#BUT ALAS. THIS IS WHERE MY INSPIRATION IS.

[fushiguho]

Curiosity & the Poor, Unfortunate Cat ⭑.ᐟ

ᯓ★ Synopsis Toji Fushiguho — an absent father, a college dropout, and a panhandling loiterer who just so happens to be your father’s best friend. Obviously you have to fuck him... out of pity, of course.

Wordcount 4k

Warnings fem!reader, age gap, toji is kind of disrespectful but so are you, so much teasing it’s insane, toji has a filthy mouth (duh), rough sex, unprotected, spanking, abrupt ending, brat taming??

Author's Notes this was inspired by an anon request for toji as your father’s best friend which was so freaking fun to write (everyone say thank yew anonnnn) and this was supposed to be a drabble but i know no limits... i was also channeling a lot of my own desires here #needthat p.s. this blog is under construction, i’m in the midst of transferring my work from my previous account which was marked as explicit boooo :/

Your sheets ruffle as you discontentedly toss in bed, the silken fabric bunching haphazardly while you writhe, empty stomach caving in a ravenous hunger. Internally, you curse yourself, wishing you had eaten the dinner your father prepared earlier, but now, it’s definitely too late. You’re sure Toji has already scarfed whatever was left of it down into that perpetually endless gut of his. You’ve never stood a chance. Alas, you must eat, so with a groan of annoyance, you roll out of bed, padding to the kitchen on the hunt for satiation.

It’s the dead of night. The sacred time of day when nothing is expected of you. When everyone you have ever known is fast asleep and you’re all that remains. Darkness consumes the lifeless house as you shuffle across the carpeted floor. A night light that’s tucked at the end of the long hall flickers like a dwindling torch in the depths of a dark, endless forest. As you creep down the steep staircase, you sigh, taking notice of overhead microwave light already casting a soft, amber glow — there is someone else that too remains.

Toji.

“You can’t keep eating all of our food.” You huff, abruptly announcing your presence as you near the final step, observing the burly, sable haired man that raids your barren fridge. “I don’t even know why my father puts up with you.”

He smells your sweet, gourmand perfume before he even registers your voice. It’s utterly embarrassing how painfully his cock aches from a mere whiff of you, the sound of you. Unabashed, Toji shrugs, stuffing three, large strawberries into his greedy mouth, eyes narrowing on your pretty frame. “Your father loves me, sweetheart… couldn’t have raised your bratty ass without me.” His ravenous gaze lingers far too long, sharp eyes shamelessly flitting across your soft, exposed skin, sizing you up. “And hello to you too. What’s wrong with you young people? Does no one respect their elders anymore?”

“Oh, brother, here we go.” You grumble, bracing yourself for yet another fruitless lecture, arms crossing over your chest as you sit into your right hip. His keen eyes follow your subtle shift in stance. “And your son? Where is he?”

He scoffs. “With his mother, thank you.” Toji rolls his eyes, reaching for another strawberry. “You sure you don’t have homework to do or something? Always pesterin’ me. I’m old, damnit!”

“I graduated three years ago, thank you… though you can’t say the same,” you snide, rudely pushing past him to peer into the refrigerator, “and you're like forty-five… you should've gotten your shit together yesterday.” You add, growing progressively annoyed with his lingering presence. “Did you drink all of the milk again?”

“Heh, oh yeah. Whoops,” he goads, popping the p, “and I’m not that old, you brat.” He mumbles, esteem crumbling at your assumption.

He’s grown accustomed to your biting criticism, though in the beginning, he would almost always quarrel back, which inevitably led to the two of you in a needlessly heated and borderline flirtatious feud. Now, he’s learned to actively ignore your insults but god, he would only be lying if he said your petty, condescending remarks didn’t rewire the chemistry of his brain.

Alas, all he offers is another irritatingly indifferent shrug, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his scarred lips — his own twisted version of remittance. Toji doesn’t give a fuck, not one. He knows your father will replace it by the end of the week like he always does, so why should he?

It has been nearly a decade since your father has all too graciously granted Toji loitering rights to your childhood home. Never has he paid for groceries, for bills, for anything. He is penniless, indolent, and baselessly forthright, but god, is he the finest man you have ever known.

After both your father and Toji’s untimely and coincidentally synchronized divorces, the two have been inseparable ever since, wallowing in their shared pity together. During his unnecessarily messy divorce, Toji lost the house and your father was gracious enough to offer him a place to stay until he secures a stable job.

That was nine years ago.

Weirdly enough, Toji has known you the entirety of your existence, but not you his. From as early as you can remember, he was always just… there, but as time passed and you grew older, things changed; the way you thought about him changed. Before, you thought of him as just one of your father’s degenerate friends from undergrad who fell through the cracks. Today, that notion still holds, but now you want to fuck him, bad.

For years, you’ve imagined what Toji is like behind closed doors, what he would feel like, what he would fuck like. If he’s the type of man that plays with his food before eating it, if he even likes to eat his prey anyway. Maybe he’s the type of predator that prefers stringing his meals along, toying with and teasing them like some cruel, one-sided game and he’s got the unfair advantage. Either way, you don’t think you’d mind.

Countless nights you’ve found yourself sprawled apart with his name on the tip of your tongue. Bare, perspiring body bowing as you brainlessly fuck yourself against one of his sweatshirts that you snagged from the laundry he doesn’t do. There is no doubt that Toji has heard the desperate cries of his name that pour from beneath your paper thin door, your pretty whimpers so incredibly loud and slutty and all for him.

If he wanted, you’d let him have in the worst possible way. You would let him pry you apart and gut you out completely, leaving you nothing but a shell of your former self — drooling, stuffed, and defiled. The utter heinous things you’d commit for a mere taste of his skin is a direct contradiction of who you are and everything your father believes he’s raised you to be. You’re no angel.

Defeated, you close the refrigerator, a deep, irritated sigh dragging from your lips. This man is useless, you think. If not for his maddeningly beautiful face, you’d sock him in it, sending him tumbling to the floor so that you can finally mount him and —

“Do you wanna fuck? Is that it?”

A long, deafening beat passes. You swallow thickly. “… what?”

“You heard me. I asked if you want to fuck.” He reiterates, voice eerily calm as if he couldn’t care less about the proposition at hand. “You’re always so pissed with me, thinkin’ that’s maybe what you need... a good fuck, heh.”

His blatantly unprovoked inquiry is jostling you back into reality, because what? What the hell is wrong with him? Why did the question roll off of his tongue so quickly? So smoothly? As if it’s no big deal, as if this is just another one of his usual, overly prying questions. Is he serious?

“Toji, wha—”

“You don’t think I’m stupid, do you?” His head is falling to the right, a sleazy grin marring his slick lips. “You don’t think I see the way you look at me, sweetheart? Not a very discreet girl, I’ll tell you that…” a dark, gut wrenching chuckle rumbles from the depths of his chest, “maybe a noisy one though, hm?” He hums, quirking an omniscient brow.

Guiltily, your gaze is falling to the tiled floor, thighs pressing together as you mumble. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Sure.

He laughs again. “You’re not a good liar either,” he’s creeping closer, the warmth of his breath like kindle to a rampant flame, “but you’re a pretty little thing… you know that already though, huh?” A curious hand is creeping around your waist, slyly reeling you in, the redolence of his cheap, inebriating cologne permeating the sinisterly thick air.

You expel an audible breath, taking a cautious step backward, yet he follows, taking a larger step forward, a step closer. Your skin burns, cheeks warming with crimson. He’s too fucking close and he knows it. What if someone sees? You don’t think you can bear the consequences that’d unfold if your father were to ever find the two of you like this. He would kill Toji, then you, and finally himself for good measure.

But god, do you want to find out. When it comes to human nature, curiosity always seems to prevail and fuck, are you one curious cat. There is something innately deep and pressing within your soul that craves satiation. It yearns to be known, to be explored. A deep, perpetually endless hole that aches — it longs to be filled, to be stuffed. None of your peers can do that for you, you’re convinced.

Your dark, repressed desires are only concerning your stance on feminism, but you don’t care, that’s the very thing. You want to find out. You need that, undoubtedly. Is what they say about older men true? The thought lingers as you contemplate the looming proposition. Yes, he’s your father’s closest friend. Yes, he’s far older than you with a child of his own. And yes, your perpetual obsession is only growing increasingly worrisome by the ticking clock, but truly, who can blame you? Look at him.

“C’monnn, you won’t even look at me, doll?” He frowns, a big hand cupping your chin, pulling your gaze upward. “Thought your father and I taught you better than that, no?”

Another loud, incredulous breath escapes your parted lips. “I’m sorry.” You whisper, cunt drooling.

Just the sweet, innocent quaver of your voice alone makes his cock twitch. His plaid pajama bottoms growing near uncomfortable as the fat, mushroom head leaks against the dampening fabric. What’s left of his dwindling resolve is slipping from his fingertips when you’re finally peering up at him, the coy bat of your lashes so perfectly slutty. Pretty, pleading eyes all wide and glossed over with your evident lust. God, he knows you need it.

Toji groans, conflicted for half a beat before growling a strangled and defeated, ‘fuck it’ then, his lips are slotting against yours in a delirious, haphazard kiss. Large hands blindly creep around your waist, dragging you impossibly closer. “This… this is your fucking fault.” He grouses, warm tongue delving so shamelessly inside of your honeyed mouth, greedily licking his way to the source.

“Fuck me then,” you’re pulling away just barely and he can’t help but to follow, subconsciously chasing your fleeting lips, “make me sorry.” It’s quiet, breathless, your pretty lips ghosting his.

And maybe you shouldn’t have said that, but it’s still not too late to end this — to push him away and say no, this isn’t right. It’s not too late to head to bed and forget any of this ever happened, but the way he’s twirling you around to push you over the marble countertop might be a step too far and damn sure too late.

“Sweetheart, you’ll be so fucking sorry,” a singular hand is peeling your lounge shorts down, down, down your plush thighs until there’s nothing but a pool of silky fabric surrounding your ankles, baring your syrupy folds, “spread those fuckin’ legs for me like a good, obedient girl. Let me see how wet that sloppy pussy is.”

With your face snug against the marble, all you can manage is a weak, fruitless gasp of his name, the warmth of your frantic breaths condensing the frigid countertop. You’re craning your head to the side, rising to the palms of your hands to observe the burly man that looms behind you. Fuck, he’s going to kill you.

He simpers, trailing several, curious fingers from your swollen clit allll the way down to your visibly tightening hole which drools endlessly. Pearlescent gossamers of arousal cling to the pads of his fat digits, kissing his skin in a beautiful sheen of your bountiful essence. The warm, abrupt stretch of his careless fingers as they sink deeeeep inside of your slobbering hole is peerless, prying your jaw open in a pretty, guttural moan — so raw and primal and all for him.

“Thaaat’s it, let me hear you, girl… sound even prettier up close,” he’s leaning down to better observe your desperate wails of rapture, pressing his clothed cock against the rear of your bare ass in the process, “got me fucking my hand like an idiot to the sound of you. How rude is that?” His breath hot and laden with lust against the crook of your neck.

Another wanton moan is belting from your gaped mouth at his confession. You can hardly help the pathetic buck of your hips, weakly fucking yourself against the stocky hand that cups your pretty pussy. The gnawing stretch of his fingers set your skin ablaze and yet, it’s not enough. You need more.

“Just f-fuck me… please? Before he gets home.” God, you are so fucking cute, bottom lip quivering in… fear? Anticipation?

Toji frowns feigndly. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re scared now, sweet girl?” A warm, calloused palm is splaying across the thick of your hip, pulling you closer to the edge of the marble. “Sure doesn’t feel like it…” he taunts, dragging his fingers out of you to smear your prolific arousal between your swollen lips and the slit of your ass, soon bringing them up to your stupidly gaped mouth, “doesn’t it taste like it either, huh?” He prompts you to taste yourself, his long, drooling digits hanging before your subconsciously parting lips.

And god, you could fucking cum right there, cunt throbbing embarrassingly around nothing but the fleeting memory of his fingers. You hardly have the time to loll out your tongue before he’s rudely stuffing his fingers into your warm, obedient mouth. A synchronous, drawn out moan echoing from both of your slacked jaws, yours muffled by his fat digits and his so careless and plainly conquered by his ineffable lust.

You hum contentedly around his thick fingers, cleaning your own arousal from them like the good whore he always knew you’d be. Drool spills from the corners of your lips and down his burly knuckles, coating his hand in an obscene mess of your sweet saliva. His fingers are deliberately creeping farther down your slutty little throat, forcing a proper gag from the pit of your core, more of your saliva consequently cascading down his palm.

Like the nasty slut he is, he’s pulling them out of your mouth, only to plop them inside of his own, sucking and drooling down those very digits, his cruel gaze holding yours. A guttural groan belts from the depths of his chest, sable eyes fluttering shut as he hums in satisfaction. Your mouth falls wide, jaw slacked as pretty little pants of incredulity pour from it, poor cunt aching in your ever growing arousal. What. The. Fuck.

“What? Nothing else to fuckin’ say, huh?” Those same fingers are running along your cunt once more, messily smearing the sinful amalgamation of married saliva. They’re sweeping across your swollen clit before slowly sinking back inside of you, preparing you. “Always talkin’ so much shit to me. Gonna shut you up real soon, sweetheart… swear to god.”

A stupid gasp parts your lips, stomach caving in arousal at the sound of him hastily slipping out of his plaid bottoms. A greedy hand is latching to the back of your right knee, pulling your leg up to pin it against the cool marble. The sight of your pretty pussy in all of her sloppy glory makes his cock twitch, the head dripping in sinful rivulets of pearlescent arousal.

You can barely stand the way he takes his cock into his fist, idly pumping his pretty erection, a slutty grin spreading across his scarred lips. From his girthy base allll the way to the fat, leaking head, he strokes himself, but not before swiping the pad of his thumb across the drooling opening, spreading his arousal down the expanse of his monstrous length. You fucked up. Royally.

“God,” you mumble, turning back around to stuff your face into the crook of your arm in utter horror, “god, I am s…so sorry.”

And he fucking laughs. Laughs at your apology; it’s loud and obnoxious and so clearly intended to piss you off because you’re not sorry, you’re scared and he knows it. He can see the way your body trembles atop the counter, drooling cunt shamelessly exposed with your leg hiked up so rudely. The way your big, pleading eyes widen in fear as he creeps closer. Even your futile attempt to scoot away when he begins to drag the head of his cock between both of your slutty holes, almost as if he can’t decide which to ruin first.

“Nuh uh… c’mere,” he nearly growls, impertinently pulling you back before him by the flimsy fabric of your night shirt, a disapproving grunt ensuing, “tryna run away from me, huh?” Two, large hands are groping the fat of your ass, brazenly spreading you apart. “Oughta’ teach you some fuckin’ manners… such a mean little thing. Hell’s wrong with you?”

The head of his cock rests so heavily against your sloppy hole, hot precum oozing against the mess of slick that adorns your pretty pussy. Toji slaps the dense head against your lips once. A droning, helpless mewl pours from your gaped mouth, only for him to do it again, and again, and again. A lewd and deafening plap! plap! plap! reverberates throughout the dimly lit kitchen, sticky gossamers of married arousal tethering you as one.

“Knew you’d have a pretty cunt,” he admits, briefly dipping the head of his cock inside of you, dragging a wanton whimper from your lips, “such a shame y’er so mean to me… would’ve had you like this years ago if not for that nasty little mouth of yours.” He’s sinking inside of you yet again, but only to pull out when he’s gone too deep.

If your father were to walk into this kitchen at this very moment, he’d be utterly appalled. Horrified. You’re writhing beneath him, hips bucking so sluttily against his teasing cock. God, you have never craved something so horribly in your life; you could just die from the sheer deprivation and it’s hilarious to him. He’s taunting you like it’s some cruel fucking game and he’s got the upper hand.

Again, he laughs. “Oh, you want it bad, huh?”

“Yes, fuck.” You growl, evidently frustrated.

“Awwww you mad, sweetheart?” He irritatingly coos, leaning down to press a wet, openmouthed kiss to the nape of your neck. “Is that poor pussy frustrated huh?” Another sloppy kiss between the valley of your shoulder blades, the head of his cock gliding between your glossy lips, spreading you apart. “Heh, she’s cryin’ for it, such a messy girl… drooling all over my cock like that.”

“Please,” it’s a broken, shameless plea as you crane your head, beautiful tears of desperation pricking your eyes, your pride somewhere so far gone, “pleasepleaseplease.”

A dark, breathy chuckle parts his lips, aching cock jerking against your awaiting hole. For years, he’s imagined you just like this — begging and crying for his cock like some insatiable whore. If anything, he’s denying himself; though, what’s left of his restraint quickly perishes at the sight of your sobbing hole tightening around nothing, kissing his shaft in a gleaming, warm mess.

He almost can’t help but to sink inside of you again, instead this time, he’s giving you everything, all of his twitching cock. The abrupt intrusion forces an incredulous gasp past your lips, a low, throaty groan dragging from his slack jaw in tandem. And just as he thought, your greedy pussy is swallowing his fat cock to the base effortlessly, almost as if it was hand tailored for you.

You’re fighting the gnawing urge to run — to clamber across the countertop and cower in fear, but you can’t fucking move. He’s got you pinned to the marble, a heavy hand at the rear of your neck, the other splayed across the thick of your hip, pulling you back onto his cock. It aches. The delirious stretch of his cock and how it steals your breath away, your mouth sagged, yet nothing is uttered. For once in your life, you’re speechless.

“Is this really all it takes, huh?” His hips are reeling back, the shiny essence of your arousal sheathing the entirety of his cock. “God, is this all it fucking takes to shut you up? A cock in this slutty little pussy, huhhh?” The bruising snap of his hips as he pummels forward nearly has you gushing down the length of him all too soon. “Answer me… and use your big girl words, c’mon sweetheart.” 

A loud, desperate gasp of air is all you can manage, bottom lip trembling as you attempt to say something, anything. The hand that holds your neck is threading throughout your mussed hair, forcing your gaze onto his and he can’t help but to laugh at your stupid expression — drool spilling from the corners of your mouth, thick brows knitted so tightly as your pretty eyes threaten to cross. Of course you can’t fucking speak, you’re drunk.

“My goodness, I wish you could see yourself… you’re so stupid on it,” he admires almost endearingly, a warm, mindless thumb grazing your bottom lip, “that perfect fucking face, god. You are so pretty taking it, such a goooood pretty slut for that cock, fuck.” The near possessive growl that belts from the depths of his lungs is like nothing you have ever heard — so filthy and shameless and ridden with his unbearable lust.

Toji is completely losing himself in the wet, endless abyss of pleasure that is you. Babbling nothing but loud, reckless praises, your pretty name spilling so willfully from his slutty tongue. He can hardly help the way he’s subconsciously jerking you back onto his cock. His big, greedy hands tighten so possessively around your pretty waist, meeting himself halfway. The obscene plap! of his achingly full balls beating up your quivering clit with each ensuing thrust.

“Thaaat’s it, you’re so good, that pussy is so fucking good… takin’ it soo deep for me.” He mindlessly blabbers, a large hand creeping beneath the thin fabric of your shirt, the calloused pads of his fingers sweeping across your soft, perspiring skin.

Every coherent thought you have ever had is long forgotten, poor mind completely barren. He’s the only thing you can hear, think, feel — the greedy hands that wordlessly command you, the warm stretch of his drooling cock as it wholly splits you apart. Even the fat, curious thumb that’s sinking inside of that other poor, neglected hole of yours is prying your lips open in a helpless mewl of pleasure.

“It’s sooo good… sooofuckingooood, oh my god.” You snarl, teeth bared and his jaw nearly unhinges — you sound so fucking pretty. “I love it, I love it, I loveee your c-cock.”

“Yeaaah, sweetheart?” He coos, heavy head deliriously falling back to dangle between his broad shoulders. “God, you needed this, didn’t you? Look at your hips buck like such a nasty slut.” A loud, ear splitting smack! lands against the fat of your ass. “Do you dream about it after you fuck yourself and cum all over my clothes, huh?” Another smack! to the other cheek, your poor cunt consequently squeezing down the base of his cock. “No fucking shame either.”

You possess half the brain to respond, not sure whether to shake your head or nod, too far gone to even make sense of anything anymore. Moan after unrestrained moan spill from both of your raptured tongues, the two of you sharing a few synchronous gasps of air or delirious cries of overwhelming pleasure. It’s the most debauched, yet utterly erotic thing you have ever experienced, but then, there’s a loud, roaring voice that’s stilling Toji’s hips.

“What the fuck is going on here?!”

Fuck.

© fushiguho.

[velvetwyrme]

More character designs for Distilling Destiny! This time, they are side characters (the Masked Merchants!) You can find the lineup of main characters here!

[Design notes under the cut! Plus extra worldbuilding notes!]

First off! Design notes!

I feel like it's pretty obvious which skeletons these 3 are meant to parallel LMAO.

The overall designs are inspired by some of the NPC Merchants my cowriter and I discussed while planning out the fic (Beedle from LoZ, and Zacharie from OFF)

Zacharie was the inspiration for giving them masks, and Beedle is why the Knight-Shopkeep has his big backpack as well as why the masks have horns! (... Like a horned stag beetle? It's a stretch but shhh)

The Cart Merchant's cart is intended to look kind of like Sans' sentry station!

I was debating whether the cart would have parts that could fold out/be stuck in the ground to extend it, but then I thought... if he had them, he'd be too lazy to set them up anyway.

This way he can just ride around in it and not have to worry about lugging his stuff around like the others.

The Knight-Shopkeep's got two feathers in his hat like the Bard does ;]

I was going to give the Knight-Shopkeep a big hammer, but a sword looked cooler with the pose LMAO

The Knight-Shopkeep also has another horn hidden under his hat!

He sells potions and cooking ingredients! (In the fic, Blue is studying health + culinary science...)

The Shady Merchant has a golden horn instead of a gold tooth

The fur around the Shady Merchant's shoulder is a reference to what he trades, but it's also supposed to represent Red's fluffy jacket.

I gave him a sack because I thought it was funny. I almost made him the type to open up his jacket and try to sell you watches or something, but it didn't really work out, and this design fits a lot better.

That sigil is meant to be his own personal "signature", made up of aspects of his mask, as well as his kingdom, but The Cart Merchant is lazy and uses shorthand. The proper symbol would be something like an actual ❤️ shape. In universe, the larger heart shape made up by both parts is purely a coincidence. The G on the other banner is just a currency sign (like $, €, ¥, £).

AND NOW...

Here's some MORE lore tidbits that (probably) won't get mentioned in the fic, because they are just weird worldbuilding things that I've thought of but aren't really relevant in any of the discussions!!:

The Cart Merchant will try to scam you probably. (5G? i meant 50G.)

The furs and pelts the Shady Merchant procures are incredibly high quality- but he almost exclusively trades for other material supplies or information instead of gold.

I actually started trying to figure out a numeric system for this world, and it was at that point I realised I was getting lost in the sauce and thinking too much about worldbuilding.

HOWEVER, SAYING THAT... I was thinking that an upturned heart (spade) would be the symbol for 1, the v/shorthand heart shape would also double (haha) as the sign for 2. The clover (club) would be 3 and the diamond would be 4.

THAT came about because I was thinking about there being a myth/fable about the 4 (main) kingdoms having been created in that order (spade, heart, club, diamond).

The merchant masks are kind of like clown faces, in the way that there is a record of every single mask to make sure that there are no two that are the same. (Two masks may have the same horns, but different markings, and vice versa.)

The number of horns on a mask depends on which kingdom they come from. Sometimes prongs are also used instead of separate horns. (e.g. a merchant from the "Diamond"/Fourth kingdom may have 4 seperate horns, or 2 horns with 2 points each.)

Markings vary, but generally they too will be themed around the kingdom they hail from.

This is part of why the Shady Merchant is so shady- he has no marking/s, and his horns are... well, he claims to be from the second kingdom.

[percicosoftcore]

sometimes it’d be easier if i were the kind of percico stan/writer who thrives on developing coffee shop aus and domestic fluff stories (those are gold!) and not someone who is dying to write a 300 pages epic fanfiction on how they got together with the help of arduous battles, charismatic side-characters, goddesses who have ancient beef with each other, metalcore bands concerts, a house on the beach and (obviously), misunderstandings.

[averlym]

no one would notice if i ever vanished // if bodies could sustain // this never-ending army // like blood pumping through a vein

(click for better resolution!)

:OOO hello. anyway since these are all posters i'd have in an ideal world or smth and i'd like to store the high res versions somewhere,,, here's the google drive folder for them? hehe ''

close up!

[miaoqing]

Okay, I've been thinking a lot about that whole thing with using the term "unreliable narrator" for Shen Yuan, and I want to throw in my two cents.

(looong explanation under the cut)

There are two layers to storytelling - narration and focalisation.

A narrator is the voice telling the story; it will usually be either a character inside the story (intradiegetic narrator) or a being outside of the story (extradiegetic narrator) who usually knows at least some of the things that the character/s are thinking or feeling.

Focalisation is about the being whose thoughts the narrator is conveying. A story written in the 1st person pov where a character is narrating their own life would have homodiegetic focalization. A 3rd person pov where the narrator is someone outside of the story would have heterodiegetic focalization. A story where the narrator's knowledge is unlimited has zero focalization.

What we have in SVSSS is a story narrated by a (seemingly) omniscient being, so an extradiegetic and heterodiegetic narrator. Thus, the narrator is someone outside the story, not SY, and calling him an unreliable narrator is wrong. Right?

No! SVSSS has internal focalization, meaning that the narration is focused on the thoughts and feelings of a character, in this case Shen Yuan. (As opposed to external focalization where the narration is limited to just the setting, what characters are doing, etc without delving into their thoughts).

What we read in the story are Shen Yuan's thoughts and feelings in the 3rd person. So far so good - nothing weird there. The trouble comes in the form of the fact that obviously, somewhere along the way, SY's actual thoughts/feelings get filtered/censored, so to speak, and we read a stripped down/edited version of them. This means that somewhere along the line, someone is unreliable. But we don't know who - maybe we are reading a straight up transcription of SY's thoughts and he is just that much more delusional than we thought. Maybe the narrator is leaving some things out, or isn't granted access to his "true" thoughts. It's impossible to tell.

The only thing we know for sure is that we are reading what we are meant to believe to be what SY sees happening/thinks about/feels. What we do not know is whether or not that is the objective truth.

So - even though Shen Yuan isn't the "narrator" by definition, it is still through his eyes that we see the events of SVSSS happening. There are no truly objective statements in SVSSS - it's all composed of Shen Yuan's thoughts, and who knows how much of the truth is lost to his mental gymnastics. As I said before, we don't know where exactly the unreliabilty comes from, but unless you want to have to write out this entire explanation every time and still not even have a definitive answer, let's just say that Shen Yuan is the unreliable one for simplicity's sake.

TL;DR it's fine to call Shen Yuan an "unreliable narrator" and to pull the "oh but he isn't narrating the story" is to pointlessly argue semantics. We all know what we mean by "unreliable narrator". it's not that deep. just laugh at the joke and move on. thanks for coming to my tedtalk

[camellcat]

midnight mania strikes again

[glowinggator]

have you ever been so in love with a character that it's just impossible to put pen to paper? you can have the most vivid daydreams, and yet trying to write about them is just impossible. if so, we should form a union or something, these conditions are completely unfair

[sweet-beezus]

I'm conjuring up a new lil guy...

[swamp-chicken]

My word any of those prompts sound amazing but may I request 14 for ethubs? Thank you! :D

14. I hate singing but I will sing for you // 758 words

“No, seriously, how have you never heard of Auld Lang Syne?”

“I don’t know, it’s never come up!”

The coffee shop was bustling this evening, hermits curled over their warm drinks, quiet chatter occasionally punctuated by the whoosh of milk being steamed at the espresso machine. It was technically open mike night, but no one had volunteered other than Joe, who had been steadily reading through Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” for the better part of an hour.

“It’s a new years tradition, Bdubs.” Etho insisted. He was sitting at the counter, slapping the bar top emphatically. “You gather together with your friends, you sing the song, you cheer.”

“I don’t believe you. What does that even mean? Old lang sin?”

“It’s,” Etho paused. “It doesn’t matter. It’s a tradition.”

Bdubs poured a latte into the shape of a… heart? Well, maybe a pinecone. He handed it to Tango and turned back to Etho. “You should sing it for us, then.”

Etho blinked “Me? No way. You’re the one that can sing.”

“As we’ve established, I don’t know the song, Etho.” Bdubs tugged the clipboard that held the open mic sign-up sheet across the counter. “So I’ll put you down for one rendition of ‘Old man sing?’”

“Bdubs!” Etho hissed, trying to wrest the clipboard away from him. “No way!”

The balcony door opened and Cleo let herself in. She spotted Joe, frowned and made a beeline towards the counter. “I thought we were doing christmas carols?” she asked Bdubs, hushed.

Bdubs grimaced. “You and me both. No, it’s apparently the novel.”

Cleo groaned. “Joe.”

Bdubs smirked at Etho. “This guy, though, he’s volunteered to sing us something! Old sing long.”

“Auld Lang Syne,” Etho corrected offhandedly. Then, catching Bdubs and Cleo’s smiles: “No, I am not singing.”

“Oh, Etho, I think it would be lovely.” Cleo cajoled. Etho swore he saw something dark in her smile.

Bdubs though, was smiling at him genuinely. He covered Etho’s hand with his own. “Come on, you would do great. And it would really liven the place up.”

Against his better judgement, Etho wavered. “Well…”

“Please?” Bdubs asked. “For me? I love to hear you sing, but you never let me.” He pouted.

Bdubs eyes were shining, his cheeks pink from the heat of the room. Etho didn’t stand a chance. “Fine,” he said gruffly. “I’ll do it. For you.”

Cleo nudged him. “Look at you, being so sweet.”

Etho rolled his eyes. He tried to will down the heat in his face.

Bdubs didn’t notice. He had snatched the clipboard back and was scribbling down Etho’s name with a beaming grin on his face. He finished writing with a flourish, and raised his eyebrows at Etho. “Are you ready to go on now?”

“Am I… what?” Etho stuttered.

“Thank you so much, Joe!” Bdubs announced, loudly. The cafe quieted. Joe, interrupted mid-sentence, merely blinked. Bdubs walked around the counter and grabbed Etho by the arm, hauling him behind him. “Thanks so much for that great story! Next up is our very own Etho!”

“Oh,” Joe said. “Well, that’s Dickens everyone. I hope you enjoyed!” There was some scattered applause. Nonplussed, Joe closed the book and sat next to Cleo.

Bdubs lowered the mic. “Like I said, next up we have Etho, singing… what was it again?”

“Auld Lang Syne,” Etho sighed.

“Auld Lang Syne!” Bdubs proclaimed. “Feel free to sing along if you know it. Etho says it’s a tradition but he is frequently wrong, so.” Bdubs stepped back and gestured at the mic. “All yours!”

Etho stepped forward, heart suddenly pounding. Bdubs hopped off the stage, returning to his place behind the counter.

“Right,” Etho said. He tried to re-adjust the mic. “As Bdubs said… wow, this is low. Bdubs, you’re so short.”

“Hey!” Bdubs squawked.

There were a few laughs, and Etho peered into the crowd, relieved to see Scar and Grian giggling in the corner.

“As Bdubs said… he doesn’t think this is a real song. So, please help me prove him wrong.” More laughs. Impulse, Pearl, and Gem were smiling at him from a table.

“It’s absolutely a real song!” Beef shouted.

“Yeah, let’s show him,” Tango agreed.

Etho let out a breath. These were all his friends, here in the crowd tonight. He glanced at Bdubs, was was watching him from behind the counter, eyes bright with affection. “Everyone… on three! And a one, and a two…”

The whole shop joined in.

[not-krys]

47. Creation [Abby, Miri]

Happy Last Wednesday of March! It's that time again, another theme to get the writing juices going. This time, we got the theme of creation!

Raw, unedited writing below. We got Leonardo making observations about Abby and Vincent in her section, while Miri's section is cute and sweet with Luke and Barbatos.

Check out my masterlist!

-----

Abby

Leonardo stood in the doorway of Vincent's room, sunlight pouring into the room, but there was something else in the room that could rival the sun in brightness and warmth.

Vincent's back was to him, his apron tied loosely around his torso. His feet were planted firmly on the floor as he sat on his stool. And if that had been the only thing of note, he might have left, to leave a fellow artist to his creation devices.

But the second set of feet, dangling between Vincent's, and a smaller hand holding onto a paintbrush in his, had the older vampire smiling with affection.

He remembered the day he had found Abby struggling to make her lines looser and how he had given her some tips, as an artist, but also to help with her general demeanor. Scrunched up like a nervous kitten wouldn't help her in the long run and he had hoped the message got across when he was teaching her.

Now, it seemed it was Vincent's turn to help her, much closer to her than he had been, sitting in his lap. Both of them were growing bolder, he thought. A natural process for Abby as she was overcoming her timidity, but she wasn't the only one growing bold. Leonardo looked at his hand, remembering when he had attempted to pat her head, something he had done countless times to encourage the little cara before, only for Vincent's hand to stop him, pushing him away from her not unlike a lover would protect his love from unwarranted advances.

He chuckled and pushed away from the door frame, closing the door fully behind him. He also couldn't help but see Vincent's hand tightening on Abby's thigh, a blue eye briefly glancing directly at him for a split second before returning his attention back to the painting session.

Even for all of his long life, Leonardo felt the briefest of chills from that single look and started walking away, lighting his cigarillo as he walked away.

"Cavolo…" he whispered, shaking his shoulders of their tension.

----------

Miri

Miri looked at the timer on her D.D.D and checked the time, Luke standing nearby. Barbatos held onto oven mitts that matched Miri's and Luke's mitts, a gentle smile on his face.

"Is it almost done?" Luke asked.

"It's pretty close, I think." Miri answered, checking the time one last time. "It should be pretty close to that cake we saw on Devilgram the other day."

"What was it called?"

"In the Human Realm, we called it a castella cake."

"And you bake it with steam?"

"Yep, that's what makes it so light and fluffy, along with all the air inside it. That's what makes it move like that."

"It wiggled so much in that Devilgram video, it looked alive!"

"I hope this one wiggles just as much!"

A soft beeping soon echoed in the kitchen, alerting all three to the time.

"Moment of truth, everyone!" Miri said, stepping to one side of the giant oven. Luke scrambled over to her side, oven mitts at the ready.

"Please be cautious as I open the door." said Barbatos, carefully pulling down on the handle.

Hot air soon filled the room, making Miri and Luke wince, but only momentarily as the smell of baked cake soon followed. Barbatos pulled the rack forward, hot water sloshing around in the pan.

"On the count of three," Barbatos said, putting his mitted hands on one side of the baking pan. Miri and Luke took the opposite corners, ready to lift the massive cake from its watery bath, which was both longer and stood taller than all three bakers combined.

On his command, the three lifted the massive cake, moving it to the nearby counter, amazed at how much it did indeed move and wiggle, dancing to their movements.

"Wahh!" Luke exclaimed, "it does move!"

"Told you it would!" Miri laughed.

Barbatos only smiled gently.

"I'm sure that everyone will be pleased with your efforts, both of you. A job well done."

"We all made it together!" Miri said, "and I think there should be enough for everyone! Even Beel!"

"Perhaps you should message them to come to the castle?" Barbatos was already turning away, intent on finding his master, hopefully still working on the paperwork left for him that day.

"Yeah, it's waaay too big for me to carry by myself. We can have a castella party!"

"Yeah!" Luke said, "I'll message Simeon and Solomon! They have to come too!"

[impatentpending]

hey babe it's fun seeing you back for go2 <3

also when you said "fic idea" it was like i got a chill up my spine (no pressure!!! /srs. I'd just be soooo excited to read a go fic written by you)

hi bestie!! I'm both delighted and surprised to find myself emerging from my WordGirl AO3 hidey-hole

The extent to which GO2 has grabbed me by the collar and kissed me sadly refused to let me go is a shock for everyone, most of all myself

And funny you should say so... :)

[yoonyia]

my humanity in a book series now that I actually think about the premise is so weird.

the original concept is just to prove that all of humanity's pain and suffering and joys and gifts can be shown in just a few books, that a lot of our struggles are shared and a lot are unique but that they're all inherently human.

no matter what experience you go through it's going to be a human experience because you are a human, and no matter how isolated and alone or exiled you feel the rest of humanity you are still infact human and take that part of you everywhere

you will always be a step in some direction of humanity no matter what that deed is

it's not meant to be read as comforting, in all honesty most of the characters find the idea of never not being human to be sort of disturbing. But that's a part of the human experience too. To look at humanity and say "man we suck"

But now I'm looking at it and it's more then that

the book is set in the 32nd century

although because of my lack of imagination I can't think of what the language would be like I did haphazardly put together a culture that I personally felt like matched the common trend of development in humanity

everyone is given a livable space, concept of currency really isn't a thing (but that's less on humanity and just because the space colony is made up of roughly 10,000 people and trade is impossible, there's more reasons too but I won't get into them at this moment) and in all honesty the society is fundamentally different then most societies on earth.

It's what you would call a utopia but it's such an obvious system that no body even considers it good. They talk only about the unfairness of the council members and the inhuman layout the colony is built on to make it relatively fair between all people. (I say fair not equal because they do take children, occupation and just size of person into account, which yes is a nightmare for everyone invloved)

but I dont know if you see it but there's a disconnect

they don't value the things we value, they don't have the same desires the same ambitions the same secret indulges, many conflicts are the same as they are now but they have a completely different context, different reactions from people, different tones and no real recognizable side we usually see in modern debates.

it's worse then if it were completely different conflicts, then you could just do some narrative translation and make it based off of the modern lense but you can't do that because it's the same conflict. ofcourse it's not to a point where your brain thinks "I can't compherehend this at all" but actually that makes it worse, because it is compherehensible it just isn't common

it's a story trying to tell you that all human experiences are inherently human but it's showing you a humanity that you can't really quite connect with

things you think are basic desires exist but they're not considered the core things that makes someone human, there's something alien about these people that you can't really agree with the actions they take and can't make sense of the movements and words they make.

800 years is a long time and I wanted to show it but I made a story that's inherently ironic

it still fits the original theme, it might fit it even better since it's telling you no matter how much humanity changes its still going to be humanity

but I left my audience behind, I alienated them to show them that they are human, that despite the alienation they're still apart of this society that they're reading about that dosent feel quite right

it's a weird thing to do

I really thought this book was going to be simple to write but I'm already adding layers and I don't think I'm going to stop

and also the science aspect behind this story excites me so much

I'm no biology major so half the stuff I come up with for the alien planet's are probably going to be impossible but it's fun to write about

espicially the plants, I found the heat regulated Lilly pads to be really fun to think up of

also fox like creatures that glow under uv light, gosh that took so much research

they're adorable by human standards but they are deathly venomous so please don't pet them

this series isn't even the only one in this universe

there's a second story that I suddenly forgot the name of but it's something like 'Colony 1, Brother Lutangalo' or something similar.

oh and if you haven't noticed yes these books are heavily inspired by the enderverse and I just wanted to go more indepth into the parts of the books that was largely left unexplored. So this series is also inspired by the shadow series, so the humanity in a book is more morality, conceptual and personal in nature the col1 brother lutangalo books are more political and more grounded in the main society (the 2 main characters are sent to set up a colony on a different planet so they aren't really on the main colony themselves) the main narrator being lutangalo which is the son of the 108 year old colony leader Lau. (this society also has a euthanization law that all people over the age of 100 by law must die to prevent over population, but religious leaders are protected so they can live pass 100 indefinitely) and is currently 8 when you first meet him. Actually his books don't start until he's 12, we meet him when he's 8 because that's the year the 2 main characters comes back

his books, and I'm calling them his books because this series is heavily centered on the one character rather then the humanity series which is forced to jump between people in different time and space to get the message across because the 2 main characters litterally don't react to anyone else but eachother for the majority of book one, all of book 2 and half of book 3 (at least that's what my planning says but it may change when I get to writing the drafts)

anyways his books are very focused on the family that he's apart of and how they affect the colony, it also focuses on the personal perspective of this one kid which is honestly the closet thing the readers get to a instinctually relatable character, he has all the impulses and needs a person of the current age would have, because he basically lived in the 21st century because of his obsessive need to research about Mr ari who is notoriously a history nerd.

so you're finally getting a person that lives and breathes in the same patterns as you do.

and he's so miserable

he is one of the most troubled, impulsive people you have ever met

but also the calmest and kindest and gentlest person at the same time

he's a horrible liar until he isn't, he's intelligent and self aware until he's shockingly oblivious

just a ball of horrible contradictions that feels way too unstable and flipfloppy to be consistently relatable

yes of course in several moments you will exclaim "ha, he's just like me!" but it's going to be rather hard to admit that all of his experiences and actions are relatable or even compherehensible

unlike the first series it's not justifiable in any rational way

it's messy, it's complicated, it's convoluted and he's honestly awful in some scenes

but thats human too

[zoanzon]

An idea I just had that I've already decided is the funniest fucking premise for Stranger Things fanfiction? Have national events from other fandoms unexpectedly happen in later seasons and derail post-S1 plot, or zoom out of S1-2 Hawkins to show the town's just in the background of other weirdness.

Like...Hawkins kids through adults have all seen footage of when a mutant picked up a sports stadium and dropped it around the White House and nearly killed Nixon, and then the Party meets 011 and sees that she has powers.

Or a year or two into Hawkins bullshit, when news goes worldwide of a glowing golden man who appeared in the sky above a cruise ship, and shortly after trauma-derived powers become a thing that derails the next Upside Down misadventure.

Hell, what happens if Hawkins gets visited by that pesky Department of Scientific Intelligence, and the Party learns the National Lab isn't the only government agency populated by inhumanities wearing human faces?

[crabs-but-better]

watching blue eye samurai w my dad and it’s like really good but we haven’t established any rules for sex scenes when mom’s not around because usually she’s the one that freaks out and fast forwards through everything, so we kind of just sit there awkwardly.

[hauntingblue]

So roger gave the hat to shanks(to become pirate king after him I guess?) But didn't make it??? Lmao