#Or rewriting I suppose

[rauchendesgnu]

Reading medieval fiction is so funny to me because I look at this Frankenstein's creature of a story and think to myself, you should write a retelling but make Laudine and Lunete make out like the lesbians they so clearly are. Also Iwein and Gawein must kiss. And then I realise that it's such a niche interest that nobody would read it and then I'm sad.

[kindaasrikal]

I love thinking about children looking like their parents, what with the Ninja looking so much like their own.

Do you think Lou has to make sure he doesn’t accidentally call Cole Lilly because he’s the spitting image of her? Do you think once, after Lilly had first died and Cole hadn’t been sent to his school yet, that Lou accidentally called Cole ‘Lilly’ and Cole thought that she was back, she was there and here with them and when he glanced around to see her he realised that his father was looking at him in guilt? Do you think ever since then, before Cole found peace within himself, he looked at the mirror and only saw his mother? His mother’s face, her smile and kind eyes, reflected on his own?

Do you think when Cliff Gordon held Jay, the new born baby of Libber, that he only saw her face reflecting back at him? The adorable freckles and the curly hair? Do you think when Libber died, Cliff Gordon couldn’t look at the last thing Libber ever left him, and had to give Jay away less he broke down?

Did Wu look at Lloyd and see his brother’s young face reflected back at him? Do you think Wu wonders if Lloyd is what Garmadon could’ve been like?

Do you think Misako looked at Lloyd and saw her husband’s innocent face staring back at her, a lost memory that could never be her present or future?

Do you think Garmadon looked at Lloyd and saw all the things of Wu and Misako and knew that when the day came that he saw himself in Lloyd all he would-could- do was cry?

Do you think Kai looked and Nya’s young face, freshly orphaned and alone, and saw his mother’s gentle eyes and comforting softness? That when he would wake up, blurry eyed and tired, he would look at Nya’s face and have to make sure it isn’t his mother finally coming home?

Do you think Nya only barely remembered her father, so when she looked at Kai, old enough to actually remember and recall, she automatically thought he was her father?

Do you think Dr Julien looked at Zane and knew that this child was everything he could, and couldn’t be?

How many times did Chen look at Skylor, only to look away is disgust once he saw a face he wished he could never recall?

Man, i rlly need to stop with the do you think bull, its getting repetitive 😭

[infamous-if]

Chapter 1 Rewrite

Out now for band tier! / April 22nd for fan tier

New additions in Chapter 1:

new choices/dialogue

a new scene(s) where the band throws a farewell party for Jazzy

brief introduction to a new character and British band—the hotshot winners of Season 3 of BOTB, Velvet Novocaine

introduction to the final sub romance^ Luca/Lilith Alvarez. The lead singer of VN

Chapter 1's changes weren't too intense, mostly because the chapter is short + most of the changes in this chapter are an extension of the changes in the prologue. The new scene is quite lengthy though, so I hope that's enjoyable ! :) See you then.

[rewrite-canon]

im going crazy with how people are starting to agree with snow that sejanus was really stupid and deserved what was coming to him. reading the books first should be a pre requisite to the movie idcccc if that takes away the wider audience, the wider audience all have smooth brains anyway.

“why was he colluding with rebels when he could’ve just thought about it pragmatically 🙄” i’m in your fucking walls. sejanus was never dumb, snow just kept pushing that perception of him through the book to deflect the fact that sejanus was an actual good person. snow thought himself the personification of good and benevolence, which was why everything he did had to have some half-assed excuse as to why he was justified in doing it. it was why he was actually tweaking in the woods when lucy gray left him, because he wanted to rid himself of her but he didn’t have an actual reason so he convinced himself of the most random scenario ever to justify trying to shoot at her. so we can establish that snow was an evil broke boy who clearly wasn’t good— then sejanus was a direct confrontation of snow’s own shortcomings towards that (i don’t think i have to detail how sejanus was genuine, it was obvious). coriolanus and sejanus are like the direct opposite characters of each other, and snow knew and took pride in this to an extent. which is why snow couldn’t admit that sejanus was good to himself, thus sejanus was deemed ‘stupid’ to protect his own deluded self actualisation (but this also includes other aspects like how the war made the plinths rich and the snows poor, leading to resentment and jealousy from snow).

“but that still didn’t mean he wasn’t doing dumb things throughout the book” was it really that dumb? a rebellion will always include some level of risk but i don’t hear anyone calling heavensbee stupid because it actually worked out for him. plus sejanus is district, so if we use our common sense of who he is as a character and emotional intelligence of his situation, it’s pretty easy to see why he would get in touch with rebels. he’s literally always yearned for the districts, he never once cared about his money or safety, which isn’t stupid, it’s sad. this was his way of dealing with the guilt of profiting from his people’s suffering— again, not stupid. you could argue he was reckless, especially when he went into the arena, but most people who simply cast him as a ‘dumb character’ ignore how troubled he is and fall into the very filtered lens of snow who was just concentrating on his stupidity.

sejanus’ growing radical actions had nothing to do with stupidity and everything to do with feeling helpless and like nothing was changing. he tried minor/low-risk things such as attempting to change the perception of the districts in the capitol, advocating against the hunger games etc etc. of course it didn’t work, so his options grew limited to more radical courses of action. its a natural line of thought— activists literally do it in real life when they feel as if their cause isn’t getting enough attention (eg. setting themselves on fire). sejanus is a desperate character who is so selfless in light of snow’s constant self-preservation. snow will always put himself first and be paranoid that he will be betrayed like he’s betrayed others, so he never understands sejanus’ disposition to help and trust people, so he labels him dumb. omg. like. sejanus is so not-stupid i’m actually gonna start freaking out!! this is defamatory leave my boo alone!! plz go read a book and work on media literacy i am begging!!!

[myfairstarlight]

I hope they allow Michaela Stirling to still be a rake. I need her to flirt with every beautiful woman she sees and charm the fuck out of the Bridgerton wives. Kate, Penelope and Sophie deserve to be swooned by a beautiful lady, as a treat for marrying into the Bridgerton insanity.

[solarpunkani]

I think it'd be fun to imagine a solarpunk society where most buildings come with a greenhouse, whether its attached or a separate but nearby structure, and people take great pride in their greenhouses' looks and vibe.

Like imagine personalizing your/your family's greenhouse, and visiting your friends' greenhouses. How you use it in different seasons, what you have growing in it, the spaces dedicated to hanging out.

Imagine you go to a friend's house and they have a greenhouse with green and yellow panels interspersed, light shining through the glass and onto a nice warm floor on a spring day. There's a rug and some pillows tucked into the corner with a small table, so you can sit or pull up a chair to enjoy snacks or just hang out.

You go to another friend's. Their greenhouse is dedicated to output, with dwarf citrus trees and strawberries and peppers and tomatoes and herbs growing in neat little pots on the tables. Some of them will be planted in the beds outside, some will be given to friends, some will live their whole lives within the glass walls and be perfectly happy. Sometimes your friend opens the panels, and the greenhouse comes to life with all kinds of butterflies and bees stopping by to visit.

There's a nice greenhouse by the library, which has a few fragrant herbs and tea plants growing inside, but is mostly a cozy space. A nice table and a few chairs are inside, for students who like to use the space to study or hang out together. There's one great big chair that's nestled in the perfect spot to read in the warm sunlight, or to listen to the sound of gentle rains tapping against the glass in summer. In fall and winter, they keep a healthy supply of warm hot cocoa and coffee for visitors to enjoy, but in the summer you're more likely to find fresh lemonade.

You know someone who uses their greenhouse as more of a gathering place, its perfect for parties. Plenty of tables and chairs, string lights along the walls so get-togethers can last well into the night. The various panels in pink, orange, and yellow make the room feel magical as light filters through.

Some families turn their greenhouses over to the kids quite early, and it quickly becomes a place full of toys, tiny seedlings of their favorite flowers in colorful pots, a few study books tucked away in a study corner. Or a popular hangout spot for them and their friends to post up with snacks after school.

A few couples may grow a few plants, but keep the area mostly clear--perfect for times where they just want to turn on a small radio, and slowdance with one another well into the night.

And your greenhouse? You can use it however you'd like after all, make it your own.

[ganondoodle]

(totk rewritten/botw 2) (wip)

hey look i gave another thing extra arms! very unusual amidst all my characters having extra arms

[fromtheseventhhell]

I love how people are only ever interested in defending Arya's right to be weird-looking. It's never defending her intelligence from people who claim she's incapable of thinking for herself, highlighting her importance to the plot and refusing to see her as just a prop, acknowledging how much of her story gets stolen and given to other characters, talking about her trauma or how often it gets erased and overlooked, seeing her as more than just an attack dog/bodyguard, etc. Nope. It's just a "why can't people let Arya be ugly/unconventional looking? :(" post every other week because people are, for whatever reason, obsessed with how Arya is visually perceived. One of the most misinterpreted characters yet the issue is only ever with her being portrayed as "too pretty" or the wrong "type" of pretty. This fandom will entirely rewrite a character's motivations, values, and role in the story to the point that they consider references to canon "hate" but! The true injustice to canon is we acknowledge that she is described as pretty several times. Arya simply existing as her pretty, important, and non-conforming self is too complex and confusing for people to comprehend 😔.

[snarky-art]

She’ll never be Daphne

[adultish-momma]

Therapy on a Time Crunch

The VDC is coming up, and not only is there a lot of vocal and dance prep to do, but some unpacking needs to be fit in to the already busy schedule.

Or: Yuu refuses to let Epel say sexist shit in their presence.

Warnings!: Inherently sexist comments. Epel in book 5 is honestly just a raging stereotypical small town misogynist, and that is itself a warning. Threat of future violence at the end.

A/N: Yuu is Gender Neutral in this story, but Epel’s specific brand of misogyny pisses me off, so Yuu responds as if they were personally targeted by his comments. That being said, they are never refered to as fem, nor do they state that they identify as fem.

“But all these girly twisting motions… I don’t want to do those.”

They couldn’t have heard that right.

Yuu sits at a table in an alcove of the Pomefiore dance hall, blinking in stunned disbelief at the purple-haired freshman. Grim, intimate with the knowledge of their henchhuman’s body language symbols by this point in the school year, inches further amongst the pages of their spread-out homework. He hangs his head over a worksheet, hoping to remain out of the line of fire but still be able to watch the show about to happen.

“Wait, wait, wait” the Prefect rises, shaking their hands and their head in denial of what they just heard. “Go back. Did you just say that Jazz… Hip Hop… is girly??”

Epel opens his mouth, but Yuu raises their hand in a dismissive, shushing gesture. Something in their eyes prompts him to quickly shut his mouth.

“I mean, correct me if I’m wrong here Vil, but as far as I recall, Jazz and Hip Hop are, historically and predominantly, male dominated dance styles. At least in my world, what about here?”

Vil raises an eyebrow, impressed with the otherworldly students' knowledge. He gives a small nod in response to their question.

“That’s what I thought. So tell me Epel, what exactly is so ‘girly’ about a dance style that was created by both genders, but has had the female influence of its origins mostly deliberately forgotten? What’s so ‘effeminate’ about a dance style that is incredibly hard for female dancers to establish credibility in because people cry ‘slut’?”

Again, Epel opens his mouth to flounder out an answer, desperately trying to string words into a sentence that will make the Ramshackle Housewarden stop looking at him like that. He feels pinned, backed into a corner, and hell Leona doesn’t even make him feel this much like prey. Like he’s only got one chance to present himself to the jury that is Yuu, and if he messes this up they will judge him worthy of execution.

“The whole idea of boys being ashamed of doing effeminate dance moves is so last century.” Vil steps in now, adding his own judgemental pressure to the freshman’s predicament. “Did you grow up a century ago? Have we a time traveler amongst us?”

“N-no, sir…”

At least with Vil it’s easy to figure out how to end a lecture quicker. Vil already softens at the submissive tone of his underclassman. Not much, just a fraction, but softens nonetheless. Vil is a wrath he’s incurred before, a wrath he knows how to navigate. His fellow first year on the other hand…

Even with Kalim stepping up, inserting his sunny disposition into the tense standoff, the Prefect does not yield. They continue to stare Epel down, jaw clenched and arms crossed like a disappointed parent. Vil softens even further at whatever advice the sophomore is spouting, but Epel can’t hear him over the roar in his ears, still transfixed by the way his body screams threat in response to the Prefect’s stare. There’s something taunting about it now, an angry predator that is daring him step closer. Epel has enough sense to not rise to the bait.

Yuu begins to smirk, and suddenly Epel has doubts about his survival rate.

“Just for curiosity's sake… ” they begin, demeanor changing on a dime. Their voice drops, likening itself to that of a husky purr. The harsh posture is dropped, hips curving and arms draping themselves in a manner that accentuates their body’s curves. Within seconds, they embody a lot of the attributes Vil tries to teach him in his private lessons. With an alluring smile (but still that predatory gaze), they gesture behind them towards the Scarbian Vice Housewarden.

“Would you consider Jamil ‘feminine’?”

“No, of-”

“No?" an innocent widening of the eyes, big and round and doe-like, exactly how Vil would want him to do. "Even when he’s breakdancing? You know, that Hip Hop dance style that he’s so fond of?”

“...no.”

“No,” smug satisfaction drips from Yuu’s frame like poison. “You wouldn’t.”

The Ramshackle student retreats across the practice room, returning to their belongings while maintaining that captivating air they adopted. They move in a way that draws the eyes, and Epel is able to watch from his place across the room as they do exactly that. They bend over the table to reach all their belongings, and they do so in just the right way, allowing Epel to catch at least three of the boys in the room check out their ass. (The fact that he only caught the looks of the others after he himself had to retch his gaze away will be ignored).

Epel bitterly (and begrudingly) thinks that maaaaaybe Vil might be onto to something about all his posturing crap.

Grim, who hadn’t completed a single problem on his worksheet, gleefully hopped down from the chair, sauntering towards the exit.

“Potato, where do you think you’re going?” 

“To get some air. This place reeks of archaic misogyny.” A snicker from their beastly companion can be heard from the hallway.

Yuu pauses in the doorway, fingers drumming on the doorframe in deliberation. Suddenly they turn around, relaxing against the wood so they could face the VDC crew. The predatory glint was back.

“If you want to complain because you don’t have an interest in dancing, by all means be my guest, you’re entitled to preferences. But I promise you, if I ever hear you spout that kind of sexist bullshit again, I’m going hit with the sparkliest, pinkest purse in existence and knock your sorry ass into next week.”

[aetherialpiplup108]

So, I've always been a little upset at the way Thalia was cast aside after TTC considering how important she was as a thematic clinch for the narrative (like, how wild is it that her death was a primary instigator pushing Luke towards his warped ideology—bro literally spends books 1 and 2 going "oh, you want to talk to ME about Thalia?? Well guess what, she'd be on my side"—and then she shows up with an uno reverse card, effectively ensuring his downfall etc. etc. etc.) and the neglect of her character comes to a head in the climax where she's irritatingly not present even though the entire moment centered around her dynamic with Luke and Annabeth.

But.

There is something to be said about how the only reason Annabeth is there to shock Luke into disillusion is because Thalia shoved her to safety, getting trapped underneath Hera's statue in Annabeth's stead. Thalia never gets the "lost family" emphasis that Luke and Annabeth get because she's always pushed out of the storyline (spending the first half as a three, the latter as a hunter) but even so, her love for them is embedded into every action she takes throughout the series. Luke might have been the one who made the promise to the little girl they found on the streets, but Thalia's the one that kept it.

Still…how cool would it be if the statue fell after the gang already reached Luke—forget Hera, what if it was Kronos/Luke that caused it to fall—and Thalia instinctively pushes Annabeth out of danger at cost to herself highlighting that the main difference between her and Luke is not their feelings towards the gods but that Thalia can't hurt Annabeth or another innocent demigod whereas Luke is so blinded by his personal anger, he's forgotten who he's supposed to be fighting for. And Annabeth sees this and just snaps because this is her family, the only people who were there for her as a kid, and they keep hurting each other over and over for a cause they each believe will serve her. It hurts so much that Annabeth doesn't even look up as Kronos stalks over and Percy screams for her to get out of the way, but she does spit out a bitter, "Family, Luke. You promised", and Luke flinches, turning unconsciously to look at Thalia and sees the legs she broke trying to stop him from hurting Annabeth of all people, and realization crashes upon him like a pile of bricks that he's hurt the two most important people to him in the world. So then he begs Percy—who's watching all of this with a damn, what soap opera did I just walk into expression—for the knife and tries in his last moments to rectify the ridiculous mess he's made and offers a well-deserved apology to the girl who stepped up when he did not and the other who never gave up on him.)

or maybe that's ridiculously cheesy and dramatic and totally stupid. idk.

[muchmossymess]

Loser, Bambi

A radiostar/radioapple/duckiedeer rewrite of loser, baby (as an aroace myself, this is platonic, I think it'd be hilarious to their dynamic) (set after the finale, and let my delusional heart believe alastor cares deep deep deep down)

Lucifer: So things look bad and your back's against the wall

Your whole existence hangs in the balance

You're feeling panicked like you heard the hunter's call

Can't face the world without you malice

You've lost your way, your reputations wrecked

Well me just say, (scoffing) what'd you expect?

Alastor: Excuse me?

Lucifer: You're a loser, bambi

A loser goddamn baby 

You're a fucked up little whiny bitch

Alastor: Now listen here

Lucifer: You're a loser, unlike me

Alastor: What a surprise

Lucifer: You've amused hell's ruler 

If only your shtick was newer 

You're an overlord gone overboard

But you've got company

Alastor: *staticy boo track*

Lucifer: There was a time I thought no one could relate

To the holy things that I cant let go

But lettin' walls down, it can sometimes set you straight!

Can't let the hotels progress plateau 

Alastor: I must admit, that I seem to've grown to care

Lucifer: You aren't the only one with his soul bare

Get outta here man 

We're both losers, bambi

We're losers, it's okay to be a-

Alastor: Psychopathic radio?

Lucifer (out of tune with the song): eeughhhhh…

Alastor: *snickers*

Alastor: I'm a loser deary

To admit it is quite dreary 

But at least I know I'm not alone

Lucifer: You're a loser

Both: Just like me

*tune change*

Lucifer: I've got a habit of creation

Alastor: I've got a knack for devastation, of every lowly sinner I can find

Lucifer: You know what Charlie thinks of that, come on

Alastor: I helped fulfil all of her dreaming

Lucifer: I'm making sure I'm never leaving 

Now that I'm back in her life

Both: I will protect her from all ill meaning

Alastor: You're a loser, Luci

Lucifer: A loser, but just maybe if we

Both: Eat shit together, things will end up differently

Lucifer: It's time to lose some of that loathin'

Lower your mask, let hope in, bambi

Play your card, be who you are

Both: A loser, just like-

Charlie: There they are! They're fucking singing???

[aroaceleovaldez]

Mark Oshiro confuses me a little bit not going to lie. In the press tour for the first book all they ever talked about was how Nico is their son and Will is fine I guess. Then they said like 2 weeks before TSATS came out that they didn't understand Will's character at all and it's one of the main reasons why Will has so little POV.

Possibly unpopular opinion but I don't think it's a good, encouraging sign when the writer admits to not really caring about the deuteragonist or not even having a sense of how to write them...

Yeah, no. If you have no interest in 1/2 of the POV characters of your book, you REALLY shouldn't be writing it (or at least, not have that be a main character). Especially when the main way TSATS could have been improved is if it was primarily Will-centric instead of Nico-centric. Will basically had next to no established character prior to TSATS! He was practically a blank slate! But all the new stuff we got for Will in TSATS was so clearly disinterested and had no regard for his previously established traits (or the established timeline/canon). Which is annoying because fleshing out Will would have been the PERFECT opportunity to actually incorporate a lot of the topics that Mark Oshiro specializes in as a sensitivity reader, which was the ENTIRE REASON THEY WERE BROUGHT ON AS A CO-AUTHOR!!!!

As TSATS stands, there is no reason for Mark Oshiro specifically to have been the co-author instead of someone else. It's so clearly just a PR move from RR following the huge backlash Rick received due to his response to criticism on how he wrote Piper and Samirah (and Reyna and etc etc). This was immediately following Rick saying he wasn't going to write what would become TSATS because "it [wasn't his] place to." Most of the topics that Mark Oshiro specializes in either weren't relevant at all to TSATS or written very poorly (to downright offensively) in TSATS, so either Mark Oshiro wasn't doing their job or was not able to do their job for some reason, but either way it basically makes the theoretical justification for Mark Oshiro being the co-author/sensitivity reader irrelevant.

With Will, it was HUGE fanon back in the day for him to be trans. Trans!Will and photokinesis!Will were basically the two biggest headcanons for him (both largely popularized by Cherryandsisters). We know Rick is aware of this old fanon because he canonized photokinesis!Will. If we had gotten trans!Will, that would have been great! And then made sense why we specifically got a trans co-author! (Instead, if anything, TSATS canonized Will being cis.) If we had gotten Will being latino, that would have been amazing!!!! And also then made sense as to why they chose Mark Oshiro for the job as a latinx author/sensitivity-reader, versus potentially choosing an Italian co-author since Nico being Italian/Venetian was emphasized so much in the book (and done poorly! Yknow what they could have done to fix that? GOTTEN A SENSITIVITY READER FOR IT)! Based on the themes and focuses actually present in the book, it would have been most logical to get a queer, neurodivergent, Italian co-author or sensitivity reader who specializes in those three topics at least. But we didn't! So why was Mark Oshiro chosen instead when they only specialize in one of those topics? PR reasons. It's blatantly entirely PR reasons and no actual thought or care was put into this book (or, likely, TSATS 2 either).

It doesn't help that we're also actively being told that the published version of TSATS was a rough draft. Or that their editor blatantly isn't doing her job. Or that "The Sun And The Star" was the working title that they just kept cause they didn't bother to make an actual title. And that the final version is full of explicitly last-minute scenes that weren't checked over at all (the final Bianca scene, for one). Or the ACTIVELY ADMITTING TO SOURCING IDEAS AND INFORMATION FROM FANS! That last one is kind of important because at this level of publishing that is a HUGE no-no for legal reasons. You can get into a lot of trouble for that and there is a reason why it is Ye Olde Fandom Law to never try to pitch your ideas or headcanons to the source creator(s) and keep fandom separate from the creators. There is a REASON why Rick Riordan is so distant from the community these days and it's for PROTECTION AGAINST LEGAL REPERCUSSION. Mark Oshiro being the exact opposite while also ACTIVELY ACKNOWLEDGING sourcing concepts from fans does not bode well! It has to do with copyright stuff.

It's just. So. Sighhhhhhhh >->o <- me lying on the floor about all of this. It's sad being able to see the glimmer of what could have been at the very least a decent book underneath all this. If anyone involved in the process had actually cared just the tiniest amount.

[tkpuke]

Best Mistake

Pairing - Alastor x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4,015

In which you’re a new member in the Hazbin Hotel trying to redeem yourself. Everyone has made you feel welcomed, you’ve warmed up to everyone, everyone except one. It is no secret that you do not trust him, and Alastor seems to take matters into his own hands and change that.

This is a tickle fic. Do not read if that’s not your thing.

It has only been a month, but you vividly remember how your first day went when entering the doors of Hazbin Hotel. Charlie immediately running up to you with such a tight suffocating hug, asking but almost demanding Angel he takes your bags into your room as she expresses her delight of having you stay.

Staying wasn’t your first option. The idea of a sinner redeeming themself enough to see the pearly white gates of Heaven greet them was almost laughable to you. When you first entered Hell, you thought that you finally reached the end. Made yourself at home and rot yourself away almost like how you did on earth.

One stroll in town is when you saw a commercial advertising Hazbin Hotel. You watched Charlie eagerly tell the purpose of the Hotel as she gives the viewers a thirty second tour, almost losing her breath as she tries to fit in as much information as possible before her timed commercial ends. You weren’t alone watching it, people gathering near you as they whisper to the person next to them their opinions. The majority of the reaction was chuckles here and doubts there. You, admittedly, also had your doubts.

Although, did you really believe you belonged down here? That this was your final ending?

Which brings you back to remembering your first day. Charlie had an iron grip on your hand from her excitement, pulling you to every room in the hotel and showing off its purposes and making sure to not leave any details out. Once an hour went by and she finally finished, she made you meet the staff and other guests individually.

You were a little intimidated by Vaggie, but could tell she will be very sweet once she warms up to you. Angel seemed like the guy that could make you crack out of your shy shell by spending five minutes with him. Husk didn’t say much, but you could tell he likes being here rather than anywhere else. Just don’t call him out on that. Niffty left you guessing if she is twelve or somewhere in her mid 20s, would not be surprised if older than that. Oh and also, her swiftness and pleasure for pain and torturing bugs kept you awake on your first few nights. Sir Pentious looks naturally suspicious, but he was actually very nice when greeting and you asked him a little about his egg minions.

“Aaaannd the last person I want to introduce you to is…!” Charlie sing song, bringing you down the halls in search for her last friend she has yet for you to meet. She opens a door, assuming to yourself that’s their room as she peeks her head in a little. You waited behind her, rubbing your neck a little as sudden goosebumps were felt. Charlie turned around after not having much luck finding him in there, but quickly gasped when she looked behind you.

“Alastor! There you are!”

You froze in place for a few seconds as the name fell upon your ears. Alastor. Alastor. You inhaled deeply, slowly turning around and almost having to crane your neck to make visible of the face smiling down at you, arms behind his back and small radio statics being played. Every hair on your body stood up, forgetting to blink when you two locked eyes for a good solid minute.

Count yourself as scared shitless.

You came back to reality, stepping back to keep a good distance between you two but went for a small tumble. “Woah, I got you!” Charlie giggled, catching you before you could fall. Unaware of the now fear written all over your body, she continues on by gesturing her hand towards the seven foot demon.

“Y/N, this is Alastor. Alastor, this is Y/N. Our new guest!”

He sticks his hand out towards you for a handshake, but all you could do was stare at his red claws that looks like he’s been sharpening them every five minutes. Alastor took your hand, knowing he would be standing there all day if he let you willingly shake it.

“Don’t leave me hanging, dear! It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Y/N.” You knew awkward silences went by after that, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his hand interlacing with yours. You just want to get the hell out of here and run far, far away from this hotel and never look back. You knew there would be regrets when you gave this hotel a chance.

Okay, this was actually your first time meeting Alastor, but his stories were no stranger to you. Recalling back when hearing those horrifying, blood-curdling screams being broadcasted on the radio for all to hear as if it was a fair warning, people begin telling you the man responsible behind all of it. You wished later on you’d never asked, The thought of The Radio Demon selecting you as his next victim crawling into your dreams which turned to nightmares. Of course, you know that chance is slim, but is never zero. Down in Hell, you just don’t know what the fuck kind of trouble you’ll find yourself in.

Now having a face to the name, he completely became a new wave of terrifying to you. The red claws you observed earlier sent a shiver down your spine. Those pointy yellow teeth that you swear on Lucifer he’s put to good use. Bonus points for his tall, lanky figure which practically makes him towering over you so easily.

What you did not expect, though, was his strange resemblance to a deer. The antlers and, also, are those ears? Funnily enough, it kind of made him less scary. Almost. Not really.

Ever since your first interaction with him, you weren’t dumb understanding that he right off the bat knows your lack in trust and feeling unsafe around him. You would often walk down the halls being paranoid that eyes were watching you intently, eyes belonging to Alastor but had no further proof it really was him.

At certain times, you were convinced the demon was toying with how you felt by saying things to you that definitely came off creepy, but could never accuse him of doing it purposefully when he smiles like there’s no tomorrow. He always looks at you harmlessly, but you’d be a fool to take that as a sign to let your guard down. Every conversation he picks up with you ends short on your end, pretending you have somewhere else to be.

That somewhere being away from him.

Everyone knew the relationship you stand with him. Some didn’t blame you, especially Vaggie. Others, like Charlie, tried her best to ease your worries.

“Alastor is a great friend, Y/N! Just give him a chance.” She would say to you on most days, but it was gonna take more than believing someone’s word for you.

So, bless her, Charlie decided to come up with a trust activity exercise.

“Charlie, I appreciate you trying but I don’t see how this will make a difference…” You say as she rounds everybody up, some sitting and some standing. Charlie waves a dismissive hand. “Not with that attitude it won’t!” Her confidence is quite admirable, something in which you lack greatly.

She went over the jist of the activity, it being pretty simple. Everyone gets a turn to stand on a table and fall backwards, trusting everyone behind them that they will catch you with no hesitation. It seems easy, but once you are up there doubts will for sure start flooding your mind.

It’s called trust fall. A game you remembered playing when you were in middle school, to test your friends on their trust. However, to put this test on a seven foot demon with a horrifying reputation that all of Hell is aware of? Yeah, you wish you could count yourself out of this one.

One by one, everyone went up on top of the table and fell into the arms of those whose duty was to catch them. Some fell as soon as they climbed on top without letting second thoughts get a chance to swoop in their mind, while others took a little bit of reassurance.

Once it was your turn, you did one last pleading look towards Charlie, but she gave you two thumbs up and gestured for you to go. Sighing, you made your way up and looked down at everyone having their arms up and ready. Your eyes looked over to the middle, there Alastor standing nice and tall with his signature grin. A grin you want to see drop at least once.

As you turned your back, you didn’t hear everyone scoot back and have Alastor the only one standing near the table, in range of catching you easily. You took a couple of seconds to yourself to ease your breathing, because you are embarrassingly afraid of heights, but then you let yourself fall.

Arms slide past under yours, fingers resting on your sides as your back hit against a chest. The first thing that clouded your mind was how it felt like only one person catch you, but the next thing on your mind was how you suddenly felt fingers dig a little in your sides, pulling a small squeal from you as you quickly turn around to view the culprit.

Alastor stared down at you, feigning cluelessness. He clapped his hands together, ignoring your confused yet questionable stare at him. “Now! That wasn’t so hard was it, darling?” Vaggie nodded slightly in agreement, while Charlie ran over and gave you a big hug and excitedly expressing how proud she was of you.

Yet, you are still stuck on the question what just happened right after you fell. Every time you look over at him, he just smiles your way innocently, making you second guess yourself on what you truly felt.

You weren’t crazy. You knew exactly what he did, and he damn well knows it too, but it still feels so unlikely to happen.

Ever since the trust activity happened, which has now been a full week, Alastor seems to be playing a one sided game with you. A game that leaves you frustrated yet confused on what he’s gaining from it.

You’ll find yourself reaching for an item placed high on a shelf. Alastor will come strolling along, offering to give you a helping hand, and in the midst of doing so you’ll feel a ticklish breeze near your ribs. Now, the breeze would feel so similarly like fingers dancing along your ribs, their intent to send a ticklish wave throughout your body. Hence you turning with a glare, but Alastor would simply ignore the face you’d be making and hand you the item you’ve been trying to reach.

Another time you felt the same breeze is when you ultimately made a bad decision thinking you could fit into a hoodie that definitely wasn’t your size. You saw it displayed in a store when you decided to take a walk downtown, immediately calling your name. It was so cute in your eyes, despite realizing it wasn’t your true size you usually get clothes in, you wanted to give it a try.

Now, you noticed it was a grand mistake and a waste of money when the tightness it held around your body was starting to get unbearable. What you weren’t expecting, though, was how it didn’t budge any further when you rolled it up and couldn’t get it over your head, blocking your eyes.

You didn’t know whether to feel blessed or cursed that Alastor was walking down the halls during that time. A blessing, because he saw your poor state and undoubtedly offered to help. A curse, because you felt that damn ticklish breeze along your ribs in the midst of him helping you out, a yelp of surprise leaving your lips.

“There we are!” He exclaimed heartily, tossing the hoodie to the side and watching you fix your ruffled up hair but also eyeing him skeptically. “What was that?” You asked, but it almost sounded like an accusation because you damn well knew what caused it.

“What was what, dear?” He beamed, raising an eyebrow with arms crossed behind. You stared for a couple of seconds, not knowing whether to sound like a lunatic explaining what’s been happening for the last couple of days whenever he’s around, or to let it slide once again. Unfortunately, you were already feeling exhausted and were in the middle of heading to bed, so you waved a dismissive hand.

“Nothing, nothing.”

It kept you on your toes. Always checking your surroundings when walking around outside of your room, it got Angel questioning to Vaggie if someone’s out to get you by how paranoid you look.

You knew how stupid you looked to others, because you haven’t talked about any of what’s happening to you with any of them. You thought they would either laugh and say your imagining things, which you weren’t guilty of also thinking the same, or they would confront the overlord himself. If anything, you were at your wits end. You were considering doing the latter yourself, because it really has you on edge.

And so, you did.

One thing that you like to spend your free time on is painting. Painting anything that’s in front of you or whatever idea you had in mind that day. It could also depend on your mood, and for this particular Tuesday afternoon you felt quite peaceful. Your hands were almost as dirty as your palette, sticking your tongue out a bit whenever you were focused and gently dragging the paintbrush across the paper.

Your peace filled mind abruptly vanished when ears picked up on a familiar humming and distant blue jazz playing on a radio. It didn’t take long for you to put the hum to a name, looking over your shoulder but he was already behind you.

You gasped, his sudden appearance startling you. Standing up a bit too fast caused your easel to tip slightly and send your paper flying down, but luckily Alastor caught it and brought it up high to fully view the painting in front of him.

“You never told me you paint, dearie! I’m certain this will turn out marvelous once you’re finished.” His eyes look up for a response, but you’re standing like it’s a predator vs prey fight. Nervousness written all over you, hands out to defend yourself.

“Don’t you dare.” You say, making him tilt his head and squint his eyes a little. “Don’t I dare what?” His smile tightens, but you swore up and down its a smirk laced with nothing but mischief behind it. He’s being a little shit acting oblivious, and he damn well knows it.

“You know what!” You raised your voice a little, trying to sound intimidating but if he keeps staring down at you like he’s about to pounce, you might shrink in fear. Alastor takes a step forward, and you take a step back.

“Oohh sweetheart, whatever do you mean?” He’s got you backed into a wall, which staggers your confidence. Nonetheless, you gulped away any indication you’re feeling quite rather terrified, as anyone else would, and stand a little taller. “Don’t act dumb, Alastor.” The radio demon hummed as if he was collecting any memory of what could possibly trouble you, which made your eye twitch.

“Ah! Do you mean this?” Bringing his hands forward, Alastor danced his fingers alongside your ribs, instantly having the same vibe as the breeze you’ve been feeling. You barely had any chance to react and defend yourself, immediately grabbing his wrists as tightly as you can to tear them away. It did absolutely nothing, by the way.

Being tickled by an overlord was not on your list of things that could happen down at your time in hell. If anyone were to tickle you at the hotel, Alastor wouldn’t even be one of your top three guesses. Him sending those ticklish breezes your way, knowing how easily it got you to squeal and feel embarrassed. Knowing how it kept you on your toes around him, but still not so sure of yourself if it really was him responsible for it. Knowing how easily it can get under your skin.

He tsked at your hands gripping onto his wrists, his tendrils making an appearance and snatching them away, making your entire torso fully vulnerable. However, he did not continue on with his attack and instead watched you struggle a little, chuckling under his breath.

“Why are yohou doing this?” You say, a nervous giggle tittering out because anyone would be a fool to think his onslaught ends there. Alastor traces his fingers alongside your neck up till it reaches under your chin, which tickles like hell.

“You’ve been far too tensed recently, and there should be none of that.” A calm tone in his voice, acting like he’s not about to bring you into a breathless mess. “And you think what you’ve been doing to me over the last couple of days was making me less tense?” You shot a glare, but it bounced right off of him.

Shrugging his shoulders, Alastor tiptoed his fingers on your tricep all the way down to right on the soft spot of your underarms, causing you to violently jolt. “I thought my little game was helping, with all your delightful short squeals you’ve been giving me. hmm, what does it sound like again?”

His fingers, more like claws, resting on your underarms started scratching, not disappointing him when you squealed just like he predicted. Alastor pressed his fingers in a little deeper, searching for a more boisterous laugh. Your true real laugh that you’ve been choking back lately because of how badly it made you feel insecure.

You did not fail him with his goal. You laughed a little harder and tugged on the restraints on your wrists a little harder, but wherever you move, his hands follow. “I must say Y/N, your laugh is like music to my ears. Shall we have everyone else listen?” He sways his radio stick closer to you, but you shake your head desperately.

“Nohoho! Plehehease!” It was a little humiliating, but you were already getting close to your limit. On earth, friends and family recognized how you were more ticklish than the average person. You were a regular victim to tickle fights with your close loved ones, always yelling truce within five minutes. In this situation, you were a little hesitant that begging would translate to him ‘continue’.

Yet, luck was on your side since Alastor took notice you were already having slight tears mirth your eyes. Regardless, he didn’t plan on doing this for very long from the get-go. The whole thing of him brushing his hands against your sides during the trust fall was a honest mistake, but when Alastor picks up on weaknesses that people have, he puts a pin on it and takes advantage of it later down the road for his own good use. Tickling was something Alastor learned was a common weakness for most people, but the other half people rather enjoyed the feeling and the bond it creates.

For you, he already found out it was the second preference. You will never in a million years admit to it, but this entire thing seemed kind of playful to you. The kind of playful you haven’t experienced in so long. Haven’t laughed genuine in so long, and have all your ticklish spots exploited when the reason behind it is for all in good fun. And oh, to be a teasy asshole. He’s doing great in that field.

“Such a sensitive being you are. Have you always known you were this ticklish?” To be honest, you kind of wished he would stop talking. You can’t explain it, but it made everything tickle ten times worse. He’s aware. Of course he is.

You felt his hands travel to every spot that can be ticklish, quickly catching on he was in search for that one spot that can make you go ballistics. “Alastor, wahahait..” you stopped struggling awhile ago, realizing it brought you no use. He yet again ignored your giggly pleas, fueling him to keep going. The more his hands traveled down almost near your hips, the more you start to get nervous and newfound energy kicking in to pull your body away from him.

He catches on.

His next movement happened so fast, you swear it all went down in a blink. The minute he latched onto your hips, you let out a snort, cheeks forming a tint of pink. The tendrils finally release your wrists, at the same time Alastor switched up the pace and drilled his thumbs in a motioning circle. Your legs didn’t stand a chance to support you up, immediately crashing down but he did not follow.

You laid there for a moment, greedily sucking in sweet air to the point you almost thought you saw Heaven itself. When you felt like you collected yourself, you slowly sat up and moved a couple of strands away from your face to view Alastor, looming over you with his widest grin yet in his books. “Bad spot?” He tilts his head down at you, and in response you huff and roll your eyes. He lends you his hand, looking at it hesitantly before taking it. “Come now, let’s get you on your feet.”

You brushed yourself off, finding your painting propped up neatly back on the easel. Alastor follows your eyes, coming to stand next to you. “If you add a pop of red into the sunset you’re creating, I’d say it would almost look like I’m viewing out from a window. What do you say?” Raising an eyebrow, you look up at him. “Do you know how to paint?”

Alastor beams. “Not at all.”

You chuckle at that, picking up the palette and switching to a new freshly blank paper. Picking up a second paintbrush, you handed it over to the demon. “Here, I’ll teach you.”

Teaching wasn’t your strong suit, or either Alastor was seriously terrible at painting. Either way, you guys shared a couple of laughs, listened to any stories he got reminded of along the way, gladly listening. The finished product was suppose to be anything his heart desires to paint of, and after examining it for a few seconds you felt the need to ask what the hell you were looking at. To him, it’s him and his mother enjoying a warm meal of jambalaya while sitting on their front porch. To you, it’s just a big blob of bright colors, but the more you squint the more you start to see his vision and let out a small smile.

The guilt of judging him way too harshly off the bat started to set in. You tried not to blame yourself too much, because if anyone heard the tales and myths you’ve been hearing about The Radio Demon, anyone would jump at the sight of him. Although, there’s one thing you always believed in people: Second Chances.

If everyone at the hotel did not see a problem with not only having him stay, but having him help out a tremendous amount to have Hazbin live up to its full potential, then that must mean they all put a lot of trust in the guy. Charlie specifically, and although people might say she’s naive, she’s not dumb. If putting full trust in Alastor was a mistake, she would’ve taken care of that a long time ago.

However, trust is a sensitive topic for you. Alastor has a long way of achieving that, but for now the time you’re spending with him is something you’ll smile to yourself later tonight.

Maybe The Hazbin Hotel has already started to redeem some qualities of yourself you thought you would never get to see.

[pupyr0arz]

To Color

to influence, especially in a negative way; distort or exaggerate.

Soap x m!reader: references to reader being AMAB, being a gay man, being in a gay relationship, etc. minimal pronouns. Part 1.

Summary: Every human on earth sees the world in blacks and whites and grey until they touch a specific individual, romanticized as their fates love. You don’t buy into that, you’re happy as you are and don’t need or want a stranger barging into your life just because your eyes decided they were important. Johnny disagrees with this conclusion.

warnings: Johnny is a bad, bad man, and reader is going to be miserable for a while, sorry. General cws for creepy, pushy behavior, sexual harassment, stalking, and Johnny not respecting Reader’s autonomy or ability to choose. More warnings may be added. Mentions of sex. Minors DNI

@gatlily @focalor-hydro-archon hey pst. Pssst.

Soulmates are overrated, overhyped, over-mentioned, over talked about. It’s awfully inescapable, in movies, in ads, on the news, in books, and the looks you get for complaining about it, like you’ve declared a blood feud on the concept. You just want some peace from the expectation and all the assumptions of glitz and glamor for five goddamn seconds, but lately that blood feud is looking mighty tempting.

Your cynicism in regards to fated lovers wasn’t part of anything dramatic, like in the movies where the skeptic always got revealed to be the child of a divorce caused by soulmates or something equally inane. Your parents weren’t soulmates, which was honestly average. Most people never met their soulmates and lived perfectly fulfilling lives. Soulmates weren’t the end all be all of love, and when they did show up they certainly didn’t all fall into the simple shapes a romcom would tell you.

Your father could see color, his soulmate was platonic in his cousin, the two of them were close friends and they lived just down the street. You’d come up on the porch while your cousins played in the yard and sipped sour lemonade and bother them about how colors looked, and they’d argue about shades and how to describe it. Your father always wanted you to meet your soulmate, wistfully regaling the first time he ever saw the blueness of the sky. Uncle Jeremy would just pinch your cheek and wave you off with a laugh. You had a really normal childhood, honestly.

You got tired of the game in high school, when blossoming hormones and teen drama rocked the school for weeks on end over and over about the same damn things. You were old enough to really have coherent opinions about the world, and fated lovers had turned from funny stories from your father and ads on tv to in your face irritants. One of your friends friends faked seeing color for two weeks to date a guy she really liked. You weren’t extremely close to either, you sat with them at lunch and watched them in periods and they seemed happy. He dumped her in a flash, and moped around school afterwards and all you could think about was why color seemed to matter so much to people.

It sounded fantastical, sure, you wouldn’t mind having an extra sense. You daydreamed about color coming to you in a whirl, setting the world alight in a billion lights, seeing things in new clarity and depth. It was hard to imagine, some other attribute lurking just outside of vision that stained the world in strange, vivid ways.

Bonded people opened museums, attractions built for viewing color in odd ways that blended and blurred together to your black and white vision. Hidden objects and paintings and other things that they cooed over, long essays about vibrancy and the million metaphors for color. You don’t really buy into any of it, if you could taste the crispness of a shade of ‘red’ then what’s the deal with feeling it with your eyes? You’ve eaten apples before, you don’t need to see the flavor to enjoy it. Why should you be so desperate to sacrifice so much, when you already have senses that give you joy?The thing is, with fantastical things is that they’re fantasy, they aren’t grounded in anything solid or real, and you weren’t enthusiastic to take that leap of faith and step onto open air and pray it was a trust fall, not a jump to your death.

You could live without color, and honestly thousands and thousands of people got on perfectly fine. It’s not like any part of society was really based on seeing color these days, other than the fine arts. You weren’t artsy anyways, you never managed to get into it. So what if you didn’t really know whatever ‘green’ really was, did it really mean the end of the world? the end of a relationship? Why would you throw away something that made you happy, something stable, for a complete stranger? Your mother was perfectly happy with your father, and she had never met her soulmate. What if your soulmate was a family member, or a friend? Why did everyone always hold out hope they’d find a perfect marriage partner, when it seemed like soulmate bonds could be something like a perfect smoking buddy to a perfect brother? Honestly, romance didn’t seem so dependent on the whole farce at all. You could build something that didn’t need anything but whites and blacks and all of the shades between. You might not be able to see the red of a rose, but you could enjoy the shades of gray that painted the world with someone you could trust to always hold your hand and have your back.

You dated a handful of people, most of whom were still holding out hope of brushing fingers with their ‘truest love’ to see the beauty in the world. As you got older, more likeminded people cropped up, less likely to vanish and ghost you to wander off on their ‘journey’ to find their soulmate. You had your first kiss, lost your virginity, moved in and out with other people. Relationships blossomed and fizzled and died and you picked yourself up afterward with the occasional thought of ‘Jesus, I couldn’t imagine trying to make THAT one work as my one and only’ before you carried on. But all of that was before, in the section of your life cut so neatly and sharply in two that it was hard to believe they were ever, or could ever be joined.

All before you met him.

You met him on a dating app, which was remarkable enough. It was built for quick hookups, but most dating apps that advertised themselves for long term relationships were soulmate based and you found that crowd to be endlessly irritating. He’s bi-curious, you’re the first man he’s ever dated and honestly that almost turns you off entirely. But you decide you have no better prospects at the moment, so what the hell.

Charlie’s cute, and he greets you with a nervous smile and can barely meet your eyes, he tells you with red eats that he’s ninety nine percent sure that he’s gay and that his friend has been begging him to just take them plunge and you nod and give him some dutiful advice. You’re definitely not looking to be a guys experiment, that rarely ends well, but he invites you out to dinner where he loosens up after a glass and goes on an impassioned rant about theater etiquette and suddenly things are actually interesting and you’re talking too loudly for the table over but you couldn’t care less.

He’s funny, nervous but out there and you talk about musicals you’ve never heard of and tv shows he’s never seen for forty five minutes before you reach across the table and grab his wrist. The sex is light, he makes you laugh through blunders like banging his head against the wall and you kiss afterwards and it feels light and sweet. It’s blissful, honestly, something you’ve forgotten you were missing at all until you’ve been handed it. You keep things non penetrative, he’s far from trying bottoming and you’re not a fan of being on the other side of it, and you have plenty of fun keeping him awake with all the other options. You talk to him again the next day, and then the next, and then his number is in your phone and you’ve been going steady for months.

Charlie isnt a perfect Prince Charming, he’s got his issues. He’s over the top and he pushes himself to meet standards and crumbles at the last second and you’ve had your fair share of screaming arguments. Work is stressful and some nights you go to bed in different rooms because you can’t stand dealing with him. You have your own issues and Charlie complains more than once, rightfully you’re forced to admit, about you being cold and reclusive when you get angry at him, and you’ve had to buy apology ice cream more than a couple times. But you have movie nights and kisses and cake together and a warm, building feeling in your chest. You go out to the zoo, try and fail to learn how to knit together and eat buttered toast with too much black pepper over the kitchen sink on Saturday mornings. You don’t get into anal but he gets really good at giving blowjobs, and those slept mornings spend kissing and exploring each others bodies fill you with a precious glow.

Charlie isn’t your one size fits all, but you’ve managed to find him a slot in your puzzle, and built him a home in your heart together. You love Charlie, and he loves you too, tells you so with cheesy flowers and you buy him one of those dumb necklaces that click together that you totally don’t love. He brings you lunch at work and you drive him home from visiting his parents, and your friends are fine enough with his to go drinking together every couple of times. His best friend does your tarot readings and gets an awful tattoo you laugh about together. You cry and he doesn’t

Life is good. It’s not effortless, it’s not magic, but it’s good because you made it so. You’ve pushed and pulled and made something with your bare hands, and you have the luxury to sit back and watch the alabaster glow of the sun brighten Charlie’s face into a million beautiful shades of gray.

Life settles into a comfortable rhythm, and soon Charlie’s inviting you as plus one to a wedding and you start thinking about rings and commitment.

That’s all before you met him, though.

It happens like in a storybook, so trite that hours after it happens you’re wondering if you suffered some serious brain damage. Maybe you got hit by a car, or had a delayed reaction to the weed your friend passed you last week, or something happened to scramble your thoughts into this strange new unreality.

You’re visiting the library when it happens, dropping by after your shift to pick up some new reading material, not looking where you’re going. Charlie’s texting you a million and a half recommendations while you’re planning on picking up some awful garbage to groan and complain about later while he makes fun of you, and you’re typing a dick joke involving one of the sillier titles you spotted on the shelves. You bump into him, not a shoulder check but you run into him like a wall and he barely stumbles back. You’re not a small guy in the slightest but he’s built like a brick shithouse, Jesus.

“Ah, hell, sorry man.” You apologize, giving him a sheepish smile. “My foul. I should watch where I’m going.”

He doesn’t puff up with anger or anything but flashes you a toothy smile, so you relax. “Dinnae worry ‘bout it, mate.”

Oh, he’s Irish or something, the accent is thick as all hell. It sparks your interest, a definite standout from the midwestern folks living here, and you don’t rush away to continue your browsing. You don’t walk away, like you should’ve, you don’t realize that in two years this will have become your biggest, most shameful regret.

He peers down at you, light eyes, ivory maybe? He’s got a weird haircut, some kind of half committed Mohawk thing. It’s an awful haircut, really shitty, so you politely avert your eyes from the active train wreck and send a prayer for any casualties, and realize you’ve dropped your phone on the ground.

“Ye dropped—“

“Ah, let me—“

You both reach for it at the same time, and your fingers brush, and the world changes, and you have all of a half a second to freeze in shock and confusion before you accidentally headbutt him and fall over.

Maybe he had a thick enough skull to really hurt you. You would know.

[blood-orange-juice]

I suddenly groked why Childe's friendship with the Traveler is important to me. It makes him look more inhuman.

Same with his attachments in general. It all looks so sweet on the surface but this is *not* how humans handle attachments.

Humans are awkward, and afraid to admit they like someone, and they want reciprocity, and they are careful about how a new person will affect their life. They are very cautious about placing their trust in someone even if they like them. They often lie for the sake of maintaining the relationship.

And then there's this guy who loudly declares you a friend the moment he starts liking you enough, expects nothing in return and seems to trust almost blindly (personally, I think it's calculated risk rather than that, but it still removes the usual weight of trusting someone). Who is honest and straightforward in ways that don't really benefit him. And it's not exactly hero worship (he has that towards Skirk and Capitano and we know it looks differently), he just sees someone like himself in the main character.

His other relationships (siblings and Her Majesty) could have been interpreted in multiple ways but his attachment to the Traveler establishes those as genuine and more on the warm side too.

(and more weird)

We also get reminded that he isn't nice even when he likes a person, he still has his weird ideals and obligations and doesn't compromise on those.

If he was a brooding loner or someone more sociopathic in his approach it would be too easy to clock him as a traumatised kid or at least a flawed human. The way he relates to the Traveler very clearly establishes him as more than that.

I've also seen takes on how he doesn't really love his siblings, he just wants to be the best in everything and that includes being the best older brother. That would be awfully human, too, I think.

It's a subtle distinction, fae beings can be obsessed with beauty and perfection but not with being the best. A desire to be the best is a narcissistic dynamic, it's painfully human and rooted in insecurity.

(he says and shows multiple times how he doesn't seek narcissistic fuel at all, even on an average human level. he seeks improvement but doesn't really care about winning or impressing other people

he's also committed to doing the best he can without being worried about perfection in the current moment)

He loves them dearly and he's doing what's best for them as he understands it, but it doesn't matter whether they love him or whether anyone else including them thinks he's a good brother.

So we once again get a lovely paradox with him. Everything is the opposite of what it seems.

Could be read as a different form of trauma or just arrogance, of course, but also it connects him to other Abyssal beings (Elynas, Durin, Caribert to an extent too. one could say Enjou as well). Horrors of Teyvat love with no reservations but also it doesn't mean what you think it means.