him through half lidded eyes. Hobie gently rubs the sleep off the corners, you practically vibrate at his touch.

"Well, you are a clown" he quips, you gasp dramatically, grabbing the hem of his shirt, balling it in your fist.

"What did you say? You punk?" Trying to sound as menacing as possible even though you're half asleep, you smile through the threat.

"I said you're gorgeous" his eyes flick to your lips for a second before Hobie gives you his best smile. You feel like a gem in his gaze, letting out a small 'thought so'. "For a clown" he says against your lips, chasing the soft plush of it.

"You–!" Pushing him off the sofa, he laughs all the way down, his butt landing on the floor, back on the foot of the sofa. His hands glued to your waist, almost bringing you down with him. You lay upside down with Hobie's hand on you, his face upturned, inches away from yours.

Pecking the tip of his nose, you don't care for morning breath, with Hobie, nothing embarasses you anymore. He feels the same, leaning up to change the course of your kiss to his waiting lips.

Giggling, you cup his jaw, neck straining to reach him in the upside down kiss. Hobie feels like he's dreaming again.

Before the kiss could go any further, you pull away, already missing his lips. "Can I go shower?"

"Sorry, I should've brushed first" he winces.

"It's not that, we literally made out last night with shawarma breath. I don't give a shit, Hobs" you chuckle, leaving a chaste kiss on his lips for good measure. He grins at your words, "I just really need to get out of these clothes and wash my face"

"Right, You just want to wear my clothes" Hobie flicks your forehead, "perv"

"You're the perv, dreaming about me with clowns and shit" laughing, you sit upright, nudging him with your socked foot.

"Yeah, it was bloody steamy" he riles you up again, it doesn't work this time though.

"Tell me later" walking to the bathroom, you spare him a sly glance over your shoulder.

When did you get so immune to his teasing? Hobie feels he needs to up his game.

—

Hobie scrapes off the egg sticking to the pan, now in his home clothes, a plain band shirt with the sleeves cut off and sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Hissing when hot oil flies towards his hand.

He feels you before he hears you, shutting the bedroom door behind you, the broken answering machine takes your attention from Hobie's toned arms.

Wiping your arms with the towel, you glare at the machine. "What are you planning with this thing?" Gesturing vaguely.

"What thing?" Taking the mugs out of the cabinet, he spares a look behind him. Maybe he shouldn't have. You look right at home, his jumper hugs your torso comfortably, pajama pants that he hasn't worn in a long time fits just right on your waist.

Hobie wants to kiss you as soon as possible. His senses are still a bit wonky, jumping slightly when the bread digs out of the toaster.

"Your machine" moving closer to him, feet padding on the wooden floors, you take the plate full of eggs, scrambled for you, sunny side up for him. "Thanks, Hobs"

"Ah, you forgot somethin'" you hum curiously, letting him turn you back around by your shoulder. Thinking that he might hand you the mugs of tea, instead he kisses your cheek, you squeak out, carefully balancing the plate in your wobbly hand. "There, what's up with the machine?" He goes back to making tea as if he didn't steal a kiss right under your nose. You don't seem to mind though.

"I think you should just throw it out"

"I can still fix it" He pours milk into your cup.

"Hobie, I know you can but that thing is bloody cursed" tone serious, you place the eggs on the kitchen island.

He guffaws at your comment, he can't believe your minds are so in sync with each other, Hobie sometimes feels like you're connected to him.

He still asks you even though he knows your answer, a ploy to keep hearing your voice. "Why do you think it's cursed?"

"Well, you bought it off an estate sale, it's probably haunted by the old owner. Second, it shocked you while you were installing the damn thing." Hands on your hips, you lean on the counter. Hobie snickers at your comments. "And lastly it has committed a crime against us"

Hobie laughs loudly, shaking the boat slightly as he doubles over in laughter. "What's the crime that my machine committed?" Mirroring your stance, he drapes the dish cloth over his shoulder.

You bite the inside of your cheek with how attractive he looks right now. "Sabotage" mumbling it out.

"Sabotage?" Hobie closes the distance, hands lovingly holding your shoulders. You click your tongue, moving his hand from your shoulder up to your jaw before you place your hands back to your hips again.

He tilts his head, thumb circling over to your cheek. "Cursed or not, the thing's expensive. I can still fix it"

"My parents have a spare one, I can nick it for you" biting your lip, you say the next words softly like you're still unsure. "Take it as a housewarming present from me, before I move in?"

Hobie's giddy smile melts your trepidation, leaning in, he stops a few centimeters from your lips. Closing your eyes in anticipation. Your brows furrowed when you don't feel his lips on yours. Cracking your eyes open, you see Hobie smirking mischievously. Huffing, you stick out your tongue in annoyance. Pushing him away with your palm on his face.

He chuckles, pinching your nose for a brief second before going back to making your tea. His houseboat has never felt more like home before, Hobie thinks you're the missing piece in making it so.

—

Hobie and you share a plate, standing hip to hip near the kitchen island, forks fighting for the last bit of egg. Soft music plays in the background from his old record player, the slow song a rare one in his large collection of vinyls.

"Since when?" He stops attacking you with his fork, moving the egg closer to your side of the plate, surrendering.

"Hmm? Since when what?" You ask, cutting the egg in half, giving the bigger cut to him.

He hums appreciatively, bringing the egg to his mouth. Suddenly feeling anxious at what he's gonna say.

Drinking your tea, you wait for him to continue.

"Since when did you start fancying me?" You almost choke, eyes widening at his question. Hobie never fails to surprise you.

You swallow your breakfast, "well," buying time, sipping your drink. "I don't know the day exactly. I think everything just clicked for me" answering, you avoid his gaze.

Hobie moves your chin so he could look you in the eyes. He didn't confess to you and make things awkward between you. Breaking the tension, he moves closer, leaning against the counter. Hand comfortably pressed on the small of your back. You bring him closer by his waist, hand staying there.

"So you just woke up one day and went 'I fancy my best mate?'" Fully joking, he raises a pierced brow.

You chortle, "No, I remember it being gradual. Like slowly getting past your ego," he rolls his eyes, you chuckle at his reaction. "your teasing and all the spikes." Giggling, he clutches his nonexistent pearls. "I dunno exactly when" shrugging your shoulders, you tell the truth. "But a rough approximate, probably between year eight or nine"

"You fuckin' telling me I could've been holding you like this since year nine?"

You guffaw loudly, "maybe not like this! We would've been too young!"

"A couple of years later then" Hobie matches your laugh, hugging you closer.

After a minute of comfortable silence, you continue to eat while still clinging to each other, Hobie pipes up. "Do you have someplace to be today?" He hopes for a 'no'

"Yeah, I have to go back to campus to submit my papers for graduation" biting a piece of your toast, noticing his lack of reply. "Or I can do that tomorrow." You see him perk up in your peripheral, "deadline isn't till next week anyway" slyly side eyeing him, a cheeky smile on your giddy face.

"Good" He acts disinterested. Hiding his smile behind his mug, but you know better.

You wait for a few seconds, smirk slowly spreading on your lips. "You've got something planned for us?"

Hobie chuckles, "Nah, just wanna stay home" he wipes the crumbs off your chin. "With you"

"Oohh I feel so special" leaning into his touch, you blink at him prettily.

"Gorgeous" he softly says, staring deep into your eyes.

"Yeah? Even with crumbs all over me?"

Without warning, He lifts you up by your thighs effortlessly. Laughter fills the modest boat, you cling to his neck, leaning down to kiss him. He tastes sweet because of the tea, you savor him, legs tightening around his waist. Humming into the kiss. His hands squeeze your upper thighs, still at a respectable distance.

Thanks to his new found senses, Hobie leads you back to the couch, a feat in itself without bumping into furniture while his eyes are closed. His back lands on the lumpy cushions, earning him a groan as he feels the friction between you. Kissing you deeper, fingers massaging the back of your neck.

You arch your back, Hobie lets out a deep sound from the back of his throat. Needing air, you pull away with a breathless smile.

"Fuck" His chest heaves up and down, half lidded eyes stare up at you.

Chuckling, satisfied at his reaction, you lean back down to pepper his jaw with kisses. Hobie laughs (which sounded more like a giggle to you) with every smack of your lips on his skin.

"You sound" kiss "so manly" kiss "right now"

"That so?" Surroundings blur as he flips you over quickly but carefully, a large hand cradling the back of your head so that you don't hit the armrest. Your back landing on the cushion, legs still wrapped around his waist. His arms cageing you, grinning down at your flustered face. His necklace swings over your face, you restrain yourself from grabbing it to pull him further down to you.

You gulp down on air, like butter on a hot pan, you melt under him. Hobie sees your bare fingers, having an idea. With love seeping out of his pores, he slips his favourite ring off his finger. You give him a curious stare, feeling loopy with all the affections.

"Hand" he instructs you with a goofy smile, fingers flexing towards you. Shaking your head, you play hard to get. He rolls his eyes, smiling staying put. "Please"

Giggling, you give him your left hand, your heart threatening to pump out of your chest as he slips the metal ring to your pointing finger. You bite your lip when the ring twirls around your finger, ring too big for it. He huffs, sparing you a playful glance. You shrug, biting your lip to tamp down your giddy laughter.

Hobie takes the ring out for a second before putting it on your middle finger, it fits perfectly around you. The metal arms of the spider curl around your finger, hugging it. The red gleam of its eyes makes it look alive.

You bring the hand closer to your face, fanning your face like a southern bell about to faint from the summer heat.

Hobie's face feels like it's about to set on fire, pulse drumming loudly against his skin. He laughs at your antics. Admiring his ring on you.

"I made you so soft for me" your eyes tender, saying it in a sing-song cadence, hand reaching up to cup his cheek. You feel how warm he is, his ring grants him reprieve, cooling down a tiny area of his skin.

"Not soft right now though" Hobie leans down with a grin. You know exactly what he meant.

Gasping out, "Hobie! You–" Hobie cuts you off by blowing raspberries on the soft plush of your neck.

—

Hobie drops you off in front of your dorm building, you're practically wearing his wardrobe, save for your own shoes. Leather jacket over his jumper, too long jeans that he folded on each leg so you don't trip over the denim. His ring shines in the late morning sun right on your middle finger, still giddy at the thought of you wearing it. Your heavy bag full of clothes slung over your shoulder.

Hobie sits on his bike, motor still running, his hands sit comfortably on your waist. You're slotted in between his legs, fingers fixing the stray threads on his leather vest that you've lovingly given to him.

You've (reluctantly) come back to the dorms to submit your graduation requirements, having the entire day to yourself (to your dismay) but it's a necessary evil so you could spend the entire day with him tomorrow.

"You sure you don't want me to pick you up tomorrow?" He loops his thumb over your (his) belt loop.

"Nope, I can meet you there. I need to drop by aunt Janet's for my last order and you've got that protest. I can go with you if I finish early though"

"Right, call me if you need a ride" Hobie doesn't want to pressure you or worse, make you feel stifled.

"Mm-hmm, it's just a roll of fabric. I've managed before" you act brave in front of him. Truth be told, you want him next to you the entire day tomorrow, but you don't want him to think you're being too clingy. You're gonna move in with him anyway.

"Then I'll help you move in" as if reading your mind, Hobie pipes up excitedly.

"Then you can help me move in" chuckling, you agree with him. "First proper date tomorrow, huh?"

Hobie snorts, "Don't think that's the first one ever. We've been on hundreds"

"Yeah, but this one would be the first proper one. You asked me this time" looking at him through your eyelashes you can't help but peck his cheek. "You've got a plan for us then?"

"Maybe" Hobie guides your face with his hand, moving you to his lips instead. "Hell, I'll even get you flowers if you want. Since it's the first proper one" he says against your kiss bitten lips.

"Looking forward to it then" kissing him goodbye, you embrace him tightly. "Oh!" Pulling away suddenly, he pouts his lips. "I almost forgot, here" you take something out of your bag, placing it in his hand.

He looks at the red and blue spider trapped inside the glass casing, "it's dead right?"

"Yeah, you squished it. I've been meaning to give it to you since you gave me one" showing your ringed finger, twirling the metal spider around.

"How romantic, a dead spider" He says deadpanned, side eyeing you.

"Fine, give it here. Peter will love it" reaching over to take it from Hobie, he moves it away from you.

"Nah, it's mine. You gave it to me first" clicking his tongue, eyes crinkling in the corners, Hobie pockets it with a ghost of a smile.

You shake your head with a loopy grin, pecking his lips one last time before leaving. "Drive carefully" eyes soft, leaving one last kiss for good measure.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow, love" He chases your lips, hesitantly pulling away.

—

You bump into your RA in the hallway, she looks at you from head to toe, clearly not in your own clothes.

"Fun night?" She asks with a knowing smirk.

"Very fun" you indulge her because of your good mood. She does a double take, not expecting you to actually answer her like that.

—

You sigh for the umpteenth time, closing the door to the admin's office. Still in Hobie's clothes, coming down from the high of being with him, you crave him more. Having some sort of withdrawal symptoms, feeling jittery and excited to see him again. Of course you wouldn't tell him that or he'll endlessly tease you about it.

Smiling like a mad woman, you walk past your old classroom.

"L/n!" Mrs. Williams calls out to you. Surprised she knows your last name or even remembers you. You peek around the corner, seeing her sitting down on her desk littered with stacks of papers and Manila envelopes.

"Good afternoon, professor" smiling politely, she gestures for you to come inside.

Truth be told, you were saving her for last on submitting your requirements, even though she was strict and (undeniably) terrifying, Mrs. Williams was an inspiration to you. Always prim and proper, her talent in designing is top tier. You learned a lot from her.

You stop right next to her desk, glancing at the various portfolios on her desk. Spotting yours in the forefront, you flick your eyes back to the brunette, hiding your sudden nervousness. Maybe you should've changed into something more fashionable before going back to campus. Hiding your hands inside Hobie's sleeves, you anxiously pick at your nail polish or what's left of it.

"Knock knock" someone suddenly knocks on the (already) open doors with enthusiasm. Turning around, you recognize the man as Mr. Riley from the fashion show, he holds two lattes in his hand.

He stands up straight the moment he spots you, "oh great timing"

"I assume you've met each other?" The woman genuinely smiles at Mr. Riley.

"Yes," answering, you don't miss their lingering looks towards one another as Mr. Riley gives her the latte.

"I was about to tell her about your proposition" Williams says through her paper cup.

Snapping out of it, Mr. Riley gives you his best smile. "Well, I've faxed my boss your portfolio and she absolutely loves it!" You beam at his words. "We would really love it for you to be part of the team after you graduate"

"That's amazing! I–I don't know what to say" you roam your eyes towards your professor for approval, she looks at you with a nod and small smile. "Thank you!" You laugh in bewilderment.

"Is that a yes?" Riley brings his hand for you to shake. "Of course we'll give you ample time to sort your papers for the move. Two months seems like the right timeline."

You were about to shake his hand to accept his offer but you stop halfway when he says the word 'move'. "I have to move? Where exactly?" Voice shaking, you drop your hand back to your side.

"L.A. in America" He says as if that's the closest place to move to. "You know, where our headquarters are?"

Mrs. Williams notices your knitted brows and slow blinks. "Ian, may I talk to my student for a minute" she looks up at him through her long lashes.

"Yeah– of course, I forgot your scones anyway. Be right back!" He walks away, shutting the door behind him.

Heart stuck in your throat, you look at your professor for guidance.

"Listen, out of the entire graduating class, only three were approved. One of them is you."

You release a shaky breath, lips tightening to a flat line, trying to stop your heaving. Your excitement turns into something indistinguishable, something that feels unwarranted, a stabbing sensation all over your skin.

Williams takes your portfolio in hand, flipping through it. "You see this?" She shows you a sketch of Hobie's outfit, his eyes seem to pierce through you. "This is the outfit, the only reason it didn't make it to the top three is because there wasn't enough of you in it."

You try to wrap your mind around her statement, ears focused on her words.

"I understand your…" she tries to find the right words. "...worry. But you must understand, not a lot of people get this opportunity. Don't let it pass you by"

You recognize those words, heart clenching at the different meaning behind it.

"Riley will only be here till next week, you have that time to decide. Please take my words into consideration, I want all my students to thrive."

You nod, murmuring a small 'thank you'. Walking away from the room, you slip away to an empty broom closet. Mind racing, it all stops to him, his smiling face appears in your mind's eye, voice echoing amidst the rushing and chaos of your thoughts.

Silent tears slide down your cheeks. You don't even know why you're crying. Already knowing what to do, wiping your eyes, tears sticking on your lashes, you already know, Right?

A/N: Thank you for reading! I can't believe we're almost at the end 😭 let me know your thoughts ❤️

[runabout-river]

Thoughts on JJK chapter 266 (Spoilers)

I nearly cried...

We start with Megumi reiterating that he doesn't want to be saved. The last time we saw him he was down on the ground completely crushed. Here, Yuji managed to talk with him inside his domain, giving Megumi the opportunity to fully express himself and his feelings.

The "enough now" also has different connotations depending on the specific phrasing used in Japanese. I read a Twitter thread once that talked about it and how Megumi basically told Yuji that he, Yuji, didn't need to expand any more energy towards him, Megumi. That he could stop saving him because it was all right.

It was said right in the beginning that Megumi sees Yuji and Tsumiki as the same type of person he wants to protect. That was why he selfishly asked Gojo to help Yuji after he swallowed Sukuna's finger.

Megumi's thoughts on the life he wanted to give his sister are so bittersweet. He isn't centered in them so it's natural that without Tsumiki he doesn't know where he could go on his own.

And let's not forget, Tsumiki was the only true family Megumi had left and for one and a half years he tried to save her from her curse only to fail twice. His teenage years were dedicated to her so his mental descend is understandable.

Maki lived through the same loss and compared with her we explicitly see the differences in them. Maki had always wanted to live her life on her own with her own strength which meant that she had to leave Mai behind. When Mai died Maki was mentally able to go on with living without problems but unlike with Megumi's and Tsumiki's situation, Maki and Mai also had a deep conversation and understanding with each other in the end. Maki got to hear Mai's last thoughts and her last wish to destroy them all.

Megumi doesn't have any last conversation with Tsumiki so Yuji has to step in on that front. And he does so with fully acknowledging Megumi's pain and outlook on his continued life.

Sukuna uses Hollow Wicker Basket to counter Yuji's sure-hit and be able to fight him. He compensates the weaker CE output of HWB by keeping his handsign with his extra arms.

I checked, that hand sign is basically the same as Megumi's DE hand sign but with the left thumb up. Its interesting to think about the implications of that.

Sukuna also says the he can't use Gojo's version of getting his CT back up again after a DE because other parts of his brain are still damaged by UV.

We get an extended fight scene next but truth be told I did NOT care about the fight at that moment. Only Sukuna showing how angry he got with Yuji's "pity" was interesting. Other than that I wanted to get back to Megumi.

Bringing back that absolutely iconic panel of Megumi and replacing Gojo with Yuji 😭

That was the part where I stared at my giant monitor and got misty eyed. Especially with Yuji being so honest about how much he would miss Megumi even though he understands and would support him with ending his life.

Its interesting again how Gege chose to leave Yuji's scars for his close up panel. It's probably to show how Mahito's trauma he inflicted on him and everything else he went through didn't measure into his deepest desire to get his friend back.

Until now we also didn't see Megumi's eyes. Even in this panel we get a small Megumi from a memory he had with someone else. But...

Megumi immediately uses his shadows, those we haven't seen since Sukuna got his original body back.

But I also wonder about the implication here: was Sukuna's 10ST rendered non-functional because... he was in his original body? Or because the death of Mahoraga automatically deactivates the technique?

If it's the latter, than that means that with Megumi using his shadows here, he has his own version of his technique, one with his own shikigami who haven't been killed in the fight against Gojo.

The last part of this fight is about how Sukuna went against what he just thought a few minutes ago. He does use Gojo's technique of restarting his CT again. His nose is bleeding because of it though.

Then comes another part of the good guy's long thought out plan to bring Sukuna down. His finger strung up in an unknown location, ready to do... what? We'll see when the Shinjuku Showdown actually finishes soon.

We'll definitely get the merger arc next but there'll most likely be a few chapters of talk and plot in between as well.

But wait!

What is going on with Yuji missing 2 fingers now? We know that one Sukuna finger is still missing and we know that Rika ate at least part of either Sukuna or Yuji to get Sukuna's CT.

But is this finger in the last panel a new finger maybe? One made with Yuji's ring finger?

We'll find out eventually but for now, this was such a deeply emotional chapter...

[phoenixtakaramono]

ELDRITCH BILLY/ HOMELANDER THREADFIC

SUMMARY: I've written werewolf!Butcher/ vampire!Homelander threadfics before. Here's another 🔞 butchlander monsterfucking AU, this time with Billy essentially being a powerful eldritch god that Homelander wants to fuck.

CW: tentacle sex, oviposition (body horror if you squint but not really)

(The rest of the threadfic can be read here!)

If you don’t have a Twitter account, I have screenshotted the rest of the spicy half below the line break:

Q&A

You mentioned a couple times that a thread in Homelander's mind snapped. What does that mean? It's typical Lovecraftian eldritch mythos where if you gaze upon their true form, you lose your sanity. It's subtle foreshadowing of Homelander becoming more and more insane in Billy's presence. What’s the mucous-like substance the tendrils secrete? It’s like an aphrodisiac; I wanted to be funny and pay homage to the tentacle h3ntai p0rn tropes out there. It's my first try with this trope so please go easy on me, haha. What happened at the end? They destroy the world, plain and simple. This AU is short and to the point but the idea is that Billy provides revenge on Homelander's childhood tormentors. (All those scientists? Slaughtered or driven mad.) Even with Billy's offer to ruin everything, despite HL’s pettiness, there's still a shred of humanity inside HL that didn't want to see everyone dead (his logic: how can he be a god when there's nobody left to worship him?). With him being conditioned to depend on Vought and the corporation subliminally advertising himself as “earth’s mightiest defender,” HL charitably grants Vought “one last chance.” …But subconsciously he’s looking for a reason, any justification, any excuse to bury this rotten planet that’s been nothing but cruel to him (in his opinion). He’s waiting to be disappointed for the last time. He just needs that one final push to finally forsake humanity—because now it’s not his fault, you see? You did this. You guys have no one to blame but yourselves for dooming the rest of this world. (This is how, in his psyche, he avoids taking responsibility. Because he has “justification” on his side.) Whether it be Vought’s board of directors, his fans or sycophants, the constant paparazzi and public scrutiny, etc, it’s inevitable someone will piss him off the deep end. I wanted a somewhat nihilistic lovecraftian ambiguous ending and leave it up to readers’ interpretation, but you are free to imagine after Butcher's rampage and after returning earth to void, he takes Homelander who's carrying their eggs back to his realm. And they raise their half-Supe, half-eldritch terrors happily. I HCed Billy originally wanted to fill Homelander with a thousand eggs, but the human colon can only take so much. Most of the eggs end up duds and need to be pushed out/ pulled out (which, y'know, can also be fun *wink wink nudge nudge* I can't say HL didn't enjoy that—a lot), and they ended up with only a couple surviving clutch. The children can adopt a human form (with tentacles) like their papa (inheriting both parents' features) or revert to their true monstrous forms.

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed!

[destroy-some-evil]

So... I'm watching Until We Meet Again while waiting for more episodes of The Sign (because I need more reincarnated soulmates please and thank you).

And I can tell the narrative says this:

But my theory presupposes that maybe:

Look I get it - the narrative really wants us to buy that Korn is the "strong silent" type and Dean, as his reincarnation, is similar in attitude but a way better Dom because he learned from his past life and became better at caring for his loved ones. Meanwhile, Intouch was the "adorable cinnamon bun" in the past who couldn't cook and occasionally pushed Korn's boundaries, and now as Pharm, who can cook (character development!), is basically the perfect sub to Dean's Dom (yes, I read @lutawolf's post about the soft D/s moments in the series and clicked subscribe -what off it). I get that's the story they are showing. Also, I like the story it's been fun to watch and I'm looking forward to the last two episodes.

But - but what if

Korn who basically was forced to be the strong silent type because he was the eldest and not allowed to be soft with how his dad raised him. He just wanted read literature volume 4 or what ever but circumstances and society expected different of him. I don't know there is something sweet to think that in his next life he gets to be that soft boy who likes cooking. Who still takes care of those around but he doesn't have to force himself to be the visibly strong one all the time. Both Korn and Pharm were both the ones who were initially afraid of what it meant to love this person in front of them.

Meanwhile, Intouch, who just wanted to care for Korn, makes that the core of who he is in his next life. He's not as carefree as he once was, but he still loves to be in the water. (All In's suggestions for vacations related to water. The beach vacation they took and the raft one they never got to do.) He still loves teasing his boyfriend and he still makes it his life goal to make him happy. Also, he can now at least follow directions for cooking but it's not something expected of him. And on a more serious note, he's more able to protect Pharm than Intouch was able to protect Korn. Korn probably would have never allowed Intouch to protect him because he had to be the one in charge; even if, maybe, he didn't want to be. Also, both Intouch and Dean are the ones who see their other half and go, "yes, that's him. He's the one I'm going be with for the rest of my life." No hesitation, just plans for how he's going put a ring on it. (I also have a headcannon that Dean was the one to suggest the red thread faculty tours. His fellow classmates tease that Dean's thread is already picked out for Pharm. And in the past Intouch is the one to tie the red thread on Korn.)

I also get that visually the show wanted to associate that Intouch and Pharm look similar and that Korn and Dean look similar because that makes it easy.

But you know what stupid romantic is this post about the Japanese legend that you have the face of the person you loved the most in your previous life (okay so the post applying that legend to Avatar the Last Airbender but it's still stupid romantic).

Apply that to these two and tell me it's not sweet and romantic to think that they get reborn into the same families they were originally in and that they are surrounded by people who loved them in both their lives and now those people have grown and learned to support them AND they have the face of the person who they loved most in their past life.

Yes, I'm late to the party (I only found found out about how to get easy access to Thai BLs in October 2023 - thank you @talistheintrovert) but I have thoughts. Also this was fun.

[bnomiko]

Figure collecting: Alucard and the dolls of depression

I was pretty hyped for the Alucard Nendoroid until I saw what accessories he came with…or more importantly, what he didn't come with:

- Heirloom sword - necessary, check - Alucard shield - this is clearly S4 Alucard (who finally got tired of tanking hits with his face), so check - And… a stick! … A stick?! -_- The same plain Jane stick that was used for something like 5 seconds in S2? Whyyy?

Just say no to stick : (

… Where's his depression dolls - the breakout stars of S3!? This is a LONELY man, he needs his dolls damn it! So I decided to remedy that.

** So... presenting my mini Trevor and mini Sypha dolls! **

(Yes the cake reads ALONE - yeah I went there!)

These dolls sit at about ¾" tall. I would've liked them smaller since they're out of scale with the Nendo, but even at this size they were already hard enough to make.

The heads are ¼" diameter wood beads, with nail polish eyes (for a shiny plastic button look), colored pencil details, and embroidery thread hair. The bodies are scrap fabric and embroidery thread, built on half of a box clasp (I really wanted to stuff and sew tiny bodies, but it was impossible because the fabric kept unraveling - the clasp helped provide the structure to stitch the fabric around, plus provided holes to hinge the legs off of). Arms and legs are 18 ga aluminum wire, hammered into tiny "spoons" and "ladles" (which came out more like skimmers or potato mashers).

They're nowhere near perfect but they don't need to be. After all the originals were obviously crafted from scraps as well : )

And since I've seen some cute fanart of Alucard in wolf form carrying the dolls, a bonus! This is actually about the right scale : )

(Le wolf is not Alucard, le wolf is Toriko's Terry Cloth : p Close enough?)

***

BONUS: here's my fanart take on Alucard receiving his dolls : )

[legobatgvrl]

'Dead'-ly Iconic Characters (literally)

I came across an intriguing post while scrolling through my Twitter—or X, whatever you call it—timeline. The post shows a picture (shown below), with this caption:

Which character is this?

Since I was in the mood to type a rather long thread at that time, I wrote—or typed—my ass off in my private Twitter account (which only has 4 followers). It was only a week later that I thought, "I probably should have posted it on Tumblr instead," so here you go.

Note: Since I originally posted this on Twitter, the writing was not good (I tend to just typed down whatever I have in mind when on that app), so I edited it to make it more readable.

Well, since I'm still in the after effect of Strangers from Hell, I'd say it's Seo Moonjo. His role is so damn iconic that I, and probably many other watchers, didn't even realize that his screentime was only around an hour... in the whole goddamn series that's about 10 hours long in total. In other words, his screentime was just one-tenth of the whole show, very contrasting to the fact that he was literally the second lead character in said show. What is even more mind blowing is the fact that I only realized how short his screentime was because the actor himself mentioned this, not because I realized it on my own.

To quote, the actor, Lee Dong-wook, said: "I'm not greedy for screentime. I used to be, but when i was playing in Strangers from Hell, I only appear in the show for about an hour in total, but it turns out people like my character so much, and the feedback was so good... Since then, I am never greedy of main character roles anymore and always try to make my own character special, in their own way, instead."

To conclude, he said that it doesn't matter (anymore) to him which role he got to play. In a good show, each character always has their own appeal, and as long as the actor/actress plays the character well, that character will shine no matter how trivial their role in the story is.

I (as a spectator who merely watches movies or dramas and read books then try to analyze them in the most objective way) think that this is very true. A lot of characters in iconic books and shows are dead already in the plot's current time, and are only shown in flashbacks, but they are imprinted on the readers' or watchers' mind more than the living characters do.

A very good example is the character Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante in the manga (and anime) One Piece. He was already dead long ago and was only shown in Trafalgar Law's childhood flashbacks, but damn i think more than half of the One Piece fandom love him so much, and the other half really like him. (there's even a saying that goes, you are not a human if you hate on two One Piece characters; Corazon (Rosinante's nickname), and Bon Chan.)

Another One Piece character (yes this is the manga I love the most) is "Red Haired" Shanks. He was the father/mentor/role model figure to the main character, Monkey D. Luffy, and he first appeared on the story in Luffy's memory of his childhood.

Since then, he only appeared in like two to three panels (around 10-20 seconds in the anime) for every 100 chapter/episode (I am not even exaggerating), but still, he is actually one of the most iconic and awaited character in the whole manga/anime, which has more than 600 characters in total. He even quite easily places in "Top 10 Most Iconic One Piece Characters" lists no matter who made the list.

This, in it's own way, is quite like what happened with Seo Moonjo's character in Strangers from Hell, who only appeared in one-tenth of the show but at the same time is also the number 1 most iconic and memorable character there.

Anyway, in the same way that Shanks is similar to Seo Moonjo, I think Corazon's character is similar to Jeong Jinman's in A Shop for Killers (also played by Lee Dong-wook). They're both dead characters that only appear now and then through one of the main characters' memory, but they're so iconic that, in Jeong Jinman's case, it sometimes make the audience forget he's not actually the main character.

[amethystina]

Chapter 38 could have been the beginning of the end of Who Holds the Devil

(Slight spoilers for the chapter below)

The other day, as I was editing the chapter, my wife asked me if I was having another existential crisis (I was apparently making very worrying noises) and while I said no at first, I had to change my answer a split second later.

Yes, I was having an existential crisis.

Because I had just realised that if I deviated from my original plan for chapter 38, I could cut the rest of Who Holds the Devil in half. Or even cut so much as three fourths, if I felt like it. Sure, that would require scrapping the overarching storyline I've been building, throwing out a lot of the character development I've planned, as well as rushing through a lot of the healing/trauma work required for my original storyline, but it was possible.

Basically, if Ga On had opened that door, everything would be different. Or, for that matter, if Yo Han had heard him crying (which he didn't — sorry to those of you who hoped that he did). Because even if they had argued and Yo Han was hurt, he would go to Ga On without hesitation if he heard him crying outside his door. Because he loves him too much not to.

Point being, if they had actually talked there at the end of chapter 38, everything I have built towards would have toppled like one of Yo Han's card houses. Because Ga On would have said just about anything to right the mistakes he'd just made. And while that might sound like a good thing, it's not. Because Yo Han wouldn't take that as Ga On expressing genuine feelings for him, but Ga On panicking due to his abandonment issues. He'd think Ga On was just doing whatever he could think of in order to make Yo Han stay, including lying or gaslighting himself into thinking he's in love with Yo Han.

It wouldn't actually have helped all that much, is what I'm saying, because that's not a good foundation for a relationship.

But I COULD have done it. I could have cut down the amount of time I have left to spend on this fic so drastically that, yes, it gave me an existential crisis xD

Partly because this fic has become a huge part of my life in general — to the point where I'm not quite sure who I would be without it — but also because I realised that I was tempted. A part of me wanted to do it. Because every chapter takes everything between 10 to 30 hours to finish when you count all the writing and editing — though several times I've ended up closer to 40 (which is a lot while juggling a full-time job and long Covid). I've written 38 chapters so far and it has taken over two years. And I can't say how much further I will have to go — how many more chapters or years I'm going to have to dedicate to this fic in order to actually finish it.

So, if only for one evening, the thought of cutting it short was VERY tempting.

But, clearly, I didn't in the end. Partly because I still love this fic so incredibly much and I want to write it as it's meant to be written. Also, it would have felt like such a waste to throw away all those plot threads I've been weaving because of... idk, laziness? And I would have to force Ga On and Yo Han together before either of them are ready for it, which would result in a much more fragile relationship in general.

So, long story short, that's why Ga On didn't open the door. I know it may have seemed cruel of me not to let him while you were reading it but, if I had done it, everything would have changed — and not necessarily for the better. Not to mention that you would have gotten a whole lot less fic in the end xD

So yeah. I made the choice to stick to my original plan but, hopefully, it will be worth it in the end.

Thank you for your patience :)

[berryless]

Weekend worth of all at once

Sunday x Original Female Character (Angst, PG || 1.3k words || Sunday POV, Stellaron Hunter Sunday AU, before Charmony Festival and a timeskip later, some goodbyes and apologies are made)

⤝ previous part

Read this work on Archive of Our Own.

"I thought you were booked all the way until the end of the Charmony festival. How come you're here?" Sejal asked, face surprised, but she still leaned closer, pulling him in, and Sunday let himself fall into her embrace, trying to remember the feeling.

"I managed a few minutes to spare," he said quietly, soaking in her presence. His voice didn't tremble, his hands didn't waver, and yet an aching, bone-deep bitterness spread inside his chest at the thought that this will be the last he'll see of her.

"You okay?" Sejal's voice was as soft as her fingers threading through his hair, and Sunday chased the touch, eyes half-lidded.

"…I'm ready."

He always was, his life long set on the course of orchestrating this moment. Whether he was fine or not did not matter in the grand scheme of things so long as he could fulfill his purpose.

"Don't push yourself too hard, hmm?" Sejal pressed his head down to print a kiss on his forehead. "I know the festival is important, but you're even more so."

Sunday couldn't hold back a chuckle.

"I'll try," he lied.

"Good." Sejal cupped his face and held hers against it, speaking gently into his lips, "I know you can do it. You worked so hard for it. Even if some mishap will happen, no one will disparage the effort you put into this."

He looked at her intently, right into her smiling clueless eyes, right into her wounded weary soul that still found in herself a sliver of kindness to spare for others.

"It will be perfect," Sunday promised, covering her hands with his own. "I'll make sure it is."

An eternal paradise of safety and happiness for everyone at the expense of a single sacrifice—such price was barely worth mentioning.

"I believe in you," Sejal laughed and kissed him, and Sunday tightened his hold on her, tippling the essence of this sole last moment like a hopeless drunkard chasing the high.

It wouldn't get any better for him. Not for him.

But it would—for everyone else, and that's all that mattered.

"See you in a dream."

It wouldn't be him there, but if it was important to her, if he was important, Sejal would find him in her paradise. Sunday hoped she would.

"Or not," Sejal smiled, eyes twinkling with mischief. "For such an occasion I might actually use my waking self to congratulate you when this all ends."

Sunday smiled back, not feeling his lips.

"Don't," he said softly, fingertips ghosting her cheek. "Sleep well. That's all I want for you."

"You're not part of the script," Sunday said slowly.

"Surprise guest appearance."

Sejal stepped out of the shadows and bowed to him, her leathery tail making a graceful curve in the air. She looked the same way she did at Penacony, she acted like nothing had changed since then, even though everything did, and Sunday couldn't just close his eyes and pretend to believe it, because the time for dreams had passed.

He was wide awake now.

And he would stay awake until the time for curtain call comes.

"Why did you wake up..?"

"I never planned on sleeping forever. Penacony was always no more than a dream, bound to end sooner or later."

"Why are you here then? You should've left me in that dream."

"Is that what you want..?"

"…"

Sejal cupped his cheek, and Sunday fought against himself to turn away from her instead of leaning into her touch. His fingers ached, his fists squeezed tightly.

"Please…" He asked her quietly, barely above the whisper, hoping Sejal would understand him without words, when he wasn't sure what he begged for himself.

She did not.

"Please what?" Her hand slid to trace his ear. Sunday had to take a sharp breath of air, backing away from her touch only to feel her fingers catching his wing, palm pressed against his head. "If you want me to leave, you have to say it properly. Because right now…"

Sejal tugged him closer, cradling his stuttering, breaking heart with her hand.

"You don't sound like you want that."

That would be because he did not.

Still, Sunday clasped her wrist in his grasp, pulling her hand away from his chest. Sejal allowed him to do it without any resistance, just as she always did, and somehow that made it harder to let her go. To completely push her away, even though he should've done that.

Because Sunday was certain—if he'd ask her, she'd leave without a fight.

"…What do you want from me?" Sunday said quietly, feeling her pulse through his gloves. "I have nothing of value to give."

Sejal sighed.

"I would've tried to swoop the whole package, but I guess the Slave of Destiny struck you a deal first, so there's not much—if anything—left of your free time, yes?"

"…Why would you want that..?"

She tilted her head and looked at him like that was the most foolish question Sunday could ever ask. Even though it was completely logical.

"I am a wanted criminal with a price that's only going to rise in the future," he reminded her of the obvious.

Sejal frowned, her hand slipping away from his wing.

"You don't think it's the price for your head that I'm after..?"

…When it dawned on him that prior to those words, he never even considered such possibility, Sunday himself was startled. How could he, a man always wary and cautious, one that was used to plan for all outcomes, not think of something so obvious..?

Sejal tensed in his grasp, his silence echoing in palpable hurt in her eyes, and Sunday immediately knew that this was the moment: the crossroads of his destiny where he had to make the best possible choice.

And there was only one both good and ruthless, that was best for Sejal, that was kind, and selfless, and just. That Sunday of the Oak family would not hesitate to make, bearing the minute pain for her cloudless future.

But he was not that person anymore.

"…Will you be satisfied with just my head..?" Sunday asked, watching her, attuned to notice the minute changes: the way her shoulders rounded, her gaze softened, her lips curved. Just one short phrase, and she was back to that familiar languid self, supple and pliant, a person shaped of liquid metal that melted into the touch—and slipped through it with no less ease, no matter how tight you tried to hold them.

"It's been known to happen," Sejal murmured, smiling at him, and when Sunday discerned the underlying meaning, he couldn't help but look away, hiding the lower part of his face under his wings.

"I take it you're here to tease me," he said curtly, glancing at her.

"If that is all I'm allowed to do…"

His fingers trembled around her wrist, and Sunday let go of her, but without delay Sejal's tail roped around his leg, its pointy end slipping under his thigh strap, not pulling him close, but not allowing him to run away either. Not that he planned to, but what insidiousness this was—to use her own body as a leverage, knowing all too well he wouldn't want to hurt her.

"I'm not," Sejal said softly, catching his hand and intertwining their fingers. "But it's the easiest part to do."

"Then what would be the difficult one..?"

He watched her thoughtfully, heart heavy and firm, ready to take a blow Sunday knew he deserved.

For a very long minute Sejal held his gaze before leaning in to hold him.

"…I'm sorry," she said quietly, and this kind of soft punch he never expected took all the air out of his lungs.

"…Why..?"

"…I believe in you. I know you can do it."

Sunday stiffened.

He couldn't possibly forget those words when they were among the last few she said to him at Penacony.

"I'm sorry."

[lorelune]

hey lore !!!!! I'm a big fan of your works <3 they honestly amaze me so much. i especially adore your world building it's just so ?? scrumptious ?! no seriously it's so good like i want to eat it up along with your characterization. i love how you enhance already existing world's as well as create new ones — not just world's but ways things work and intricacies within intricacies.. you provide such a clear idea that makes picturising it all so much easier and interesting

ive never written before other than some blurbs here and there on my notes app but recently hsr brainrot has been Hitting it lately and i've had way too many thoughts 💭 i was planning on maybe writing a fic.. but it requires insane amount of world building (and ik that's definitely not the right thing to start off on, as a new writer/for your first work but then again ig there is no right and wrong way to do it (?) it's more like my brain power might not support me and i’ll abandon it half way or something 🥲 haha) anyway i was wondering if you have any tips on how to worldbuild or build further on the existing ideas of certain organisations and all that sort.. there's just so many ideas haywiring and i would really love some advice if you don't mind. but no pressure !! sorry if this was too long,,

omg hello anon!! not too long at ALL hehe i'm gonna answer this below the cut hehe

first off THANK YOU 🥺!!! i appreciate your kind words so much <3 i really enjoy worldbuilding in my own writing and i'm very glad the ideas i bungle up translate well when actually in a story :'^) in my own little brainworld where i daydream, i tend to add details and layers to the original story that i do like... question if i can execute. so it is always nice to hear that they do in fact make it through 😭💓

as for advice!!

anon. so transparently. so REAL-y. if you have the brainworms for a story, even if its big and complicated and a lot to chew on it, just start!!! it is so intimidating truly but there is no better writing fuel than the muse of a story that has captured you. and!! if it does not end up finished, that is totally okay!! i have personally learned some of most valuable lessons writing while working on large pieces that ultimately ended up unfinished.

for more material advice:

when working on fic, i keep a lot of notes in a personal discord server. i have a wip channel and threads for certain fic ideas where i compile plot details, world details, fanart and inspo photos. it's super helpful!!!

one thing that helps me when i have big grand worlds in my head and i need to get them down and written is, instead of choosing to take a bite out of the whole world itself, i try to choose just a snippet or event and build around that. for example, in cicatrix, you get LOTS of lore abt calibrators and their relationship to the luofu, but plenty of what i had spinning around in my noggin didn't make it down. it wasn't relevant to the immediate story, event, or conflict, so it stayed unspoken. however, i think having really rich background going INTO writing these snippets of a larger universe helps fill things out and seem more like... lived in.

i will say. so indispensable. BETA READERS. the first few drafts of cicatrix where so ROUGH when it came to world building. i had the whole lore of calibrators and the luofu in my head, but getting it down clearly and in a way that made enough sense to an unknowing audience took a few read throughs and feedback by some lovely friends of mine. i highly recommend tracking down someone to read over your pieces and provide feedback on the things you're worried about!!!

and like... perhaps a little corny. but. believe in yourself. we are our own greatest critics, and the best attitude to cultivate toward the craft is that you can... do it. you just can. innately anon, regardless of experience, you can create the story and world you want to. bolstering a sense of confidence goes FAR esp if you end up writing a longer piece!!!

anon i got quite rambly asldkf. i hope this is in some way helpful!!! if you have any other questions, i am happy to answer!! i truly think writing immersive worlds is SO fun and engaging, and sometimes you just gotta. throw your hat in the ring. start the run and see where it takes you. i wish you such like and good tidings anon <3

[thefirsthogokage]

More call outs on bullshit the AMPTP is saying they have all the risk and the people who work on their productions don't.

This has been in my drafts for apparently like a month and a half and I have no idea why I didn't just post this before. Anywho, sorry, my bad.

[Image ID: a tweet thread from Geoff Thorne's (@wintermanbooks) from July 23rd, 2023, that reads:

When I agreed to come on as showrunner for Black Panther's Quest, I was presented with an NDA that precluded me or my reps from telling anyone what I was doing or who for, for the duration. this took a 2-year bite out of my career & ghosted me in the eyes of potential employers.

When I was done with that job, my live-action career was AGGRESSIVELY stalled because, as more than one potential employer told me, "I thought you'd left the business." That 1 job (nominated for 2 IMAGE awards, BTW) nearly ended my career. Talk to me about risk again. #WGAStrong

CODA.

Even though I was the showrunner & head writer on that show, because it was an animation gig, guess what I get in residuals for that near career-killer?

That's right, zero dollars. No, risk?

Go and entirely fuck yourselves, you money-shuffling posers.

(Link to tweets: one - two - three)

/End ID]

[Image ID: A tweet thread by Matt Altman (@mattaltman2) from July 23rd, 2023 (that I had a real hard time getting to because Twitter is bullshit or him deleting it? Or he went private? Probably the glitching) that reads in its entirety:

I optioned a script and did 23 rewrites and a bunch of polishes for free so we could get a director attached and then they’d activate the one paid rewrite. I barely (with the help of friends) paid rent for months. But we don’t take risks. Oh yeah— that happened more than once

I “sold” my first script, got an announcement in Deadline, had meetings about the rewrite, and waited over a year and a half for the lawyers… only for the company to declare bankruptcy and never get paid. But no risk. I’ve done untold hours of free development… but no risk.

Optioned a feature script with rewrite. They brought me in for another rewrite, but were shocked when my reps billed for the optional step. They expected free pass. Fired me, hired a big writer to rewrite my original spec for 7 figures. My step would’ve cost 25k. But no risk

(Link to tweets: one - two - three)

/End ID]

[diveyne]

BAND VERSE : ECLIPSE. — setting : general modern au, and alternatively wherever pentakill originates from because pentakill seems to exist in a strange runeterra AU, not in the modern world. but, for all purposes, this verse exists primarily in the modern world, with low fantasy elements where otherwise inhuman races exist amongst humankind. that being said, this verse bleeds from the threads of my general modern verse, in which morgana is still centuries old, descended from a higher being, and has masked herself amidst humans following tragedy in ancient civilizations.

a year and a half ago, i posited the idea that morgana have her own band, rivaling pentakill; although, it's less a rival against the members of pentakill and more one against her sister, kayle.

eclipse, often stylized as ƎCLIPSE ( with its logo using crescent moons instead of Es ), comprises of the following members:

— morgana, lead vocals ( read the hc here about morgana being a multi-talented classically trained musician though ) — sylas, drummer — aatrox, bass guitar — varus, rhythm guitar

now you might be wondering, where's the lead guitarist? great question. eclipse was once a group of five, featuring none other than HEARTSTEEL's kayn ( @umbane ) as their lead guitarist and resident scream king / backing vocalist. however, that was a long time ago and many heartaches long past, a painful history for all of them, most especially morgana and kayn. they were terribly close, once, but the growing turmoil within eclipse was far too much to bear. there was no way to move forward together as a cohesive group, not with how volatile kayn had become. morgana wanted to see it through, to make things work, to help her friend move past whatever it was he was going through.

she knew well of his past, and she isn't the type of person who gives up easily, especially when it comes to someone she cares so deeply about, but she was trapped between a rock and a hard place: letting kayn go to preserve the rest of the band and all of their dreams, or risk losing everyone and everything they've put on the line. the rest of her bandmates were pressuring her to drop kayn, and truly, she didn't want to. morgana desperately sought a peaceful resolution, a way to figure things out, a way to keep kayn and soothe the growing animosity within eclipse.

that's the thing when you put so many big personalities in a same group together, isn't it? of course everyone has their own voice, their own ideas and wishes and feelings they want heard. different ideas for what they should be doing, what they wanted to be doing, just how they should be getting things done... it was a recipe for disaster. they were all volatile. angry, hurt, saying things they shouldn't have said under the burning pressure of fire pressed to their feet, but aatrox and sylas were the most vocal of all in demanding that kayn goes, or they both walk. varus agreed. it brought morgana a pain she hadn't felt since the days of long ago when she and her sister fought so violently that it forever tore an irreparable rift between them that she still hasn't healed from, and likely never would. she didn't want to go through that again. she couldn't. she knew the dynamic was becoming a problem, but she just didn't want to let kayn go.

she loved kayn most out of all them. even now, years later, she still doesn't have the heart to replace him. morgana records the lead guitar riffs and solos herself in studio, and while varus has offered to step up for shows and tours, she refuses. eclipse has temporary fills on retainer that join them on tours, but they're never there to stay. there's a hole that will never be filled, another betrayal she won't be complicit in. morgana already betrayed kayn once, and she wouldn't do it again. but, whatever formula they have has been working for them. eclipse has gone on to become an international success with their dark gothic elements, catchy choruses and hooks, with their whimsical witchy sounds that are a blend of rock-metal and a hint of haunting folk and siren songs. morgana has the voice of a siren and sings the sweetest notes, but can easily switch to grittier, raw vocals. eclipse is an eclectic blend of haunting, enchanting melodies, compared to pentakill's classic rock / hair metal vibes.

with morgana's vocal talents and range and acting capabilities, she's been offered several roles on broadway, most famously having done a rendition of phantom of the opera. during off-times when she isn't working on a new album or singles, and isn't on tour, morgana will agree to small acting roles or roles in plays and musicals. it's another thing she's discovered she loves, a distraction away from the quiet and the spiraling columns of despair that wrap around her like an inescapable shroud of mist trailing after her everywhere she goes. despite the band's massive success, a part of her aches for the losses of her past. seeing HEARTSTEEL now has helped heal some of the guilt she felt, but even still, she doubts the hurt will ever truly fade.