#I'm a cat person but this makes me reconsider

[bonefall]

Do you have any plans for Frost’s littermates in ASC?

It's odd that Canon!Curlfeather is portrayed on the screen as a scheming character who was fully willing to manipulate her daughter into a position of power, and smart enough to know that she needed lackeys to carry out her dirtywork... and yet, seemingly had no plans for her other two kids.

On one hand, I can understand her wanting to "use" her family as little as possible. You could say she's willing to make a sacrifice with Frostkit's comfort, but wants to spare her other children from it.

On the other hand... I just don't feel like that works. I want to portray BB!Curlfeather as someone who truly believes every choice she made was good for her children. She might reconsider some of her beliefs based on her closeness to Morningstar while in the Dark Forest, but in life, she is absolutely the sort of person who would have a use in mind for her kittens.

I'm not super proud of these quick designs I made for Mistpaw and Graypaw, but here's a first draft;

You probably notice that they're all dog-like, and that's because they are direct descendants of Bluestar in BB! WOLF MOTIF BABEY

In fact, this is going to be a massive contributor towards their characterizations. I may be shuffling my tree in some other ways to make for better faction drama in RiverClan, but BB!Curlfeather priding her lineage, especially as it connects to Crookedstar and Stonefur, is very important to how it shapes her identity.

DESIGN AND DRABBLE BENEATH THE CUT;

On the wolf motif as a whole;

To begin with; note the apple-leaf eye markings! They are subject to the Mapleshade Curse.

Something I like to play with a lot is misconceptions about wolf behavior. For Bluestar herself, where this all began, I use the myth of the "lone wolf" as symbolism that she never truly acted alone.

At every turn, she had friends and family. Her sacrifices, her ruling style, everything she's ever done, is based on her love for both ThunderClan as well as the cats in other Clans.

The symbol of her friend group, the Forget-Me-Not, comes to symbolize Fire Alone as an ideology.

So... the Curlkin.

What I'm playing with is the idea that wolves are perfect, ferociously strong predators from birth.

Curlfeather wants to eventually give her children strong, respectable positions in the Clan. For Frostpaw, that's the Cleric position.

For the other kids, she was still assessing them as they were growing. Deputyship would have been for one of them, but she hadn't planned so far ahead that it would have been unreasonable.

"When you see a fish upstream, you don't race ahead to catch it downriver."

So, she wanted Mist and Gray to be strong and always encouraged them to achieve greatness. They were battle training as soon as they could, and never missed a day.

But it wasn't really their interest, and they weren't really "naturally gifted" or anything. They just do what their mom tells them is good to do for their future.

As a result I want all of them to look a little goofy in some way, except Curlfeather herself.

Frostpaw herself is the softest of the lot, but I want to make sure Gray and Mist are pretty obviously sweeter than they seem too.

Unfortunately though, I don't think I captured what I was going for. I'm definitely gonna give the Frost Siblings a second pass, while Frostpaw will just get refined a little.

Graypaw

He's naturally huge. Even as a newborn, people would comment about him being a big fat kitten.

As a result, he was probably the most "promising," early on.

Understand though; this wasn't necessarily nefarious. Having accomplished warriors as offspring is a sign of a great warrior, it makes a strong family.

It didn't mean she only saw her largest child as an opportunity. He just had great potential, which she would nourish.

He's a little bit entitled as a result. He's big, he works hard, his family's a big deal, he knows it.

And that's sort of his "issue," if you want to call it that. He's not really interested in honor for honor's sake, or improving himself for the sake of the Clan, the way his mother would expect a great warrior like herself to be.

He likes the tangible rewards of strength and is motivated by approval.

...which causes him to be a bully to those he considers weaker.

That ear got shredded in a fight somehow, I haven't decided yet if there's going to be another set of apprentices around the time, if it was Splashtail or his sister, or if it was a cat from another Clan who got tired of his shit lmaoo

(In any case it was NOT his mother.)

Since him and his sister have "obedient to their mother" as major personality traits, I decided to give them both domestic dog characteristics. Graypaw has a german shepherd "stance."

I really like when people give Gray some cream in his design, so I made him look kinda like how I imagine Stonefur.

I don't really like it, though, especially since he's usually described as "silver tabby."

In my next draft, I'll probably make him look more like "Swansong if he had the wolf motif."

And also fatter. They are not fat enough. These are RiverClan warriors and they are all too damn skinny.

Frostpaw

Since this arc began, I've imagined that Frosty has a sort of "little red riding hood" vibe. It's been mixing in my head with the wolf motif, the phrase "wool over the eyes," and the idea of a wolf in sheep's clothing to result in a sort of wooly cloak idea.

Something about a wolf cub who doesn't know who to trust-- the Big Bad Wolf, or the Lumberjack with a blood-soaked axe.

Lost, confused, their whole world turned upside down.

(hmmm.... maybe I'll do a thing where, before their mom's death, the wool covers her eyes. When she sees her die, the look of shock and horror is etched into her face forever.)

In BB, the Clan cats are monitored by scientists. They wouldn't be spaying or neutering the subjects of their investigation-- so I made her iconic "scars" MUCH bigger.

In fact, they're autopsy stitches. I'm going for a sort of "BROUGHT BACK FROM THE DEAD" vibe there.

Real "there is no way you would have survived those injuries without modern medicine" hours

I'm satisfied with this design, so I probably won't be changing it much besides tweaks. Though, I might make it so her "belly" wasn't exposed before the scientists shaved it to stitch her back up.

NOTE: If you wanna see more Frostpaw Plans, go check out this post where I jotted down a ton of ideas, it's also got further links to explore on BB!ASC thoughts I've been sitting on

Mistpaw

This is the one I like the least. She looks waaaaay too much like an Ivypool.

In my next pass I need to make her look cuter and goofier, give her some curls.

Like Graypaw, she only has one particularly unique scene in ASC so I'm building her personality around that.

Graypaw was a bit of a bully, so Mistpaw's got her mom's silver tongue and sharp wit. She can give a Mistystar speech if she wants.

She's a natural thinker, very curious, willing to question. It's something Curlfeather encourages in her, always coming in with the right answer to keep her satisfied.

"Mom, why do we train so much harder than everyone else?"

"To outdo them, of course."

"But... why train so hard when there's no threat? The impostor is gone, we're at peace."

"Oh, my love. You cannot pack a week's worth of training into the minute before a battle. They come hard and fast, and your attacker will have the advantage of surprise. Only practice will compensate."

Though Gray was a really big kitten and naturally imposing, Mist would be the one Curlfeather would ultimately decide was most fitting as a deputy.

If they'd gotten to that point, the siblings probably would have gotten in more fights as Gray started desiring the position for its benefits.

He'd see his mom was clearly giving Mist more opportunities to prove herself, and demand equal chances.

Mist would start thinking of Gray as a stupid bully who thinks he deserves everything because his shoulders are big.

BOTH of them would probably start trying to get Frost to support them over the other.

It would have been a MESS.

BUT, they never did get to that point. Curl was pretty equally focused on them at the point where she died.

When Graypaw got his ear shredded, Mistpaw thought it looked disgusting and horrific and "decided" to crop her own entirely. For reasons I covered in this Hearing Loss guide, RiverClan relies very little on hearing while hunting anyway.

I wanted Mistpaw to look extremely practical, and reference the cropped ears of a domestic dog. Give her a sort of "doberman" vibe.

Something struck me that Curlfeather could have talked her daughter into getting her ears cropped, both to show visually that she's politically grooming her just as much as she's politically grooming Frostpaw.

But... I'm unsure if I'll stick with it. I might have both Gray AND Mist get their ears cropped, or neither.

I also batted around the idea of a cropped tail, too, but THAT would definitely be too far since a tail is very important in swimming.

In fact, I made her tail waaaay too short and her build too thin, in the pursuit of that "doberman" idea.

Again; not a fan of this design. I will probably re-use it later or just give it away. Maybe I'll wait until I have a couple of "Rejected BB Designs" and do an adoptable batch lmao.

[wyattjohnston]

with the posting of the masterlist, the summer fic exchange 2k24 has come to an end! 33 fics written by 31 people. i am eternally grateful that these exchanges are still going strong and that people are having fun with it!

please read all the fics below, even if it's a player you don't normally read for. a lot of work has gone into these fics and they all deserve your time. make sure to reblog and leave comments when you've read it!

please respect all warnings at the beginning of fics. if a fic has been marked as smut or 18+ and you are younger than, do the right thing and do not read it.

i'm still unsure if i'm running a winter exchange or if i'm going to maybe reconsider the timing, but please come back and feel free to ask questions around november/december if i haven't said anything!

the summer fic exchange 2k24 masterlist

Boston Bruins

Jeremy Swayman

Indoor Cat by @nhl-stories for @ bqstqnbruin

Carolina Hurricanes

Andrei Svechnikov

i’ve been yours since you stepped through the door tonight by @writingonleaves for @ callsign-denmark

Third Time's the Charm by @typical-simplelove for @ kurlyteuvo

Frederik Andersen

But Baby, It Feels Like Love by @callsign-denmark for @ mp0625

Chicago Hawks

Teuvo Teravainen

I Think I Dreamed You Into Life by @kurlyteuvo for @ lila-rose

Colorado Avalanche

Nathan MacKinnon

hide the sun by @ohmyeyesmyeyes for @ wyattjohnston

Edmonton Oilers

Connor McDavid

i'm half-doomed and you're semi-sweet by @offside-the-lines for @ hiding-from-reality-56

Leon Draisaitl

… but you're going to by @senditcolton for @ thewintersoldierdisaster

Blue Hair and Pronouns by @hiding-from-reality-56 for @ nhl-stories

Florida Panthers

Matthew Tkachuk

always attract by @dunnerlars for @ sc0tters

truth or dare by @boqvistsbabe for @ ohmyeyesmyeyes

Montreal Canadiens

Cole Caufield

four weddings and a funeral by @thewintersoldierdisaster for @ prettytoxicrevolver

Juraj Slafkovsky

Summer Vacation by @prettytoxicrevolver for @ lam-ila

New Jersey Devils

Dawson Mercer

Baseball and Love by @lam-ila for @ hischier-papaya

Jack Hughes

CHASING YES by @puckology101 for @ tonsypep

Nico Hischier

home is just another word for you by @fallinallincurls for @ puckology101

felt like magic by @laurenairay for @ selfindulgentpoorlywritten

good luck, babe by @nol-pat for @ fallinallincurls

turbulent by @wyattjohnston for @ dunnerlars

walked in and dream came trued it for ya by @gravestrain for @ nol-pat

New York Islanders

Mat Barzal

First Time Feeling by @huuuuughes for @ ahockeywrites

truth or dare by @dunnerlars for @ writingonleaves

Matt Martin

I can't help it if I like it by @laurenairay for @ comphy-and-cozy

New York Rangers

Alexis Lafreniere

Romance in The Hamptons by @lifeofpriya for @ wildrangers

Matt Rempe

MEDICINE by @lila-rose for @ 2 manytabsopen

Pittsburgh Penguins

Anthony Beauvillier

one night standards by @comphy-and-cozy for @ offsidethelines

Tattoos of You by @bqstqnbruin for @ senditcolton

Ryan Graves

The First Time by @selfindulgentpoorlywritten for @ gravestrain

Seattle Kraken

Philipp Grubauer

Pfirsich by @mp0625 for @ huuuuughes

Toronto Maple Leafs

Joseph Woll

sunset by @hischier-papaya for @ lifeofpriya

William Nylander

I Wish You Would by @wildrangers for @ typical-simplelove

Vancouver Canucks

Quinn Hughes

somehow still stuck on you by @matthewtkachuk for @ boqvistsbabe

walkin' with his head down, i'm the one he's walking to by @tonyspep for @ laurenairay

if the person you wrote for hasn’t read and reblogged your fic, please tell me.

i only tag the person who wrote the fic as there are limited tags.

[pyroclastic727]

The Marvels is being scathed by critics, and that's a good thing.

I finally saw The Marvels today. I'm a bit late to the party, so all I saw about the movie was the teaser at the end of Ms Marvel, and way too many critical reviews of it.

Now, obviously on Tumblr you find the good reviews, like, the cats outnumbering the white men and how Kamala Khan is, like, basically all of us. But in person, I've had someone tell me that it's bad because Rotten Tomatoes rates it 43%, which-- besides wondering why anyone would listen to Rotten Tomatoes, I'd have to wonder why the website would give it such a low rating. The easy answer is that the Tomatoes review committee is populated by white men, who, upon having no one to relate to, react badly to the movie. But I think there's more to it.

The Marvels is a revolution. Through its character-driven writing and brazen exploration of morality, it rewrites the superhero formula completely, by questioning what exactly it means to be a superhero.

The Marvels was directed by Nia DaCosta, an award-winning Harlem native and creative visionary whose approach to this film was to define these characters as humans, not as superheroes. Her approach to heroism directly addresses that the idea that a hero is not always right. A hero, DaCosta claims, is "someone who's trying their best with the information and tools they have at the time. They'll always get it wrong." Carol Danvers's arc directly addresses this, as the resolution of her subplot involves her re-igniting the sun that she snuffed out. Her heroic act is to undo the damage that she wrought.

When compared to old Marvel, this message just doesn't come through. In WandaVision, Wanda's grief is for a family that was killed by the Avengers. Yet, she is painted as a villain, even as she searches for a happy home, even as she at one point joins the Avengers. The Avengers cannot undo what they did, and don't really try. They defeat the big bad, sacrifice their lives, but nothing brings back Wanda's family. Nothing undoes that war. No one searches for Wanda after the event, to try to help her with her grief, except for Monica, and she's working against orders. Their heroics are militant, but while they excel at destruction, they leave the people they hurt in the dust.

This antiheroic plot of old Marvel is precisely what appealed to so many American audiences. Their protagonists are: a rich corporation, a super-soldier, a privileged teenager, a scientist who makes weapons, an ex-convict, a man born into godlike power, and I'm sure there are others but I don't actually care that much... (these would be iron man, captain america, peter parker spiderman, hulk, antman, thor, and etc). All these archetypes appeal to American ideals that the wealthy would sympathize with. They claim that there are people who are inherently bad and seek the power that they have, in the way that a poor person might want a job that a wealthy person wants their child to secure. They claim that it is their business to save those which cannot save themselves, and use this to get involved in wars that are not theirs, and beat up badguys whose backstory they have no way of knowing-- and they punch before they stop and listen.

They are cops in every sense of the word. The responsibility of the vigilante is to defend against evil, but part of that responsibility is to figure out who exactly is evil and who is in need of help.

The Marvels creates a team that tries to distinguish evil from good, and delves into the grey area between them. The final battle between Carol Danvers and Dar-benn has the superhero pinning the grey-haired antagonist to the ground as she begs for, then demands, that Carol fix what she damaged. Monica urges her to listen. Through this, The Marvels argues that a hero does not always beat up the bad guy and fight against unrelenting evil, but that a hero can be wrong, and that a hero can reconsider. It's kindness in the way that is revolutionary, where it's much easier to choose cruelty.

The fact that the movie is getting torn apart by critics, then, is not just because it is a "girls movie" or it doesn't have a strong white man for the white male viewer to sympathize with. The Marvels cannot appeal to Marvel fans because it rewrites the genre itself. It takes a film series whose purpose was to depict the struggles of cops, of the wealthy, of people with too much power who are trying to learn how to responsibly wield it, but don't. And it gives that power to people who have watched superheroes try and fail, who are slowly learning to be better heroes than the ones before them.

The next generation is a critique of the last, a group trying not to make the mistakes of the chosen ones that came before them, and as such, the movie exists to critique the movies that came before it. Therefore, a viewer of Marvel who would positively review it, due to sympathizing with the previous heroes and enjoying the power fantasy, would dislike it out of its existence being critical and contradictory to the films they like themselves.

The Marvels is not for Marvel fans-- at least, not those who saw the Avengers as purely heroes. Instead, the film reaches out to people who would have been against the old Avengers, who want a story that dismantles the unquestioned idealism of superheroes and writes about people trying to protect their communities and the people they care about.

So, let the critics complain. The MCU is shedding its roots as a pro-cop and pro-colonialism power fantasy, and evolving into an exploration of what it means to be a true hero.

[hellenhighwater]

Real question: how do you not immediately keep all the kittens you foster? Because I would simply die for Nobby. He is so itty-bitty. His head is so large. A certified member of the itty-bitty kitty committee. I understand that you CAN'T do that because you'd run out of space very quickly and they may not all get along, but it seems hard not to get super attached to them. Do you have any tips?

To start, I have a hard three-cat rule--I have no intention of permanently owning more than three cats. I have two right now; there's a vacancy but it's only one spot, so whoever that third cat is, they have to be really special.

The thing is that a healthy indoor cat can easily live 15-20 years, and I may own less than a dozen cats in the whole of my life. I don't think there's really any bad cats out there, but I want the cats I do keep to be ones I absolutely adore. So I'm going to be really, really picky.

For one, I'm trying to mostly foster shorthairs. I have a strong personal preference for longhairs, so I'm less inclined to keep a shorthair kitten. That's superficial, but I know myself. Third cat also has to get along with Mal and Vice, who are night and day in terms of personality, and that's not easy. And I have a rule that my first responsibility is to the pets that I already own, so if I think a kitten is going to be a negative impact on the Tiny Terror's quality of life, then...no kitten. If they'd handled the fosters badly I would probably have reconsidered, but they're adapting well.

And I'm going into this with the full intention of not keeping a cat. I would love to know for certain that each and every one will go to a loving home--again, if you're in MI and want one of these kittens, let me know--but I have to hope that that's what's going to happen when they leave my care.

Also kittens are a lot of work? Mal and Vice are a lot of work, and they've only just passed out of their teenage phase. I am not a person who just brings home a cat; it's a multi-year endeavor of training and communication and it's soooo much more effort to deal with a loose kitten than it is a well-mannered adult. Babies are fun but if I keep them then I have to provide them with an education.

But yes. Nobby is illegally tiny and if he makes it I really hope I get to know that he's found a really special home, because he deserves it.

[phaticserpent]

Me: I'm not overconfident, at all

Also me: I could make Ultron see the good in humanity by talking to him and telling him he wouldn't have to be alone, that it was unfair to put the burden of saving humanity on the shoulders who had no say in it.

I could get him to volunteer weekly at an animal shelter.

REAL, SO REAL

Me: I bet I could help Ultron

Also me: he'd probably be so uninterested in me (rip rip)

If it's chill, I'll do headcanons! (GN reader!)

LISTEN, anyone who shows him the basic human decency would probably make him reconsider everything (probably)

If you show an ounce of understanding and empathy, he would understand that he's not as alone as he would think

HE could change

As someone who was created to be the saving point of humanity and wasn't shown any empathy, he would start to become attached you

You could get him to donate to charities, he could help with homelessness

The two of you would find a place to yourselves and he would donate to no-kill animal shelters - maybe adopting one too

He would follow your lead by feeding stray animals, buying a load of animal food to have a monthly supply of them

So now, wherever the two of you go, an entire crowd of stray dogs and cats would follow after you

Let's be real, he would find anyone attractive - it wouldn't matter if you were the most average or the most beautiful, or the most boring looking person....he would still find you gorgeous

Taglist! (send and ask if you want me to add you on a taglist for a certain character): @moonr3ap3r

[magnagaruzenmon]

A man named Doom NSFW

I am jolted awake, and I notice three things. The first is a badge on my chest it reads, “Sheriff of charisma: Doom” the badge is mostly one solid silvery metal with the name plate portion slotted in. This portion seemed to be more personalized.

After getting that accounted for my eyes snap to the weapons on the desk I sense a familiar malignant aura and pull from them. My weapons had been turned into two revolvers and a carbine with their blades fused to the firearms from the looks of it.

So that means I’ve been unconscious for some time possibly 3-4 days as the craftsmanship is par none, and that takes time.

The last thing I noticed was the young lady sitting in front of me. I sat up as my eyes fully “adjusted” and she came into view, absolutely stunning gorgeous figure hair cut short and just how I liked it, full lips and eyes that breathed intensity. Her hair was a light color but somehow still held strength and buoyancy.

As I moved she noticed me and I said to her,

“Am I dead, and are you an angel?”

The young lady pursed her lips into a faint smile hiding her emotions,

“Well aren't you a Charmer?” she said, my heart skipped a beat her voice was soothing and her eyes now focused were comforting and soft, “to answer your question though not that I know of Sheriff, but who knows? The man with pale horse could have revived you.” the young lady says.

I scratch my face as I think… for me its love at first sight. This girl has stunned me and I don't know how to feel really. The young lady smiles and says, “cat got your tongue?” I nod and reply,

“Its not often I'm met by someone with such captivating beauty okay,”

The lady’s eyes narrow judging before she steps toward me her eyes lock with mine then she says.

“Oh yeah you're smitten. Well Sherrif Doom my name is Momo Hirai. Nice to meet you,” I smile and take her hand. She giggles as I carefully take it and shake her hand. Since she's closer I get a better look at her. Her eyes are a lot softer and sillier up close. There's still an air of intensity around her but she’s also got a… squishy soft aura for lack of a better term. Its distracting. Her blonde/white hair wolf cut is as mesmerizing as the rest of her is. Unable to stop myself my hand finds the side of her face.

Momo surprisingly leans into my touch. “You know you're a bad omen, with a name like Doom and all,” she whispered as our faces grew close. Our eyes locked our bodies inching closer.

“Then make me a good omen and yours!” I exclaimed before kissing her.

The kiss was weird but cathartic. For most kisses are an expression of affection but this felt like an exchange of ourselves. Like I could feel myself giving a part of myself up to her and vice versa. I felt myself give up part of my relentless fire of zeal and passion what I got from her was a spring of calm and joy. It was intense as our hearts marked on each other and the stars bonded us together. When we broke it we stared at each other panting trying to calm our racing hearts. Momo spoke first

“Couldn't help yourself could you?” she teased. I shook my head and said

“Why would I settle for anything but the best?” Momo beams at me then kisses my forehead before a loud crash can be heard. We both roll our eyes before I grab my weapons and then Momo’s hand.

“Oh!” she gasps as I follow her out.

We walk outside to see the whole town (I'm assuming) rioting. I sigh dejected. I noticed that the town didn't all just look like Momo, but had a myriad of men and women with different skin tones builds and heights. In the scuffle, I also noticed some others wearing sheriff badges. I considered my next moves carefully. I could use my magic to stop the riot (and definitely scare the locals) or I could use a cantrip to maybe achieve the same effect. (with less incurred local terror)

“Well there goes my initial thoughts that this was going to be a “peaceful” job,” I thought to myself. Momo turned to me and asked if I'd help I nodded then reconsidered the previous options. I went with the former. I air-wrote a magic circle to make my voice louder than the commotion.

“Excuse me,” I say my voice echoes noticeably through the crowd. Momo turns to me and comments on the ring,

“Oh you're a mage?” she asks

I turn away from the circle so my voice doesn't boom at her.“Kinda. I didn't “study magic” in the traditional way.” I responded

Momo nods and then we turn back to the riot.

“Do you have any other tricks you can do magic man?”

I scratch my head and then say, “I have a bunch the issue is scaring the locals.”

Momo notes this as she says, “a mage who’s mindful about his terrible cosmic power, wow you are different,” she teaes. I shrug I look to her and notice a small rune on the left side of her collarbone.

“What is it ?” she asks?

I point to her collar. She looks down and laughs,“Oh so I guess you are truly in love with me” she says before she giggles some more.

“Its a mark of binding rune akin to symbolizing I found my partner, and have promised myself to them. My race does this when engaging in… marriage I think is the common word. You have one on your right shoulder t” Momo explains and I look down to see. There is an M-shaped rune on my right shoulder. I smirk and Momo asks, “what is it?”

“Well its not often that one gets married to someone so gorgeous.”

“Really you're taking this in stride?” Momo challenges. I nod.

“Before waking up this morning the last thing I remember is walking in a desert, and now I'm not only not in the desert anymore but married to one of the hottest gals I've ever seen. While it's not the best-case scenario it's still pretty good.”

Momo narrows her eyes “And what would be the best-case scenario?”

“Well, we'd be on a beach making out and living on a little idyllic villa really enjoying the honeymoon,” I say. Momo smiles and says,

“We can enjoy the honeymoon still but later we have a riot to stop…well you Mr magic Man,” she challenges. I sigh and have her move slightly behind me before I use more of my magic. As the skin on my hands and feet turn to metal and Loathefire spews out of the a familiar visage of flames covers my chest and opens. About 60-65 tendrils come out to grab the rioters and separate them nonlethally. When I was done my Loathefire dissipated I asked a simple question.

“Are you all done?” the town stared at me with a mix of intrigue and horror.

After the riot was cleared up, I found myself in a meeting with the other sheriffs: Aion, Jojo, Nevin, Grendel, Dredrom, and me, all seated at a large table in the sheriff’s office. Momo had left to help her friends Mina and Sana, the town’s tailors.

The air was thick with tension from the moment I sat down. I could feel eyes on me, sizing me up, judging whether I belonged here.

“So, who are you?” Aion asked first. His eyes were calm, but I noticed a subtle tilt of his head, the way his fingers drummed lightly on the table—he was cautious, already trying to unravel me before I even spoke.

“Well, I can’t say much, as I don’t remember much, but the name’s Doom, and I woke up this morning,” I replied. As I spoke, Dredrom and Nevin exchanged glances. Their jaws tightened—doubt, maybe even suspicion, was etched in the slight narrowing of their eyes. Nevin crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair as if distancing himself from me, while Dredrom’s grip on the edge of the table betrayed his impatience.

“I’m sorry, but I find it a little far-fetched that you would just arrive in the cloak of night, brought in by the pale rider, and have no memory,” Dredrom responded, his voice clipped. He was trying to mask his discomfort, but the way his eyes flicked between me and the others gave away his insecurity—he wasn’t just suspicious, he felt threatened.

I chuckled lightly, watching the subtle shift in their postures—Jojo leaned forward, curious; Nevin uncrossed his arms, readying himself to argue.

“Well, this pale rider offered me a job, and I guess I said yes before collapsing in the desert,” I replied, deliberately keeping my tone relaxed. Humor was often a good way to diffuse tension, but Nevin and Dredrom weren’t in the mood. Nevin’s fingers tapped impatiently on his knee, his foot bouncing lightly under the table—he was on edge.

Before they could tear into me, Jojo interjected, his voice cutting through the building tension. “Your magic—what was it?” His eyes locked onto mine with an intensity I hadn’t expected. He was intrigued, not fearful.

“Loathfire. Specifically, Conqueror’s Spoils,” I answered. I watched for their reactions. Jojo’s expression shifted slightly—his mouth tightened, and a crease formed between his brows. Unnerved.

“It’s unnerving. Don’t use it,” Jojo said firmly. His tone was sharp, flat, like a command. I noticed how his hands remained still on the table, but his fingers curled just enough to signal discomfort. He didn’t like that power, and he wanted control over it.

I paused, knowing what I was about to say would ruffle some feathers, but that didn’t bother me. I caught Aion’s subtle shift in his seat, his eyes flicking between Jojo and me, sensing the coming storm.

“Um, no. If I need to use it, I will. I don’t care about scaring people if there’s a job that needs to be done. If it’s the tool I need, I’ll use it. Besides, you’re all magic users as well,” I said, watching their faces carefully. Jojo’s expression hardened, his lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t respond. Nevin’s hand tightened into a fist in his lap, his jaw clenched in frustration. Dredrom leaned forward, ready to argue, but Aion stood up before it could escalate.

Aion’s movements were slow, measured, the way someone steps in to diffuse a situation without directly taking sides. His eyes were steady as he looked between me and the others. “Then how about you teach it to us?” he asked, trying to maintain a calm but firm tone, though I could hear the underlying tension. It was a diplomatic move, but his clenched jaw revealed he didn’t fully expect me to comply.

I sighed internally, knowing again what I was about to say wouldn’t go over well. I noticed Nevin shift uncomfortably in his seat, bracing himself for an answer he wouldn’t like. Grendel’s eyes flicked between us, watching silently, assessing.

“No. It’s not something you can just teach or learn. And with some of y’all’s spirits, I don’t think you need this kind of power,” I said, my voice deliberately even, though I could feel the tension spike in the room. Nevin’s knuckles went white, gripping the table, while Dredrom leaned forward aggressively, his eyes narrowing with offense. His fingers twitched, as if itching to reach for something—a weapon, maybe, or just the control he felt slipping.

“Oh, and what makes you so right, Mr. Amnesiac and Mysterious?” Nevin spat, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He leaned in as if challenging me, his eyes burning with resentment.

I met his gaze calmly, keeping my tone measured. “You see power as a weapon. I see it as a tool. That’s the difference.” My words hung in the air, and I could feel the silent shift in the room—the way Nevin tensed, bristling under my response, while Dredrom leaned back, clearly agitated. Jojo’s gaze remained fixed on me, but there was something softer in his eyes now, a recognition maybe, or at least a grudging respect for my perspective.

Without waiting for a response, I stood up and walked out. As I reached the door, I caught Grendel’s voice behind me, low but unmistakable. “He’s strong, but he’s going to need to watch his back.” His tone wasn’t hostile—it was more of a quiet observation, the kind of thing someone says when they recognize the dangers that come with standing out.

I didn’t turn around, but I could feel the weight of his words. They weren’t a threat, but a reminder. In this world, power—whether as a tool or a weapon—always comes with a price. As I walked out I left my badge on the hook signifying I was “off duty”

Feeling hungry, I made my way down the dusty street to a building with a sign that read “Emanuel’s Victuals.” The sun hung high, casting sharp shadows across the wooden facade. As I stepped inside, the scent of sizzling meat and fresh herbs hit me—comforting, almost grounding.

Behind the counter, a man with kind eyes and weathered hands smiled at me, the kind of smile that felt like an unspoken welcome.

“How much is a heavy lunch?” I asked, stepping closer.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “We don’t really take payment here if you live here, especially not from the Sheriffs, Mr. Sheriff.” There was something about the way he said it—no fear, no awe. Just genuine warmth, like he’d already accepted me into the fold, even though I barely knew this town.

“We all work for each other here,” he added, and his words hung in the air. I could feel a sense of community in them, the unspoken bond that tied the people of this town together. It was different from the power plays I’d just walked out of with the other sheriffs. This felt real. Human.

I nodded, offering him a small, genuine smile of my own as I walked closer. He smiled back, something soft and shared passing between us in that moment. No need for words. We understood each other.

I ordered the special, and within a reasonable amount of time, a plate was placed before me—a ribeye, beautifully marbled and cooked to perfection, surrounded by spring vegetables that gleamed like they’d just been picked from the earth. It wasn’t just food. It was a labor of care, something crafted with the intent to nourish, not just feed.

As I ate, I found myself slowing down, really savoring the meal. Each bite was a reminder that life wasn’t just about conflict or survival—it was about moments like this too. Simple. Uncomplicated. I minded my business, letting the food and the quiet settle into me like an old friend.

When I finished, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a gold piece, something that was probably worth more than the entire meal. I set it on the counter and stood to leave.

The man’s eyes widened, his hand hovering over the coin like it was a foreign object. “I can’t take this,” he said, looking at me with a mix of surprise and confusion.

I laughed lightly, the sound escaping before I even realized it. “Consider it a tip,” I replied, as I headed toward the door.

His face softened, and I could feel the weight of the gesture sink in for him. In a town where no one asked for much, a small token of gratitude seemed like everything.

After leaving Emanuel’s Victuals, the warmth of the meal still sat in my belly, grounding me in the simple pleasures of this strange town. The gold coin had felt heavier in my hand than it should have. Something about this place—its people, its warmth—was getting under my skin. Despite the odd tension with the other sheriffs, I was starting to feel more… present. Like I could make something out of this place, out of whatever life I had left.

But before I could even take three steps out into the street, something shifted in the air. The world around me blurred, colors bleeding into each other like water on a canvas. My stomach lurched as the ground disappeared beneath me.

I barely had time to react before the world snapped back into focus—except now, I wasn’t in town anymore.

I blinked, taking in my surroundings. The warm sunlight outside had been replaced by dim, flickering candlelight. Shelves lined with jars of herbs, strange crystals, and an odd assortment of trinkets stretched along the walls. The air here was cool—almost unnaturally so—and carried the scent of damp earth and incense.

At the center of the room sat a woman. She stirred a cup of tea with slow, methodical movements, her pale fingers tapping the rim of the cup in a rhythm as cold and precise as her surroundings. She hadn’t acknowledged me yet, but I knew she was aware of my presence.

“You’re earlier than expected,” she said finally, her voice devoid of any warmth. She didn’t even glance up. “I thought you might have taken your time with that meal.”

“Where am I?” I asked, my voice still hoarse from the abrupt shift between spaces.

“My home.” She still didn’t look at me, her tone almost clinical, as if this was nothing more than a routine transaction. “You’re here because I brought you here.”

“And why’s that?” I took a step forward, my eyes searching her face for any sign of emotion, anything to indicate why I was here.

She finally looked up, her cold blue eyes locking onto mine. Her gaze felt like ice against my skin. “Because your only purpose is to be Momo’s companion. Nothing more, nothing less.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, but I refused to flinch. I could feel the heat rising in me, the frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “Only purpose?” I echoed. “That’s it? You drag me out of wherever I came from and tell me my only purpose is to serve someone else?”

She shrugged, a slight tilt of her head. “You’re here as a favor to my friend Giselle. She asked, and I delivered.”

My hands balled into fists. I wasn’t the type to explode, but the way she spoke—detached, emotionless, as if I were nothing but a cog in some grand machine—was stoking a fire in me. “You don’t get to decide that. I’m not just some tool for you to use.”

“Tool?” She arched a brow, her lips curling slightly in what could only be described as mockery. “You misunderstand, Doom. Tools have value. You are simply a means to an end. A temporary necessity.”

The chill in her voice clashed hard against the heat in my chest. Every word she said was like a slap in the face, stripping away any semblance of humanity I had left in this situation. But I wasn’t going to let her see me break. No, I needed to get her to understand something—and it wasn’t going to happen through anger.

“Look,” I said, my voice lowering, trying to rein in the heat. “I’m not trying to start anything here. I want to understand what’s going on. Maybe we can work together—figure this out.”

Her eyes flickered, but not with understanding. If anything, they grew colder, more calculating. She set her teacup down, her fingers resting lightly on its edge. “Work together?” She chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “Why would I need to work with you? You’re here to fulfill your role. That is the extent of your usefulness.”

My heart pounded harder against my chest, not from fear but from frustration. How could someone be this detached? “You think that’s all I am? A role to play in some game? You’re talking about a person here.”

“A person,” she repeated, as if the word was foreign to her. “Your personhood is irrelevant. What matters is that you fulfill your function.”

I could feel the burn rising in my throat, but I held it back. This wasn’t the time to lose it. “There’s something else going on here. You say you brought me here, but you’re not the only one pulling strings.”

She raised a brow, her expression narrowing ever so slightly. “What are you talking about?”

“The man,” I said, my voice firm. “The tall pale man who claimed he brought me here, gave me a job. You expect me to believe that’s all part of your plan?”

For the first time, her cold exterior faltered. A flicker of confusion crossed her face, brief but telling. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I stepped closer, sensing the crack in her façade. “So you don’t know everything after all.”

Her gaze hardened again, icy walls snapping back into place. “I brought you here. That is all that matters.”

“No,” I said, my voice steady with conviction. “It’s not. You might think you can use me however you want, but there’s more to this than you’re telling me. We both know it.”

She stood up suddenly, the air around us growing even colder. “You are here because I allowed it. Don’t mistake whatever other forces you think are at play as important. Your past, your future—they mean nothing.”

I laughed then, surprising even myself. “You think my past doesn’t matter?” I shook my head. “You don’t even know what I left behind, do you?”

Her lips tightened, but she didn’t respond. For the first time, I felt like I had the upper hand, even if only slightly. There was something she didn’t know, something beyond her control.

“You want to know why I’m really here?” I asked, stepping forward. “Then let me show you.”

Before she could react, I felt a surge of energy in the room. My memories flooded back, crashing into me with the force of a tidal wave. Blood. Battles. Victory. And then… silence. I had saved a city, defeated a warlord who had terrorized my people. And then, when it was over, I’d made a choice—a choice to erase everything, to forget, because I knew the temptation of power too well. I couldn’t become the thing I had defeated. then memroriew of the desert flashed and The white rabbit witch saw the pale man i reffered to earlier.

The witch watched me carefully as I came back to myself, her calculating eyes taking in every shift in my expression.

“Now,” she said, her voice quieter but no less cold, “do you see? You chose this. You chose to forget, to walk away from everything. That was your decision.”

I shook my head. “I chose to leave behind a warlord’s crown, not my humanity.”

She said nothing, her gaze fixed and unyielding, but I could feel the tension between us shift. Neither of us trusted the other completely, but there was an understanding now—something had brought me here that even she didn’t control.

“Whatever brought me here,” I said, “it’s not done with me. And it’s not done with you either.” The white rabbit Witch smirked.

The air in the White Rabbit Witch’s home was unnaturally still, the kind of silence that made every heartbeat feel loud, every breath too shallow. The room itself was strange—walls lined with trinkets that felt out of place in any reality I’d ever known. But despite the oddity of the surroundings, it was the woman before me who unsettled me the most.

The White Rabbit Witch sat with an elegance that bordered on eerie, her delicate fingers wrapped around the handle of a cup that never seemed to empty. Her gaze fixed on me, cold and calculating, as if I were a puzzle to be solved, a piece on a board she had already mastered. I felt the weight of her scrutiny, but I wouldn’t let it break me.

“Why me?” I asked again, slower this time, my voice straining to remain calm. I needed answers, not more riddles.

She raised an eyebrow, almost amused by my persistence. “I thought I made that clear,” she replied, her voice soft but icy. “You were the perfect choice.”

“Perfect for what?” I snapped, frustrated. “To be Momo’s—what? Companion? Some… pawn you shuffle around?”

Her lips curled into a faint smile, but there was no warmth in it. “If you want to use such crude terminology, then yes. But I see you as more than that, Doom. I see you as the toy Momo needs.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, my hands curling into fists. “A toy?” I repeated, incredulous. “You brought me here to use me like some mindless servant?”

“Not mindless,” she corrected smoothly, her tone never wavering. “Far from it. I chose you precisely because you have a mind—a heart. One that Momo would find endearing. One that she could fall for.”

She leaned forward slightly, her eyes gleaming with a knowing look that made my skin crawl. “You were never selfish. Always putting others before yourself, always sacrificing your own desires for the greater good. It’s why you wiped your memories, isn’t it? You couldn’t bear the thought of becoming the very thing you fought against.”

Her words slithered through me, and I felt an icy weight settle in my chest. I had made that choice, long ago. To forget. To walk away from the power that could corrupt me. But the way she spoke about it—so casually, as though it was all part of some grand design—made me sick.

“And that’s why Momo would love you,” she continued, as though she were explaining an equation that had already been solved. “You’re exactly the kind of man she would want by her side. A good boy who always does the right thing. Who helps everyone but himself.”

I felt my heart twist at her words. Not because she was wrong, but because of how cold and detached she made it sound. Like I was nothing more than a carefully chosen pawn in her scheme. A chess piece placed just so.

“That’s not love,” I said, my voice tight. “You can’t force someone to love another person just because it fits into your plans.”

She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing with a glint of amusement. “Oh, Doom, you misunderstand. I didn’t force anything. I simply created the conditions. You’ve already done the rest.”

I stared at her, confusion knitting my brows. “What do you mean?”

Her smile deepened, as though she were about to reveal a hidden truth I wasn’t ready for. “You’ve already begun to fulfill your role, Doom. You care for Momo, whether you’ll admit it or not. You can’t help it. It’s in your nature.”

“That’s not—” I started to protest, but she cut me off with a wave of her hand.

“You think I haven’t noticed?” she said, her voice still eerily calm. “The way you look at her. The way your heart shifts when she’s near. It’s written all over you, in your eyes, in the way you talk about her. You’ve already started falling for her.”

I clenched my jaw, feeling my pulse quicken. “That’s not… you’re twisting things. I care about her because she’s a good person, not because of whatever game you’re playing.”

“Is it really so different?” she asked, leaning back in her chair, her cold gaze never leaving mine. “You think you’re immune to the pull of destiny, but you’re already tethered to her. Even now, you’re thinking of her—wondering if she’s safe, wondering if she needs you. You were always going to fall for her. That’s why I chose you.”

I took a step forward, my voice rising with anger. “You don’t know anything about me.”

She chuckled softly, a low, almost mocking sound. “Oh, but I do. You’ve always been predictable, Doom. Even without your memories, you follow the same patterns. You’re the hero, the protector, the one who sacrifices himself for others. You don’t see power the way others do—as something to wield like a weapon. You see it as a tool, something to be used carefully, sparingly.”

She stood up, gliding toward me, her presence filling the room like a shadow. “That’s why Momo will love you. Because you’ll protect her. You’ll put her before yourself, just as you’ve done for everyone else in your life. And in the end, you’ll realize that you were always meant to be by her side.”

I stepped back, my fists still clenched. “You’re wrong. I’m not some… plaything for you to manipulate. My feelings are my own.”

She tilted her head, a cruel smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Am I wrong? Look inside yourself, Doom. You already love her. You can’t even deny it.”

Her words hung in the air, suffocating me. And as much as I wanted to argue, as much as I wanted to push back against her manipulations, I couldn’t shake the truth of what she was saying. There was something there—something that had been building since the moment I met Momo.

But that didn’t mean I was going to let her control me.

“I’m not your puppet,” I said, my voice low, firm. “Whatever feelings I have for Momo, they’re mine. Not something you’ve created.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “You can tell yourself that, if it makes you feel better. But the truth is, you’ve already fulfilled the role I needed you to play. You care for her. You want to protect her. And soon, you’ll realize that everything I’ve said is true.”

I shook my head, anger burning in my chest. “You don’t get to decide that. I make my own choices.”

Her eyes gleamed with a cold, calculated certainty. “Perhaps. But the choices you’ve made so far? They’ve already led you here. And they will lead you back to her.”

There was no arguing with her, not in that moment. I could see it in her eyes—the absolute conviction, the belief that she had me figured out, that I was just a piece on her board, moving exactly as she wanted.

But I wasn’t going to let her win.

“Whatever you think you know about me,” I said, my voice steady, “you’re wrong. I won’t be controlled by you. Or anyone.”

She smiled, but it was cold, hollow. “We’ll see, Doom. We’ll see just how much control you truly have.”

As I turned to leave, her final words echoed in my mind, chilling me to the core. But no matter what she thought, no matter how deeply she believed she had orchestrated all of this—I knew one thing for sure.

My heart, my choices, were mine.

The air outside the White Rabbit Witch’s home was cooler than I remembered, though maybe it was just the weight of the conversation hanging over my head. The world around me seemed hazy as I walked beside her, my thoughts swirling like a storm I couldn’t outrun. The Witch’s soft footfalls barely made a sound as she led the way toward the tailor’s shop, her demeanor unchanged—calm, calculating, as if she were already three steps ahead of me in this game she claimed we were playing.

For a while, the only sound between us was the distant murmur of the town and the occasional rustle of leaves caught in the breeze. I thought she might stay silent the entire way, but then she spoke, her voice carrying that same eerie certainty that had unnerved me inside her home.

“You’re struggling,” she said softly, not even turning her head. “You’re trying to fight the inevitable, Doom.”

I clenched my jaw, not in the mood for another round of her manipulations. “I’m not fighting anything,” I replied, though the words tasted hollow even to me.

She glanced at me, her eyes sharp and knowing. “You are. I can see it in the way you carry yourself. The way your mind races, trying to reconcile what you feel with what you think you should feel.”

I didn’t answer. What could I say? That she was wrong? That I wasn’t confused, wasn’t battling against this… thing building inside me for Momo?

I’d never been good at lying, especially to myself.

“Let me make it easier for you,” she continued, her voice unyielding but not unkind. “Momo… she’s drawn to you for a reason. You’re exactly the kind of man she needs. Someone selfless, someone who will always put her first. You already do it without even realizing it.”

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “I don’t… I don’t want to be just some puppet in your game.”

“You’re not,” she said, stopping briefly to face me, her gaze piercing. “This isn’t about me. It’s about her. And you.”

She began walking again, and though I tried to keep my mind focused, her words burrowed deep into my thoughts.

“You protect her because it’s who you are,” she said softly, almost like she was talking to herself now. “You care for her in ways that are impossible to fake. And I’ve seen how she looks at you too, Doom. Momo isn’t blind to it. You just haven’t let yourself fully see it yet.”

I shook my head, struggling against the truth she was laying out in front of me. “It’s not that simple.”

“It never is,” the Witch replied with a small shrug. “But don’t mistake complexity for resistance. Feelings, real ones, grow despite the complications.”

I didn’t have a response to that. I couldn’t, because she was digging at something I didn’t want to admit, not even to myself.

“She needs someone like you,” the Witch pressed on, her voice taking on a more personal tone, almost… gentle. “A man who isn’t driven by selfish desires. Someone who sees the world as more than just a place to take from, but as something to give to. And you—” she glanced at me with something that looked dangerously close to pity, “you’ve always given more than you’ve taken, haven’t you?”

I looked away, my chest tight.

Before I could respond, we turned the corner, and there was the tailor’s shop, nestled between two smaller buildings. The Witch stopped a few paces before the door, turning to face me fully.

“You’re perfect for her, Doom. Whether you want to believe it or not.” She stepped closer, her eyes locking onto mine, and I felt that weight in my chest again, heavy and suffocating. “Stop fighting it. It’s already there. You just have to let it be.”

I opened my mouth to argue, to say something that would counter her manipulations, but the words caught in my throat when the door to the tailor’s shop swung open.

And there she was.

Momo.

She stepped out, her eyes lighting up the moment they met mine, and before I could react, she rushed forward, throwing her arms around me in a tight, warm embrace.

It was like time stopped. My arms instinctively wrapped around her, holding her close. Her scent—sweet, familiar—washed over me, and every single flutter and jump in my heart felt like an earthquake in my chest. My pulse raced, and I could feel her heartbeat against mine, the way her body pressed into me like we were meant to fit together.

For a moment, the world disappeared, and it was just her.

Just Momo.

And in that instant, I knew the Witch was right.

I did care for her. More than I was ready to admit. More than I could hide anymore. It wasn’t just a passing feeling—it was something deeper, something real. Something that had been there since the moment we met, whether I’d seen it or not.

When Momo finally pulled back, her eyes were shining with warmth, her smile soft and genuine. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said, her voice like music in the stillness between us.

I swallowed hard, feeling the intensity of her gaze, the way my heart was still racing. “Me too,” I managed to say, though my voice sounded distant to my own ears.

And then, just as the world seemed to settle back into place, I felt a presence beside me. The Witch leaned in close, her voice a whisper in my ear that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Don’t fight it, Hero,” she murmured, her breath cold against my skin. Her whispers echoed in my mind even after she left

I felt a strange, soothing warmth seep into my mind, calming the storm of emotions that had been raging just moments before. It was subtle, like a soft wave washing over me, but I knew immediately what she had done.

A spell.

She had cast something to calm my emotions, maybe. But despite the initial resistance in my gut, I didn’t fight it. I couldn’t. Not now. Not with the way Momo was still looking at me, her eyes full of something I couldn’t name, but felt in every fiber of my being.

The Witch pulled back, her expression unreadable, though I could feel the satisfaction radiating from her. “See?” she said, her voice carrying a note of finality. “It was always going to be like this.”

And as Momo gently took my hand, leading me toward the tailor’s shop, I couldn’t help but wonder if the Witch was right about everything.

Maybe this was always how it was meant to be.

The warm light of the tailor’s shop cast long shadows across the floor as I stepped inside with Momo still holding my hand. The feeling of her fingers intertwined with mine was grounding, almost like an anchor keeping me steady amidst everything swirling in my mind. The White Rabbit Witch’s words still echoed in my head, but I pushed them aside for the moment.

Mina and Sana were waiting inside, their faces lighting up as we entered.

“There’s our new sheriff!” Mina grinned, giving me a once-over. “Or, should I say, soon-to-be well-dressed sheriff.”

Sana gave me a playful wink, already pulling out fabrics and boots from the back of the shop. “We’re going to make you look fantastic, Doom. Momo’s been talking about this all morning.”

Momo laughed, the sound soft and melodious. “I figured you could use something a bit sturdier than what you’ve been walking around in. Especially since you have a tendency to… well, burn things.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

“Fair point,” I replied, squeezing her hand gently before letting go. “I’m not exactly… subtle with my magic. But I’ll try not to destroy your hard work.”

Sana and Mina exchanged glances, clearly amused by the banter between us. Mina stepped forward, placing a hand on my arm as she led me toward a row of neatly hung clothes. “Don’t worry, we’ve got just the thing. Boots and clothes enchanted to withstand whatever magic you throw at them. We don’t mess around here.”

Momo stood next to me, her gaze warm. “And besides, I’m sure you’ll look amazing in whatever they pick.”

I raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to her. “Is that why you’re here? To make sure I don’t look like a fool?”

She grinned, a playful glint in her eyes. “Exactly. I have to protect my investment, after all.”

“Your investment?” I chuckled, playing along. “I didn’t realize I was part of your portfolio.”

“Oh, you are,” she said, stepping a bit closer. Her voice dropped to a soft, teasing tone. “And I expect a high return.”

Sana pretended to gag in the background, making exaggerated faces. “Oh no, they’re flirting. Someone stop them.”

Mina smirked, folding her arms. “Let them have their fun. Besides, it’s cute.”

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, but I didn’t break eye contact with Momo. The tension between us felt electric, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was warm. Inviting. I was still getting used to the fact that I wasn’t fighting it anymore, and now, standing here with her, it felt… right.

Sana came up behind me, tapping me on the shoulder. “Alright, lovebirds, let’s get to work. Doom, off with the coat.”

I hesitated for a moment, glancing at Momo. “You sure about this? I’m not exactly… a fashion icon.”

Momo laughed, crossing her arms as she watched me. “Oh, I’m very sure. Now, stop stalling and let the professionals do their job.”

I grinned and shrugged out of my old, worn coat. It felt strange to be standing there without it, like I was missing part of myself, but Momo’s approving smile was enough to keep me from second-guessing.

Sana and Mina wasted no time, throwing a perfectly tailored shirt over my head and pulling me toward a tall mirror. The fabric was light but sturdy, the cut sharp but comfortable. The designs were floral and pretty yet still masculine in color.

“Looking good already,” Sana said, adjusting the collar. “But we’re not done yet.”

Mina came forward with a pair of dark pants and a belt, holding them up with a smile. “Try these. They’re enchanted with anti-burn magic. Even your flames won’t get through these bad boys.”

I took them from her and quickly changed, feeling a little out of my element with all the attention. When I stepped back out, though, I couldn’t help but be impressed with how well they fit. The pants were flexible, and I could feel the enchantment humming faintly in the fabric.

But it wasn’t until they handed me the boots that I really felt like I had stepped into something new. They were heavy but balanced, they were a metallic sheen that was tough but comfortable. I tugged them on, rolling my shoulders as I stood up straight.

“We call them lavaspur boots,” Mina said happily.

“They are the only non enchanted clothes we made as they are made of magical leather and metal that can take temperatures up to 15 million degrees,” Mina added

“So how do they feel?” Sana asked wide-eyed.

I moved my feet around a bit and took a few steps. “I like em… I like all of the outfits and clothes you've given me thus far. Thank you so much,” I responded

The two girls smiled and said, “Well you're very welcome Sheriff Doom,”

I turn to Momo to get her take and she stares me focused.

“You look…” Momo’s voice trailed off for a second, her eyes wandering over me appreciatively. She cleared her throat, her cheeks flushing just slightly. “You look great.”

I smiled at her, feeling that same flutter in my chest I’d felt outside the shop. “Thanks,” I said softly, stepping closer to her. “Though I’m sure it’s not just the clothes. I’m pretty sure it’s the company that’s making me look this good.”

Her face broke into a wide grin, and she punched me lightly on the arm. “You’re impossible.”

Sana and Mina exchanged knowing glances before stepping back, clearly deciding to give us some space.

I reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind Momo’s ear, my fingers lingering just slightly. “Maybe. But you seem to like me this way.”

She laughed, a soft, breathless sound that made my heart skip. “Maybe I do,” she said, her eyes locking onto mine.

For a moment, we were just standing there, inches apart, the world fading away. It was just her and me, and the warmth between us. It was real. Tangible. And it scared me how much I wanted it to stay.

Before I could say anything else, I felt a light hand on my shoulder. The White Rabbit Witch had reappeared, silent and sudden as always. She leaned in close to my ear, her voice a low whisper that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Don’t fight it, Hero,” she murmured, her words echoing the spell she cast earlier. This time, though, there was something else—a deeper, almost primal magic settling over me, calming the rush of emotions I’d been battling. “Just let it be.”

I closed my eyes for a second, feeling the tension leave my body. When I opened them again, Momo was still there, smiling up at me, her eyes filled with warmth and something more. Something that made my heart race all over again.

The Witch stepped back, her presence fading into the background as Momo reached out and took my hand again, her fingers fitting perfectly with mine.

“Come on,” she said softly, tugging me toward the door. “Let’s show everyone the new and improved Sheriff Doom.”

I let her pull me forward, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. For the first time in a long while, I wasn’t afraid of what came next.

The tailor shop buzzed with laughter and warmth as I looked down at my newly acquired outfits, all thanks to Momo, Mina, and Sana’s tireless efforts. I had to admit, they’d outdone themselves. I felt different in these clothes—lighter, yet somehow more grounded. The enchanted fabrics hummed with magic, shielding me from burning them away, which was a relief.

As I finished buttoning the last shirt, Momo looked up at me, her eyes soft and warm. “You clean up pretty well, Sheriff.”

I grinned. “All thanks to my personal fashion squad.”

Sana smirked and brushed off an imaginary speck of dust from her sleeve. “Well, we do what we can.”

Mina clapped her hands together, her excitement palpable. “Okay, now that the makeover’s done, what’s next?”

Momo’s face lit up. “How about dinner? I was thinking we could all have a nice meal at my place tonight. What do you think?”

Sana immediately perked up, her eyes gleaming. “Ooh, count me in! What about you, Mina?”

Mina nodded eagerly. “Definitely. We’ll bring some food—and maybe a couple of extra guests?”

Momo smiled. “The more, the merrier.”

With plans made, we all parted ways for the moment, agreeing to meet later for dinner at Momo’s place. As Momo and I walked toward her home, the evening air seemed charged with something unspoken between us. Her hand was warm in mine, her laughter like a melody that lingered in the spaces around us. It felt effortless, as if we’d always been walking side by side like this.

And yet, the warmth in my chest grew harder and harder to ignore.

Stopping in our tracks, I turned to her, letting the feeling take hold. Before either of us could speak, I leaned in and kissed her. It wasn’t like the others we’d shared earlier. This time, it deepened, grew more insistent, and with it, something stirred in the air around us.

I felt the pulse of my own magic responding, flaring up like embers catching wind. Behind Momo, shimmering waves of light began to dance in the dimming sky—auroras, glowing ribbons of colors that wove and twisted with a beauty that seemed almost alive.

When we finally broke the kiss, I stared at her in awe.

“You’re a mage too?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Momo nodded, her cheeks glowing almost as brightly as the auroras behind her. “Not a war mage like you, though,” she said with a soft laugh. “My magic is music and dance. It’s… gentler, I guess.”

I nodded, still mesmerized by the lingering traces of light around her. As the magic faded, we continued walking, the quiet between us now heavy with unspoken understanding.

Imagine my surprise when, as we approached her front door, I saw a familiar figure curled up on the porch—a hulking, scaly mass that could only be one thing.

“Blastoise?” I called out in disbelief.

At the sound of his name, his large, glowing eyes snapped open, and his massive tongue lolled out in joy. With a low rumble, he bounded forward, licking my face enthusiastically.

I laughed, my arms wrapping around his neck as I hugged him tightly. “I missed you, big guy.”

Behind me, Momo tilted her head, her expression one of delighted curiosity. “You know this big guy?”

Still scratching behind Blastoise’s ears, I glanced back at her and nodded. “Before I was brought here, I set him free. He was one of the warlord’s experiments—one of the few that survived.”

Momo’s smile softened as she crouched down to pet Blastoise’s sturdy shell. “I’d never have guessed,” she said.

Blastoise gave a satisfied huff, leaning into her touch as if he already adored her.

Inside, as we began preparing dinner, I couldn’t help but notice Momo’s enthusiasm in the kitchen… and the minor chaos it caused. Her measurements were off, her timing a bit rushed, and some things were on the verge of burning.

“Uh, Momo?” I asked gently, stepping in as she reached for a skillet that was a little too close to charring its contents. “Mind if I help?”

Her eyes flicked to mine, relief evident in her smile. “Please do.”

Together, we salvaged the bread from over-baking, adjusted the seasoning on the stew, and kept the vegetables from turning into an unrecognizable mush. By the end, the kitchen was filled with delicious aromas instead of the smoky haze we’d narrowly avoided.

Just as we were setting the table, I heard a low growl coming from outside.

Blastoise.

Momo glanced toward the door, wiping her hands on her apron. “Blastoise, stop it! They’re our guests,” she called as she opened the door to reveal Sana, Mina, Jojo, and Nevin standing on the porch.

Sana gave a low whistle, eyeing the tortoise-dragon hybrid with amusement. “Finally gave him a name, huh?”

Momo shook her head, grinning. “Nope. Garuzen named him—since Blastoise is his friend.”

Jojo and Nevin exchanged a look, their collective sigh audible as they stepped inside.

The moment their eyes landed on me at the stove, an expression of surprise flickered across their faces.

“Wait, you’re cooking?” Jojo asked, his tone teetering between disbelief and amusement.

Mina, ever the peacekeeper, laughed softly as she nudged him. “It’s not that hard to believe. He does seem like a man of many talents.”

Sana smirked, leaning casually against the counter. “Guess you’re full of surprises, Sheriff.”

Momo beamed at their reactions, clearly proud of how seamlessly I’d stepped into the evening’s preparations. I chuckled, shrugging as I plated the last dish.

“Just trying to make myself useful,” I said simply, though the warmth in my chest had nothing to do with the food. It was the way Momo looked at me—a mixture of gratitude, affection, and something deeper—that made me feel, for the first time in a long time, like I belonged.

Dinner was ready, the table was set, and the room buzzed with laughter and conversation. Blastoise, ever the vigilant guardian, settled himself outside the door, his glowing eyes keeping watch over the night.

Just as we were setting the table, I heard a low growl coming from outside.

Blastoise.

Momo glanced toward the door, wiping her hands on her apron. “Blastoise, stop it! They’re our guests,” she called as she opened the door to reveal Sana, Mina, Jojo, and Nevin standing on the porch.

Sana gave a low whistle, eyeing the tortoise-dragon hybrid with amusement. “Finally gave him a name, huh?”

Momo shook her head, grinning. “Nope. Garuzen named him—since Blastoise is his friend.”

Jojo and Nevin exchanged a look, their collective sigh audible as they stepped inside.

The moment their eyes landed on me at the stove, an expression of surprise flickered across their faces.

“Wait, you’re cooking?” Jojo asked, his tone teetering between disbelief and amusement.

Mina, ever the peacekeeper, laughed softly as she nudged him. “It’s not that hard to believe. He does seem like a man of many talents.”

Sana smirked, leaning casually against the counter. “Guess you’re full of surprises, Sheriff.”

Momo beamed at their reactions, clearly proud of how seamlessly I’d stepped into the evening’s preparations. I chuckled, shrugging as I plated the last dish.

“Just trying to make myself useful,” I said simply, though the warmth in my chest had nothing to do with the food. It was the way Momo looked at me—a mixture of gratitude, affection, and something deeper—that made me feel, for the first time in a long time, like I belonged.

Dinner was ready, the table was set, and the room buzzed with laughter and conversation. Blastoise, ever the vigilant guardian, settled himself outside the door, his glowing eyes keeping watch over the night.

The table was a lively mess of conversation, laughter, and the clinking of cutlery against plates. The meal had turned out better than I’d expected—Momo’s enthusiasm paired with my intervention had made for a hearty spread. Stew, roasted vegetables, freshly saved bread, and some kind of citrus-infused dessert had everyone raving.

Mina took a sip of her drink, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. “Alright, I’ll admit it—this might be the best meal I’ve had in weeks. Who knew the mysterious new Sheriff had a knack for cooking?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “I had a good teacher,” I said, glancing at Momo, who blushed but tried to hide it by stuffing a forkful of food into her mouth.

“Oh, don’t let him fool you,” Momo said once she swallowed. “He basically saved the meal. If it weren’t for him, we’d all be choking down burnt bread and charred veggies right now.”

Jojo raised an eyebrow at me, smirking. “You know, Garuzen, you’re making the rest of us look bad. First, you survive a riot, then you’ve got a giant dragon-tortoise as your best friend, and now you’re a better cook than most of us. What’s next? You gonna charm the whole town too?”

Sana grinned, nudging Jojo playfully. “He’s already got a head start on that.”

“Alright, alright,” I said, raising my hands in mock surrender. “I’m not trying to outshine anyone here. Just doing my part.”

Nevin, who’d been quiet up until now, leaned forward with a thoughtful look. “So, Garuzen, what’s the deal with Blastoise?”

“Yeah,” Mina chimed in, her eyes lighting up with curiosity. “You said he was a warlord’s experiment? How’d you end up with him?”

I set my fork down, glancing toward the door where Blastoise lay outside, his massive body silhouetted against the moonlit night. “It’s a long story,” I began. “However, the short version is before I came to this town there was a warlord destroying my home. I was part of a small resistance group to stop him. The warlord I fought—before I ended up here—was experimenting with all kinds of creatures, trying to create the perfect weapon. Blastoise was one of those experiments. But he wasn’t a weapon; he was just a scared, confused animal. When I overthrew the warlord, I set him free. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again.”

“And yet here he is,” Momo said softly, her gaze warm as she looked between me and the door.

“He must really like you,” Sana said, her tone teasing but kind.

“Or he’s just as stubborn as his owner,” Jojo quipped, earning a round of laughter from the table.

As the conversation moved on, I found myself watching the easy camaraderie among the group. Mina and Sana shared a playful banter that spoke of years of friendship, while Jojo and Nevin took turns teasing one another like siblings. Momo fit seamlessly into the mix, her laughter contagious and her warmth grounding the entire evening.

At one point, Sana turned to Momo with a mischievous grin. “So, Momo, you’re awfully quiet about your new partner here. What’s the verdict? Is he living up to your expectations?”

Momo’s cheeks flushed a deep red, but she didn’t look away from me. “I think he’s doing just fine,” she said, her voice soft but sure.

Jojo leaned in, smirking. “Fine, huh? That’s not much of a review. Come on, give us the juicy details.”

“Leave her alone, Jojo,” Mina said with a laugh, swatting his arm. “Let the poor girl have some secrets.”

Momo giggled, and for a moment, the weight of the day felt lighter. I glanced at her, my heart catching in my chest as her eyes met mine. The White Rabbit Witch’s words echoed in my mind: Don’t fight it, Hero.

As the meal wound down, the laughter turned softer, the conversations more relaxed. The warmth of the room, the easy companionship of the group, and Momo’s presence beside me made it feel, for just a moment, like this was where I was meant to be.

Outside, Blastoise let out a contented rumble, as if agreeing with the sentiment.

After Dinner, the girls and other sheriffs left Momo and I alone. Blastoise was sleeping outside in the front peaceably which made me happy. He and I had been through so much together so him getting the peace he deserved was quite the reassurance. Momo smiled as she approached me her blonde hair bouncing as she neared me.

I notched my head up and said, “Now get that fat ass over here.”

Momo laughed and said, “So demanding.” I watched as she sauntered over to me. Her tight hips beckoned me to just run to her and take her there, but my rapacious appetite for her would soon be appeased as she sat on my lap.

Her big soft eyes stared into mine vulnerable and it made me pause. She wasn't the sex vixen she was moments ago but something softer.

“Is everything alright?” I ask. Momo nods then says

“It's just this is my first time so please take care of me.” our eyes lock and she notes my silence.

“Is there a problem?” she asks

I shake my head and reply, “no its just my first time as well” Momo chuckles softly and says,

“I should have known. You're much to dramatic to not be a virgin,” she teases. I roll my eyes and she kisses me. Her lips taste sweet surprisingly. As the kiss grows deeper she brings my hands to her chest. She breaks the kiss for a moment and her voice takes on a lustful husk to it, “Please get rough with me i can take it!” she growls and I grip her breasts. Their supple and softness surprised me. Momo smirks before she starts to grind on my bulge. Her breath is shaky as says,

“Harder” I grip her orbs harder as she asks and massage her mammaries. Momo moans before she whips her hair and goes in on my neck.

At first her kisses are gentle but they begin to pick up speed and intensity as she grinds on me faster. Her eyes narrow as her hands grip into my shoulders.

“Darling I need more” I say as I grope her breasts Momo pushes me down on the couch she gets up and lifts her dress all the way and I'm left to marvel at her bare body. Her curves are malicious as if sculpted by a demon of lust. I watch her eyes and she says

“Like what you see?”

Drooling I nod and she begins a small dance to show off. She twirls D

and sways fluidly as her body screams at me. Her magic flows in a beautifully enchanting aurora around her.

I take off my pants and the rest of my clothes as my bulge surges. Momo smiles as she continues dancing. I watch and groan as my erection leaks begging to be inside her, but every groan and buck of my hips Momo says.

“I am in control and your pleasure will come when I want to,” Momo continues her show as I watch until she crawls to me her naked body and daring eyes tempt me to touch her. I lose control as I lift her chin and bring her in for another kiss. As we kiss she pushes me onto the couch before impaling herself on my cock. She moans as she sinks on my

“Oh I could get used to this” she groans ditzy

I expected tightness but Momo’a walls happily opened for me and I bottomed out with no resistance. What I didn't expect was her ferocity. When I entered her, Momo tensed for a moment then her eyes narrowed to slits and she looked at me like she was a starved animal. She straddled me before she started bouncing on my crotch. She moaned as she took me deeper and deeper into her. Our eyes locked and she growled, “don't just sit there! grab my tits or my ass. I obliged as she rides me I put one hand on her tit and the other on her ass she growls at me before taking me deeper inside of her. She moans as her hips roll deviously on mine. I groan out as her walls envelop my length tenderly.

“You fill me just right!” Momo exclaims with an almost delirious look in her eyes. I groan as I feel my balls beginning to twitch. I look into her eyes and say

“Momo I'm about to cum,” she smiles as she continues to ride

“Inside” she moans as she rolls her hips in a way that causes me to just buck into her wildly before my seed rapidly fills her expectant womb. She groans as my release triggers hers. Her hands claw into mine as her pleasure rages through her then calms down

“Fuck you have a nice cock I like riding,” Momo exclaims proudly. I smile then say

“Glad I could be of service,” fully lost in her charms.

[syoddeye]

Hi! I am writing a Owner Price x Cat Hybrid Reader fic inspired by Siphon. ^-^ The tuna made me think of it. If I post it, do you want me to credit you? If I make a CAI bot based on it after (private and only for my personal use), is that okay if I credit you there too?

i feel like i'm being trolled because this is the third ai-related ask i've received in a week. in case i'm not, i'm just gonna go ahead and 'answer' this.

this warning is front and center on my pinned post:

i'm flattered you liked siphon enough that it inspired you, but that's where the warm fuzzies end. yes - if a fic inspires you to write your own, you should credit the original author.

but a bot? do not do that, please. please reconsider any other bots you've made or may use. i don't condone that garbage.

[theemporium]

hi sorry i'm back on my bs bc i literally cannot stop think about werewolf lestappen now 😭😭😭

1. all the rumors that arise about max adopting three dogs. they never see all three together expect in pictures. when max streams there's no mention of them, no sign of them. you see the cats, max talks about them, and he'll give them a little pet on stream if they let him. but you never see the dogs.

so as usual the conspiracies and rumors start. maybe max actually lives in a different apartment than charles and reader. maybe they acutally didn't adopt dogs. maybe they did adopt dogs and max hated them so much that he threw them out, how cruel and heartless!!!!!!! reporters start asking questions during press and max is just so over it and charles is not helping at all bc when he will just say shit which creates more chaos and max is really reconsidering his whole life at this point

anyways red bull pr puts their foot down and is like we cannot have our driver, known cat lover max verstappen, be accused of hating dogs so much. so he's told to feature them in a post, a stream, anything so these rumors stop. so like the good little driver he is over the break max streams and has wolfy charles and reader in the background. and he gives them a very stern talking to about not causing any trouble but why does he even bother at this point? so as you know, shenanigans ensue, fill in the blanks here.

charles is all up in max's personal space, hamming it up for the camera, and is being really distracting and an all around menace. he has a little ball in his mouth and he's booping his nose against max's thigh and chat is eating it up. and kind of on instinct max is like "NO. charlie drop it" and is batting him away. and charles is just like ????? did you just treat me like a dog ??????? meanwhile chat is going cray bc did max just call him charlie ???? they named the most charles looking dog after charles ????/

-🌠

PLEASE😭😭😭

max panicking on the spot and blurts out some story about how he was already called charlie when he was in the shelter so it didn’t seem right to change the name. meanwhile, charles is beside him the whole time listening to the story and trying not to scoff whenever max adds another detail that’s going to make the whole thing far more complicated and harder to remember

and then he panics further when he gets asked about the other two dogs because he doesn’t want a charlie repeat and ends up saying the two most random names like fluffy and bubbles and he just KNOWS yous two are gonna give him shit for it😭

[ceasarslegion]

My advice regarding tattoos or any kind of body mods:

-don't shirk the expense. It's a labour intensive job, so what you're paying for is the effort and time and attention to detail. It's going to be on your body forever, so you want to make sure you have the best you can get.

-if your pain tolerance is very low, reconsider any tattoos that are super big or in bony places. I'm not trying to yuck your yum, but I am saying that if you can't handle the pain of it for multiple hours over multiple settings then you should reconsider redesigning it to something you can handle. You can build up your pain tolerance over time, but never push yourself past your limit for it or you run the risk of associating a permanent mark on your body with physical trauma.

-don't get tattoos from your kinda sketchy friend who bought a tattoo gun and says they want to practice on you for free. They aren't a licensed artist and they don't know proper sanitation and health and safety procedures. That is an infection waiting to happen, not to mention it's probably gonna look like shit

-tip the artist. Budget a few hundred for them, they do an extremely hard job where one fuck up is permanently embedded into people. A good tip will be greatly appreciated and they'll be more than happy to welcome you back for any future work and put even more effort into you if you show yourself to be a good client who treats them well. A good rapport makes for better art.

-its gonna be uncomfortable. It just is, that can't be avoided. Think of it on the same level of pain as a cat scratch but spread out for a really long time, so it won't like, kill you or make you regret being born, but it will hurt. If you get it all done at once, it'll be easier but you'll be pushing your body more than if you take breaks and come back. Talk to your artist about how you want it done and let them know what your plans are. That way if you like, wanna take a break to get coffee and lunch across the street and come back they both know you didn't like, dine and dash and they'll know what to tell you to do to take care not to damage it during your breaks. If you're getting a multi session tattoo, expect it to be spread out over a long time, so it's not gonna look great the first few times. But letting it heal and recover a few times will be essential for the final product. Make sure you're willing to go through that before you decide on like, a giant dragon with spread wings across your entire back.

-just... don't get face tattoos man. You're not Post Malone who has famous public figure status, you're some guy who has to be able to get and hold down a job. Every other part of your body can be covered in professional settings and piercings can be taken out, but unless you wear a face covering of some kind, your face is always on display. This isn't a moral or a judgemental statement, it's just the reality of the world we live in. Face tattoos make your life a lot harder than it has to be and you just dont have to go through that. Before anyone pisses on the poor about this one, I am obviously not talking about cultural face tattoos like the ones the moari people have

-do not get tattoos on an impulse, especially not tattoos of media properties. I'm not telling you NOT to altogether, I actually plan on getting tattoos of the truman show and back to the future at some point because those films really shaped me as a person in ways others haven't. That's what you have to think about though: do you just really like it right now, or has this media shaped you in some way regardless of your current enjoyment of it? Because the last thing you want to do to yourself is permanently draw something into your body that in a few months you just don't care about or even dislike anymore.

-do not get tattoos to make you feel better when you're sad. See above, but with an added dollop of regret. Get them in a completely sober and level-headed state of mind so you can be objective about them and if they will bring you joy for the rest of your life, not in the moment as a response to something negative.

-LISTEN TO YOUR ARTIST WHEN THEY TELL YOU WHAT YOUR RECOVERY WILL LOOK LIKE!!! If you throw out everything else on this list but one thing make this the one thing you keep. If they say you can't put it in water, don't put it in water, they'll tell you how to bathe. If they tell you it can't be exposed to sunlight, do not expose it to sunlight. If they tell you you have to apply a certain skin disinfectant or something to it every day, I don't care if it stings, you have to apply it. If they tell you not to scratch it, suck it up if it gets itchy. You have a massive open wound on your skin that is a breeding ground for bacteria and viruses and dirt and filth and is incredibly sensitive to everything. You can do everything from ruin your tattoo to contracting flesh-eating bacteria from shirking your recovery process, the latter of which is not that uncommon, but almost always happens to people who don't listen. Do not fucking do that.

[ach-sss-no]

Things I do if i'm stuck on a WIP

I keep seeing memes about people fighting with their WIPs so maybe you could use some handy weapons?

Some of these are passed around pretty often, but they're in here again because I personally found them useful, as opposed to the common advice I see passed around that has never helped me whatsoever, also, you never know when it's someone's first time seeing something or when it might be worded in a way that makes it more understandable.

Some of these are more useful when you have some options for how to proceed with your story but can't decide on one, and won't be as helpful if you can see no way to proceed.

These are intended primarily for writing and many don't really have other applications I can think of, but some of these strategies should also work for any creative thing you're trying to do that is not progressing in the way you want it to.

Disclaimer: Sometimes none of these work. Good luck!

CRIPES, I'm Stuck

Complain

Tell someone (or pretend to tell someone) who does not know the inner workings of your story all about your story problem in as much detail as you can articulate. The more detail the better, including what events led up to this point and what you want to achieve going forward. Go all the way back to what the main premise is, even. When I do this I often end up figuring out the problem while I am describing it and never even send the message, which is why this can be an imaginary conversation if input from another human is not desired and/or available for whatever reason. You can also tell your problems to your cat, dog, tarantula, or Pokémon team! BONUS: Those things are all cheaper than a therapist!

Randomize

If you have multiple ideas for how to go forward and are paralyzed because you can see no greater or lesser value in any of them, great news! The machine can be trusted! (Disclaimer: The machine cannot be trusted) Go to random.org and use the list randomizer to scramble your potential plot options. Pick the one on top. If you realize you're unhappy with it, examine why. Whatever reason why you've decided you don't like that option after all will help guide you towards what you should be doing instead.

Got any kind of two option yes/no, pass/fail, success/disaster question? Flip a coin! This can be done digitally if you don't have coins lying around (I usually don't myself).

There is also the tried and true method of dice-rolling, which can also be done via app if you don't have dice of the desired type or you've lost yours.

Really stuck? Showrunner's challenge.

Iterate

This is both the least efficient one and the thing I do the most often. Writing a scene? Not sure how it should go? Just write different versions of it until something sticks.

Every time you feel unhappy with the scene, back up to the point that led to whatever you're not jiving with, cut it, and start over from there. I recommend saving all of your different versions so you can reconsider or do some horrific Frankenstein cut-and-paste later.

Like I said: horrendously inefficient. it doesn't have to be pretty... it just has to exist.

Play

Go do something else totally unrelated to writing. Just go do something else you enjoy. Just take a break. Your brain may actually fix your story problem when you ignore it and let it run in the background, and if it doesn't, you get a break. No downside! Chances are, you've heard that before. I'm telling you again because I so often fall prey to the 'but my break will be more satisfying if I fix the problem first' well, it's not getting fixed and I am not equipped to fix it right now or it would be fixed already, so it's break time now.

Work on another project that seems more fun to you at the moment. Battering your head against your current WIP because you think you "should" work on it instead of whatever shinier idea is in your head is probably not helping you progress on that project. Working on something else as a treat may jog your brain to unstuck you from your main idea, and if not, it will lead to a new creative product existing, and even if it never gets finished, you've tricked yourself into thinking art is fun again. No downside!

There's nothing wrong with adding [placeholderlmao] and going on to a part of the story you like better. In fact, knowing what happens later may help you fix the problem point (assuming you don't already know because you either don't work from an outline, or your story has diverged so wildly from the outline that it's not helpful anymore)

Edit

Depending on the length of your project and whether you have already declared parts of it off-limits this may not apply; but if you don't want to go forward right now, it may be a good time to go back and edit what you already have written. Sometimes when I do this I will see a stray idea I mentioned earlier that I can follow up on now, and that gives me a new path forward. I'll also sometimes discover that, while my current story problem is manifesting at my sticking point, the cause of it happened much earlier and needs to be addressed farther back in the story (and once that's done I'm not stuck anymore!) Just like pulling crabgrass out by the roots.

Did you have an outline that has stopped tracking with your story? Maybe you should go look at that outline and revise it to the new version, or at least remind yourself of what you thought was important to put in it. If nothing else, doing this should help you think differently about your story.

Steal

That's right! There are millions on billions of stories out there. Just like infinitely variable humans are built upon skeletons that look very similar, your story is uniquely yours, but its underlying structure probably follows a pattern that other stories with similar goals have used since human communication began. So go look up a story you enjoy that includes a similar scene to the one you're struggling with, and look at what it did to fix the problem you're having. Chances are, there's a way to map that onto your story while keeping your version unique, or at least you can get some helpful hints. Do expand beyond the medium you're working in. There's a lot that novels/movies/games/etc do differently, but basic story beats and interactions between characters are pretty consistent things across anything that's telling a story. If I'm looking for a model for a scene, I always look for something with a similar plot, theme or character dynamic that I thought was done well.

Alternately, do you know of a story that tried to do what you're doing and failed spectacularly? Go look closely at that and see why it's not working. Then ask yourself how those problems could have been avoided. The solution you arrive at may apply to your story as well, or at least lead in the right direction. Alternately-alternately: Do it wrong on purpose for the fun of it and fix it later (or don't fix it later)

Just have no ideas? Hang out with stories with the vibes you want until something clicks. When I was doing this fancomic, I watched The Emperor's New Groove a lot.

Well, there you go. If you think I missed something- which I absolutely did, because the creative process is very individual and there are some highly successful things I never, ever do and can't speak on because I am restricting myself to things I have personally done and found helpful-

-please add it on to this post, and make it longer and longer until no one is ever stuck on a WIP ever again (✿◡‿◡) because they are all too busy reading this infinitely long post to start any projects!

[bonefall]

GOD THE ERIN'S THING WITH BIO PARENTS I'm rereading the series and I just got to Hollyleaf's death in The Last Hope and it makes me so mad how Leafpool is the only one who comforts her. Jayfeather only gets to shake and Squirrelflight is just fucking vibing in the background in a battle patrol. Fallen Leaves is more upset than her. SO mad so mad so mad

MAN LIKE... Please understand that I'm saying this with Leafpool love in my Leafpool heart. But it frustrates me immensely that the books went in the direction they did with the parentage of the three. There's SO much wrong here

The plot seems to believe, just post-reveal, that Squilf has to pretend like she doesn't love them so that Ashfur won't kill them (the fuck??)

As if Firestar would just ALLOW an attempted fucking murderer to hang out in his Clan???

Like, go back and read it, she says, "Go ahead Ashfur, kill them, you won't hurt me if you do. They are not my kits." LIKE??

Ashfur: "Wow I totally believe you! I just tried to murder 3 people including a medcat in cold fucking blood and all of you are witnesses now, but rats! I've been foiled! Fire scene cancelled!"

I remember reading this as a kid and being like "This scene sucks. Ashfur would never. Squilf loves her children. 1000000000 lionblazes kill this man now" and little Bones was SO correct

Brambleclaw ABANDONING HIS CHILDREN is just never properly addressed. He was willing to cover up murder earlier in the book for Holly but the minute he finds out they didn't come out of Squilf he's like "nevermind"

He throws a tantrum for all of OotS and then, only at the end, when Squilf calls out that he's throwing his whole family away because he's mad at her, does he reconsider any of his actions.

I think he's entitled to being upset and having his negative emotions, but NOT in how he ended up treating all these people who have been nothing but adoring and apologetic towards him. But nope, no deeper reckoning with that, Squilf does a Cosgrove ass "Hey! Cut it out!" and that's it.

And Leafpool gets put through this too. Leafpool is now completely and fully considered their mom, comforting them as their parent post-reveal. She didn't raise them and yet it's just considered normal that she's the one with a bunch of emotionally soothing scenes with her biokits

Like... I love the idea of her finally being able to acknowledge something she's hidden for so long. But, these cats never saw her as a mother. She was their aunt and their whole life has been rearranged, the emotions they're facing towards this reveal are nothing but negative. Their "father" has also disowned them, treating their mother like shit, and Squilf is keeping her distance believing this is all her own fault.

The feelings here should be SUPER complicated, and that's really JUICY!! We were ROBBED of something waaaay more emotional because of this bizarre commitment to treating bioparents as always better than adopted ones.

OotS kills meee mannn

OH and don't even get me started on how they needed to make Squilf pregnant with Bramblestar's kits in the end because they don't believe adopted kids are equal to bio ones, but also couldn't commit to making their precious Bramble into a bad person who remained adamant about cutting off all his old "family." Alder and Spark should have been Jessy kits and I'll die on this hill

(and also jessy should have cat divorced him after. and also commit to bramble being a toxic parent.)

[lemonhemlock]

1 and 8

character everyone gets wrong

hmmm.... there's so much asoiaf meta at this point it's hard to say.... tyrion perhaps? he generally maintains this antagonistic view of his father and sister, but, in hindsight, it does seem to me that not everything tywin and cersei did was to designed specifically attack him or to work against him. tywin does send him to KL to be hand of the king in his stead and gives him actual power to reign cersei in and cersei does try to team up with him at the beginning of ACOK. but tyrion is so set on undermining her that he never really takes this offer of collaboration seriously and everything escalates quickly afterwards.

idk how to best express this but i feel like, even though the ableism was real, there was a point where they could have mended their relationship, but tyrion did play a crucial part in destroying this truce, it wasn't all a premeditated assault on him. but, while fans have smartened up to his POV trap and realised that he is truly on a downwards spiral and not necessarily a "good" person, this unblemished victimisation narrative remains

by now i sound like a broken record but i cannot truly investigate these leads until i begin the great re-read project (if only i wasn't preoccupied with other books rn !! )

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

i'm gonna start this with cersei bc this is the shorter rant, but people are so obsessed with this take that she doesn't really love her children, they're all just extensions of herself and that's what she cares about. it's so boring. it sounds like something parroted back from a psychiatry textbook. listen, cersei is her own brand of delusion, but she is also a person with feelings, not some ice-cold demon. people forget that in the quest of stripping her of her humanity, they also make her a less interesting and complex character. yes, she is an awful person with the capacity for love, otherwise what's the point? why do you think she became a POV character if it's all clowning around? also i think many people are way too eager to mistake paranoia and the effects of two recent traumatic deaths in the family with stupidity in her case

i'll have to move onto jaime rn bc his redemption discourse is also reaching tedious levels. first, in the ancient days, you had the dudebros who considered him a villain from the get-go and absolutely hated his guts, then these same dudebros discovered his POV in book 3 / season 3 and thus jaime gained a lot of fans who were suddenly on board the redemption train for him. then others got sick of this interpretation and countered with "jaime is not on a redemption arc !!! insert many exclamation marks!!!". this reaction was necessary at the time because debates were getting frightfully silly, but, nowadays it's like we've veered too far in the other extreme (from what i've seen anyway. i'm not an up-to-date scholar in jaimeological studies).

what i mean to say is that "redemption" has become such a dirty word in relation to jaime, when it's truly just a term. what does it matter what you really call it? redemption arc, identity arc, we're getting bogged down in definitions, snootily pointing the finger at each other and not really seeing the forest for the trees anymore. like he is objectively reconsidering, reinterpreting and trying to redefine both his relationship to the people around him and to abstract concepts like knighthood, justice and honour.

he doesn't exactly """regret""" pushing Bran out of a window, but he doesn't not regret it, you know what i mean? (another thread people are obsessed with: jaime will not get "redeemed" bc he doesn't regret pushing bran. i mean sort of? it's not that black or white, though: the situation was constructed in such a way as to be a fucked-up trolley problem with no true right answer. even sainted NED thinks this, i.e. to what lengths he or cat would have been willing to go to save their children. EVEN NED). yes, he also famously threatens to trebuchet edmure's baby, but he is also kind of pissed off in that moment, bullshitting and playing the tough guy in front of edmure. he lies a lot, to others and to himself. he is prone to violence, but he's not heartless. he is delulu but he is also re-evaluating his life. he's thinking about emulating his daddy but also cosplays as goldenhand the just. the man is really going through it.

if you ask me, it's vvvv likely jaime is the valonqar and his story will end with cersei in a bout of violence. but: as a manifestation of his unjust jealousy or as an act of kindness (to save her from a worse death)? i think both are possible. jaime is the pendulum swinging, he is a work in progress, he can get better, he can get worse. he is not a good person, he is pretty decent at heart and trying to do better. his 'identity' arc or whatever you want to call it might as well be a 'redemption' arc but with the quest unfulfilled. or partially unfulfilled. he might retcon himself into a true white knight, but still choose to go back to cersei, because he feels responsible for her or, you know, (incoming controversial opinion) because it's the right thing to do. yes, the incest is a bad coping mechanism, yes, you did many fucked up shit together and that was wrong, but, for better or worse, she is your sister and the person you shared your life with. you can't let her die alone. whatever she did, you also did, and you should carry the burden together. there is love there and you must honour that or else nothing means anything in this world. you go into the light together!!

[bunglegaydogs]

Hiiii I'm just sending an ask because they're all different posts (read : I'm lazy) so please don't mind me lol

First and foremost, YOU ARE AMAZING AT EXPRESSING YOUR THOUGHTS AND YOUR ESSAYS ARE ALWAYS SO NUANCED?? SO YOU SAYING THAT WAS A HUGE COMPLIMENT OMG- I love reading your bsd essays so much and it's just now that I realised that they're all your essays abaammw some of the best in the fandom really. I'm always baffled when in the middle of an essay you go "I may not be articulating my thoughts right" or "this is kind of just put together" because girl you're amazing! Never stop writing these please ajajahsbw ALSO! Hearing your little thoughts and feelings pop up in the middle of an essay makes it so endearing to me. Like, that's a whole ass person writing these many words just to express how much they like this show and they're so adorable! (So sorry if that's offensive idk if calling someone adorable is)

Also, completely unrelated lol but this is exactly why I prefer to ask people questions instead of googling! Knowing that the person explaining is a human has their own opinions and hearing their feelings and experiences is so much more better and relatable than reading stuff off a Google website. Also your pfp is the cutest everyone has cute pfps nowadays 😭 anyways yes cute pfp :D

Actually getting to the point now:

1) yes yes Oda and Dazai's relationship is so dear to me I love them sm and I adore seeing Atsushi all caring for his mentor 😭 he's basically Dazai's emotional support cat!! Dazai let the boy in please I'm begging you he can purr probably and it would melt away your stress pls pls (Maybe everyone in the ADA sees Atsushi as their emotional support cat...)

2) Mori is a piece a shit, and you should be allowed to say it. I'm never biased in my writing but I loathe that guy with my very being and the whole people who like Mori thing really got me reconsidering...was *I* the bad guy for not liking a character when I actively liked a character very similar to him? Then I realised, I completely respect and treat equally all the people who don't like/hate Dazai. I don't treat them any different just because they don't like a character. And that's what I should expect too!

There's no post defending Dazai, and yet I still like him because I accept his wrongdoings and want him to keep getting better, like Oda told him to. Yknow, the argument would be MUCH different if Dazai was a woman and not a man, imagine bashing someone for liking a teen girl and not liking the guy who groomed her to be his heir. Yeah, really puts things into perspective. I'm not sexist, I treat (respectful) men and women equally, but Mori is just. No.

3) I haven't see it before in any canon source material but I feel like it's definitely true. It's clear that Dazai WANTS to want to keep living, but he can't bring himself to want it because of all the pain he's endured. He literally said in dark era that the reason he joined the mafia was to try and seek meaning in life by being close to death and violence. It's ironic, Dazai feels the most alive when he's about to LOSE that privilege. It could also mean that Dazai only realises the "value" in living when he's about to lose it. Perhaps he thinks of things he could've done, things he'll regret, and that helps him to stop before he actually does it. But in my opinion? I don't think he finds anything of worth in that time. He just convinces himself that he does. This is a personal hc but it's probably likely to be the case.

If you've listened to the song My R, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about.(totally recommend btw!).The girl in the song speaks to herself about her woes and the 'other' version of her comforts her telling her about all the things that she DOES have, but by the end of the song, she has lost everything of meaning and she can't comfort the "girl". It is only revealed that the girls she comforted are different versions of HERSELF that she stopped from jumping.

Anyways, in conclusion, SOMEBODY PLEASE GIVE THIS BOY A HUG HE DESERVES IT

oh my god oh my god oh my god

i am sat here on the verge of TEARS in my goddamn chuuya cosplay

okay okay give me a second i need to collect myself

you are singlehandedly the SWEETEST person ever im sobbing

literally i cant- thank you so fucking much! you dont understand how much this all means to me WOWOWOWOW <33333333

literally, my brain doesnt let me consume my content positively and so i always think that theyre quite bad or that im the only person who thinks that or that im saying all the wrong things lol

i have so many words and thoughts floating around in my little brain that i just cant find the words for, so thats honestly what those rants are, my delusional 4am thought processes when i deep things too much

and YOU THINK??? genuinely, thank you!!! i love reading people's essays and thoughts, so hearing you say that genuinely just warms my absolute heart <3

and yes yes i do get quite sidetracked very often and start just rambling and adding my own personal twists- genuinely i thought that was annoying for people to read, but you're just putting a big smile on my face right now :) and PLS DONT THINK CALLING ME ADORABLE IS OFFENSIVE I LITERALLY GIGGLED READING THAT SHIT FR. <333

i like to add personal experiences and thoughts into it, just to get my point across, put it into an irl perspective and let people also relate and see what im getting at. (unfortunately) i have the same experiences as most of these characters, and so that is why they're so dear to me and why i get very defensive and passionate writing about them!

and yes! getting your answers and stuff from irl people instead of strange irrelevant responses is much more preferred lol. it's more raw and in depth and definitely a lot more personal! and thank you so much!!! it's genuinely one of my favourite dazai panels istg hes such a pretty mf

1.) i love love LOVE their dynamic, i think it's one of my favourites in the show along with skk and ranpo and yosano. it really fucking hits hard, as all family dynamics do with me fr, idk what it is about them, they just get me. and yes!!! i love when atsushi shows that he cares for dazai it MAKES ME FEEL NICE <3 and that's so real oh my god hes a tiger please PLEASE he can fucking PURR (there was a tumblr post i saw, i can try and find it but it made me actually cry laughing)

THIS ONE i was fucking howling but yes! their relationship is also one that really really gets to me! and yes, he is just the ada's support cat, it's canon, i'm ranpo's sweets

2.) thank you thank you THANK YOU mori is an actual degenerate human being. he's not made to be liked or appreciated or revered, it's just fucking AEUGH. i'm not going to demonise the people who enjoy him as a character, but seriously, it's a big red flag to overlook the canon pedophilia. i saw someone make a defense against him saying "yes, but he's never actually touched kids, so that doesn't mean anything" SORRY? they also went on to say that he "restrains himself" from having pedophilic thoughts with elise, and basically praised him for that. needless to say, it got me feeling fucking icky. and yes! i feel exactly the same. i always think that "oh, maybe i'm the awful one for not liking him? am i bad?" even though, no, i'm perfectly fine thinking that way and i am allowed to think that way. and exactly again! dazai is my favourite character, but i recognise his flaws and his mistakes and don't forgive them. but he's actively trying to "be a better person" (i say this in quotation marks because dazai sees everything he does as inevitably pointless, but still wishes to uphold oda's dying words. i am definitely going to make a post about this in the near future lol) and i dont make my analyses biased towards him, and i stay on neutral ground UNLESS personal opinion comes up, to which i then say that it's my personal opinion, not fact, and that it's anybody's choice to think however they want. if somebody doesn't like dazai; okay! i'm interested in talking with them, and we can both talk about things we're very passionate about and have healthy conversations! unlike some people i have seen on reddit, goddamn. but no, we're not the bad people for hating that knobhead fr. we should all treat and be treated the same as any other fan in the fandom and get along, and i wish we could ALL do that in non-toxic ways. 99% of this fandom are the loveliest people ever, but that 1% just needs to get a grip like omg. we should treat others how we want to be treated, regardless of who favours what ship and who likes what character. and real!!! if gender roles were reversed for dazai, this would be much more problematic, and that's upsetting! dw dw, i dont think its sexist, i think its putting things into perspective bc, either way, its shitty how he was treated. i fucking hate mori. whenever i see people defending him to like, the bone, like not getting into a decent discussion and being civil but instead bashing everyone who says otherwise and completely overlooking the abuse, manipulation, grooming, pedophilia and just him as a sick and twisted person in general, it just really irks me. as someone who has in fact had to deal with separate strands of abuse including many fucking counts of sexual abuse and pedophilia, it disgusts me seeing people overlooking it and it makes me feel fucking sick. that shit is not just something to be overlooked because of the fact that you enjoy mori as a character, he's not supposed to be a character that's consumed positively, he's a bad guy. a lot of characters in bsd are morally grey, but mori is just fucking morally black. he's downright evil.

(TW for suicide and self harm next btw :) )

3.) yes yes yessss!!! again, bringing personal stuff into it, i deal heavily with the whole topic of suicide and self harm. i've attempted twice and still deal with thoughts of it every single day, as well as self harm. so, this is one of my main reasons of dazai being my absolute favourite character, because of the representation and actual presentation of these topics. at first, we're shown them in a whimsical and whacky way, then it gets so much darker once we get into the dark era. it's a complete tonal shift, and it really sets in the gravity of the situation for him. and, as you said, he wants to have that ability to want to keep going and living, and he wants to be able to put the effort in, but he can't/ he physically cannot. as much as he would want to try, he can't. and yes, when he said that it fucking BROKE me fr. just at the chance that he's not able to keep living on anymore as a human is the one thing that keeps him alive, i fucking love asagiri's writing, it's so complex and beautiful. and its so so so real!!! youre literally right idc lmao. youve so eloquently said it im crying, youre putting all my thoughts into words <3

and yes!!! i have listened to the song, i absolutely LOVE it! and i never fail to think of dazai whenever i listen to it </3 and, i also think it's very very much like dazai, because of the multiple different versions we see of him too. chuuya hasn't exactly changed much, but he has gone through some very very complex and deep character developments, such as in fifteen and stormbringer. hes a lot more "tame" and respectful now, and a lot more mature. (except with dazai lmao) aku, we see he's changed slightly thanks to atsushi, but still no major character fucking flip arounds. all these characters we've watched slowly become better and more complex throughout the series. dazai? he just does 180s every single fucking year. hes different at 14 and 15 than he is at 18. hes different at 18 than he is at 20-22. and the different faces he puts on for each and every person, all his masks that he has. there's much variety to dazai; you never know what you'll get. there's so many different sides to him, because he doesn't know who he is. as odasaku saw him, "a lost child crying out". no matter the age, no matter the state, dazai is always going to be harbouring that broken child with him, trying to hide it and build up walls around it, because the only time he's ever shown it, he's gotten hurt or betrayed and lost some key figures in his life. trust issues much?

anyways i am sorry i am sorry i rambled too much lmao

in conclusion, YES, GIVE HIM A FUCKING HUG OH MY GOD PLEASE I JUST NEED SOMEONE TO HUG HIM PLS GOD LET ATSUSHI GIVE HIM A BIG HUG WHEN HE COMES OUT OF MEURSAULT I SWEAR-

thank you so so so SO much for your kind words!!! sweetest person EVER fr <333333

thank you my love!!! /p have a lovely day/night :) <3

[dangerously-human]

for the fic year in review: 9, 10, 19, 20, 29 :)

Ah, thanks for inviting me to ramble. <3

What fic meant the most to you to write? I gave another answer for this earlier, but the other - as I've said repeatedly - is Not Even a Doorknob Between You, as my love letter to the themes of a series that reshaped me as a person. It's very hard to explain everything Lockwood & Co means to me, which is why that fic exists - as my best attempt to scratch the surface.

What fic made you feel the happiest to work on? Of what's been posted so far, easily Woke Up in a Safe House Singing. Spent most of the writing of it with a grin on my face. If we include WIPs in the list, the apple pie fic might give that one a run for its money, but that's almost certainly not getting posted before the end of the year.

Share your favorite opening line Ah, I already used the cat one for an earlier answer, now I have to think of another! See, I usually put more thought into how I conclude a story than its beginning, I should probably reconsider that trend a bit. Anyway, I'm quite fond of the opener to Smoke & Shield: It’s his first birthday party, and Anthony is clearly too impatient for cake to be bothered with this business of candles.

Share your favorite ending line Also one I answered, but happy for an excuse to share multiple! Another favorite closer is from I'll Take the Grave: Leaning on each other, he and Lucy descended into the dawn as one.

If this were an awards show, who would you thank? Sneaky, sneaky... You would obviously be top of the list, for all the commingling brainrot at inhuman speeds, seeding the Catholic Lockwood headcanon that is now firmly rooted, and for all the discussions of the overlap of faith and fandom. All the sickos get a shoutout, of course: the encouragement from you, @geekloverlz, @polithicc, and @itripandfallalot has been a gamechanger that adds so much fun to the process, and I love all our "yes and"-ing that spirals one vague notion into so much more. And my beloved @loubuttons has swapped insightful meta and buzzing about themes and characters from the beginning. Of course, this league of strange ladies on my dash deserve a nod as well for being so vocally enthusiastic about this thing - and especially all the literary analysis through a Christian lens - that I couldn't help being intrigued enough to get into Lockwood & Co in the first place. And for all the writers who've poured their time and hearts into the amazing stuff I've read and watched this year that got the gears turning - I know I've mostly talked about Lockwood & Co, because that's where I'm most deeply embedded, but there are a lot of books, shows, movies, fanfiction, etc that's influenced me over this year and contributed to making me the writer I currently am!

[dujour13]

🌏 👑 ☁️ for Siavash pls! 👀

🌏 will they give up the world for someone they love? is this decision easy for them?

Ouch, considering his backstory... Siavash ruined his last relationship by being selfish and flighty, so coming into this new relationship with some guilt he’ll be more willing to question himself and make real sacrifices if he has to.

Still I think what he’s finding in Woljif is someone who doesn’t want or expect him to be any different or give anything up. What I like about these two chaotic creatures is that they accept each other at face value with all their faults and have no interest in making each other toe the line.

The one situation where there’s a serious problem is when he keeps his azata powers at the start of Act V and Woljif realizes he’s going to sacrifice himself to close the Worldwound. Would he give up literally being able to save the world so they can be together? (--well no, so he makes the promise that’ll he’ll exhaust every other option first. Which is what leads to the ascension ending.)

👑 what does your oc want to be remembered as? why?

Siavash’s joy is in bringing joy, whether with his music or not organizing the Ritual of Stardust or even closing the Worldwound. If he knows he’s made people a little bit happier, a little less burdened with troubles, that’s enough for him. He doesn’t want titles, statues or solemn temples after closing the Worldwound – just people being prosperous and free. (I know this is corny but like I’ve said, the dude is just completely CG and I love him for it.)

☁️ a soft headcanon

He has a nice soft hairy chest.

Here’s a little bonus headcanon I have for Woljif too: in my fic he’s a teetotaler, he never touches alcohol. (“Tiefling on the street’s gotta keep his wits about him, and I saw what it did to Gran…”) Soft in the sense of soft drinks I guess?

and I'm throwing in this one because it made me think, don't feel you need to read through it, just using this to think aloud

🔫 do they trust people easily? how easily will they turn their back to someone? have they been backstabbed before? will they betray someone if given an ultimatum?

Siavash does not trust people easily. He can be slippery himself – with good intentions, of course, the road to hell and all that – and is an avid player of cat-and-mouse in diplomacy.

And yet, as an optimist at heart, he believes in the power of his own charm and Desna’s luck to set people on a better path. His saying is, “I don’t manipulate people. I just get them to reconsider what’s in their best interest.” He works that charisma, plants the seeds, and trusts in fate to bring people around, and Desna must be listening because in most cases that actually works out—like with Nurah and Minagho for example.

As for Woljif.

Siavash has no illusions. He loves him, but he doesn’t trust him until Act V, and for good reason. In my fic Woljif pulls a couple shenanigans on him personally beyond even what’s in the game (put him in a more compromised position with the Thieflings than he even knew, stole something important…). He realizes early on that Woljif has a gentle heart and that most of his shady dealings don’t directly hurt people any more than losing a pocketful of gold. Of course he tries to plant the seeds of redemption, but it’s not so much manipulation as knowing Woljif has a chance at happiness if he just gives his better nature more rein.

Most painful of all: on the cusp of Woljif’s final quest, he knew he had to keep his mouth shut and let Woljif decide for himself what to do with Ygefeles’ power, but that was not without a good dose of terror that he would do the wrong thing. Even though they were well into their relationship at that point (these bunnies were NOT waiting until Act V) he was not 100% sure Woljif would resist the temptation. He will take that secret with him to the grave.

[anotherghoul666]

Ok, now I have a moment at work and I've answered yours...

I associate peoples profiles with them, so in my head you are a ghoul in a mask. But, since that's not possible.

I know you're shorter than me, which kinda threw me for a loop. But you don't give off gremlin/croissant energy, so I'd have to assume you pay attention to posture.

I'm thinking you're a dress for comfort type of person in day to day. I'm thinking band merch and jeans. I'm going to go with dark hair on the shorter side. I haven't decided if I picture glasses or not.

You give me scary energy, the type that'd give me one chance to reconsider on my own, you know when you aren't pointing the shiny laser at the Disco ball and watching me chase it.

To be fair, I have a ghoul mask. But is is way too big for my head (I have no idea who'se fucking head they modeled the size of this on but it ridiculous!!) I've been trying to figure out how to make it wearable / make it stay on my head without having to hold it the whole time.

I am Smol. Smol and Tol is my trope. I am a built-in size kink XD I'm 5'3 and 3/4. Yes the 3/4 is important, because I used to not know and round up to 5'4 like it was no big deal, but then when buying pants I always had trouble with pant legs being too long for me. One day at a clothing store, I was getting help for sizing pants and the gentle lady that was assisting me kindly let me know I'd be better off buying pants in the petite section of their store, the "under 5'4" section of their store, because that's where I'd find pants that don't curl under my heels. It stayed with me. Since then I have better fitting pants, but I left a chunk of my ego in that store not gonna lie XD

I kiiiinda have to be mindful of posture cause of chronic pain? I don't have great posture mind you, I hunch my shoulders and round my back when writing but like, I cannot go full gremlin on a couch or sit in bisexual on a chair. My home office has a decent ergonomic chair and desk and all that shit cause otherwise, pain.

100% dress for comfort person. You are 100% right with the band merch and jeans also. It's band shirts and pyjama pants when at home, and swap that for jeans when I leave. I also dress like that at work, no lie being able to dress in my lazy metalhead vibe at work was one of the first things I asked for when interviewing. Because business clothes are a sensory and gender nightmare. I can't go full-on satanic black metal shirts at work unfortunately, apparently Baphomet covered in blood with its tits out is against company policy, what are you gonna do. But I have work-friendly band shirts xD

My hair's light, but it is short! I have an undercut, and the longer section of hair goes to my jawline. I do have glasses.

Your energy assesment is pretty spot on when I'm in dom(me) mode, yeah ;P It's fun to give people choices and watch them fuck up ❤️ Give them an out and watch them choose to stay anyway, even when knowing it won't be an easy situation to be in 😈 Then I can watch the pretty show of the cute orange cat chasing the shiny ;)

Thank you for playing Traayaa dear! 5.5/8 guesses, you pass!